#the tree goblin answers

[the-gay-goblin]

can u post a picture of ur profile?

Yeah of course!

Here you go anon!

#the tree goblin answers

[msgexymunson]

Soft Touches

Description: you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.

Warnings: acquaintances to lovers, reader is AFAB, weed smoking (both parties so no real dub con), fem oral receiving, praise kink, p in v unprotected sex.

A/N: It's my birthday! And I'm high, and horny, so happy birthday! If you've read my work you KNOW I'm a sucker for the first time y/n fucks Eddie. When I'm a benevolent dictator it shall be a universal holiday ;)

4k words

Masterlist

“Eddie, what the hell was in that?” 

Floating in a cloud of your high, the entire room seemed to glow in pink and orange, senses tinged in a sunset glow. You were definitely stoned out of your tree if you were comparing Eddie's stuffy, cramped room to a breath-taking sunset. 

“It's a new strain I got from Rick. You feeling it?” 

“Oh, I'm feeling it alright. I can hear colours.” 

Eddie's rich laugh echoed off the walls of his trailer. He laid on the bed casually, one arm slung beneath his head making his tight t-shirt ride up slightly. Just a peek of his happy trail was on display, which you tried, and failed, not to stare at. 

It was proving difficult, especially since you sat criss-cross apple sauce on his floor. His body was eye level, handcuff belt shining softly in the low light. The glint of that drew your eyes even lower, concentrating on the bulge you could see in his jeans.

You thought you were being sneaky. You absolutely were not. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you gonna answer me or just stare at my dick?” 

“Huh?” 

Shaking your head as if to clear it, you finally met his gaze. 

“I said, you can come lay up here if you want.” 

Halfway between getting up and still in a weird little crouch his words finally filtered through your addled brain. 

“I wasn't staring at your dick!” 

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” 

Frozen, mind empty of comebacks, you clambered out of your goblin stance and stood up, when the blood decided to rush to your head. 

“Oh Holy shit.” 

Your knees buckled, and you would have ended up face first on Eddie's carpet if he hadn't caught you. 

“Easy there, I've got you.” 

Eddie's firm hands held your upper arms tightly as he manoeuvred you to sit on his bed. The room was spinning, everything was drifting out of focus. 

“I need to lie down.” 

Eddie pulled you towards his pillows and laid you down gently, picking your legs up and settling them on the bed with you. Staring up at his off white ceiling, things began to drift back in. Once the room finally stopped swooping around in your vision, you started to come to your senses. 

You are on Eddie Munson's bed. You knew him, sure, only in a ‘can I come round so you can smoke us out and listen to music’ kind of way. You'd hardly call him a friend. This though, feeling the heat of his body next to you, him leaning on his side staring at you worriedly seemed entirely outside of your current arrangement. 

Suddenly the air was stifling, Eddie's warmth only exacerbating the matter. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, just really warm. And fucking high.” 

Eddie laughed, relieved.

“Thank fuck, I was scared for a minute.” 

You fumbled at the hem of your oversized sweater, attempting to wriggle it up your body but all motor skills were beyond you right now. 

“Eddie.” You pouted at him, flapping the edge of your sweater with frustrated hands. 

“You want this off?” 

“Please.” 

He flashed you a mischievous grin and pulled up upright, beginning to draw the offensive sweater up and over your form. 

“Didn't think you'd be begging me to undress you sweetheart.” 

Rolling your eyes in response, you held your arms over your head like a petulant toddler. Sweater removed and tossed to the foot of the bed, you risked a glance at Eddie. He was entirely preoccupied, staring at your bare midriff that was now on display. 

“It's a crop top Eddie, get over it.” 

Flinging yourself back down on the pillow, Eddie coughed, looking a little flustered, and settled in next to you. 

“Sorry, I didn't expect it. You always wear baggy shit.” 

“Comfortable shit, thank you. I come here to smoke, it's not New York fashion week.”

Eddie ran a finger across you, just below your belly button. The barely there touch blazed across your skin. 

“I didn't know you had your belly button pierced.” 

Looking down, you watch as his fingers circle it, then flick the little jewel dangling off the end. Thighs clamping together out of sheer necessity, you attempt to ignore it. 

“Yeah, got it done when I was like 15, two towns over. Probably my least painful piercing. Apart from ears, of course.”

Apparently, Rick's new strain also makes you run your mouth, as well as being insanely warm and horny. It seemed you had captured Eddie's attention. He turned further towards you, one hand holding his head up. The other, much to your relief, stayed on your stomach. You're not sure he was even aware he was still stroking your skin. 

“Least painful? What other piercings do you have?” 

You seriously considered dodging the question, but it's difficult to be devious directly to those big wet eyes of his. It's like trying to lie to a baby cow. 

“Well, I got my nose done, but the piercing fell out and I didn't bother to get a new one. That one stung. But the worst had to be my… my nipples.” 

The whole bed lurched as Eddie jumped up and sat cross legged facing you. He practically flew into action, grabbing his cigarettes and a lighter as if you were about to tell him some epic tale. 

“Right, tell me everything.” 

Whilst laughing at his wide eyed expression, you realise he's being completely serious. 

“Well, they er, they like, sanitise the… area, draw a dot where they're going to pierce you and tell you to take a deep breath in and it's done. It's super quick actually. It's more the after part that hurts. Why are you interested?” 

Eddie pushes his hair behind one ear, the tip of it is glowing scarlet, you notice. 

“I was thinking about getting it done my last birthday but I didn't have the cash.” 

He's staring at you, nervously chewing on a hang nail. You can practically see the unasked question dancing on his tongue. You weren't going to offer, hell no. If he wants to see he has to ask. The thing is, the way your tummy is bubbling right now, you don't think you could say no to those eyes of his. 

The question remains unsaid. He merely offers you a drag on his cigarette which you take gratefully, before he's stubbing it out and laying back down next to you. 

“How you feeling now? Bit less baked?” 

“Oh I'm still fucked, but I can see straight and I don't feel sick.” 

His fingers begin their dance again, skating over your exposed flesh, stroking down your side to your hip, across your stomach, and back again. You want to mention it. He's never touched you like this before, but you also don't want him to stop. 

“Good. Not inviting you over again if you hurl on my bed.” 

Giggling, you turn and face him. You're both on your sides now, knees close to knocking. His shirts ridden up again and before you can even register what you're doing you've placed a delicate hand on his hip. His eyes widened briefly, but that's it. Both of you are touching the others bare flesh, whispers of touches. Little, tentative things, like the bursting of soap bubbles on skin. 

“I wouldn't hurl on your bed. I'm sure I'd at least make it to the bathroom. I'm not an animal.” 

Eddie just grins in response, and you look at each other, really look. His dopey smile is the same as yours, and it seems neither of you want to mention how this seems to be rolling into very unfamiliar territory. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Why are you touching me?” 

He pushes infinitesimally closer, his knee now slotting between yours. It's a small gesture, but suddenly the situation feels even more intimate than before. 

“Because. Because it feels good. You're soft, and warm. And you keep making little noises.” 

“I do?” 

He smooths his hand higher, thumb dragging along the underside of your breast, and you let out a tiny, quivering whimper.

“See? Like that.” 

Opening your legs slightly wider, Eddie's knee pushes naturally further forward, his thigh now wedged between yours. His breath is fanning your nose; cigarettes, weed, and sweet snacks. 

“So sweetheart, why are you touching me?” 

Your hand presses a little more firmly, snaking underneath the hem of his shirt. With no complaint forthcoming, you reach further up, stroking his side, up over his ribs, and back down again. He responds in kind. Every kiss of fingers is electrifying, filling the room with a soft, dense tension. 

“Because it feels good. Because I saw a bit of skin and I couldn't resist.” 

“Yeah?” He's smirking as he says it, but you're beyond playing games at this point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I didn't know I was irresistible.”

You pinch his skin a little and he stares at you like you just betrayed him. 

“I didn't say that, you're twisting my words.” 

“Pretty sure I heard-” 

Cutting him off with a tickle to the ribs, he grabs your hand to stop you. 

“OK, OK! You were right, I was wrong. Nice touches again please.” 

His hand swiftly makes its way back to your skin and you continue to stroke him. 

“Nice touches?” 

“Yeah, it feels really good.” 

Running your hand up, you graze his nipple, and then bring it back down, down, until you reach the top of his jeans. You graze a finger, just one, under them, sweeping across his tensing abs. Then, you move up to more innocent flesh. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

Eddie's chest is heaving, fingers pressing indents into your flesh. 

“Nice enough?” you're the one smirking this time, pleased at the effect you're having on him. 

“Yeah.” 

It's barely a word, more of a breath. You scoot closer toward him, just a couple of inches, but it's close enough to feel his thigh start to press against your heat. Gasping at the pressure, you rub subtly against his thigh to try and relieve your mounting feelings, no matter how slightly. 

Eddie's hand starts making a trembling journey up your form, fingers twisting underneath your top. Feeling the underside of your bare breast, you both gasp. Eddie undoubtedly because you weren't wearing a bra, you because, well, the obvious. The slightest graze had your nipple hardening instantly, hips rocking forward without your control. 

“Is this OK?” 

“Yeah. Please.” 

Fingers stretching further, Eddie finally brushes your nipple. The feeling is magnified by your piercing; they've felt more sensitive since you got them done.

The moan that escapes is louder than you meant but it couldn't be helped. This simple touch is igniting through your nerves and rushing to your high brain. 

“Shit, they are pierced.” 

It seems to be a thought that Eddie said out loud by accident as he rubs his fingers over your ruddy nipple, slowly circling the silver balls of the jewellery. 

Another moan breaks from you, even louder this time.

“Fuuuuck Eddie.” 

“Yeah?” 

His touches become firmer, rubbing your nipple between thumb and forefinger, mapping the way your face scrunches up with his eyes.

“Yeah, jeez. They're really sensitive.” 

Practically panting in each other's mouths, your noses rub together. 

“Can- can I kiss you?” 

His words are so hesitant that it makes you giggle. Pressing your lips in a swift kiss to his full bottom lip, you respond. 

“I'd be mad if you didn't.” 

Eddie wastes no more time, pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to you that you reciprocate in kind. You keep it slow, leisurely traversing new territory with soft, exploring tongues. Naturally your arms encircle him, pulling him closer, closer. His arm snakes around your back as your bodies press together, like puzzle pieces slotting together and finding their perfect match. Eventually you break away to take a gasping breath as Eddie presses kisses to your collarbone.

“I don't know why we waited so long to do that.” 

“We? I thought you just wanted me for free drugs!” 

You giggled loudly at that, so loud it came out as a snort, but it didn't matter. The moment was so honest that being cool had nothing to do with it. You were bare, in a way, and so was he. 

Eddie chuckled with you as he slowly but surely pushed you onto your back, slipping both of his legs between yours. Pushing your hips up, you feel his hardness graze your pubic bone. 

“Eddie?” 

He hums a response, lips and tongue busy loving on your neck. You tug at the hem of your top and pull upwards. Eddie gets the message, moving out of the way briefly so you can strip it off. 

There you are, bare chested in front of him. You'd be nervous, if you hadn't seen the longing in his eyes. He's kneeling, one arm leaning on the mattress whilst the other compulsively strokes your side. 

“Jesus Christ your tits are perfect.” 

The moment stretches just a little too long for comfort; you're a hair's breadth away from crossing your arms over your chest when Eddie leans down and runs his tongue around and around one nipple. Mewling pathetically, you lace your fingers in Eddie's soft waves and tug. In response his teeth graze you as he sucks softly; then he gives the other just as much attention. 

Shuddering and wriggling under him, you can't do anything but whine, your hips undulating upwards to chase some friction, some release, anything. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” 

“Umph,” He responds, muffled by your chest, “I need you to say that again.” 

“Eddie I swear to God if you don't- ” 

He laughs, cutting off your sentence. 

“Alright baby girl, I got you.” 

Working his way down your front, he takes his time planting soft kisses, making you writhe at each touch of his lips, until he reaches your shorts. 

Flicking the button open, he slowly drags the zip down and finds the little sliver of red panties poking out. 

“Hearts? Cute.” 

Thick fingers plunge into your clothes and pull them away, flinging your shorts and panties across the room into the void that was Eddie's carpet. 

Insecurity finally gripped its claws into you. What if he didn't like what you looked like down there, smelled like, tasted like? 

A moment of unadulterated panic, and then Eddie licked his tongue, slowly yet firmly, between your lips and all the way up. Barging your thighs further apart with his shoulders, he rooted your clit out with his tongue, running dizzying circles and sucking at it desperately. 

Eddie's moans rivalled your own, such neediness etched in you swear his fingerprints will be left on the outside of your thighs like tattoos, simply from the force he held you with. Barely able to shake, you compensated by pulling his hair and guiding his tongue exactly where you needed it. 

He pushed a thick calloused finger into you slowly, looking up at you as he did so. You back arched off the bed. He felt around, staring at you with such intensity you that you were seconds away from telling him to quit staring when-

“Oh God, oh fuck!” 

Eddie smirked, sliding another finger in gently to join the first, and worked your clit between his lips. He incessantly stroked a spot inside that you'd never reach on your own, a firm, beckoning gesture as if he were willing your orgasm to come hither. 

It was working. Your insides tingle, a tightness pulling straight from your gut and shooting out to your fingers and toes. Beyond control by this point, your hand pulls his hair tightly. To your amazement, his other hand reaches out to you, seeking, and you lace your fingers in his own. 

As soon as your digits touched, you were gone. Your release plummets out of you, shaking through every bone you have, leaving you a twitching puddle of a woman. His fingers chase after it, dragging every inch of squelching pleasure out of your insides until you're tugging him away and begging for it to stop. 

As he moved back up your body, licking and sucking as he did so, you tried to think of an answer to the smug grin he was just about to flash at you. 

There was none. Brain unravelled, threads wound into your nerves instead of your thoughts, you laid there, ruminating on how he'd made you come faster than any other man.

Eddie hovered over you, nose nudging your own. He must have wiped his mouth at some point whilst you were in la la land. 

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Eddie, you're really fuckin’ good at that.”

“I know.”

You laugh, tapping his side.

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

Before you can retort his mouth is back on you, peppering kisses to your jaw, as his solid member presses into your naked heat.

“Fuck Eddie, please, please please-”

“Please what baby girl?” He asks, then sucks a hickey on your neck. 

Pulling him towards you by his shirt collar, you bite down sharply on his earlobe, pulling a little groan from his chest.

“I want you to stuff me full Eddie. I'm- I'm on birth control. Fill me up.” 

You can practically feel Eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck, you can't just say that, I nearly busted in my pants!” 

Pulling himself off you for the shortest time he could, he peels his t-shirt over his head and flops back on top of you. Desperate kisses and urgent gropes spill from you both; grinding, needy things that tore at clothes and grasped at flesh. 

After fiddling and failing with his belt, you huff and tug harshly at his waistband. He chuckles, biting at your bottom lip as he unlatches it with ease and then wriggles his pants and boxers down his legs with urgency. 

More desperate grasps, teeth and tongues clashing violently, your hand reaching down to clutch at his- 

“Holy hell!” 

His eyes widen, hands coming to a halt, waiting for the rest of your sentence. You're too busy trying to glance down his front as he hovers over you, your fist firmly stroking his hardened cock.

“You're huge Eddie!” 

He smirks and thrusts into your hand, the velvet smoothness of his dick massaged  by your palm. 

“Bet you say that to all the guys.”

“Er, no, Rick's made some truth serum or some shit because that's the biggest I've ever felt.” 

You guide him firmly towards your entrance, dragging the tip of his enlarged cock through your slickened folds. He quivers over you, arms thick with tension. 

“Baby girl just, just slip it inside, please-” 

“Now who's begging?” 

Grinning mischievously, you wait for him to start forming an answer with his mouth when you slip the head inside your sopping opening. His open mouth turns into a long drawn out moan. 

You would tease him if the feeling of him splitting you open wasn't all consuming. Which it fucking is. He just keeps pushing, and pushing, until his chest is flush with yours and he's mumbling platitudes in your ear. 

“Doing so good for me. Such a naughty, naughty girl. Getting filled up by her drug dealer? Baby girls a little dirty, isn't she?”

You're trying not to let him know how much his words affect you, but the fluttering of your satin like walls tells a different story. 

“You're not my dealer.” 

“Oh really? I'm not?” 

Pulling out nearly all the way and pushing back in, you bite your lip at the drag against your insides.

“Dealer implies I buy shit. You just give it to me, like a little simp.”

Eddie's mouth drops open in mock outrage.

“You want me to give it to you now? I'll fucking give it to you baby.” 

Hooking an arm under your thigh, Eddie thrusts into you hard and devastatingly deep. And again, and again, until you start moaning wantonly right in his face, all bravado forgotten.

“Yeah? Atta girl. That good baby? Wanna feel me right here?” 

His other hand pushes against your lower stomach, the pressure deepening the pleasure he's giving you tenfold. 

“Oh Eddie, oh fuckfuckfuck!!” 

Your release explodes out of your cunt with a gush, liquid spurting out of you so hard you nearly force his impressive length out. It waves drastically, like the sea against the shore, washing and washing over you until it's hard to breathe. 

“Baby, baby! Holy shit, I think you squirted.” 

“Ya think? My God, that was… mind blowing.” 

“Yeah?” 

Looking up at him, you expect that arrogant grin, but he just looks pleased and innocent. Like a kid at Christmas. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.”

Rolling him over with all the power left in your thighs, you pin him down and move firmly into him, ferality taking over your actions. 

“Jesus Christ, you are a dirty girl, aren't you?” 

“Maybe just a little.” 

Smirking, you hump against him, your swollen clit bumping against his pubic bone on each delicious pass. 

“Holy shit, I'm not complaining- fuck, what the- what are you doing? Jesus Christ!” 

You bounce hard on him. Seeing him writhe under you is a special kind of power, one you aren't willing to let go of. Ever.

“Fuck, b-baby girl, you're gonna make me come!” 

His intense moans spur you on further. Unable to bounce so much on shaky knees you snuggle down close to him, arms clutching his shoulders, as you grind into him. It's massaging sensations into your clit, as well as teasing your g spot with his imposing length. 

“I can't, I’m-  baby girl-” 

“I'm gonna come, Eddie please, fill me up, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel your cum inside me, please, fuckin’ breed me Eddie. Oh fuck!” 

Quivering against him uncontrollably, your legs give out, collapsing on his body as he tenses and releases inside of you. It spurs your own orgasm, snaking up your spine and gripping on your system like a fly caught in honey. An open mouthed scream is all you give him, silent but chock full of feeling, as your back arches in its own tension. 

As it curls out of you, your back gives up, and you flop forward, bones turned to pudding. 

“Well.” is all that comes out, a puff of a word, just air escaping from a collapsing chest.

“Well.” Eddie responds, waiting for what you're about to say. 

You're sure he doesn't expect it. A laugh bubbles out; a weird, inside laugh, that you probably should never share with anyone. But it keeps coming. And coming. Laughing uncontrollably, you roll off of him and try to get your stomach muscles in check. 

You'd be worried about his reaction, if he wasn't laughing with you. It was this odd mixture of tension and relief that was bursting in the air, a barrier broken and left crumbling at your feet. 

“Eddie. Fuck, Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

‘Yeah.”

