#elf fever hours

[devotion-disorder]

...he's just curious about human biology!!!!!!!

[calypsoine]

@devotion-disorder I MADE A LITTLE ELF BABY FOR THE ELF VILLAGE!!!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

He just wants the S/O to give him a sibling so he doesn’t need to play by himself ❤️

“PLEASE!!! I promise I’ll be good and help around momma/dadda! Just please get me a sibling to play with!!”

(I don’t know about the Mishka part but thought it might be cute, sorry if it’s not accurate!)

[fuzybby]

Baby Fever

Halsin x F!Reader

Synopsis: Halsin wants a baby with you so bad, and who are you to deny him?

CW: BREEDING!!!, the word daddy is used once, rough-ish sex, lovey dovey shit

Life after the Elder Brain was strange in the way that it was comfortable. Instead of going back to your old life, the one you had before you were forced onto the Nautiloid ship, you decided to follow the love of your life. Halsin.

You went with him to go look after the bundle of kids whose parents had passed from the attack. Thaniels realm, otherwise used to be known as the Shadowcursed Lands, looks much better than when you left it. Now that the curse was lifted, the lands were no longer drenched in shadows and fog.

There were, however, many little feet running around the sanctuary you had made. There were a few little cabins for some of the kids to sleep, along with you and Halsin having one for yourself. Outside the cabins, tents and campfires were set up everywhere. Some of the kids enjoyed sleeping outdoors, saying that it brought them comfort to sleep under the stars.

As you tucked the final kid into their bed in one of the cabins, you tried to exit as quietly as you coud. When you came to be outside, Halsin stood next to your own cabin door, waiting for you to come to bed.

You chuckled to yourself as you stepped around the tents and the kids personal belongings, walking to your cabin. Halsins eyes fell onto the way your body moved, smiling to himself as he wondered how he got so lucky.

“Surprised you're not already in bed.” You joked in a whisper once you were close enough for your giant lover to hear.

Halsin opened the door and let you step inside first, before following and closing the door. He swiftly locked it behind him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” He responded, the grin never leaving his face.

“Mhm?” You stepped over to your dresser, pulling out a tanktop and some shorts to sleep in. Halsin came up quickly next to you and put your clothes back into the drawer.

“I want a baby.” Halsin said. He was blunt, it was something you loved about him. Always getting to the point.

“We already have, like, twelve children.” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to pull your clothes back out of the drawers.

He was quick to put them back into the drawer, and even closed it too. “I want another one. Made from both of us.”

“Halsin..” You started, looking up into his eyes. It was something you had talked about before, being a mother wasn’t not off the table, you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. You loved the little ones you were taking care of. Adding another was definitely something that you wanted.

Without a second beat, Halsin smirked. “This also means I could fuck my cum into you every night, multiple times a night, until your pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Halsin had always asked to cum inside you, and there were only a few times you had agreed to it. He was always so sweet about making a day after potion for you, even if he was sad it wasn’t time yet. But now, he wanted it to be time. And so did you.

“Yeah..” Is all you could say, a big goofy smile plastered on your face. “Yeah.”

“On the bed, my heart. Let me grab the bottle.” Halsin said, the same kind of goofy grin on his face too. You didn’t think twice, immediately jumping into bed. You debated if you should take off your clothes, knowing Halsin would rip them off and most likely tear them.

Before you could really get your hands even on your clothes, Halsin returned next to the bed with a bottle of lube. Handmade by him, of course.

“I don’t understand why we still need that stuff. I take you just fine.” You sighed, looking up at your elf with puppy eyes.

“Sweetheart, it takes me almost an hour to prep you properly. And I don’t feel like waiting tonight. It’s necessary.” Halsin laughs, moving down to press a kiss to your lips. His lips are soft, and both of your tongues move to reach each others. It’s messy as much as it is passionate, and yet it doesn’t last long.

He pulls away and moves to sit on his knees in front of you on the bed. Hiking his hands up your shirt to cup your breasts. His hands are rough and large, but he touches you like you're made of glass. This is his pattern, be extremely gentle with you at the start to rile you up before he completely ravages you for all you are.

He takes his time, pulling off your shirt slowly so he can admire your entire torso. He presses the faintest of kisses against the skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth. His teeth just barely graze your pointed tip, his tongue working in circles to swirl around your entire areola. Before long, he switches to the other nipple, continuing the same ministrations on that breast instead.

He works slowly down your body, too slowly for your tastes, and you're tempted to beg him to hurry. Halsin hooks his pointer fingers into the waistband of your pants, quickly pulling them down along with your underwear. Throwing them into the corner of the room.

“Fuck,” Halsin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees to spread you open. “I love you.”

“I love you t-” You go to reply, but before you can even finish the sentence, Halsin licks a strip up your cunt. Swirling his tongue around your clit, much like he did with your tits. He moans into your heat, trying to bury his face as much as he can into you.

It felt glorious, his tongue was so warm against you, and so soft. It felt like fucking heaven. You moaned loudly, and had to cover your mouth to not disturb anyone outside. You could feel your wetness travel down onto the bed, or maybe it was some of Halsins saliva? Who knows.

Your legs shook, but his hold on them made it so your whole body spasmed instead. Arching your back up into the sky in hopes his tongue would reach deeper. Travel inside of you and ignite a flame of ecstasy.

You could feel a sweat break out against your skin, and suddenly everything in the room became too hot. Your body felt on fire as your lover devoured you.

“Almost..” You moan out, moving your hand down to hold onto his hair. You didn’t tug, holding it merely to try and keep you grounded.

Halsin didn't stop, instead opting to suck and focus on your clit as he entered a finger into you. It didn’t take too long for him to enter a second one, and then a third. You were wet enough for them to slide in easily. The feeling of being so full set you on edge, and you suddenly came with a cry. Your body shook, and you gripped both the sheets and Halsins hair in a death grip.

Halsin relented and pulled away, a line of his saliva stayed connected from his lips to your clit. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, immediately putting them into his mouth to clean them off.

“Grab me the bottle my love.” Halsin huffed once he finished sucking on his fingers. You stretched your arm above your head to grab the bottle of home-made lube, and tossed it to your lover.

Halsin grabbed it and set it down on the bed next to him, it was now his turn to strip. Throwing off his shirt and trousers quickly. His cock sprang out of his pants and smacked against his abdomen. He was a big man, in all ways possible. He grabbed the bottle again and poured the smallest amount on his hand, and gave his cock a few pumps in order to coat himself.

He then drizzled a small amount onto your mound, and it made you jump as the cold liquid met your clit. He made sure to rub it everywhere, but made sure the most to finger you a little bit more while his hands were coated in it.

“Ready?” The giant had asked you, and you nodded.

He positioned himself first, pushing in only slightly so just the top of the tip was inside before he moved his body to hang above you. His free hand now came to grab the sheets next to your head for stability.

And then he started to push in more.

The first few times you ever had sex with Halsin, it took a while. Back and forth between trying to enter you and making you cum on his fingers. He never wanted to hurt you, and continuously tried to stretch you open enough on his fingers so that you could take him fully.

Now that you were more experienced with his size, it was easier to take him. But, that doesn't mean sometimes it didn't hurt.

The initial stretch is the worst, no matter how much prep work is done it'll still never be quite enough. But you always enjoyed the small thing of pain. Enjoying the way you hugged his walls, silently asking for him to never leave the warm space between your legs.

And god, the look on his face was everything. The scrunch of his brow, the way he wanted to bare his teeth like an animal, the moan he lets out when he first comes into contact with your warmth. It’s absolutely divine.

His hand that was holding his cock now comes to hold your face. He is so close to you, you could purse your lips and reach his own.

“Fuck, you feel good.” The druid growls, his mouth stays open in a silent moan.

Before long, he finally is able to push in all the way to the hilt. You can feel his heavy balls rest against your ass. You could probably feel them twitch if you concentrated hard enough.

“Fuck me already.” You beg, moving your hands to hold his thighs. Your fingers knees into his flesh, hoping to guide him to move.

Halsin smirks. “You know I love it when you beg.”

He doesn't wait a second more before he starts moving. He doesn't start with a slow or gentle pace, it's straight to rough and hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is all that can be heard from the room.

Whimpers and whines leave both of your lips, not wanting to be any louder in case to wake anyone nearby.

You felt so incredibly full, only for that fullness to leave momentarily and then come back full force inside you. Everything felt beyond amazing, your lover always knowing how to fuck you good.

You never relented on your hold on him, wanting to make sure he never pulled out.

Your sweat hadn't let up either, and everything around you was wet. The skin from your elf had the same sweat on him too.

Your brain had started to turn off, consistent quiet rambles fell from your lips. “Fuck a baby into me daddy!” and “I love you so much!” were one of the few sentences that Halsin could make out.

Halsin quickly grabbed onto the headboard as he pounded you, now not so close to your face either. His arm flexed as he held onto the piece of wood. The bed frame that he made with his own two hands now felt like it was going to snap and break from his constant thrusting.

“M’ gonna cum,” He moaned. The hair on his forehead bounced against the movements he was making.

“Inside!” You squealed, moving your hands to grab onto his lower back, intent to make sure he didn't pull out last minute.

Halsin smirked for the final time that night, “That's my girl.” He said quietly into your ear before slamming into you one final time.