His heated hand found yours, and squeezed your fingers hard. For some reason, it felt more intimate than all of this combined. 

Giggling again, you lean into his chest, fingers dipping up to weave into his hair. 

“Baby girl, you can't just-” 

“What? Pull your hair? Because you like it?” 

Tugging on his hair dramatically, Eddie tosses his head back and groans. 

“Knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, certified genius. It's like you don't wanna be railed again.” 

Huffing, you pull yourself on top of him again, hardened nipples brushing softly against his flesh. 

“Oh, I think I'll be the one railing you. You wanna make a bet, for next time?” 

Smug grin forgotten, Eddie stares at you in disbelief.

“Next time?” 

“Well, I hope so. Got to be the best I've ever had.” 

Stupid Rick and his stupid strain. 

“Best you've ever had?” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Only if you wanna.” 

The teasing stopped. At least for now. It was pretty clear, your need for each other was outranking any goading you'd been sharing. 

At least for now… 

Taglist (Some permanents, some likely candidates, if you want to be added, jus say the word sweetheart)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things imagines #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fucks #eddie fan fic #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!oc #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #switch!eddie

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love. #astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

[nyrandrea]

hiii I’d like to request (again if that’s ok, it’s me the one who asked for the injured ) but if so then may I ask for this time so what if everyone’s at camp all asleep when a few people sneak in and kidnap reader but Astarion wakes up hearing something wasn’t right seein what’s going on watches as reader disappears then ofc hunting them down to see them being used in an ritual all tied up and weak dndeueududid ( sorry it’s like 1:18am I’m laid awake thinking about random things 💀 )

Helloooo again! I enjoyed your last request and certainly had fun with this one too so thanks again! (1:18am is the best time for random thoughts :D )

Warnings for canon typical violence, kidnapping, rituals (kinda), blood and swears

Word Count - 2.9k

Enjoy!

xxx

Under the silvery embrace of the crescent moon, nestled within the heart of a tranquil forest, you and your companions had surrendered to the gentle clutches of slumber, a collective of soft snoring weaving its way through the rustling leaves and whispering trees. 

A clearing in the woods served as your base for the night after a long, grueling day of travelling. The grass beneath you was like a plush carpet, and a delicate blanket of dew kissed the blades, glistening like diamonds. The air was crisp, yet tender, cradling you in its nocturnal embrace. 

Your team had all gathered in a sort of semi-circle, heads pillowed upon hands or nestled into makeshift cushions fashioned from backpacks and rolled-up cloaks. You weren’t sure how or when, but throughout your sleep you had unconsciously rolled over and inched yourself closer to where Astarion lay, his delicious scent drawing you in. 

One could observe the group and note the serene expressions etched upon their faces. They appeared as though they were sculpted by dreams, their features softened by the embrace of rest. Your eyes fluttered beneath closed lids as you chased the remnants of recent adventures.  

Unfortunately for you, you were being observed. 

You flinched as the corner of your vision registered a goblin kneeling beside you, the tip of his dagger against your throat before you could even scramble for your own weapon. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he purrs, smiling smugly down at you. “Not if you want your friends to keep their innards intact.” 

Your eyes widen and dart over to where the rest of the group lay, completely oblivious to the goblins that threatened their very lives. You were even surprised to see Astarion still in a deep trance of meditation; he was usually so much more alert at night. 

“What do you want?” you whisper. 

“For you to come with us, true soul,” the goblin answered. “We are in desperate need of your... assistance.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Just what I need, more Absolute nutjobs.’ 

“Look, I don’t think I can help you.” 

“Oh, but you are the only one who can,” he retorts, slowly pulling the knife away from your throat. “It’s our leader, you see. She is gravely ill and only a true soul like yourself can cure her.” 

Your face scrunches up in disbelief. “If she’s ill, then it’s a healer you need, not me.” 

The goblin frowns. “It’s you she needs, she said so herself.” His blade edges closer to you once again, signaling for you to get up. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to come with us. Or am I going to have to resort to a bit of… persuasion?” 

He exchanges a glance with one of his men, who seemed all too giddy to slash Astarion’s neck. 

“No…!” You almost shout but restrain yourself so as to not alert the others and incur a massacre. “I-I’ll come with you, just... leave them be.” 

The goblin grinned up at you, and you had to force down the bile that was rising in your throat. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he crooned, gesturing for you to follow.  

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze darting between your weapon and the goblin, his eyes are trained on you, almost as if he was daring you to try. Ultimately, you were outnumbered, and they held the element of surprise over your companions. No matter which way you tried to cut it, there were going to be casualties if you didn’t do what you were told. 

So, you begrudgingly allowed yourself to be led into whatever hellish fate this cult of the Absolute had in store for you. A plan of escape would have to come later, when you were far enough away from your friends. 

Unbeknownst to you, one of them was already on your trail. 

xxx 

Amidst the shroud of night, when the moon hid its luminous face behind a thick blanket of heavy clouds, you and your merry little band of kidnappers ventured into a meadow cloaked in long, swaying grass. The air had an eerie stillness about it, broken only by the distant whispers of nocturnal creatures. 

As you traversed the meadow, moving with cautious steps, your feet sinking into the cool earth with each stride, you silently weighed up your options. The grass was like a sea of shadows, their whispers brushing against your legs like ghostly fingers; it would be so easy just to blend in and disappear. 

You would have considered it, if it were not for the worgs. 

The air was imbued with the scent of dew-drenched grass, but those beasts would still be able to track you down within seconds. Only... there were most certainly four of them the last time you checked. But looking around now, you only noticed two. 

It appeared the goblins had noticed too; their hushed conversations were like faint echoes in the vast expanse, mixing with the symphony of crickets and the occasional haunting call of a night owl. You couldn’t make out a damn word they were saying, but they looked nervous. 

“It would seem that we have a stalker in our midst,” the leader of the group growled, holding up a hand for everyone to come to a halt before he grabbed your wrist, forcing you down to his level. “Sod it, change of plan. You’re with me,” he commanded one of his men before turning to the rest. “You lot deal with the bastard while we take our friend here back to base.” 

“Hey!” You grabbed his wrist and tried to wrench yourself free. “Let go!” 

“With pleasure,” he grinned as he simultaneously released his grip and struck the back of your head with a blunt weapon, rendering you unconscious just as the ambusher seized the opportune moment. With lightning speed and calculated precision, he pounced from the grass, launching himself like a shadowy wraith. Long grass bent and swirled in his wake, mimicking the dance of phantoms. 

In that fleeting moment, you caught the glint of a blade unsheathed, reflecting a cold, silver streak in the night. Chaos ensued, and the long grass became a battleground, hiding the combatants in its tangled embrace.  

The clash of steel rang through the night, intermingling with the desperate cries of your name as you slipped away into darkness. 

The ambusher moved with ruthless determination; his scarlet eyes ablaze with a wild, unholy fervor. In the end, silence fell upon the meadow, broken only by the ragged breaths of the victorious, standing amidst the long grass, a solitary figure bathed in the haunting glow of the moon, his cloak billowing like a specter as he followed the trail of broken grass the other goblins had made as they carried your prone form away. 

 xxx 

The first thing you could feel was a pounding in your head. You try to sit up, to pull your knees up so you can curl up and settle the turning in your stomach. Slowly, your eyes opened as your breath sped up. 

You were lying on the dirty floor in the middle of some sort of temple, hardly able to move due to your wrists and ankles being bound by chains. You struggle to draw in shallow gasps as you blinked through the blurriness of tears that clung to your eyelashes. 

“What?” you whisper to yourself, wiggling to try and find an opening in the chains, trying not to hyperventilate as the bindings dug painfully into your skin the more you tried to move. 

You bite your lip as your mind races with ideas to escape, to get away from this place, to kill these people for having the audacity to kidnap you, to threaten your friends. 

Different scenarios play out repeatedly in your head, but the reality was that you were powerless to do anything. 

“Comfortable, are we?” 

A goblin slinked her way over to you from the shadows, she was unlike the crude and menacing stereotypes that often plagued her kind. She possessed an eerie, captivating beauty and moved with an uncanny grace; as sinuous as a serpent. Her skin, the color of moss, bore intricate tattoos that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy.  

Your skin tingled, hairs on the back of your neck prickling up as the goblin prowled behind your back to watch over your shoulder, her warm breath brushing behind your ear.  

“I do hope so - it is truly an unimaginable honor to have a true soul like yourself amongst us, especially one with such... soft, tender flesh.” 

A soft whimper pressed from your throat as warm hands slithered over your shoulders, kneading gently into tensed muscles. It sent a shudder down your spine, pressing your entire body in on itself.  

“No need to be so coy, dear,” she said. “We’ll be getting to know one another, after all. For what is to come.” 

Your lips pressed tight together as you swallowed down a knot in your throat, but your chin was forced up so that your eyes locked with hers. The symbol of the Absolute flashed on her face like a dazzling light, but no matter how much the tadpole wriggled and pulsed inside your head, nothing was happening. 

You held no authority here. 

“Those little mind tricks won’t work with me,” she sneered, pointing a clawed finger to her temple. “For I too, am a true soul. In fact, I am the one and only true soul!” 

“W-w-what do you mea-?” 

You were silenced with a hard slap. 

“You may not speak in my presence, worm,” the goblin growled. “Speaking of, I’ve got so many of the little buggers up there, I may as well be as powerful as the Absolute themselves!” She barked a laugh and grinned maniacally down at you. “And your parasite will make a fine addition to my collection.” 

‘Gods, this bitch is fucking crazy,’ you thought, but your mind immediately seized up and burned as she pried her way into it, and she was not too happy with your choice of words. 

“You haven’t even seen crazy yet,” she growled as she traced a claw down the side of your face, drawing a thin line of blood. “I think I’ll pry your worm out myself with my bare hands and make you watch as I consume it before we gut you and roast you on the spit with the rest of the pigs.” 

Strong hands took hold of your arms and legs and dragged you onto a slab of stone that had markings etched along the edges. You could just make out they were in Infernal—akin to the ones on Astarion’s back—but like his, you couldn’t decipher their meaning.  

You kicked, flailed and screamed in desperation, but you were soon silenced by the goblin as she wrapped her hands around your throat while the others formed a circle around you and started muttering some sort of ritualistic prayer. 

Your senses were dulling further by the second and a part of you wanted to give in to the pain, to just let yourself black out and fade away, but something within you pulsated with the will to live. To fight to your very last breath. Was this the parasite’s doing? Or was it something else? 

“Just give in to the Absolute, dear, "the goblin said, her tone almost sickeningly gentle. “You’ll be all the better for it.” 

“F...f...” 

“Aw, your last, dying words,” she purrs, leaning in closer to listen. “I will permit it.” 

“...Fuck you,” you spat. 

The goblin’s smug expression warps into one of pure fury, and she bares her teeth at you as she grabs a hold of your face with one hand, using the other to slowly inch her claws towards your left eye. Her hiss garbles into a shrill wheeze as a dagger is plunged into her back and through her chest several times, relentlessly. A stray drop of blood trails down her mouth as she screams silently before she is rolled away from you, her body plopping onto the ground with an unceremonious thump. 

You try to catch your breath, thanking whatever Gods were out there that they decided to spare you today. 

“Don’t thank them, darling, thank me,” a familiar voice teased, though his shaking voice betrayed his light tone. “They would have done bugger all, anyway.” 

A tiny, joyful laugh escapes from your raw throat as your eyes fall onto the welcome sight of Astarion, who seems just as relieved to see you.  

“Are you alright?” he asks, quickly approaching with what appeared to be a pair of bolt cutters. 

You nodded desperately, holding out your wrists. 

Astarion took a moment to get the teeth of the bolt cutters properly in place where they wouldn’t bite through the skin but snapped them together fairly easily. 

You shuddered a soft sob, relief dripping from your eyes as you rubbed at your wrists. Astarion didn’t wait for further instructions, you needed to move. 

He knelt by your feet, slotting one link of the chain between the thick metal teeth, then braced one handle against his thigh. It bruised and dug into the flesh of his leg, but he didn’t stop. 

The metal didn’t relent, but neither would he. 

“Astarion-”  

“Just... hold on, darling!” he says, pausing only briefly to give you a reassuring smile. “I’m no Lae’zel or Karlach; strength isn’t exactly my forte but I’ve... almost got it...!” 

Teeth grit, fueled by fear and desperation, Astarion pulled harder and harder, feeling the bruise work against the bone and listening to his back crackle at the strain. He shifted, readjusting – maybe one half of the link would be enough? It was dented – that was a good sign. 

You rested both hands on Astarion’s shoulders, steadying you both as he groaned under the effort. He jerked the handle to and fro, desperately trying to force the iron link to submit to iron teeth. 

With one final effort, the metal finally crunched, and you were free. 

Astarion’s arms encircled you with a strength that made you feel safe and cherished, while you nestled your head against his chest. 

“You... how did you...?” 

“I knew from the moment they took you,” Astarion said, smoothing down your arms, the motion was slow and helped calm you down a little. “I was, let’s say, aware of their presence in camp. But like you, I wanted to avoid a messy fight and so I tracked you down myself and... thank the gods I did.” 

“Guess they helped out a little, after all,” you weakly joked. 

“Oh shush,” he softly retorted. “It was fairly easy, what with that awful stench those creatures' reek of.” 

“So, it was you... in the meadow.” 

“It was,” he smiled, but it was tinged with bitterness. “I almost had you, if only I’d been quicker, or less sloppy, you wouldn’t have...” 

His eyes, pools of worry and tenderness, never left your face. He reached out with a hand that trembled, his fingers brushing away strands of your disheveled hair. His touch was feather-light, as if he feared causing you any more discomfort. 

With a voice softer than a whisper, he asked, “Did… did they…?” The words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions. 

“It’s okay,” you said, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I’m okay.” 

He nodded, his lips curling into a tender smile as he leaned into your touch. Gently, he began to inspect your injuries. His fingers traced the contours of your throat, seeking out any sign of any permanent damage. With each touch, he was meticulous, ensuring that he didn’t aggravate the forming bruise. 

"Does it hurt much?" he inquires softly, his expression unreadable, almost dazed. 

You wince slightly but shake your head. "It's bearable.” 

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're so, so strong, my dear," he whispers, his words a soothing balm to your wounded soul. 

 His soft gaze hardens as he glares down at the goblins' bodies that littered the room. “Death is too good for them. I’m almost tempted to have them revived so I can make them suffer just a little longer.” 

“How did you even manage to kill so many?” you ask, you knew he was a dab hand at killing but even he couldn’t take on a whole horde by himself. 

“They were all so engrossed in their little ritual, they didn’t even see me coming,” Astarion said with a shrug. “That’s what you get for blind faith, I suppose.” 

You wanted to laugh, but your throat hurt too much. 

“Come on, darling,” Astarion gently looped your arm around his shoulder and guided you, going as slow as your aching legs would allow. “Let’s get you home.” 

Your eyes met his in a gaze that transcended words, a silent conversation of empathy and understanding. In that moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the contours of your bodies, and the only reality was the sensation of skin against skin, the intoxicating scent of each other's presence, and the unspoken promise that he would never allow this to happen to you again. 

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #tw kidnapping #request

[lex-the-flex]

First things first you are INCREDIBLE. Absolutely a powerhouse writer, genuinely. I have a request for Astarion x fem!reader if that’s okay? She’s basically never had sex before, and in this scenario Astarion’s already caught feelings so he’s trying to be as kind as possible to her. Just soft as hell Astarion

Thank you so much for requesting love!! I’m glad you enjoyed the fic!

New Adventures

Alright so...

Astarion doesn't take shit from anyone in the early days of joining your group after you've successfully escaped the Nautiloid.

While he keeps his distance from the group, he often gives you the cold shoulder when you ask if he needs help with any labor-inducing task, starting a fire, or combat training. (Despite the rules of vampirism.)

His reactions would make you stay quiet for the rest of the day, making you doubt yourself, and how you approach your other friends afterwards.

Once Astartion saw what he'd done, he silently punished himself, furious with how he crushed the small amount of kindness you offered him.

But as time goes on, Astarion couldn't admit to himself that he cared for you. He truly and deeply desired for a companion that would one day show him all the wonders of the world. He saw that in you and he loved you for it.

And he fell hard for you.

So as the two of you eventually bonded and got closer, one night your crew created a bonfire and decided to get drunk off the three barrels of mead you stole from a cruel clan of goblins. Deep in your three pints, Astarion made his way over you, enjoying your sudden waves of giggles and laughter.

Sitting down next to you, he smiles at your reactions to your friends telling various stories, playing drinking games, etc. So when the infamous question was asked, you immediately snapped from your drunken state:

"Y/N, it's your turn! When did you lose your virginity?"

Stuttering to answer, you didn't want to be made fun of by your friends, so you just hugged your knees against your chest, and Astarion took the show.

"She's waiting for the right time. For when someone special comes along. For someone she can trust ...and love with her whole heart." Astarion explains, giving you a comforting touch to your shoulder.

Gazing at Astarion, the whole world fell silent as the Elf's words made butterflies rise in your stomach. Respecting your personal decision, your group eventually passed out. After sleeping for the entire day, you were the first one to wake up the next night, and the only thing that could quench your overdue hangover was the cool water of a nearby river.

Silently undressing in your private piece of the woods, you descended in the cold water, and a suppressed sigh left your lips only to be replaced by a gasp by the low laughter of none other than Astarion. Leaning against a tree trunk, he stood shirtless with his arms crossed.

"Astarion! Wh-- What are you doing here?" You ask, quick to cover your nude form beneath the water.

"It seems this is our shared sanctuary. And I must admit: it has brought a delectable specimen at my feet." He explains, walking into the shallow water before you.

Swimming around you, Astarion is careful not to intrude on your personal space, making sure to take things slow. Watching the man glide in the water, your breath is caught in your throat just as you take in Astarion's beauty gained through his vampire gifts.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Even if you are an immortal being who's afraid of the sun?" You jest, earning a laugh from Astarion.

Coming to a stop, Astarion guides you to stand before him, ignoring your exposed form.

"...I love you, Y/N. I've never met anyone like you in the two hundred years that I have walked this Earth. You are extraordinary and full of surprises. I won't overstep unless you allow it." Astarion confesses, motioning to the goosebumps rising to your skin.

"I'd like that, Astarion. I want this, and I want it with you." You reply, smiling into the first kiss the vampire gives you.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@violetthecreator

@the-resident-vampire

@bitten-by-astarion

@loveandfictionforall

@tripleyeeet

@macabre-mangled

@demigoddessqueens

@sweatandwoe

@kittenkiryu

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

@kurooreads

@squashfics

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #neil newbon

[mrsbrookemunson]

Hi, love you’re writing! I was wondering if you were open to a Sebastian request… there’s a HC that the reason his hair is always so chaotic is due to Solomon taking sheep shears to his head, and I was wondering if you could use that to do a small fluff, possibly revealing a crush, between Sebastian and MC, in which he’s received another Solomon haircut and is feeling really self conscious about it, so MC assures him it’s not so bad/he’s still handsome

I'm not even kidding, I saw this request and immediately had to do it because I love it so much - I recently went to Universal (Islands of Adventure) and saw the Hogwarts castle and Hogsmeade... I may have cried a little. Summary: The request Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x MC (No pronouns used) Warnings: Uncle Solomon (there, I said it), angst, fluff, food mentioned, use of 'MC', honestly just real fluffy fluff which I feel like we don't have a lot of. Wrote this in one sitting so most definitely typos. If you're on a computer, the pictures might be formatted weirdly. Contains (Or Lacks): No specific house mentioned. The main plot of the game still happened, but Sebastian's side quest did not. Which means Solomon's alive, but Anne is not cured. Set in summer.