The force of his orgasm caused your own cord to snap too, feeling his seed drench your walls as your own ecstasy covered his lower abdomen.

You both lay there for a minute, taking a breather. Watching one another with that same goofy grin on each other's faces.

“Melody if it's a girl.” Halsin said breathlessly, moving his body to lay on top of you, never pulling out.

“We're gonna make a list.” You laughed, holding him close to you. You felt hot as he lay against you, possibly almost too hot. “I need a cold bath.”

“Me too.” The giant agreed. “I can get one started for us.”

“Sounds lovely” You hummed, running your fingers through his hair. “Maybe have another round while we bathe?” You joked.

“Don't threaten me with a good time.” Halsin laughed.

Neither of you moved just then, continuing to stay there together. Entangled in eachothers arms as you both relax, hoping to Silvanus that no one woke up from the sound of you two lovebirds.

[anittmyer]

Maglor the Old Elf

In my AU, Elladan and Elrohir find Maglor on the beaches of Middle Earth, he is ill, physically worn, and even has visible strands of grey strewn throughout his midnight hair.

Maglor is taken to Imladris to heal and be at peace for the first time in many millenia. Elrond is beyond relieved and near tears when he sees his sons riding into Imladris with a very familiar elf with them.

Maglor embraces Elrond but tries to refuse care and healing, stating he did not deserve it. Elrond told Maglor that Imladris is a place of peace and healing, no amount of past deeds and self loathing will change that.

Maglor is treated long and hard for illness and fever that seems almost engraved in his bones. But Elrond works day and night to provide comfort for his foster father.

The Elves of Imladris are more intrigued by Maglor rather then feared or hated, the elflings especially, they found the mix of grey and black in his braids to be beautiful and his tall tales he would tell to his own young brothers wludl entertain them for hours. Maglor while recovering well is still affected by the years on his feet, his eyes and bones are old, his eyesight is not as sharp as it once had been and his bones are weary and frail, he takes to using a walking stick/or cane, a beautiful one made and carved by Elladan and Elrohir.

Many of the less familiar elves took to calling him "Maglor the Old Elf", as besides the silvan and Avari, Maglor seemed to have collected one of the largest sums of years, alongside Cirdan the Shipwright. He also weeps at getting to meet his mysterious nephew Erestor, Caranthir's son... one of the last of his family.

I also headcanon that Cirdan and Maglor become friends during this time as well. After hearing about the return of Maglor, Cirdan makes time to visit Imladris and examine the situation, but all he sees is an old, weary elf trying to warm his ever chilled bones with a thick quilt. Cirdan takes to talking with Maglor and the two soon form a strong friendship with each other.

From one old elf to another.

I have way more ideas on this if anybody would like some short stories!

[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #9 - Elf

After the day you took an arrow for the Fae Commander, he kept you by his side, barely letting you out of his sight. He was angry when you finally woke up from the poison fever.

"I promised to deliver you safely back into your father's hands," he had said, pacing like a wild cat in the healer's tent. "How could you be so foolish?"

After the verbal lashing, he strode away in a flurry of robes and golden hair, barking orders to his men. Now that you were well, by first daylight the camp would be disbanded and the journey continued. The healer who was packing her things away winked at you.

"He doesn't want to show his relief, but he watched over you all night."

You wouldn't have believed her if you hadn't been aware of him at intervals amid your feverish dreams. He had brought you medicinal teas- administered patiently by the spoonful- and stroked your hair and sang to you in Elvish.

"I'm sorry to bring you on this wretched journey," he'd murmured as the cold poison rattled in your bones and he gently held you down, keeping you warm with his body heat.

He had been there for you. He had cared. Now feeling much better, you huddle in your coat and tiptoe over to his tent. Despite the late hour he's still awake, leaning over a map. You reach out and touch his shoulder.

"What is it?" He looks up.

"Thank you."

"Do not mention it," he replies, looking away.

You begin to comb your fingers through his hair, marveling at how silky it is. You'd heard that touching an elf's hair is considered intimate. The sharp breath he takes confirms this but he doesn't ask you to stop.

"Why don't you braid your hair?" You ask. "It gets in the way sometimes."

"I was promised to the battlefield from a young age. A warrior does not need to learn how to braid hair," he replies tersely.

"Isn't this a part of courtship? Correct me if I'm wrong." You say as you skillfully braid his hair.

"Yes. But a warrior-"

"Is promised to the battlefield, yes, you keep reminding me. Don't worry, I'm not trying to court you."

"Ah." His shoulders don't relax so much as they droop.

You tuck the smaller braids behind his pointy ears. "There you go."

He's doing that thing where he stares at you with furrowed eyebrows like you're the last puzzle piece that doesn't fit.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Goodnight." You leave him to his planning and head to your own tent.