(Pictures Found on Pinterest)

The summer sun was always a lovely feeling after the long and cold winters that occurred in the Scottish Highlands. You could admit the snow was pretty, but the way the warmth engulfed you as your journey took you through fields of flowers, across crystal clear water streams, all whist surrounds by tall mountains that were accented with green. Green was everywhere - green grass, green trees, green bushes, and everything so forth. Each breath you took filled you with peace.

Then there you were.

Feldcroft.

It was only a month and a half ago since you last saw your best friend, Sebastian. The end of your 6th year left you torn. Why? Because ever since you and him met in 5th year, you couldn't deny the spark that ignited when your eyes first met his. It was almost as if Merlin himself wrote in the stars that the two of you would find each other one day. And thank Merlin you did. He was there for you during your fight in the Goblin War, he was there for you in the search to find all the answers that led to more questions, and he was there for you when you lost Professor Fig. But, there were lows that came with it.

You couldn't help him. Over the last two school years, you've tried and failed to have found a cure for his twin sister Anne. You both now knew Rookwood was behind the cruelty and not a goblin, but what good did it do when you were too blinded by the fight to have forgotten to force the answers Sebastian so desperately needed out of him? At least, that's what you tell yourself. Sebastian had to have told you a million times not to blame yourself, but you couldn't follow through. The only way to fix things was to find a cure for Anne.

You clutched the handle of your trunk as your eyes caught the all too familiar well of Feldcroft.

"Off on another adventure?"

You turned your head with a raised eyebrow toward Ignatia Wildsmith. With a chuckle, you continued forward.

"Ah! MC, good to see you again!" Bernard Ndiaye, the Feldcroft shopkeeper, called out.

You smiled and walked up to him. "Hello, Bernard. Doing well?"

"As good as one can be," he answered. "What brings you to town?"

"Oh, I'm just visiting a friend," you replied, vaguely. "Sebastian," you added.

"Ah... young Sallow. I've seen quite a bit of him recently."

"Hm?" You gave him a questionable look.

"He's been helping the folks around here with some labor. He's been a great help to me, keeping my shop tidy and stocked!"

"Sounds like Sebastian," you laugh.

He echoed your laughter. "I shouldn't have been surprised of your arrival, he's been talking about you."

"Has he?" You perked.

"Oh yes... all good things, of course." He grinned, smugly.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in suspicion. "I'll take your work for it..." you dragged in amusement. "Well, I should probably be going, they are expecting me."

"Yes! Yes! Don't let me keep them waiting." He waved you off as he takes a sip of his tea.

You smiled and waved goodbye. You walked away toward the Sallows' house which you deemed as the most whimsical looking one out of Feldcroft, but maybe you were biased. You sighed as you took in the house. It was small, but beautiful. You took note of the new elements that have appeared since the last time you were here. A few new plants, a few new fruits and vegetables in their garden, even a new painted wood sign that claimed their residency. Everything looked perfectly tended to.

You raise your fist to knock, but before your knuckles could touch the door you heard what sounded like a grunt coming from behind the house. You froze in attempt to make it easier to hear. Your eyebrows furrowed when you heard yet another one. You took a step back from the door and set down your luggage. Your curiosity led your feet around the house, eyes bouncing around to spot the source of the sound.

You stopped over by the training dummies when you heard another sound, louder than had been before. You turned your head rather abruptly knowing you had finally found your conclusion but that backfired when you felt your knees nearly give out on you.

Oh.

Your face flushed when your attention was suddenly drawn to none other than your best friend. Your best friend that you fancied like mad, right here in front of you, skin glistening from sweat, breathing heavily with the occasional grunt as he moved large trunks of wood. Your eyes widened the more you continued to gawk at him, you didn't even notice that your jaw had dropped a little at the sight of him.

He stood up straight and lifted his hat a little to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He let out a long sigh of exhaustion and let his head hang low for a moment before shaking it off and turning his body to where you stood. You swore you saw his soul leave his body when he was smacked in the face by your presence.

He jumped and grasped his chest with a gasp. "Merlin MC, don't do that to me! How long were you standing there?" he scolded.

Your brain didn't process his scolding. You smiled and walked with vigor up to him. Without a word you threw your arms around your neck and pulled him into an embrace. He stiffened for a second before hugging you back

"I missed you," you said.

He wouldn't have admit it in that moment, but hearing your voice after haven't heard it in a while made his stomach flutter. A smile made its way onto his face. "I missed you too."

You pulled away, but not too far as you scanned his face for any changes. He did the same.

"You've grown," you pointed out.

"Have I?" He smirked.

"At least an inch." You narrowed her eyes. "And you got a new freckle... right... there." You poked his cheek.

He jokingly slapped your hand away. "I see you haven't change one bit," he teased.

You rolled your eyes. You raised a hand to block your eyes from the sun. "Merlin Sebastian, how are you wearing a hat right now in this weather?"

You didn't mention it, but you saw the way his cheeks turned a light shade of red.

"Where's your luggage?" he asked.

"At the front." You jutted your head in the direction.

"C'mon, let's get you settled then." He placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you to the front of the house. He grabbed your luggage and brought it inside, holding the door open for you.

The first thing you saw was Anne. She was standing there with a weak smile on her face. She had gotten a lot thinner since last summer when you saw her, and the dark circles under her eyes were more noticeable. It was a jab to your heart seeing her this way, knowing you couldn't control it.

"MC!" she exclaimed, happily.

"Anne!" You opened your arms and hugged the girl.

"How've you been?" she asked, moving so she could look at you as she spoke.

"I've been good - busy - but good." You hesitated at first, but asked, "And you? How have you been feeling?"

"Some days are worse than others, but today has been good. Probably because I knew you'd be here today." You laughed together. "Uncle has gone out to go get supplies for supper tonight, he should be back soon."

Sebastian behind you muttered something incoherently.

Anne looked at him. "Something on your mind?"

He glanced up from the palm of his hand which he had been absentmindedly tracing. He formed his lips into a tight line. "Nope. Nothing at all... I'll be outside if you girls need anything." He was quick to leave.

You grew a little confused at his rushed exit. "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

Anne scoffed a little. "Oh, it's - it's nothing, it's silly." She brought you to sit at the dining table with her. "He's just a little snippy because Solomon gave him a haircut," she explained.

You didn't know whether to laugh or not. "What?"

Anne shook her head a little. "Ever since we were young, after our parents died, every summer Uncle Solomon will give Sebastian a haircut if he thinks it's gotten too long to do labor with."

You grimaced at the thought of that man giving you a haircut and began to felt sympathy for Sebastian the more you thought about it. "Oh..."

"Solomon recently thought it had gotten too long... I have never seen Sebastian fight it more than he did this time. Honestly, I think it had something to do with you coming so soon."

You frowned. "I'd never make fun of him if that's what he thought."

"He knows that, it's just..."

You tilted your head. "It's just... what?"

She leaned in a little. "It's just that he wants to look his best when he's around you."

"Why should that matter?"

She looked a little taken aback. "My Merlin, do you really not know?"

"Know what?"

"You don't!" she exasperated.

"Don't know what?" You were starting to get a little desperate.

Anne looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. "Be honest with me here... do you fancy my brother?"

You nearly choked out your saliva as you gasped in shock. "What?! No! Me?! No!" You avoided her eye contact as well as her wide grin.

"Oh my gods! You do!" She began to laugh as if it was hysterical. "I knew it!" She slapped the table. "And Sebastian told me you didn't think of him that way..." She shook her head. "I should've listened to Ominis." She began to ramble off about you, Sebastian, and Ominis.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't tell him I told you, but sister to sister you have to know... that my brother - my twin - is totally in love with you."

You blinked a few times as you attempt to process this information. "What?"

"Now before you start asking - "

"Has he told you that?! Since when?! Why has he never told me?!" you blurted.

"He - "

Suddenly, the door swung open. Heavy footsteps treaded in, the wooden floors creaked underneath the new weight. You turned your head and was met with Solomon whose facial expression hadn't changed since the last time you saw him. A deep scowl.

"You're here early," he grumbled.

Your eyes glimpsed at the grandfather clock in their house. You weren't early, in fact you were actually a little late, but there was no way you would correct him. So, instead, you gave a sweet smile. "I had anticipated some interruption during my travels, but lucky for me none came."

He gave a stiff nod and shuffled his way to the kitchen. "Hope you like Shepard's pie."

Even if you didn't, you would never admit it. "Love it!" You eyed Anne who was holding back a giggle.

"Where's that boy?" he asked, unpacking the produce and meat.

"He's outside, working in the back," Anne answered.

He glared. It wasn't directed toward Anne, but it still managed to make you two cower a little. "No manners that boy has! Invites a guest over and then - " The rest of it was mumbled as he stormed out of the house.

You and Anne could hear muffled shouting.

You turned to Anne. "Anne, about Sebastian - " You were interrupted this time by the door. However, Solomon was now accompanied by Sebastian.

So, that's why he's wearing a hat. You thought to yourself.

Solomon shoved his toward the table where you and Anne sat at. He huffed and sat down beside you.

Anne glanced between the two of you with a sly smile. "So, MC... you said you've been busy, doing what exactly?"

"I've been helping Mr. Weekes at Spintwitches Sporting Needs, he has some new ideas for broom upgrades that I've been assisting him with."

"Sebastian told me you were a good flyer, better than Imelda from what he's told me."

Sebastian had seemed to've perked up. "She's the best on the team."

You breathily scoffed. "That's pushing it a little."

"Nonsense, people think you're gonna get chosen for captain in this new year," he said.

"Don't let Imelda hear that, it'd be over her dead body would I get that position," you half-heartedly joke.

"Anything else you've been doing?" Anne inquired, resting her chin against her knuckles.

"I've been helping Mr. Hill with modeling clothes, helping Sirona at the Three Broom Sticks - cleaning and whatnot, helping J. Pippins with potion deliveries, of course running my own shop - "

"Have you been taking breaks?" Sebastian asked.

You frowned a little at his look of concern. "Of course I have been taking breaks, I''m taking one right now, being here." You could tell that didn't ease him. "It's a busy season, but I've been managing."

"But, you've been drinking enough water, right? Eating enough? Sleeping enough?"

Anne could relate this back to the 'he's in love with you' claim, but you could relate it back to the two of them. He's had to care for Anne for a while now and witnessed her downfall, it's to no surprise he'd be protective over your health and making sure you're okay.

"Yes, Sebastian," you assured.

Solomon was cutting carrots (why is that funny to imagine?), when he grumbled to himself about something. He set his knife down shook his head. "Boy! What did I say about wearing hats indoors?"

You eyed Sebastian's expression. It flickered with embarrassment.

"I am not taking off this hat," he argued.

Solomon crossed his arms and stared down Sebastian. "And why is that?"

Sebastian's lip trembled a little. "W-Well, because - " He sighed in defeat, he didn't want to argue in front of you. That was an embarrassment in itself as he learned the more he thought about the day you first met Anne. "Yes, sir."

Solomon went back to cooking. You didn't know whether to watch or not as Sebastian slowly took off his hat. His eyes casted down in shame. Some of his hair was matted down from the sweat while the rest of it had it's own mind. You had never really seen his natural hair, always tamed with gel. This was the first time you had seen the chaos that was Sebastian's hair, and oh how Solomon did not understand it.

Sebastian ran a hand through it, but it only seemed to have stirred it more. The shorter layers sticking out a little, some parts wavy, some parts straight. The longer layers uneven. You deep down hoped that one day it'd be you who'd give his hair the treatment it deserved, because you knew how much Sebastian cared about it.

"I'm just going to step away for a moment - " Sebastian started.

"No, I need your hand in the kitchen," Solomon countered.

Sebastian shut his eyes. His nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he breathed in sharply. He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

"Due to the arguing, Solomon did haste the cutting process," Anne explained in a hushed tone

"What does he use for it?" You scooted closer toward her so Sebastian nor Solomon heard.

"Sheep shears." Anne cringed at the thought. "I've been fortunate enough to have never experienced it, Sebastian on the other hand..." she paused. "In our second year, Solomon cut it right before the start of first term, and let's just say... it ended him up with an awful nickname."

"Oh, poor Sebastian..." You sympathized.

"After that he learned how to style his hair and built a new reputation for himself, but I know it haunts him every time this season comes around. I think he's just scared you'll somehow lose interest in him all together if you see him - well... this way..."

You frown and looked at Sebastian whose energy drained in the last hour.

"I don't think that's possible," you whisper, unknowingly.

Anne grabbed your hand that laid on the table. "Maybe it's time to tell him that."

You bit your lip. Your nerves grew the more you thought about such a conversation between you and Sebastian. Where you'd reveal the feelings you've contained since the day you met him. Yes, when you met him, you thought he was attractive, but then you got to know him and suddenly he was beautiful. Inside and out, and that's what scared you.

Were you enough for someone beautiful?

You know Anne said he liked you back, but what if it was all a big misunderstanding? It wouldn't have been the first time.

Could you afford to get your heartbroken by Sebastian?

You think not. Which is why when you got your plate of food, you managed to build up no appetite. You pushed around the potato meat and vegetables until it was nothing but a pile of mush. You could feel the heat of Sebastian's gaze burn into you, but you did you best to avoid it. Eventually, Anne allowed the awkward silence to take over until everyone was done with dinner.

Sebastian stood up. "I'm gonna go get some air," he announced before leaving.

You watched him carefully as he left.

Anne picked at her fingernails. "I'm gonna go help Uncle with the rhubarb pie," she said, slowly, as if hinting toward something. "If you know... you wanna... talk." She eyed the door.

You picked it up her cues rather easily. "Yeah," you breathed. "Yeah, maybe that's for the best." You cleared your throat as the both of you stood.

Anne could read by your stance how nervous you were. She grasped your upper arm. and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Hey, believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about. I know my brother better than anyone and I know... you're everything to him."

You could've argued against that, but chose to bite your tongue and nod. She smiled and gave your upper arm one more squeeze. She walked past you to the kitchen. You sighed and glanced at the door. After what felt like a lifetime you took the first step toward exiting the house until you felt the cool breeze against your face. You ventured out a little and turned your head to your right. It was where you two met up the day you first came to Feldcroft all that time ago, before you met Anne, before him and Solomon got into that fight, and before you told Sebastian all about the keepers.

You walked up the steps and to him where he was leaning against the railing. His back was still turned to you which prompted you to rest against the railing next to him. The two of you wallow in the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence.

"What for?"

"For being distance."

"It's okay - "

"It's not okay..." He groaned a little. "It's stupid." He shook his head.

"What is? I can tell you, whatever it is, it is not stupid if it's affecting you this much." You knew what it was, but for you to truly understand, you needed to hear his feelings on it.

He shakily sighed. "I know you've noticed, how could you not notice?" He tugged at a strand of his hair which stuck up and out of place. "I swear he treats me as though I'm still a child."

"Sebastian..."

"Don't even lie and tell me it doesn't look bad."

"Could you look at me, please?" He hesitates but does so. "Here..." You stand upright, guiding him to do the same. Cautiously, you began to run your fingers through his hair. You don't verbally mention the way he shuddered immediately when doing so, or when he sighs again, this time of content. You smile, and continue to use your fingers to carefully style his hair. "This is the first time you've ever let me do this."

"Is it really?" He sounded absent. You noticed he had close his eyes and was now leaning into your touch a little more than before. "I've been missing out..."

"Just give me the word and I'll do this at any time for you." You smiled even though he couldn't see it.

"Careful... I think I'd tell you to never stop at some point."

You chuckle but don't respond. You finish by brushing his bangs to the side. Your eyes flickered all around his face. You were so close, you could've counted every freckle, every eyelash, every scar and imperfection that was perfection simply because it was him. Without another thought, your fingers dragged to trace the side of his face down to his jawline. During that, his eyes slowly opened. Your hand didn't leave his face as his eyes bored into yours.

Have they always looked at you that way?

"Have I told you lately that no matter what... you're beautiful... to me?" you stammered.

His breath hitched in his throat. "No," he breathed. "But, then again, I've been doing a terrible job reminding you that as well."

"We ought to really work on that together then, hm?"

He lifted up a hand and pushed your hair back behind your ear. "Yeah..."

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

You could only describe the moment as the stars having finally aligned. He wasted no time placing his lips against yours. There was no barrier of friendship keeping him from doing the thing he's been wanting to do for so long. You both have well crossed that safe line and now there was so turning back. Sebastian pulled you closer as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to make up for all the time he let go by without making you his. And he really wanted you to be his as much as he wanted to be yours. He wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips against his, your body pressed to his body, the tickle of your hair of his face, the feeling of your fingers in his hair. All that he wanted to consume was you.

The two of you pulled away to catch your breath. You both laughed and leaned into each other as you processed the moment as it was really happening.

You sighed, happily. "You know, your uncle is going to be wondering where we went."

"I honestly could care less about that right now." He couldn't stop smiling. He goes to lean in again but is interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

"As much as I'd love for you guys to continue your moment, I was ordered to tell you that the pie is ready," Anne said with an amused glint in her eye. "I'd also like to mention that I told you so, to both of you." She spun on her heel and began to slowly walk away.

You and Sebastian watched Anne walk away with wide eyes. Sebastian intertwined your fingers with his. "I guess we do have all of summer to spend time with each other."

"I'd like to think it wouldn't end just there," you tease as the you both start to walk back to the house.

"Don't you worry, you're gonna be stuck with me for life. Bad haircuts and all." He nudges you, playfully.

A perfect life.

Your eyes soften. "Lucky me," you whisper.

#sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #harry potter

[skullamity]

Hey who wants to see pics of my garbage idiot cat children?

Unexpectedly photogenic Parsnip (black long hair) and Ham (grey tabby shorthair with white bib and boots) cuddling at the top of the cat tree where they DEFINITELY both fit, don't question it:

Immediate top ten anime betrayal moment:

Dusty (grey and peach torbie short hair) and Parsnip chilling in a window together even though she find his deaf ass The Most Annoying:

All three of them are goblins, but for completely different reasons and in completely different ways. They're all super cute, though, so everybody should look at them right now!

If anyone has questions about what it's like to live with a young deaf cat (as opposed to an old cat that has gone deaf), feel free to ask and I will be glad to answer, but otherwise I'm not typing up an essay.

Bonus:

an extremely cryptid photo of Parsnip mid-stretch that reminds me of

#cats #catblr #behold my horrible goblins #Parsnip #Ham #Dusty

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 33

(Chapter 32; Chapter 34)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

The Chosen One

”No.” he sneers his lips at you, before he turns on his heels and starts walking back to the shrine.

“What do you mean “no”?” you imitate his voice, as you tap after him. “They’re celebrating you.”

He doesn’t respond, just waving his hand at you in a dismissing way. You gather some speed and grab his bottom left hand. He stops and throws you a pissed glance.

“Maybe they have food?” you ask carefully. He doesn’t answer. “Seasoned… meat?” you try to be as cute as possible, giving him doe eyes. “Please?”

The corners of his lips twitch in a suppressed grin, before he rolls his eyes at you and wordlessly walks back into your direction.

Yes!

Happiness spreads in your chest, as he walks past you. You don’t let go of his hand, feeling the soft skin of his palm against your tiny fingers, before you notice his nails. Your eyes widen in horror, letting go of them as if they’re poisonous, as you remember the trails your very own nails left on his exposed back. Blood pumps into your ears and cheeks.

“What about your back? They’re gonna-“

“We’re going!” he interrupts your nervous blabbering in a serious tone, while he keeps walking.

Fuck!

You nervously bite the insides of your cheeks, thinking about the consequences of your actions.

Everyone’s gonna see it.

You slam your hand against your forehead, while following your King through the forest a few steps behind him.

The music turns louder and louder, the more you approach the village. Different scents crawl into your nose, smoke, meat, fish, sweets. The sky turns yellow from the torches and lights that are illuminating the scene. Trees turn into silhouettes, as you finally see a big festival happening between them. After a few more steps, you leave the forest and… you’re there.

Standing to the right of Sukuna, your eyes grow wide, looking everywhere. There’s food, musicians, dancers, lanterns. People are celebrating, drinking and eating.

“Oh dear.” you snort as you spot some kind of statue standing on an altar, having four arms and an angry grin. It looks like a goblin.

“Yea.” he sneers, visibly not pleased about the lack of resemblance and obviously not seeing this kind of homage to him for the first time.

“THE KING! THE KING HIMSELF!” suddenly a voice from a man echoes through the scene. You notice Sukuna rolling his eyes, before he turns to where the voice comes from.

The man runs to the both of you. It’s the same man who begged for help in the audience. You lower your gaze, as soon as you recognise him.

“PLEASE! Your majesty…” he says, before you see him nodding at you in the corner of your eye “…and company. Please be our guests! Drink and eat and celebrate as much as you like!”

“Get lost.” Sukuna says and the man looses the colour on his face, chuckles insecurely, bows down and steps away again, making your King huff. He leans down to your ear.

“Good girl.” he mumbles, before he starts to walk into the crowd. Your cunt responds with a tingle to his words, while your cheeks proudly paint themself in a dark shade of red, before you start to follow him.

The music is very rhythmic, heroic drums reach your ears and you love it. It suits him.

You make your way through the people, aiming for a booth where meat is prepared. As you walk, you notice a lot of the people admiring Sukuna. Women, too. Some start to whisper and giggle to each other whenever they see his back.

Hhhhhhggg

Ears as red as fire, you lower your head even more and want to sink into the ground. Sukuna notices your shame.

“See? They like my little souvenir.” he smirks.

“It doesn’t help that you’re twice as tall as everyone else here. Everyone can see what I’ve done to you.” you complain. He chuckles, obviously enjoying your shame more than you wish.

“So dramatic.” he coos.

“How do you feel being ripped into shreds by a mere mortal like me?” your dramatic tone increases. “Those flesh wounds must hurt.”

“It’s fine.” he says, before stopping you in your tracks and leaning down and whispering at your face. “A keepsake, reminding me of how good I fucked you.”

Why did I ask him to come here?

Your heart flutters heavily at his words. Wetness pooling once again between your thighs. He cocks his eyebrow and takes a sniff, before a shit eating grin forms on his mouth.

“I see, you agree with me.”

Asshole.

“Master Sukuna!” a familiar voice appears behind you. Sukuna doesn’t react, keeps grinning into your embarrassed eyes for a second, before he raises his head again.

“Uraume.” he says, you and him nodding to them, as they lower their head.

“I didn’t expect you here, y/n.” they say, before they turn to Sukuna. “I almost had the impression you wouldn’t attend the festivities this time, Master Sukuna.”

“I had some urgent business to attend first.” he says casually, as if that urgent business didn’t mean that he fucked your brain to mush. Sukuna turns around and continues his way to the meat booth. You don’t dare to look at Uraume, yet feel them looking at you, as you bite your lips.

They start to walk past you and follow Sukuna and you tipple after them.

You arrive at the booth and the cook offers you three small plates of delicious smelling meat along with three small bowls of fresh rice. Although you’re starving, you don’t want to be rude and wait until Sukuna takes one of the plate along with the chopsticks.

I’ve never seen him eat with chopsticks before.

He looks at you and then to the plates, wordlessly ordering you to take one of them, before he takes a bite. You take it, bowing to the cook in gratitude, before you try the food. A wholesome feeling shoots through you, as you taste the incredible well seasoned pork on your tongue. Uraume denies the food.

“You instructed the cook well.” Sukuna says after swallowing the last slice of his plate, before he takes Uraumes portion.

“Thank you, Master Sukuna. Enjoy your meal. I will now excuse myself and see you later.” they bow their head “Y/n.” Then they vanish back into the crowd.

“I had the impression you never ate prepared meat before I cooked it for you in the woods. Why do you keep eating it raw?” you question him. He cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I never said I didn’t.” he smirks with a voice that melts in your ears. “Uraume cooks it best, but they have other business to do.” he keeps munching. “Those other bitches can’t cook, so I rather take it raw.”

You hum at his answer… and feel so happy about his insult.

Bitches.

“Mhmm.” you pick up your second slice about to eat it. “… how do you refer to me when I’m not around?” you tease him. His smirk grows wider, the wrinkles on his eyes increasing, as he keeps chewing, focused on his now empty second plate.

God.

He looks so good.

Your King doesn’t answer, instead he steals the last slice of meat on your plate with his chopsticks and shoves it in his mouth.

“Oy!” you exclaim. You don’t like sharing food when you’re hungry.

Asshole.

“Don’t “oy” me, Princess.” he grins at you, intimidating in a way, before he casually leaves the booth you were standing at. You hastily shove some rice into your mouth, thank the cook again, before you follow him through the crowd.

People are everywhere, you have to tipple and excuse your way through the crowd, in order to catch up to him. If he wasn’t so tall, you would’ve lost sight to him by now.

“My King!” you call him, hoping he would hear and wait for you.

Boom!

Another firework flies up into the air behind you. Your attention is caught and your eyes wander up into the sky to see it explode into a million pieces.

“Pretty!” you breathe, while stumbling further into Sukunas direction, not taking your eyes off the vanishing fireworks.

Step.

You bump into him. Face against the skin of his left side.

Ouch.

Apparently he indeed stopped and turned around to wait for you. A dull pain drives through your nose, before you look up to him. He sneers at you, before he turns back around and continues his way.

The scene around you is very loud, not only the chatter and laughter of people, but also the music. You notice the dancers, groups of men and women, each of them holding a sensu in their hand, moving it so elegantly, throwing it into the air and catching it back into their hands, their steps and moves so elegantly but fierce at the same time. On the opposite side of the dancers, you notice another podium. This one offers enough space for a handful of people to stand on it, pillars rise up from the corners, decorated with leaf carrying branches.

“Princess.” his voice interrupts your analysis of the place. You turn to him, only to see him offering you a small ceramic cup.

Sake!

“Oh.” your eyes grow big in curiosity and anxiety at the same time, as you carefully take it with both hands.

It’s warm.

Enjoying the warm feeling on your hands, you think about having never tried it before. You look up to him, seeing him taking a sip already, keeping his bottom pair of eyes fixated on you. Looking back to your own cup, you chew on your lips, while you remember the last time being drunk. His hand reaches your sight, before his index finger delicately pushes against the bottom of your cup. Your hands obey and rise the cup for your mouth.

Despite watching Sukuna before, you swallow it all at once and the warm alcohol burns down your throat, making you cough and your eyes wet. Sukuna watches and rises his eyebrow at you.

“What?” you feel your cheeks already heating up.

“Thirsty.” he sneers.

“How else am I supposed to drink it? The cup’s so tiiiny!” you babble, ignoring what he just said. “It’s all just. Gone.” you emphasise your words, with your hands and eyes.

Sukuna watches your already drunk behaviour with half lidded eyes, as a hungry smirk creeps on his face, before he takes another sip. Your heart squeezes, before the alcohol crawls into your legs. Having not eaten much today, it’s no wonder it spreads in your body quickly.

You place the empty cup on the table Sukuna got it from and ask for another. Your King stands right next to you, watching the crowd and dancers, while you get your next cup. After another sip, you start to feel dizzy.

“I have to sit down somewhere.” you sigh to yourself and start walking to a nearby area, a bit hidden next to the booths where you spotted a bench, leaving Sukuna standing there, not even waiting for his reaction.

You sit down and sigh, as you keep watching the dancers, the cooks in the booths and the flickering in the lanterns. It’s new for you to experience these kinds of things as a normal visitor.

The festivities in your village were way smaller and you never could enjoy what was happening. Either you were not even allowed to go or you had to work behind the scenes.

You kick your feet, while you take another sip. A feeling of contentment spreads in your gut, a feeling of joy and peace. Closing your eyes, you raise your head, as you keep listening to the sounds, as you keep smelling the scents. Your cheeks are tingling, as well as your legs, almost feeling like you’re floating on a boat.

Suddenly you feel someone sit down right next to you. Opening your eyes, you look to your right, ready to lean your head against Sukuna, when you notice: it isn’t Sukuna. You flinch, the picture in front of you is swimming. A young man, which you have not expected sitting there. He smiles at you and your mushy brain tells you to smile back.

“Do you enjoy the festivities?” he seems to be nice and you’re overwhelmed. You nod, before you retrieve your smile and squint at him, not sure what you should say or if you should talk to him at all anyway. He chuckles at your behaviour, his eyes jumping down to your cup of sake and back to your eyes.

“Would you mind to have another dri-“

“You have two seconds.” Sukuna’s threatening voice interrupts him.

The poor man can’t even react in time, before Sukuna just shoves him off that bench and sits down right next to you. Your King throws him a threatening glance, as the man stumbles to the ground and quickly hurries away.

It all happens too fast for your drunk brain, that you just accept what just happened. Sukuna leans forward, supporting himself on his elbows on his thighs, before you softly poke your right index finger into his side. He doesn’t react and you look down to your cup.

“I apologise for leaving you at the booth.” you sigh, fiddling with the ceramic. He throws you a glance over his shoulder, before he turns back forward.

“It’s fine.” he grumbles.

You sigh another time, your brain running circles, before you let your head lean against his side. He stays silent and you know he very much wasn’t pleased seeing your interaction with this man.

“Don’t be mad at me.” you pout, trying to soothe your angry King.

Suddenly a woman steps in front of Sukuna, making you quickly retrieve your head from his side, sitting back straight. As soon as you see the womans face, you blink.

She’s beautiful.

“Master Sukuna” her voice as smooth as butter. “I would like to thank you for your duty as our King.” She kneels down before him, lowers her head and offers him a folded sensu.

You watch how Sukuna watches her and jealousy crawls up your gut. He nods and accepts her gift with a smirk and takes the sensu.

Why did I never make him a gift?

You get angry at yourself.

She gets up again, bows and before she leaves, she leans in and whispers something in his ear, making his smirk grow.

You chug your remaining sake in one angry go.

After she’s gone, Sukuna fiddles with the sensu, folding it open, revealing a beautiful red and blue pattern, feeling the material, before he closes it again.

Enough.

You turn away.

“How do you like it?” he mumbles, referring to the hand fan.

“It’s fine.” you grumble. “I hope it will provide you the coooldest breeze.”

You hear him huff softly behind your back, before the sensu reaches your eyesight. Looking at it and back to Sukuna, he motions it to you.

“Take it.” he says, making you frown.

“It’s yours.” you sneer, your vision still blurry.

“Now it’s a gift for you.” his voice suddenly smooth in contrast to his grumpy attitude from before. You blink and take the sensu, your fingers brushing against his in the process, before you turn your back to him again.

“Don’t you wanna know what she told me?” he teases you.

“Did she ask you to come visit her in her chambers?” the alcohol keeps burning on your cheeks, your vision keeps swimming.

He grabs you by your chin and harshly turns your face around to him. After a second of just looking at you, he whispers.

“She told me how pretty the woman is who is sitting right next to me.” his eyes dancing between your eyes and lips, as the hungry smirk crawls back into his face. “And she’s right... Do you have any idea how pretty you look with those eyes of yours?”

Your face flushes red, drunk ears listening to his words, being not the words that you expected to hear.

“The way I have to contain myself to not drag you up that podium and fuck you for everyone to see. For everyone and that stupid little bastard from earlier to see, that you’re mine and only mine. How dares he speaking to you just like that?”

Pressing your thighs together at his words, you sigh into his hold, almost melting into his hold, as another batch of fireworks starts shooting.

“Do it.” your shy cheeks are burning and your cunt is tingling, his possessive behaviour so hot to you. His lip twitches at your words.

“Don’t tempt me.” he hisses.

Boom!

“What about a kiss then?” you tease, making him cock his eyebrow at you. Your voice turns seductive. “…I bet you’re not even brave enough to kiss me in the middle of the crowd.”

His lip twitches once again and you just stare at him for a second, before you stand up, your jaw leaving his grip. You walk back into the celebrating crowd, swaying your hips with every step. It doesn’t take long, before you feel his huge presence go after you. Step by step, you walk between the people, while he’s walking a few meters behind you, like a predator sneaking up behind its prey.

Step by step.

Boom!

The alcohol in your blood makes situation this so exciting, the wetness between your thighs so dripping.

Suddenly someone bumps into you. You stumble to your right, making you loose your sensu.

Quickly you kneel down, but Sukuna grabs it first. Standing back up, you see the excitement in his eyes, his pupils blown so wide, eager to prove you otherwise, as he kneels right in front of you. With one swing of his hand, he folds the fan open and places it next to your cheek, covering one side of your face. Sukuna gently holds your chin with his upper left hand and leans in.

Boom!

Everyone around you looks up to the biggest explosion of this evening. A beautiful shrine like pattern paints the sky, as his lips gently find yours. Heart skips a beat, as you reach for his hand that’s holding the sensu. Hiding below the lights and behind the fan, his lips glide so smoothly against yours. Your breath is knocked out of you, as his tongue licks against yours, before he breaks the kiss again.

“You lost.” he breathes with a grin against your lips and you don’t care. A smile spreads on your face, as he leans back and you drown in his eyes, the reflections of the fading lights in the sky sparkling in them.

A loving feeling overwhelms you and you jump forward, letting your arms fall around his neck. You almost lose balance, before you feel him putting his hand against the small of your back.

“Do you have any idea how pretty you look with those eyes of yours, my love?” you sigh into his ear, squeezing him tight. He purrs and you feel his nails dig into your back, before you realise what you just said, as suddenly the drums grow loud.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

You flinch, quickly retracting your arms from his neck.

In a steady pace, they keep drumming, while Sukuna loosens his grip on you and rises back to his feet. People are already looking at the both of you and you quickly unfold the sensu and hide your face behind it. Heat rises to your face, still embarrassed about what you just called him, before a loud voice echoes through your ears.

“King Ryomen Sukuna! Please be our guest and come up here! Enjoy the ceremony!”

Bong. Bong. Bong.

His eyes pierce into your for one more second, before he turns around and makes his way to the podium. Quickly fanning yourself some air, you step aside, as people gather behind you with goods in their hands.

You watch him climbing up the few stairs that lead up to the wooden podium and sitting down on it’s surface. Uraume walks up and comes to a halt right next to him. A servant walks by and throws a black cape over his shoulders.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

Silence.

The drums stopped, only the crackle of the torches reach your ear.

“Your Majesty! Please accept our gifts of goodwill and gratitude. You blessed us with peace and fortune, we will be forever in your debt.” the man says, while people build a queue and start to carry their goods to the podium. Crops, fruits, dried meat, jewellery, fabrics. You watch them, one by one take a step forward and bow to him, laying their gifts at the bottom of the stairs. Uraume is waiting patiently with a lowered gaze. People around you watch the ceremony in a reverent manner, like he’s a god. You seek his gaze, his face rather stoic, even a bit intimidating and bothered, before you notice that the eyes of his mask are looking into your direction.

To you.

As soon as you realise, you smile and bow your head to your King as well. After a moment you raise your head back up, only to see him break eye contact with you and focus on the people in front of him. One after another lay their precious possessions at the feet of your King. After roughly half an hour, you notice a group of five young women forming at the end of the queue. They are all pretty looking and nervousness spreads in your gut, as you remember the words the bitch told you.

A prize.

They follow the queue, until the last person carefully laid down their gift to the bottom of the stairs.

“Now that we offered you our gratitude, please honour us and choose a woman! A woman suitable for a King.” the man comments, while the women gather up in front of the podium.

No! No No No No No!

She’s not right. She’s not right.

You look to Sukuna, his eyes fixated on them and only them. All of the women have their head lowered, standing so religious in front of him. Your breath grows nervous. Everyone looks at your King in suspense, before Sukuna raises his head, staring at each of them. After a moment on contemplation, he opens his mouth a little and licks his teeth, a smirk crawling onto his lips. He looks hungry.

No! Not again!

Being a prize is better than being garbage.

Your heart is beating in your throat, as you watch the fingers of his hand that’s been resting on his left knee fiddle with each other and you notice his bottom right eye looking at you for a second. After a moment, he raises his index finger to point at the one in the middle.

The people applaud and cheer.

“A wonderful choice. May she serve you for her lifetime. Who knows, maybe even as a Queen?” the man chuckles, while the woman steps forward onto the podium.

Nausea comes over you and you feel like you need to throw up.

“Excuse me.” you say to the people around you, while you quickly leave the event, heart beating out of your chest.

The bitch can’t be right…

You hurry in between the houses standing close to the forest, away from the people and spew on the ground. Coughing and shaking, you don’t know what to do or feel.

“She can’t be right.” you mumble. “He’s not bored of me. I’m not garbage…” you chant to yourself, trying to reset your brain from the low self esteem you’re feeling.

Heartache.

“Your majesty, we do have a lot more to offer y-…uh?” you hear the man say in the distance, as you throw up another time. You stare at the ground in a delirium, while holding on to the side of the house to your left.

You hate that you’re feeling like this, despite how sweetly he acted towards you this whole evening. Her words messed up your brain.

“Oy, Princess!” the voice you love comes up behind you.

Your face feels numb from the anxiety, but you try to overplay it.

“Just got sick from the sake I guess.” you say, before spitting.

He knows when I lie to him.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be up there.” you complain to distract him from the situation.

He looks at you for a second, before he grabs your wrist and drags you back into the forest.

“What are you-?”

“We’re leaving.” he growls.

Your eyes are fixated on his hand on your wrist, not knowing how to react, not knowing what to say. Looking down to the dark ground, you listen to the leaves and twigs cracking under your feet, until you finally reach the meadow in front of the shrine again.

The sounds of the festivities grow silent in the distance.

Sukuna keeps dragging you to the shrine, but you notice he’s not going for the entrance. Going to the right side of the shrine, he stops. You look at him questioningly. Without explaining anything, he leans down to you and lifts you up.

Huh?

You just function and your hands find the edge of the shrines roof. With a push, he shoves you on the elevated surface. You climb further on the roof, carefully using the spikes that protrude there, until you reach the top. The curved roof converges on a long broad wooden beam. You sit and look back to Sukuna. With a jump, he holds on to the edge and hoists himself up. You watch him climb to the top of the roof like you did, his four arms almost making him look like a monkey while he does so, the sight causing you to suppress a grin.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” you lie and turn your back to him. “What are we doing here?”

He sighs loudly, before he sits down on the wooden beam behind you and lays on his back. You notice and turn around to see what he’s doing. His right leg is up with his foot resting on the surface, while he lets his left leg dangling down the side of the roof.

“Enjoying the silence.” he says calmly, while closing his eyes. You blink and smile to yourself, wondering if he did this for you. Leaning down, your back finds its way to the wooden surface as well, your head finding its place right next to his.

Some moments pass in silence. You watch the sky and the stars and wonder if he does too or keeps his eyes closed. The situation from earlier however, still sits in your mind.

“She’s pretty.” you start in a quiet voice. “I would’ve chosen her, too.”

He huffs amused.

“Really?” you hear him smirk. “Mhm… Interesting.”

“Don’t you think she’s pretty enough to be your queen?” you ask.

“Would you like that?” he smirks.

“No… I would strangle her in her sleep.” you answer in a serious tone, while closing your eyes. “Then you can eat her. You looked so hungry while choosing her anyway.”

He snorts and chuckles loudly at your words, making you feel his head move next to yours. You smile along, glad that you could make him laugh.

“You watched very closely.” he adds.

“I did.” you say quietly, smile fading. A weird mix of happiness and sadness fills your stomach, making you chew on your lip.

“Do they always offer you a bunch of women, hoping one of them to become your Queen?” your voice quiet again.

“Mh Mh.” he hums in confirmation.

“They have good intentions, wanting a Queen for their King.” you chuckle nervously.

„They’re a bunch of fools.“ he sneers. “And you are, too.”

Ouch.

The sounds of feet on grass reach your ears and you elevate your head to look down to the meadow. You see Uraume and the chosen girl walk back to the shrine. Having their hands full, they carry a lot of the good that were offered to Sukuna. Uraume seems to explain her something, probably the same things they explained to you when you arrived. You watch them for a moment and look back to Sukuna laying next to you, until you lay down again and the emotions in your gut keep building and building.

Feeling happy, that he’s here with you despite choosing her. Feeling sad, that he chose her despite having you.

And now she’s on her way, walking right into the shrine.

Your lips start to tremble and you sit up, as suddenly your emotions overflow and tears fall from your eyes. The rest of the alcohol in your blood doesn’t help with this situation at all. In fact it’s making it worse.

“Why’re you crying?” Sukuna’s eyes bore into your back, as you sniff and wipe away your tears.

“I can’t say.” you sob, while the palm of your hand swipes over your right eye, feeling ashamed that your brain and the bitch is making you feel so insecure.

Sukuna smacks his lips in annoyance, before he looks up into the sky again.

“Stop it.” he demands, his strict voice punches you hard in your guts.

Sniff.

But after a moment, it somehow eases your mind, brings you back to the here and now.

He’s here with me.

With me and only me.

Right now.

Slowly, you calm down and grow quiet again.

“You looked fierce on the battlefield.” he continues, making you turn around to him. “Using that bow and arrow suited you. So stand proud… and stop crying.”

He’s looking to the sky, while he says his words and hearing them makes you want to bawl your eyes out even more.

“Ok.” you swallow your tears and lay back down, while he grumbles in response.

Sniff.

A moment passes, before you tilt your head a little bit and look up to the moon. It’s shining so bright onto the two of you.

He didn’t want to go to the festival in the first place…

“While you were gone, did you look up and watch the moon sometime?” you ask him.

“I did.” he whispers, making your heart ache. The reminder, that not only you longed for him, but he also longed for you.

“Me too.” you breathe.

”I know.” he answers quietly, making your heart skip a beat, before it starts racing.

The stars keep shining down on both of you, as you watch the sky, while your heart keeps beating heavily in your chest. Just you and him laying there, just feeling his existence and yours, just feeling the warmth of his face next to yours. Thoughts tingle in your mind.

Stand proud.

Boom!

Another firework.

Maybe the last one.

“Sukuna…” you breathe. Heart racing, as you keep thinking, while staring on the dark blue, glittering space above your head. Eyes dancing between the stars and sparkles that you see. His face softly tilts against yours, waiting for you to speak, while you ponder. Trembling fingers start fiddling gently with the fabric of your kimono, before you inhale, before your lips start moving.

“I love you.”

#permission #permission chapters #true form sukuna #sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #true form sukuna x reader #true form sukuna x you #fanfiction #slowburn #romance

[pikapeppa]

Astarion/Tav: Dull

A little early-Act I bonding between Astarion and a bard-rogue Tav. 🥰 1070 words, SFW!

*************

Astarion sighed loudly.

Tav fell back a step and elbowed him. “What’s the matter now, handsome?” 

“You’re dull,” he complained. “That’s what the matter is.”

She barked out a laugh. “Excuse me? What did I ever do to deserve such an insult?”

“It’s what you won't do that’s the problem,” he said. “You keep on purchasing things from traders at fair prices.”

“So?”

“So,” he drawled, “we were all snatched into that ghastly nautiloid ship with nothing but the clothes and weapons on our backs. And yet you keep throwing gold around like it’s going out of style!”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” she said. “I barter, and I do it well.”

“And did your bartering get you this?” He deftly rolled a gold ring across his fingertips and held it up with a flourish. 

She gasped. “Astarion! Where did you get that?”

“It’s called petty theft, darling,” he said, and he pocketed the ring. “You ought to try your hand at it sometime.”

“Should I, now?” She lifted her hand and scratched her temple in an exaggerated way. 

His eyes widened. She was wearing a gold bangle with an oak-leaf design: one that Astarion distinctly remembered having stolen from that healer-druid’s table back at the Sacred Grove.

He slapped a hand over his coin purse. “What the devil—? How did you—?”

She snickered and took the bangle off. “Don’t try selling theft to a thief, my friend. You’re only preaching to the acolytes.” She slipped the bangle into her pocket. 

“Excuse you, but that’s mine,” he exclaimed.

“Nice try,” she said sweetly. “If you can’t hang onto it, it’s not yours anymore.”

He smirked. She’d won this particular battle of wits, he’d give her that. “Well, now I especially don’t understand. If you’re such an apt little thief, why in the hells do you keep wasting our precious coin on trading with people when you could be fleecing them instead?”

“Because I’m a noble thief now. I save my nimble fingers for those who deserve it.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “What makes you think those people don’t deserve it?” He waved dismissively back in the direction of the Grove.

She raised her eyebrows. “You think that Nettie deserved to be stolen from? The same Nettie who gave us advice on how to get these tadpoles out of our heads?”

He widened his eyes sarcastically. “You mean that same Nettie who was ready to poison you if you hadn’t given her the answer she was looking for?” He tsked. “I’d have liked to see her try such a trick on me. I wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, I promise you that.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You’re the stabbiest vampire who ever stabbed anyone on the face of Faerûn, I know.”

“And the most beautiful, don’t forget.”

“How could I ever?” she said with a grin. “But my point still stands. I save the thieving for those who deserve it.”

“And my point still stands,” he replied. “You’re very dull, not to mention naïve, if you think there’s anyone out there who hasn’t deserved a good robbing at one point or another.”

She gave him a strange look: a thoughtful look, but one that was rather piercing, too. It gave him an odd squirmy feeling in his belly to have her look at him like this, like a faint and unfamiliar kind of discomfort.

He flicked back a lock of hair. “Stare all you want, darling. Just don’t go wandering into a tree while you do.”

She smiled, then tilted her head shrewdly. “How about this, then, if you think I’m so dull: let’s make a bet.”

“What sort of bet?”

“When we get to the goblin camp, I bet that I can pickpocket more than you can.”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “More what? More individual goblins, or more profit?”

“More profit, of course. There’s no way to keep track of how many individuals we each stole from.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “You mean you don’t trust me to accurately tell you how many of those misbegotten creatures I steal from?”

“Not for a second.”

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “Look at you learning. Good for you.”

She wrinkled her nose at him: a rather charming look on her freckled little nose. “I’m not that naïve, you know.”

“Of course you’re not, my dear.”

She clicked her tongue, then bumped him with her hip. “So? Do we have a bet?”

“That depends,” he said. “What’s the prize for the winner?”

“If I win, then you have to give this bangle back to Nettie and apologize for pilfering it in the first place.”

He groaned. “Ugh, you want me to apologize? You might as well ram a stake through my ribs. It would be less agonizing.”

She grinned. “If you win, on the other hand, I’ll let you bite me every night for a week.”

Now that was interesting — interesting and surprising. He was going to accept the bet regardless since it would make for an amusing diversion, but now with such a sweet prize at the end? And one that Tav was offering so readily, without even a hint of disgust about what he needed? Wanted, he should say, since he didn’t technically need her blood. Though the feeling it gave him to drink from her rather than from some filthy animal was very different and very delectable. 

He shook off the thoughts. Need, want, whatever it was that drove him to imagine the exquisite flutter of Tav’s pulse against his lips: she was offering it without any hesitation, and that alone was… very interesting. And unexpected. And his mouth was already watering for the prize.

“Fine,” he said. “We have a bet. I’ll look forward to having that sweet neck of yours laid bare for me.”

“Will you, now?” she said slyly, and she held out her hand. 

In her palm was a gold ring: the stolen ring Astarion had shown her a mere few minutes ago. 

He gasped. “You wicked thief! Give that back.” He grabbed for it.

She deftly dodged away from him. “Oh, no you don’t. It’s mine now.”

Her face was lit with a gamine grin, and against all odds, he found himself laughing in response. Despite Tav’s faults — her friendliness and her helpfulness and her naïveté, no matter what she claimed — perhaps she wasn’t quite so dull after all. 

#astarion #tav/astarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate spoilers #bg3 spoilers

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Prologue

Narration: A caravan of brightly painted carriages cuts through the verdant hills, heading for town of Greenest. The air is thick with the scent of pine trees and the chirp of birdsong, and the warm breeze blows through the leaves, creating a tranquil atmosphere. The travelers are eager to reach the sanctuary of Greenest before day’s end, hoping to enjoy a peaceful respite after their journey.

Among these travelers they are joined by a peculiar party of adventurers, newly formed and heading to their first mission together…

Reese: (Goblin Artillerist Artificer. Crime: Mass Destruction of Public and Private Property.) Are we there yet???

Party: *Groan in annoyance*

May: (Dark Heritage Half-Elf Gloomstalker Ranger. Crime: Vigilantism and Murder.) Reese, I promised you already. The second we are there, you are the first I will be telling. Now please… shush.

Reese: But we’ve been traveling forever!

Adam: (Minotaur Champion Fighter. Crime: Insurrection and Banditry) *Growls* It’s only been three days. 

Cinder: (Tiefling Fiendish Pact Warlock. Crime: Soul Racketeering and Organizing a Cult without a Permit.) It probably only feels so long because of your incessant whining.

Neon: (Tabaxi Kensei Monk. Crime: B&E and Assault with a Deadly Weapon) You should, like, totally take a note from Neo's book. She’s barely said anything this whole trip.

Neo: (Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue. Crime: Grand Larceny and Identity Theft) *Flips Neon off.*

Reese: *Grumbles* Well maybe next time Sir Shiny-Pants should pick a closer quest! Where is he anyways?

May: I think he went off to pray.

Cinder: *Chuckles* Pray for mercy, maybe. Who ever heard of a knight with motion sickness?

Neo: *Makes some mocking dry heaving motions and then conjures an illusion of sparkles flying from her mouth.*

Adam: *Huffs* To think, our fate is in the hands of that human. My soldiers would never let me live it down.

Neon: Meh, at least he seems harmless enough. We could have been put with a real hard ass. I give it a week before we bully him into releasing us early.

Party: *Snickers and jeers amongst themselves*

Jaune: (Human Oath of Redemption Paladin. Duty: Redeeming the Party Before the Eyes of the Law and the Sovereign Gods.) *Jogging up after meditating to calm down his motion sickness* Hey everyone! Did some tell a funny joke or something?

Cinder: Oh just the usual banter. Nothing you’d find amusing I’m sure.

Reese: KNIGHT ARE WE THERE YET?!

Cinder: See?

Jaune: Actually, yes Reese. We should be there in like 10 minutes. *Points over pass them* Should be just over that big hill.

The Party: *Various sighs of relief.*

Reese: See?! I knew it was a valid question!

May: So, what are we going to be doing here?

Neon: Yeah, and how exactly is this “Redemption Quest” even supposed to work? Are we, like, building karma points or something til you let us go?

Neo: *Casts Minor Illusion to create a scoreboard with 100 points above her head.*

Jaune: Well, to complete a Redemption Quest, you six will have to complete a good deed with pure of heart in order to make up for your past sins. I’ll be there to watch over your progress and help usher you to the path of good and get you pardoned for your crimes.

Cinder: And so you’re sending a bunch of convicted criminals to do quests for the state.

Adam: Yeah, what are we, some kind of Suicide Sq-?

Jaune: NO! No. We are “Adventurers”. A group of adventurers who most of which just so happen to have darker paths…

May: That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’re going to Greennest. Is there a quest already decided for us?

Jaune: There should be. We’ll be meeting a man in Greenest that goes by the name Qrow Branwen. Apparently he needs help with an investigation.

Neon: What is he investigating?

Jaune: I’m not too sure. Something about bandits I think? But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing too dangerous. The Church wouldn’t give out something big or important for a “Redemption Quest,” or to a squire of my level. All you will probably have to do is help out however you can and we will get you all pardoned in no time! Simple as that.

Narration: Sundown is approaching just as the caravan crests the hill and spots the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of the pleasant welcoming town they expected, the Party sees columns of smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots from this distance, and a dark winged shaped wheeling low over the stone keep that rises from the center of town. The red skies of sunset turn a violent purple as the far off dragon breathes lightning bolts down onto the town.

The Party: …

Jaune: …Well. This may be-

Adam: *Bellows at the top his lungs and charges off towards the town.*

Neon: *Runs after him* I’m getting that pardon first!

Reese: *Runs* Jokes on you shitheads, I’m getting DOUBLE pardoned!

May: *Rolls her eye and chases after them* That’s not how pardons work.

Cinder: *Rushes forward* If you see any extra souls lying around, save them for me!

Neo: *Gleefully runs towards the town to start looting.*

Jaune: *Stands there watching as his half a dozen criminals run into a burning town.* …Boldrei give me strength.

#redeemers au #jaune arc #reese chloris #may zedong #neon katt #cinder fall #adam taurus #neo politan

[the-gay-goblin]

HELLO??

Yeah long story short the show fucking sucks

#the tree goblin answers #halo show bullshit

[tiannasfanfic]

Teaching Steve D&D

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington (Fluff)

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Redaer, they/them pronouns (if any). Established Steddie x Reader poly relationship with pansexual Eddie and Steve.

CW: Flirting, hints of sex at the end.

| Eddie Munson & Steddie Masterlist |

Since Steve has found himself mostly surrounded by D&D nerds (plus is now in a serious relationship with at least one), he finally decides to see what all the fuss is about and asks Eddie to teach him how to play.

Eddie is absolutely thrilled by this! He loves it when he gets to share his favorite hobby with the people he loves. He immediately starts planning to teach Steve the same way he taught you awhile back with a customized campaign. Since you were still learning yourself, Eddie asked if you wanted to join so you could try out a different class you had an interest in. You eagerly said yes, loving the idea of playing D&D with both of your boyfriends.

The first night is character creation, which Eddie patiently walks you and Steve through, answering all of the questions that come up and suggesting things to you both to optimize your respective builds. You picked a new class and race this go round, while Steve made a human fighter since it seemed the easiest and straightforward to play.

The next weekend, you have your first session. Eddie sets up the world and setting for you both, and arranges it so your characters meet at the local tavern. Your characters hear about a local goblin problem where some farms on the outskirts of town keep getting raided and decide to team up together on the quest.

As the two of you set out on your adventure, your real life affection for each other easily slips into your in character interactions. By the time the goblins are defeated and you return to town, the flirtation was heavy between you two. Eddie had a ball watching the whole dynamic unfold since you both got really into the role play aspect. Plus, you made each other blush several times, which Eddie thought was absolutely adorable.

For the third session, your characters travel to a bigger town nearby looking for work. This is where you both meet Eddie’s DMPC, an Elven bard, who will be your quest giver and guide, as well as a deus ex machina in case things get too hairy for you two.

Once the three of you set out on your first main story quest, you and Steve begin to flirt in character with the DMPC. Eddie couldn’t help but let his own affection for you both to seep through and soon the flirtation between all three characters was heavy.

It was just a little over an hour into the game that your characters decided to rest for the night in a little outcrop of trees you found in the middle of nowhere. Camp was hastily set up, as your characters were suddenly very eager to get to know each better.

And it was also at this point that the D&D session moved from the living room into the bedroom.

The three of you managed to stay in character for an impressive amount of time.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #Steddie #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington fluff #steddie fluff #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steddie smut #eddie munson imagine

[abigailmoment]

"I'm worried about fucking things up between us. He's...words. Words," Tav muttered, making absent come-hither motions as if trying to summon the right ones. "Delicate's wrong. Maybe fragile? Fragile like a smokepowder bomb. But that's wrong too. Wounded. But that's not enough. It's like he's walking around with a bunch of scabbed over stab wounds. But he's had them forever and he's so used to them he can walk around, and backstab people, and laugh. But they're still there and they're fucking stab wounds and I can tell when they're being jostled."

"Do you know how he got them?" Halsin asked.

"Parts of it," Tav said. "I am making plans to commit murder when we get back to Baldur's Gate."

Her eyes flicked up to Halsin's face to make sure there was no judgement there. There wasn't.

"I have lists," she continued. "Of possible tactics. Notes. Diagrams. Some doodles." Full text below. Full text on Ao3.

Halsin walked into the woods until the sounds of the revel had faded behind the sounds of leaves. Then he settled comfortably, leaning back against a birch tree, and just looked out.

The colors of the forest were muted in darkness, but it was alive with shapes and sounds. The protecting spread of branches above, and the stars peeking down between them. Cricket chirping and owls with opinions. The world sounded green and alive, and that was very wonderful. Just being present here was like a blessing after so long in a dungeon.

It was hard to say how long he'd been sitting, almost slipping into reverie, when he noticed a pattern in the movement of the animals around him. There were a lot of them heading east. A fox passed him. A racoon. Another fox. A pair of hedgehogs complaining to each other about how two-leggers were always making such a fuss of noise about nothing.

The party he'd left was southward, so this would be something else bothering them. Investigating such disturbances was so much a habit for him that he barely thought before standing and walking quietly west.

He heard the hard crunch of boots crushing leaves--someone moving rapidly and with no thought to noise. He approached the sound and found Tav. No longer at the party, she was pacing back and forth between two trees, muttering to herself. Occasionally she stopped and said 'Fuck!' very quietly but very sincerely. Then she resumed pacing.

Halsin waited, but she didn’t notice him. He took another step and intentionally found a branch to break underfoot. Tav started and her eyes snapped towards him.

"Hi," she said, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. Was this...were you using these woods? I can move."

Halsin put up his hands. "There's green enough for everyone. I just happened by. Is something troubling you?"

"I. Uh." She raked her fingers through her hair once. Twice. "I'm in trouble."

"I see.” Halsin had a few guesses about the kind of trouble that drove one to pace and mutter in the night. ”Do you want to speak of it?"

"I. Maybe. That might be..."

She hesitated. She started pacing again. Got three steps and stopped. She was worrying the base of one horn with her nails. Finally she seemed to come to a decision and turned to actually look at Halsin.

"If you had to pick, out of all of my companions. With whom do you think it would be the worst idea to get..." She made a mixing tangling motion with her fingers, and eventually supplemented the gesture with the words: "...emotionally involved?"

"I feel I would need to know them better to answer confidently," Halsin said.

"That is a thoughtful, charitable sort of a thing to say," Tav allowed. "But I bet you don't actually need that. I'll give you a hint. It's NOT the woman who could set me on fire with a hug."

Halsin took a moment to consider, but based on superficial observation the answer did seem obvious.

"Astarion?" he guessed.

Tav clapped her hands together in a pantomime of celebration and then pointed her fingertips at him. "You're good at this game. Your retroactive prize is being saved from goblins."

Halsin smiled slightly. "I'm glad I guessed right."

"Yeah, me too." Tav sighed. She was rubbing her hands together and staring off to one side. "We were flirting. It was a game. About saying stupid, over the top things that we both knew we didn't mean. And he had all these great-awful pickup lines and we were getting more and more dramatic. And then. And then he looked at me and he said 'I love you.'"

Her hands were in her hair again, raking over her horns. "And he did NOT mean it. But my heart did that little thump-thump-leap thing LIKE he meant it."

She stared hard into the dark woods, hands tangled in her increasingly wild hair.

"And that is a PROBLEM," she whispered.

"Is it?" Halsin asked.

"Yes." She snapped, eyes focusing back on Halsin. "Yes, that is a problem. Because the things I have to offer are effective group management techniques and limericks. And if I lose my head over the most mother-would-not-approve albino bad boy who is part of the team I have to handle I will stop being an effective group manager. Then all I have to offer is limericks. And they ARE magical limericks. But they still aren't going to save the realm from the Absolute. Which is apparently what we need to do."

Then she had to stop because she had not paused to breathe for that entire paragraph. Her hands were moving again, nails raking over her horns to the point where Halsin was concerned she might hurt herself.

So he reached out to take her by the hand and shoulder and suggested with gentle pressure that she might sit down. They ended up cross-legged in the grass. A much more stable and grounded position. Tav exhaled slowly, and looked up at him.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he told her. "It seems you are taking a great deal of responsibility on to yourself."

"I've read a lot of epic legends, Halsin." There was something haunted in her expression. "I'm really starting to think we're in one. I think the things we do here are going to have some far reaching consequences."

"I see," he said. And he supposed a bard would know. "Very well then. Grave as they may be, let's set aside your responsibilities for a moment."

She seemed very gesture-prone, so he decided to illuminate this advice with motion. He moved his hands, as if gathering his responsibilities up into a bundle. He carefully set them down to his left.

Tav seemed wary to the point of intimidated by the prospect of setting her responsibilities aside, even metaphorically. But after a moment she imitated him, and she did so with all the buy-in of someone whose arcane magic was partially based on improv. It took her quite some effort to get all her obligations wrapped up and when she shifted them to the side it was with a little huff of effort. Halsin couldn't help but smile.

"How do you feel?" he asked when she was done.

"Scared," she said. She was fretting her fingernails in the same way she'd been fretting her horns before.

Halsin rumbled in an understanding way, but didn't say anything.

"I like him," Tav continued after a moment. "A lot. He's fun. He's sharp and interesting. And talking to him is like playing. And he's mean, but that's fun too. And he's VERY pretty."

She dropped her head to the side, as if she needed a moment to recover from just how pretty he was. Then she rubbed at her eyebrow.

"And sometimes...he's sad. And then I wish I were a wizard so I could just incinerate everything that makes him sad."

Halsin nodded. "I believe there are scrolls for that."

Tav's eyebrows shot up and she looked at Halsin sharply. "Did you just...are you enabling me? To do an arson?"

"To protect people you care for?" Halsin asked. "Most certainly."

The surprise melted away and she smiled slantwise at him. "I suppose I should have expected that after seeing you maul half the goblin camp."

He nodded, and it was a pleasant moment of mutual understanding. He let it lapse into silence so that she would start to fill that silence again with her fretful thoughts. She did.

"I'm worried about fucking things up between us. He's...words. Words," Tav muttered, making absent come-hither motions as if trying to summon the right ones. "Delicate's wrong. Maybe fragile? Fragile like a smokepowder bomb. But that's wrong too. Wounded. But that's not enough. It's like he's walking around with a bunch of scabbed over stab wounds. But he's had them forever and he's so used to them he can walk around, and backstab people, and laugh. But they're still there and they're fucking stab wounds and I can tell when they're being jostled."

"Do you know how he got them?" Halsin asked.

"Parts of it," Tav said. "I am making plans to commit murder when we get back to Baldur's Gate."

Her eyes flicked up to Halsin's face to make sure there was no judgement there. There wasn't.

"I have lists," she continued. "Of possible tactics. Notes. Diagrams. Some doodles."

"Could your plans use a bear?" He asked mildly.

Tav laughed, and it was loud and startled and genuine. "Yes. Fantastic. Always. I'll incorporate you into my ideas and daydreams."

The laughter did her good. When it finished the thread of tension loosened and her shoulders had relaxed a notch.

"I probably don't need to worry about hurting him with this," she said a little ruefully. "He's not serious. This is a game for him? Or a ploy? I'm not sure. Whichever. I'm the only one throwing her heart around like an idiot."

Halsin, who had been at camp long enough to observe some of the dynamics between the companions, decided not to comment on some of the assumptions she was making. He just made a thoughtful noise.

"So I guess that just leaves me scared about, you know." She flicked her fingers over her sleeve, removing a bit of dirt with affected casualness. "Getting hurt myself."

"It can be a frightening thing. To be the more loving one," said Halsin. "But it doesn't need to be a bad thing."

Tav hummed in a prompting, curious way. Halsin considered what he was about to say, and decided this was a reasonable time of have an opinion.

"We give each other what we can in the time we have," he said. "You have a gift. You have love for another person. A man who, from what you've said, could very much do with being loved."

Tav hummed a little more softly.

"That's nice," she said. "That's a bit of poetry."

"Pardon me. I know it's not my profession."

"Naw." Tav shook her head. "Anyone can be a bard. Just don't be surprised if I steal your words for lyrics."

Halsin opened a hand and offered his palm. "They are freely given."

"Boring," Tav complained with a smile. "I wanted to steal them."

"Well then." Halsin closed his hand. "I take back my permission."

"Good. Thank you." The smile had wedged itself firmly in the side of her face and remained even as she sighed. "I guess I'm already fucked. It's not like you can fall out of love. Not while we're spending every day together."

She covered her face with her hands and said much more quietly: "And I do not have the willpower to say no to the sex."

Halsin nodded and made a noise of deep understanding. Eventually, Tav peeked up from her hands.

"You're really good at listening," she told him.

"It is an important part of being an archdruid."

"Thank you."

"Please let me know if you ever need to be listened to again."

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #halsin & tav #talking about feelings #Tiefling Revel #halsin is exetremly emotionally intelligent #pining #sort of #astarion isn't actually in this one #but it's almost entirely about him #don't tell him he'll get a big head

[anneangel]

Because I imagine this scenes of The Hobbit book with Elrohir and Elladan, you know, Elrond's twin sons. And it looks like this:

Elrohir: What brings Mister Baggins. Elladan: And Balin and Dwalin. O! tra-la-la-lally Elrohir: down into the valley. O! Tril-lil-lil-lolly. Elladan: in June, ha! Ha!

So they laughed and sang in the trees; and pretty fair nonsense.

“Well, well!” said Elrohir.

“Just look! Bilbo the hobbit on a pony, my dear! Isn’t it delicious!” said Elladan.

Elrohir: “Most astonishing wonderful!”

“Don’t dip your beard in the foam, father!” they cried to Thorin, who was bent almost on to his hands and knees. “It is long enough without watering it.”

“Mind Bilbo doesn’t eat all the cakes!” they called. “He is too fat to get through key-holes yet!”

“Hush, hush! Good People! and good night!” said Gandalf, who came last. “Valleys have ears, and some elves have over merry tongues. Good night!” And so at last they all came to the Last Homely House, and found its doors flung wide.

Bilbo would have liked to have a few private words with these people that seemed to know his names and all about him, although he had never seen them before. He thought their opinion of his adventure might be interesting. Elves know a lot and are wondrous folk for news, and know what is going on among the peoples of the land.

-The Hobbit Book - Chapter III, A Short Rest ⤴️

P.s: They are silly, but are intelligent enough to know the visitors' names and that Bilbo is with them on a mission where he will have to enter through a lock, and they still don't know about the map, and the secret door. Which only proves that Elrond's sons are so much intelligent.

...And then, I imagine it's them singing this, in that scene on Bilbo's journey home, when he and Gandalf stop again in Rivendell:

"Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!The wind’s in the tree-top, the wind’s in the heather; The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower, And bright are the windows of Night in her tower. Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!" (...) [Elrohir and Elladan sing the song].

“Well, Merry People!” said Bilbo looking out. “What time by the moon is this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you.”

“And your snores would waken a stone dragon—yet we thank you,” they answered with laughter. “It is drawing towards dawn, and you have slept now since the night’s beginning. Tomorrow, perhaps, you will be cured of weariness.”

“A little sleep does a great cure in the house of Elrond,” said Bilbo; “but I will take all the cure I can get. A second good night, fair friends!” And with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning.

-The Hobbit Book -Chapter XIX, The Last Stage ⤴️

And so, in me headcanon, Bilbo kindly chose not to mention in his accounts when Elrond apologized to him about his children, with a certain guilty pleasure, because after all he loves his children and likes to see them happy. And Bilbo understands perfectly, because he also loves Elrohir and Elladan.

And somehow Bilbo thinks they look like Kili and Fili, and it brings tears to his eyes, and Elrond feels like he should be offended that his children are compared to dwarves, but in fact he is smiling kindly.

After Bilbo left Rivendell, Elrohir and Elladan fully told little Estel/Aragorn about him, who was eager to meet him ever since.

Years later, Elrond reads Bilbo's drafts about his adventure, and wonders if Bilbo left so much of his relationships out, just narrating and telling the basics, because it still hurt him to talk or write about it in more detail.

And anyway, everyone in Rivendell loves Bilbo, for reasons we will never know because Bilbo left out of his writings most of the lovelly dialogue and cute and greatest interactions he had with the elves (and also with Thorin's company).

Because it hurt him to put it on paper, or even talk about it, and that's why it took him years to write the most succinct and summarized book about his adventure.

#the hobbit #bilbo baggins #elrond #lord of the rings #lotr #elladan #elrohir #elrond peredhel #elrond sons #gandalf #aragorn #jrr tolkien #tolkien books #headcanon

[yumedoca]

Non-Urusei Yatsura fans, which of these IS NOT an actual character? (Answers)

The poll is over and thanks to all who voted since it's pretty fun to see how UY characters may seem from an outsider's POV! And since many were curious, here are the answers for the poll. The characters are listed in no particular order, except for the last who will be the fake one so if you just want the actual answer, just scroll down to the end; and since the poll was aimed at non-UY fans, I'll provide context for the real characters' descriptions so there will be character spoilers ahead!!

A cow monster, who is also the most handsome character in the series.

This is Rei, the female lead (Lum)'s ex-fiancee. The description I gave may sound kinda weird but it probably wouldn't sound as weird if I had stated that he has two forms: one being a mostly humanoid form and the other which is the cow monster one. He swaps between forms at random, mostly depending on his mood and comedic timing.

A princess who wants to lose her virginity.

This is Princess Kurama. She's the princess of the alien race, the Karasutengu (Crow Goblins). Since her royal line was fading away because there were no more humanoid men on her planet, Kurama decided to find a suitable man to mate with, but has no luck when it comes to that since her standards are way too high for the any of the males in the series.

A fire breathing bumblebee.

This is Ten. Like his cousin Lum, he is an oni alien and his abilities are to fly and breathe fire. Ten ended up getting a good number of votes in the poll and I'm guessing it's because people thought I meant a literal bumblebee. I gave that description to poke fun at his character design and I'm pretty sure most UY fans were able to recognize him from the description, and his resemblance to bees has been stated in canon too. But if you did vote Ten because you thought he was an actual bee, I am so sorry, please don't kill me, I should have added the word 'alien' or 'kid' to the description.

A school nurse who regularly beats up her male students.

This is Sakura. She is a shrine maiden and a school nurse at the main high school in the series. I don't think I need to give much of an explanation for her description; she's hot and all the male students are horny so it shouldn't be a surprise that she beats them all up.

A woman hater whose diet consists of baseballs.

This is Tobimaro Mizunokoji. He hates women, which is most likely a result of spending time with his rival's sister who treated him horribly when they were children (and she still does, by the way; we'll talk about her next). Oh, and as the description says, he can eats baseballs whole.. and is able to spit them out entirely too.

A teenage girl who kills boredom by plotting and attempting murder.

This is Ryoko Mendo. She is a rich, well mannered young lady and her favorite hobby is torturing her big brother and his rival (aka baseball boy from above) in many different ways for fun. I wanted to add a bit more to explain exactly how sadistic she is but the wiki does it better, so have that instead:

She will throw grenades and bombs at people while acting calm and composed, and yet will cry over them when they return to her charred to a crisp. She often acts in total secrecy without telling anyone of her plans, such as setting bombs in a giant Christmas Cake, turning a giant Christmas Tree into a firework, and retaliating to people by setting off bombs near them. She also shows an interest in black magic, having used hypnosis and voodoo dolls to torment her brother.

So yeah, she's fucking insane and I love her for it. Have my favorite Ryoko image ever as a bonus:

A sheltered girl who ends up falling in love with her brother.

This is Asuka Mizunokoji, younger sister of baseball boy from above. I feel like her she needs the most context since I think this might be the most questionable description of them all.

As per tradition, the women in the Mizunokoji family are not allowed to meet a single male until they are 15, this includes their father and brother; which is the case for Asuka. Because she has never seen a man, she doesn't know what they are (or anything that falls under 'men', like father, brother, etc.) and was raised in isolation by her mother and her family's all female guards. But her first, unfortunate encounter with a man, which happened before the arranged day ends up terrifying her and as a result, she gets a phobia of men, no matter who they are... unless they are a 'big brother'. You see, when her female guards' explained to her what men are, they unintentionally had them sound.. scary; but they also tell her about 'big brothers' (since she'll have to meet hers) who are a special type of man who look like her and are very nice. Eventually, she finally meets her big brother, Tobimaro (who didn't even know she existed till then by the way), but since the description on what a 'big brother' given to her was incredibly vague and because she has no knowledge of how siblings work, she ends up falling for him unaware of how big of a taboo it is. Naturally, it is a one-sided crush since Tobimaro knows better but that won't change the fact that it causes a lot of trouble for him.

Ok, I'll stop here because that took forever to write. Also, I took some help to write the above part from Asuka's page on furinkan.com, I needed a reference for the entire paragraph because Asuka and her shtick needs one hell of an explanation.

A TV addict with zero social skills.

This is Shingo. He is a boy who went missing during an experiment when he was small and because of that, he grew up by himself (asides from some animals) in a jungle. His only source of entertainment there was a TV, which only has historical dramas. As a result, he became very attached to TVs (he used to think the TV was his grandfather, and no I will not explain), even after he was found and brought back to society. He is also terrible at socializing since he grew up on Japanese historical dramas which are incredibly outdated. He is already weak when it comes to interacting with men, but he is the worst when it comes to interacting with woman since he has no respect towards them (again, because historical dramas). I find it funny he got a lot of votes and according to tags, it's because his description sounded more normal than the others, which makes it even funnier because he's like the only character who actually watches TV (asides from watching TV during lunchtime and stuff).

A cowardly kid who aims for a life of crime.

And here it is, the fake one! With how many characters there are, it was hard to come up with someone (for some reason, I can't be creative when I really want to be) but after I posted the poll I realized that there is a minor character who fits half of the description: He is a kid who aims for a life of crime, but he is pretty strong willed and isn't exactly what you would call cowardly or timid (His name is Kintaro, in case you are wondering- he is only in the manga and 80's adaptation).

And that is all! Thanks for joining me here and I hope you have a great day ahead!!

#again i am so sorry about the ten thing #urusei yatsura #うる星やつら #urusei yatsura 2022 #anime #manga #animanga #rei #kurama #sakura #ten #tobimaro mizunokoji #ryoko mendo #asuka mizunokoji #shingo #kintaro #god i love them sm #this was insanely hard to write i am not doing this again

[orqheuss]

For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

Pre!Parenthesis Universe

Summary:

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. “Crucio!” *** The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum.

Word count: 9k

Tags: arguing, violence, cruciatus curse, dark!sebastian (kind of), sexual humor

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

Not a sound could be heard in the moonlit, desolate hallways of Hogwarts. The distant star casted a haunting glow over the courtyard and shone through the grand windows of the Great Hall. Figures long lost to time danced through the paintings lining the hazelwood walls, waltzing to an imaginary concerto. The ghosts floating about chatted quietly about their history, telling tales of cadences forever forgotten in old textbooks. Their whispers shivered the leaves in the trees on the campus grounds, leaving them humming at the fall winds cascading from the sky and turning their once vibrant green spires into a burnt orange. Lanterns lined the Grand Staircase at the heart of the castle, a paragon of regality and the wisdom of the great wizarding school. Baroque styled banisters basked in the glow, expelling person-shaped shadows on the enormous walls lining the mystical architecture. Down the stairs laid an ornate stone door, its architrave adorned with a cosmic silver snake. Two freshly lit braziers framed the entrance and swayed in the steely breeze of the dungeons, its smokey ash pirouetting in romantic couplets towards the ceiling. 

A third was sparked to life just down the way. The line of light seemed to lure in anyone who were to walk the halls past curfew; beckoning them with the promise of mischief and pleasure. Standing before the final brazier, basking in its luminescence, were three young students. One leaned against the far wall of the corridor, arms crossed tightly against his chest with a sullen look adorning his features. His eyes seemed to catch the light and shimmer like frosted glass on a winter morning. Another stood in front of the boy, directly under the cold stone of the giant candelabra. He was beaming with elation, his eyes glittering with waywardness and intrigue. His brown irises seemed to reflect the fire back in challenge, almost daring it to blaze brighter than he did. Between the two was the final student. A slight frown quirked the corner of their mouth, glancing back and forth between their two friends in trepidation. They could feel each emotion emitting from their companions like a thick fog, coating the hallway and leaving the braziers the lone match shining through the storm. Each felt something different about their quest— had different motives for the scintillating adventure. They all heard the distinct call to the Scriptorium before them, and felt more than compelled to answer. With a great rumble, the stone wall sloughed away and opened up to a chasm leading downward. A spiral staircase slithered from below and attached to the ledge, hissing out a stream of steam in its wake. 

The three friends stood in awe at the display, amazed at the grandiloquence of the long dead wizard who made this place. They were about to enter Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a feat very few could claim as their own. 

Sebastian Sallow turned on the balls of his feet and beckoned his friends over, a giddy look twinkling in his eyes and stretching his smile. The prospect of finding a cure for the curse that plagued his sister heavily outweighed any unease he may have had at the daunting entryway. He nearly vibrated with excitement— the need for thrill buried itself deep in his bones. He could taste the tombs of secrets hidden in the enigma before him, feel the leather bound books worn with oil from the fingertips of his house founder. The forbidden magic thrummed in his veins and set his blood aflame like the brightest sunlight. Something unfamiliar flashed in his eyes, something dark.

Ominis Gaunt, the heir of Slytherin himself, flicked his wand from his large robe sleeve and sparked it to life. A red light pulsed from its tip, and the hallway came more into focus in his mind. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the imposing archway, closer to his family history simmering below. He looked striking, noble even, with his even, strong steps. Only someone close enough to be in his own skin would notice the slight tremble in his hands, the sweat that beaded at his brow. Anyone else with his condition could hear the steady hammer of his heart against his rib cage, the fast but even beats swimming in his ears and resting behind his eyes. He thought of his dear aunt Noctua, the last of the Gaunt’s to enter the foreboding mausoleum— how she had disappeared soon after finding its entrance. A shiver ran up his spine and something akin to fear lodged itself in his throat. 

You looked on at the two boys. You had no feelings for this moment, nothing to go off of but the words of your two comrades. You peaked down the chilling stairs into the never-ending darkness. It seemed to hiss in contempt at being awoken. This metaphorical pit of serpents had fangs, and each dripped with a deadly poison befitting the strongest men. The blackness crept up your arms and buried itself in your hair— it whispered sweet nothings into your ears, enticing the ancient magic flowing under your skin. You inhaled the titillating aroma of devillment and stored it deep in your lungs. Excitement and worry crashed against your soul and swirled like a hurricane in your stomach, sending ripples of anxiety through your very bones. You truly didn’t know how you felt at that very moment, but you knew, more than anything, that you wanted to protect your friends. Something inside, though, felt familiar. Something was calling out to your magic, and you felt inclined to answer.

You pushed the anxiety aside for now. The two boys, now standing next to you, both had things they needed to learn from the Scriptorium, and you were going to help them find it. The idea of adventure took over your senses at that moment and spread heat through your chest, glowing as bright at the braziers you had just lit. 

Even Ominis, a very stoic and reserved boy to most, seemed to have a gleam about his face that shimmered in eagerness. Not many knew, but he most definitely had a taste for chaos— he had to with the company he kept. There was something so intriguing about the Scriptorium to him. Maybe it was something forged in his very being, him being a Gaunt after all. Either way, the young wizard turned his attention towards his companions in a silent confirmation that he was ready to go. You cleared your throat hesitantly, drawing the attention of Sebastian away from the dark hallway before you. 

“Alright boys,” you gestured towards the entrance with your hand, “shall we?” 

The two nodded in your direction. Sebastian turned to you with a cheeky grin decorating his features. “I haven’t seen a tunnel this big since your mum.” 

Another thing about the Sallow boy: he very rarely took anything seriously. 

At the unimpressed look you gave him, he held his hands up in a placating manner, chortling to himself, “Aw, come on. That was a good one—”

You reached your hand towards his face and promptly thumped him on the forehead with a flick. Sebastian dropped the troublesome smirk and quickly brought his palm up to rub at the affronted spot, hissing through his teeth in pain. 

You looked at Ominis next to you, and as if sensing your disappointment he shook his head while looking up at the ceiling, muttering to himself, “Merlin, help me,” before beginning to walk down the daunting staircase. 

You and Sebastian fell into step behind the young Gaunt, trusting his instincts and sentient wand better than your fleeting eyesight. The tunnel was unequivocally dark, even the lumos dancing in front of your face barely pierced the surface. Your shoes made a distinct squelch sound on the wet cement with each step deeper into the pit. 

Down, 

          down, 

                    down you went. 

The stairs seemed to go on forever, descending into the fathomless unknown. Each sound echoed off the tightly packed walls, bouncing back and forth like a well crafted game of wizards chess. The seconds ticked by slowly, cascading around you like the steady stream of drips coming from above. The piping loomed imposingly above your heads and drizzled along the black-stone walls. You must be truly under the castle, you supposed. You felt tightly packed like a tin of sardines— three fish wiggling together towards the unknown fate of the stew pot. Ominis could smell your discomfort behind him, and quite honestly, he was inclined to agree. He couldn’t sense the end landing, if there even was one, in the infernal devilry that was the accursed sepulcher. The scent and taste of mildew and stale air coated his nasal cavity and larynx, making it impossible to determine anything else from the two orifices. He would gripe about his lack of sight in situations like this, at least normally, but he doubted that it would make much difference at the current moment. There was truly nothing around them.

Sebastian could taste the unease in the air from his two companions, and he detested the feeling greatly. It was of the utmost disrespect to the boy to turn down adventure; there was absolutely nothing in this world that he didn’t want to poke and prod, to know how it ticked. If there was one thing that his parents passed down to him before they died, it was that. He understood that it was a daunting task, and a very large ask of his dear friends, to take this journey with him, but for Merlin’s sake, it was Slytherin’s Scriptorium! He had only ever read about this monumental library, hiding deep in the caverns of the Hogwarts underbelly. How could he say no to this journey, this discovery? If it helped Anne along the way, what was the harm of it all? 

Just as you were beginning to think you would never leave the Hadean staircase, it finally puttered off to a smooth path of river-stones and a dimly lit concourse. Ominis stood at the forefront of the group, his wand casting a small bale-fire and illuminating more of the imposing hallway. Sebastian chuckled lowly behind him. Wrapping his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning his head towards you, his eyes focusing deep into the darkness before him, he hummed.

“Hmph. Dark, ominous corridors. My favorite!” He cheesed at your bubbling laugh, snickering to himself at the obvious annoyance of the other boy. 

Ominis bemoaned the statement, groaning and throwing his head back minutely. A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “No comment.” 

You turned towards your blond haired friend, placing your own hand on his shoulder and leaning in next to his ear, a dangerously coy simper tweaking up the corners of your mouth.

“I certainly love one of Ominis’ corridors.” 

The wiry boy wiggled out from under your arms, making a sound of disgust at the comment as his cheeks turned a bright fuchsia. Sebastian desperately held in giggles behind his hand, watching as the boy made an obscene gesture with his middle finger in your general direction. The taller boy stepped closer to the other, gently grasping his arm by the wrist and redirected the gesticulation to face more fully at you instead of a little to the left where it once was pointed. Both of you paused, looking between each other's eyes and the offending finger with barely contained mirth, before combusting dramatically into boisterous laughter. Sebastian leaned against the wall in support, nearly screaming around the laughs that wracked his body. You still stood across from Ominis, doubled over with your hands on your knees. Gasping breaths left your lungs as you teared up in humorous pain. Ominis’ scowl somehow got deeper, and once again he turned away from the pair of you and began to walk down the hallway himself— screw you two hooligans to the sticking place for all he cared. 

“Yes, yes. Hardy har, laugh at the blind fellow. Incredibly mature, you both are.” 

Sebastian walked up to your hunched form, patting you gently on the back before grasping at your shoulder and helping you stand. You both leaned on the other for support as the last of your giggles tittered into the air around you. Taking a deep, cleansing breath before shakily releasing the air, you began to walk after the tiffed boy. His haunches were raised above his ears, only the tips poked out and were flushed a light pink. You quickly ran to catch up with his quick steps, waving your wand around in front of you to avoid any obstacles in the low lighting. Your arm landed on his shoulders once again, and you sniggered jovially,

“I do apologize. That was terribly coarse of me, my dear Ominis.” 

Sebastian slid up on the other side of the boy, wrapping his arm around his other shoulder and resting his hand at your elbow. He accentuated his accent, adopting an incredibly posh vernacular. “Indubitably. Frightfully uncouth of us. Please forgive us, dear friend.” 

Ominis growled in the back of his throat, mumbling curses under his breath and shrugging off both of your arms. “Go lick a leprechaun taint, the both of you.” 

You both gasped in outrage. 

“How dare you, good sir!” Sebastian cried, a hand fluttering over his heart and a scandalized look decorating his visage. 

You took a similar stance. “We are children of God! Deviant behavior such as that must be saved for one's wedding bed.” 

The two pureblood wizards paused and turned towards you, confusion laced in their eyebrows. The brunette leaned closer to you, arms now crossed in befuddlement, and glanced at you from his peripheral vision like he was about to share a secret. 

“What’s a ‘God’?” Sebastian whispered out of the side of his mouth.

You turned towards the boy, finger raised and mouth open with an explanation at the tip of your tongue. You quickly decided against it, though, as you knew it would just confuse them more. Best not try to explain muggle religion to two boys who have never stepped out of their small towns until it was time to go to school. You sighed, lowering your hand and about facing the end of the hall, ambling along ahead of the pack. The two boys shrugged and continued after you. 

At the far end of the hallway stood two imposing stone walls, an ostentatious doorway slid into the space between. Looking at the entrance, embellished in the texture of scales and decorated with serpent imagery, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.  Each turn in this maze of a catacomb seemed to linger with a foreboding aura, flooding your senses and raising the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned to look at Sebastian, now at your elbow just behind you. He was gazing at the door in pure curiosity, his eyebrows pinched together in contemplation. He ran his hand along the intricate carvings, tracing each snake with delicate precision. 

Ominis slowly entered the room, his head tilted left and then right with a pensive look adorning his face. He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes, seemingly listening to something that only he could hear. Soft hisses slithered through the room from the pipes above, adding to the dreadful vibe. Each hiss caused him to twitch in one direction to the next. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was possessed by a snake itself. 

His eyes suddenly snapped open, startling you with his ferocity. He quickly paced towards the door, running his hand along the carvings with Sebastian. The homing signal at the tip of his wand cast an eerie glow on the wood, mingling with the green fire torches lining the walls. He leaned his ear on the door, listening closely to the whispers in the walls. He tilted his head towards the pair of students, gesturing with his chin at the entryway. 

“It’s speaking to me.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at the boy. “The wall is talking to you?” 

He nodded, pressing his ear against the wall once again. You walked towards the blond, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead in puzzlement. 

“Are you feeling alright, Ominis? Are you ill? How can the wall be ta—”

“Shush!” He gently grasped your arm and lowered your hand to your side. “No, you numpty. It’s speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes.” 

Sebastian leaned away from the door, snapping his fingers in excitement and pointing at the blind boy. 

“I forgot you could speak parseltongue!” 

Ominis huffed to himself, trepidation coating his tightly spoken words, “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy it. Parseltongue is notoriously associated with dark wizards, something as you know I have tried very hard to disassociate myself with.”  

He leaned away from the door, instead resting his hand on the wall beside it. He looked up, unseeing, at the grand archway decorating the edges of the room and listened carefully once again to the hissed whispers. 

“I think I need to speak to the door for it to open. Please step back, the both of you. I don’t want you hurt if something goes awry.” 

You both took a noisy step back, making sure to alert him since he briefly put away his wand in favor of leaning on the stone wall with both hands. 

Ominis sighed to himself, blowing upwards and dislodging part of his hair from his styled quiff. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” 

From his mouth came a series of lethargic hisses, stringed together as if in a sentence. The sound seemed to fill the entire room, echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back at you from all angles. It amplified steadily as the hisses from above answered in turn. 

Three of the decorative serpents came to life within the wood, slithering through the holes of the door and gliding along the edges of its carved trenches. A stream of mist puffed from its outer ridges, silencing the voices floating around you with a defined burst of powerful air. It blew the hairs dangling around your face backwards, tickling the tips of your ears and the back of your neck. Every hair on your body stood on edge and you suppressed a shiver. 

The three of you stood silently for a moment, basking in the sudden quiet. It was like a bubble that had mysteriously appeared around your heads spontaneously popped, sending a rush of startling stillness pulsating directly into your ears. 

Ominis was the first to break the spell, clearing his throat around the tightness that rested there, his cheeks glowing with a soft rosacea, and gestured through the now open doorway.

“After you.” 

Your face broke out into an animated grin. “Ominis, you truly possess a rare ability, indeed!” You gently brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed through the archway. Ominis’ cheeks blushed a darker red, and he reached his hand behind his head, rubbing softly at his neck in embarrassment. 

“Oh, er, it’s nothing.” 

Sebastian stayed in the back of the group, a scowl on his face and his arm crossed tightly across his chest. He glowered at the door like it affronted him, cursing it for allowing his friend to show his rare gift. Stalking towards the next room, irritation heavily prevalent in his steps, he muttered to himself the phrase you had just spoken in a mocking tone. He wasn’t sure which of you he should feel jealous of— you complimenting Ominis, or Ominis getting complimented by you.

Both, he decided. He was jealous of both. 

The three students passed under the bend and entered into the next room of the monolith-lined maze. Once fully inside, the imposing door behind you closed with a loud slam. Sebastian ran at it, pulling desperately at the carvings and pushing with all his strength. Ominis joined him, throwing his weight at it with a grunt. The door didn’t budge. 

“Shit!” Hissed the brunette, punching the door one last time before taking in the room behind him. “Guess we’re stuck in here until we find the next room.” 

The blond leaned back against the wood, an annoyed puff of hair leaving his mouth. “Until we find the next room? How do we even know that there’s a next room? We could very well just be stuck here until we inevitably die of thirst or hunger, whichever happens first.” Ominis turned his head towards the sound of the pacing boy. “Sebastian, we’re eating you first.” 

Sebastian stuttered in outrage, “Why me?!” 

“Because it was your idea to come here in the first place!” 

“Say that to my face you—”

Tired of listening to the boys argue, you lit the tip of your wand and began to explore the new area you had unlocked. It was a large stone room with a gunmetal gate at one end, a giant lock decorating the middle. Spiderwebs covered every corner, starting from the very far bottom corner and stretching to the upper corner across the room. You shuddered, thinking of the large arachnids you had fought not that long ago. You hated spiders. Making your way closer to the gate, you traced your finger along the lock, noting strange shapes in the metal. It seemed like it wouldn’t take a key like normal, it was a puzzle of some sort. 

Turning towards your friends, you tuned back in their argument. They were face to face, arms crossed, with indignant expressions. 

“It’s your ancestor that seems to like puzzles so much!”

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian.” 

“How dare you!” He stuttered for a moment, wracking his brain for a suitable comeback, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?!”

Ominis scoffed, a sarcastic grin stretching his lips, “Oh, bold of you to assume I was ever held—”

“BOYS!” You shouted for them from the gate. “Can you have your lover’s quarrel later? I found something.” 

Their faces instantly softened a fraction at the sound of your voice. They stepped away from each other, embarrassed by their squabble, straightened their cloaks, and walked over to where you stood. 

Sebastian came up to the gate, running his fingers along the lock like you did, before  grasping at the bars and giving it a good shake. The gate rattled against the ground, scraping at the concrete below, but refused to budge. He took a step closer, craning his head around and looking through the small slits in the metal. His collar dug into his neck uncomfortably. Growling, the boy tugged on the offending cloth.

“This bloody collar—”

The freckled boy stood back, looking at the gate once more for a moment before undoing his robe and tossing it unceremoniously to the ground. He shrugged off his jacket and vest next, leaving him just in his white button down and tie. He quickly pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, shaking out his arms in the process, and loosened his tie before undoing a few buttons near the top of his shirt. Grasping his wand between his teeth, Sebastian took hold of one of the horizontal metal rungs in the gate and pulled upwards with all his might. Still no movement. 

A blush began to creep up your neck at the display before you, and you averted your eyes from the very attractive boy. You turned towards Ominis, only to find him in a similar state of undress. He was in the process of carefully undoing the buttons around his cuffs and folding the sleeves to his elbow. You noticed he had neatly gathered his jacket, vest, and robe and placed them atop one of the assorted rocks littering the ground. He began to walk towards the other boy, listening to his struggling grunts of effort. Your blush somehow got brighter.

“Let me try.”

Sebastian took a step back and waved his hands in a “have at it” motion. Ominis approached the gate in a similar stance to the other boy, flexing his forearms and pulling upwards once again. You could see his muscles straining under the material; he may have been slim, but he certainly wasn’t unfit. Eyes skipping from one boy to the other, one with his hands on his hips, panting at the effort he had just exuded, and the other now pondering the gate before him, a finger resting on his chin and hand resting on his other elbow across his chest, you suddenly felt like the room had gotten at least ten degrees hotter. 

In your flustered state, you took a step back away from your companions. You bumped into something just behind you, a piece of sharp stone slicing through your shoulder. Releasing a hiss in pain, you grasped at the wound and quickly turned around, looking for the offending object. Just over your shoulder stood a large stone statue of a snake poised to strike. It was resting on two circular bases, one atop the other with just enough space between to twist them to different directions. You noticed symbols decorating the rims of each— they were the same shape and style as the two on the gate lock. You quickly crouched down and took hold of the stone, turning it until both bases lined up with the ones on the lock. A loud click sounded through the room and the gate before you opened. 

The three of you quickly turned towards the sound, wands poised in front of you ready to strike. Seeing no danger, you all lowered your weapons and turned back towards the statue. You crouched yet again, running your fingertip along the other symbols.

You spoke to the boys over your shoulder, “It’s a puzzle. You have to match the gate symbols to the ones on the snake.” 

Sebastian barked a laugh, coming up behind you and gazing at the sculpture. “Absolutely brilliant, you are! Bet I could do that just as well, eh?” He patted you on your shoulder with pride, not noticing your new injury. You clenched your teeth, a pained hiss escaping through the gaps. The brunette drew his hand back in alarm, looking at the small streak of blood on his palm. He took your arm gently, eyebrows furrowed at the medium sized cut in concern. 

“Stars, you’re hurt! What happened? Are you alright?” 

You placed your hand over one of his, looking at him over your shoulder and forcing a laugh. “That’s how I found the statue in the first place. I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” 

He looked at you with doubt, but let it go, releasing your arm and taking a step back. “If you say so.” 

You stood, shaking out your arms and shoulders. His hands felt like small fires against the cool air of the mausoleum. 

“Okay, Ominis and I will stay here and look for more of these puzzles. Sebastian, you go look in the other room and see if you find anything. Call out if you need backup.” 

Sebastian saluted two fingers in your direction before running at the open gate, grabbing at the taller ledge of the other room and heaving himself up. You watched him disappear onto the other floor. You and Ominis spread out, each taking a different corner of the room. It was bigger than you originally expected, going on for at least the length of a classroom. There was another gate at the very center of the room, the same as the other. Your eyes scanned each corner of your side for the distinct shape of Salazar’s sculpt, calling to Ominis on the other side of the room.

“So, why does Salazar Slytherin like snakes so much, anyway?”

Ominis shrugged, “Some legends say that he was an animagus— that his form was a basilisk.” 

You whistled lowly, “That’s a big snake.” 

The boy chuckled softly, going back to the original silence directly after. Ominis bit his lip, chewing it over what he should say next. He didn’t like the silence, it made him feel like he was back home. The ambiance of the Scriptorium certainly didn’t help, either. 

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Are you truly alright?” 

You smiled, moving over to his side where he was feeling along the wall. You rested your hand on his shoulder, a feather light touch that felt like a heavy weight because of his nerves. “I am, I promise. Please don’t worry about me, everything is fine.” 

He turned his face towards your voice. “I always worry. About the both of you.” 

Your face softened at the confession, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing at the contact. Brushing your thumb against his cheekbone, you felt a surge of nerves in your stomach; butterflies bumping around in the inner lining of your gut. You opened your mouth to speak.

“Ominis, I—” 

A short shout cuts through the quiet. You both whip your heads in the direction of the open gate, calling out to the boy on the other side. 

“Sebastian, are you alright?” 

You hear him fumble around for a moment, calling in return, “The statue bit me! Be careful not to get it wrong!” 

Ominis gently grasped your chin, turning it back towards his face. He listened to you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to continue your thought from before. The blond was incredibly nervous, hoping that you couldn’t tell that his hand was shaking. You hesitantly flick your eyes from his irises to his lips, soft and inviting. You wet your own, taking a shaky breath in. 

“What were you saying?” Ominis whispered, his face a hairs length away. 

Your eyes quickly slid over to the left, feeling incredibly hot under the collar all of a sudden. A strange shaped rock caught your attention, curved at the base like a worm. There it was, the final puzzle. You gasped, fumbling out of Ominis’ hold on you and quickly scurrying over to it, turning the dial to the shapes on the other gate. Just as yours slotted into place, a second click could be heard from the room over. The second gate opened with a loud, rusted creak, leading into a third, and what you hoped was final, room.  

Sebastian made his way back over to the two of you, an elated grin stretching across his face as he gazed into the next section of the crypt. Ominis had dropped his arm when you de-tangled yourself, now crossing both in front of his chest with an expression similar to someone who smelled something foul. 

The three of you crept into the room, wands poised for any danger that may come forward. The gate slammed shut behind you once more, trapping you there like before. 

“Salazar Slytherin isn’t done with us yet,” Ominis whispered, a grave seriousness adorning his visage. 

You quietly make your way to the other side of the room where a large, disfigured door lay. It was covered in carvings; scratches marred the corners, flowing dangerously into disturbing images of screaming faces. You felt the air around you grow even colder than before, a shiver running down your spine. There was a flutter of paper to your right, and you swung your wand towards the sound. The tip illuminated an old piece of parchment, covered in dust with sections of it nibbled away by rats. You gently pick up the letter, afraid it would fall apart at the slightest movement. On it was a journal entry of sorts, big looping cursive depicting the fate of the last explorer to make it to this room. You carefully scanned the note, each word filling your chest with dread. Gazing down at the ground near your feet, you quietly gasp at the sight of a decaying skeleton. Its bones were a stark alabaster against the gray concrete floor; spiderwebs weaved throughout the skull and down to the rib cage. 

Noctua Gaunt.

You quietly ushered Sebastian over to where you stood, handing him the final journal entry of the woman before you. He scanned it, his eyes growing larger by the second and his face adopting a grim expression. The freckled boy looked at you for confirmation, and you gestured to the skeleton below. He gasped quietly in his throat, looking over his shoulder at the other Slytherin quietly pacing by the gated entrance. 

You quietly spoke, sympathy lacing your tone, “Ominis, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. There’s a note over here, next to a body.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “It’s Noctua.” 

The boy froze his movements, head tilting down towards the ground in sorrow. “What happened to her?” 

“The note says she was stuck in here, and that she could only open the door with an unforgivable curse. She didn’t have anyone else in here with her, so she was unable to escape.”

You walked up to the now shaking boy, his hands grasping at his opposite elbows to ground himself. You gently moved your hand to his shoulder, stroking the joint with your thumb. He roughly shrugged your hand away, returning to his pacing; his face morphed into a look of pain. His hands ran through his hair in anguish, mussying it up into a wild mane. 

“She died stuck in here, and we will suffer the same fate. We will be stuck down here forever— the next person to enter will find our bodies like we found hers.” 

Sebastian bent down to pick up the note you dropped, studying it closely again. He quickly paced towards you both, anxious nervousness rubbing off of him in waves. 

“Don’t give up quite yet. She says that she couldn’t leave because she was alone and had no one to cast the spell on. There’s three of us— we can get out! We just have to cast the unforgivable.” 

Ominis threw his hands down in agitation, spitting at the other boy, “That’s dark magic, Sebastian! Unforgivables are unforgivable for a reason. You can’t just cast one, you need to mean it, and I don’t particularly want to hurt either of you. Do you?” 

Sebastian’s eyebrows knitted together in irritation, “If it means getting out of here alive and finding a cure for Anne, I’ll do anything I have to.” 

You stepped between the two squabbling boys, holding your hands aloft to keep their distance from the other. This argument was getting heated fast, a darker, more dangerous aura rested under the surface than the argument in the prior room. You spoke to the brunette to your left, “Sebastian, which spell is it? What do we need to do?” 

He scanned the note for a third time, eyes alight in a combination of rage and panic. His expression grew grave, and he felt something lodge itself in his throat. He forced the words out from around it, slightly choked with emotion, “We need to cast the cruciatus curse.” 

Ominis’ wrath was palpable in the air, filling the room like a thick fog. “Absolutely not! There must be another way out. There is no way in Merlin’s name that I’m letting either of you cast that spell!” 

The taller Slytherin growled, throwing the note down on the ground and pacing back to the horrifying door. He ran his hand along the faces, each twisted in pain. He sighed, pushing his anger back down into his chest. It would do them no good to argue with each other. 

“I understand that you’re scared, Ominis, but there isn’t another spell. This is the only way out.” He took a deep, steadying breath, before finishing his thought. “You’re the only one here who knows the spell. It should be you who casts—”

“Are you soft in the head!? I would rather die than cast that spell again. I question our friendship just at the fact that you would ask that of me.” 

Sebastian pressed his forefinger and thumb against the bridge of his nose, pinching it in exasperation. He turned on the balls of his feet towards where you were, silently watching the fight with fright in your eyes. He walked towards you, placing both of his palms on your shoulders and looking deep into your eyes. 

“It’s up to us, then.” He paused, searching your face for something. His eyebrows creased in concentration and something else that you couldn’t name. Fear? Anger? Assurance? You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure you wanted to know. He quickly spun away from you, beginning to pace the length of the room while muttering to himself, tapping his wand against his leg in a sporadic rhythm. You watched from your spot next to the door. It seemed to glow with evil energy, spreading its wicked tendrils around the room like a well-fed devils snare. You could almost feel it crawling its way into your nose and mouth, wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air from your lungs. Rapid breaths escaped from your lips, your heart pulsing rapidly in your chest. Your wide eyes, absolutely swimming in terror, refused to leave the daunting door. You open your mouth to speak, before a resolute voice cuts you off from your thoughts. 

“Cast it on me.” 

Your breath caught in your chest, freezing in your veins as your blood ran cold. Surely you didn’t hear him correctly? He wasn’t asking you to—

“Cast it on me, it’s the only way.” 

You slowly turned in his direction, meeting Sebastian’s beautiful brown eyes, normally filled with warmth but now cold and hard. He stood directly across from you, the glow of the door casting a striking shadow on his youthful face. His demeanor was all straight lines; tight and unmoving in discernment. There was no changing his mind, he had made his choice— his figurative bed. He would rather take the curse himself than have to cast it on either of his closest friends. You saw the determination in his eyes, in the thin line of his lips and jagged edges of his clenched jaw. He was an immovable force, and who were you to try and bend physics to your will? You closed your eyes, gathering your resolve, before meeting his eyes once again. The fire behind your irises burned brightly, a blazing inferno ready to take the entire world into its flames. 

“Alright, if you’re sure. Do you know the spell?”

He looked at the door again in trepidation before meeting your gaze, something unknown still swirling in his irises. “In theory. I can teach it to you.” 

The both of you moved through the motions of the spell, repeating it a few times to make sure you knew what you were doing. The movements in itself felt dirty— wrong, even. Like you weren’t supposed to be privy to this kind of knowledge. Your wand arm felt numb, like the cold was seeping into your very bones and inducing hypothermia. You swallowed thickly, before raising your wand to Sebastian’s chest. You stared into the other’s eyes, both filled with intense worry and fright. 

“Are you ready?”

The brunette took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind and attempting to calm his rapid heartbeat. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice, eyes squeezing shut in preparation for the unimaginable pain he was about to experience. 

Your shaking voice spoke, mouth feeling weird around the accursed word.

“Crucio.” 

A slight red spark shot from the tip of your wand, but no pain came to the Sallow boy. His eyes shot open, looking at you across from him. You were shaking like a leaf, staring confused at your wand and then at him. He knitted his brows in angered confusion. 

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

Ominis spoke from the back corner where he had sat himself, head leaning heavily on the wall behind him and his arms resting on the tops of his knees. His face was riddled with resignation. “I told you, you have to mean it. You have to want to inflict pain on the other person.” 

Sebastian growled loudly, his teeth clashing together harshly as he clenched his jaw in anger. “If you’re not going to offer anything helpful, just be quiet.” 

You stood in stunned silence at the boy's ferocity. He quickly rounded back towards you, teeth clenched in a near snarl. He pointed at you accusingly,

“Why aren’t you angry? You need to be furious! Yell at me— tell me this is all my fault! Let me have it!” 

You stuttered at the boy, hands shaking even more forcefully now. You knew what he was doing; he was trying to make you hate him. He wanted you to be so angry at him that you could easily cast the curse. Unfortunately, the tactic seemed to have the opposite effect on you. Your heart ached for the boy, listening to each word he said and knowing somewhere in your heart that he thought this of himself. Apologies filled your mouth and spilled out like a waterfall of dismay. They splashed against the ground and the droplets sprayed everywhere, bouncing harshly against the echo chamber walls. 

Sebastian continued yelling, rage pouring from his being, “Stop apologizing! I brought us down here, it’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with! I’m the reason you have to cast this spell! You didn’t want to come here at all before I basically forced you and Ominis. Look at him, he’s petrified! I did this, cast it on me!” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, horrified terror coursed through your body because of the boy across from you. He was breathing heavily, eyes ablaze and nostrils flaring like a bull. You had never seen him like this before. The anger poured from him and swirled around the air like a dense cloud, permeating every inch of the desolate cavern. Ominis hesitantly stood from the corner, intense worry spreading across his face. He slowly approached the two, steps soft and slow, hands outstretched in front of him like he was dealing with a raging animal. He could smell the tension, feel the red hot heat of fury and agitation.

He hesitantly spoke, his voice shaking with a soft timber, “Sebastian, take a step back. You’re scaring them.” 

The frenzied boy rounded at his friend, snarling and gnashing his teeth, “No, they have to do this!” 

You continued to spew apologies, the words getting swallowed by the thick, maroon fog and evaporating into vapor. Tears cascaded down your frightened face, staring unblinking at your rampaging friend. He was nearly foaming at the mouth in outrage, his eyes wild and hardened. He didn’t look like himself, a complete stranger in his own body. All Sebastian could feel was anger, extremely hot and branding his very soul with a wave of wrath. He could hear your pitiful cries, Ominis’ begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t let you both stand in the way of curing his sister. 

“Oh for the love of—” Sebastian cut himself off, quickly drawing his wand from his sleeve and pointing it at your chest. Images danced behind his eyes; Solomon destroying the plant that could have cured Anne; The blurry image of the goblin that had cursed his sister running from the house, cackling in villainous mirth; finding his parents bodies in the cellar, thick plumes of colored toxic smoke spewing from their cauldron. His vision faded to a striking black. White hot pokers stabbed into his temples, and he cast his wand at you in a blind rage. 

“Crucio!” 

Your screams filled the small room, ricocheting off the walls and burying inside the duo's ears. Ominis slapped his arms around his head, bending over in pain, his sensitive ears amplifying the violent outburst tenfold. His heart shattered in his chest at the sound of your pain, crushing his soul in its devastating grasp. The sound snapped Sebastian out of his trance, his face morphing into one of absolute horror and revoltion at what he had just done. He dropped his wand in shock, stumbling backwards into the nearest wall and sliding down it. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you writhe on the floor in never-ending pain. He brought his hands up to his mouth, covering it in distress, and whispered curses and pleading apologies against his skin. 

“Oh Merlin, what have I done? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” 

Pain— that’s all you knew. Your blood was boiling under your skin, the veins feeling like they were going to burst out of you in a shower of blood at any moment. You clutched your abdomen in agony, nails biting into your arms in desperation. Blood ran down from your hands, coating your sleeves and staining them red. Each organ felt like it was dying slowly, decay seeping deep into your body and coating every surface. Your heart pounded harder than ever before, threatening to combust right through your ribs and out of your chest. Every nerve ending fired off in rapid succession, blazing through your body like a wild inferno and leaving intense burns in its wake. Your head was the worst. It felt like someone stabbed a freezing ice pick through your eye socket, retracting it and pushing back in with each pound of your heart against your skull. Bile rose into your throat, evaporating around the force of your wails of pain. You were curled on the ground, arms tight against yourself in protection. It felt like you would never be happy, be well, again. The torment went on for what felt like years, centuries even, wracking your body with heaving sobs and otherworldly screams. 

In an instant it was over. Sparks of residual magic shot against your skin, shaking your body to its core. The world around you was dark and silent, your senses absolutely fried. A heavy weight was resting against your back, pressing against you with a relieving, grounding pressure. Your hearing returned first, flooding in like you had just rinsed the water from them. 

“Come back to us! Are you alright? Damn it, please say something!” The panicked voice of Ominis filled your electrified brain, the sound grating against your ears. He pressed his palms against your cheeks and raised your head from its spot on the cold ground, wiping the tears from your face. He rested his forehead against yours, listening closely to your shuddering breaths. “Please, give me a sign that you’re still in there.” 

A groan eased its way out of your tight throat, pushing past the damage your screams had done and croaking through like a toad. Ominis sighed in relief, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gathering you gently in his arms. He stroked your hair, letting the last of the tremors make their way out of your body. Your consciousness faded in and out, lids fluttering open and closed around the blackness resting just behind your eyes. 

“Shush now, don’t push yourself. Everything’s going to be okay.” Ominis gently coaxed your head to rest against his collarbone, his cheek pressing against the roof of your head. He continued his movements along your hair absentmindedly, lulling you into a soft sense of security. 

The blond spoke to the distraught boy behind him, voice devoid of any emotion. “We need to get them to the infirmary.” 

Sebastian broke out of his morose stupor, panic rising in his voice, “We can’t! She’ll know that we’ve used an unforgivable! Not to mention, we’re out past curfew. We’ll likely get expelled, or worse!” 

Ominis sighed inwardly, his head leaning back and smacking against the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He knew that Sebastian was right, no matter how much he wanted to throw the boy to the wolves at that very moment. If they were to bring you to the hospital wing the nurse would ask all three of them questions, and none of them were prepared for that. There wasn’t a single lie in the world that would be that convincing. With a final growl of agitation, he made a decision.

“Fine, the Undercroft, then.” He leveled the taller boy with a harsh glare. “Go get whatever you’re looking for and meet us down there. I hope this trip was worth it, Sallow.” 

The clock tower sounded three times, signaling the beginning of the witching hour. Two students rested against the chaise lounge conjured up out of an old shipping crate. Your shoulder had been dressed, the bandage peeking out from under your ripped blouse. The same was done for the indentations on your arms, half moons lining your biceps in a circle from your sharp nails digging into your skin. Ominis gently stroked your hair from where your head rested on his lap. You had fallen asleep not long ago, your quiet whines of pain tempered out and gave way to startling silence. Anger festered under the boy’s skin, warming him to an uncomfortable degree. It burned in the back of his mind, boiling against the memory of your screams and whimpers of immense pain. He had half a mind to curse Sebastian where he had stood in the Scriptorium. Ominis heard his panicked breaths and whispered apologies after he brought you to your knees, truly realizing the damage that he had done and the dangers of dark magic. Good, he thought. Maybe he’d finally stop moving down the dark path that he was so set on. He deserved to beg for your forgiveness. 

The metal gate of the Undercroft squeaked open, the sound of heavy footfalls following after. Ominis gently picked up your sleeping head, standing from the chaise and lowering you onto one of the many pillows lining the cushions. He quickly paced towards the brunette, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury. Sebastian paid no mind, flipping through the large tomb he had collected from Salazar’s Scriptorium. He looked up and saw the approaching boy, not noticing the very prevalent anger on his face. 

“Ominis, you’re not going to believe what I found—”

The smaller boy slammed into him, pressing his forearm against his neck and shoving him harshly into the nearest wall. His wand was pressed against his chin, glowing menacingly in the candlelight of the hideaway. The blond’s mouth was twisted into a gruesome snarl, teeth looking like fangs in the dim lighting. Sebastian gulped against the arm pressed against his larynx. He dropped the book in surprise, a cloud of dust puffing up from the ground at its harsh landing. Even though Sebastian knew that Ominis couldn’t truly see him, the boy’s heated glare seemed to set fire to his very soul. 

Ominis growled at the taller boy in a gravely low voice, his teeth gnashing around each word. “If you ever hurt them again, you will be dead where you stand. This is the last I want to hear of dark magic, Sebastian. You’ve gone too far; people have gotten hurt. Promise me that you’ll stop— you’ll find some other way to heal Anne, or this friendship will continue no longer.” 

Sebastian nodded as much as he could around his friend’s arm, squeezing the words out of his crushed throat, “Yes, I understand, I’m sorry!” 

The anger seemed to evaporate from the smaller boy in mere seconds, his arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slumping. He grasped the front of the freckled boy’s shirt, leaning his forehead against his chest with a heavy sigh. 

“I almost lost you both today. I can’t do that, don’t make me live through that again. Please, I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t bear the thought.” 

His shoulders began to shake, tremors rocking his entire body and sending the tears gathering in his eyes down his pale cheeks. He softly cries into the shirt of his friend, grasping harder at the cotton between his fingers and burying his face even deeper. The freckled boy stands still for a moment, startled by the sudden emotional whiplash. He hesitantly raises his arms and circles them around the shoulders of the crying boy, looking over to your sleeping form with guilt swirling in his eyes. 

He had hurt both of his friends today over something he thought was so trivial, so insignificant. He just wanted to find a cure for his sister, not cause undeniable pain to those he loved. He truly was turning into a monster; the dark magic he was so fascinated by had begun to circle around his heart, squeezing it with its thick tentacles. Sebastian buried his head into Ominis’ neck, deeply breathing in his scent. The mildew of the cellar was thick against his skin, but reminisce of his expensive cologne and natural scent, something musky and rich, still lingered there. He focused on it, the familiar smell warming his insides and bringing his heartbeat to a slight increase. 

He hadn’t promised the boy that he’d stop exploring the dark arts, instead twisting his words into something that sounded like agreement. Sebastian knew that he would come to regret that decision, but he couldn’t give up on Anne. She was his flesh and blood, his twin sister. She was everything to him. He knew that he would hurt his two closest friends more than words can express with his decisions, but deep in his heart he believed that he was doing the right thing. 

With a heavy heart, Sebastian basked in the comfort of the Undercroft and the arms wrapped around his waist, praying to anyone who would listen that this wouldn’t be the last time he felt this safe.

AN: Did I make an "Ominis gets pegged" joke? Yes, yes I did.

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