The next morning he has picked the braids apart, probably because it'll be too obvious who did them. His hair is slightly wavy now, and you can't help but laugh quietly when you see that.

[grandeoatmilklatte]

Taking a Sick Day 🤒 (Ominis Gaunt x F!MC)

Alternate title: "come over, my parents aren't home!"

I'm back from another writing hiatus! Please enjoy this floor-fucking smut!

Warnings: NSFW || P in V || 0ral || f!ng3r!ng || loss of V || Characters are aged up and 18+ || MDNI || (1892 words)

“Oh sweetheart! You’re burning up! You can’t go out like this!” Ominis’s mother exclaimed as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on her son’s forehead. “Everyone else will just have to go without us.”

“It’s alright mother! I wouldn’t want you to miss the party! I can stay home alone. I’ll be asleep most of the evening anyway.” Ominis pleaded, praying he didn’t sound too desperate. 

“He’s right dear, the boy is eighteen now, he’s old enough to stay home alone for an evening.” his father’s voice echoed from the other side of the room. 

After a few moments of discussion between Ominis’s parents, it was agreed Ominis could indeed stay home, while the rest of the family attended a dinner party that night at the home of a family friend. Ominis smiled to himself as he heard his parents leave the room, waiting until their footsteps receded before jumping to his feet, dashing to his desk and quickly crafting a letter, whispering words to his self writing quill before shooing his owl away so that his letter could be delivered as quickly as possible. 

Ominis’s plan was turning out to be a success so far.

An hour later, the Gaunts were saying their goodbyes to Ominis, letting him know that they would return past midnight, and that they wouldn’t wake him when they returned. Once they had left, Ominis summoned the family house elf, letting the elf know that he was giving him the night off so that he could be alone while he recovered from his “illness”. The elf was happy to oblige. When Ominis confirmed that the house was indeed empty, he made his way to the family room and waited, his heart beating out of his chest. 

Less than twenty minutes passed before Ominis heard the sound of tapping at the window of the family room. He dashed to the front door, listening for a moment before he called out.

“Darling, is that you?”

“Yes! It’s me!” Came the beautiful voice of his girlfriend before he felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed her back and led her inside, shutting the door behind him. 

“I was so worried they wouldn’t fall for it! Had I known this was that easy I would have skipped out on every one of our History of Magic classes!” Ominis said as he proceeded to quickly give his girlfriend a tour of his home. She laughed at his remark, but her eyes were wide in awe, taking in her surroundings. 

“Ominis, your home is incredible!”

Ominis felt a slight pang of sadness knowing that this was the only way he could have her in his home - in secret. The couple had been together since their fifth year, with their romantic interactions being few and far between due to a lack of privacy at Hogwarts. They managed to see each other occasionally over the summer holidays, but this had to also be in public spaces, her muggleborn status making an invite to the Gaunt manor forbidden, lest she wish to be killed. Recently, Ominis had begun to slowly and secretly steal from his family’s fortune, waiting until he had stolen enough for them to run away and start a new life together. Until then, their relationship would need to remain a secret.

So, when Ominis learned that his family would be out of the manor one evening for several hours to attend a party, he couldn’t deny himself the opportunity to have the place to himself, for him and his beloved to do whatever they pleased. A simple potion created to make the drinker appear sick with a fever was all Ominis needed to make this evening work in his favor. 

After giving her a brief tour of this home, Ominis led her back to the family room, where he sat himself on a dark emerald velvet sofa, while she remained standing. With a quick wave of his wand, Ominis lit the grand fireplace that was across from the sofa.

“Darling, don’t just stand there, come sit with me.” Ominis leaned back, making his lap readily available for her. 

A nervous giggle fell from her lips. “Sorry, this is just…so different from what we normally do. I don’t think we’ve ever been this alone before.”

“Well, we should take advantage of the opportunity then.” Ominis began to worry he might be sounding a bit desperate. The growing desire for her, as well as the growing bulge in his trousers, was hard to ignore. 

His worries faded when she straddled his lap, her hands coming up to hold his face as she kissed him. As he deepened the kiss, he brought his hands to her hips, gently guiding her so that her core was slowly grinding against his bulge, which was now straining against his trousers. Ominis could feel the tension releasing from her body as she began to move her hips on her own, increasing her pace as she continued to grind against him.

“Take your clothes off.” Ominis said breathlessly as he pulled away from her lips, the desperation completely taking over him. 

Without a second of hesitation, he felt her body leave his lap, followed by the sounds of her clothing coming off. Ominis followed suit, remaining on the couch as he undressed. He couldn’t help the soft groan that left his lips when he felt her sit back on his lap, her skin coming in direct contact with his own for the first time. 

She resumed her previous action, grinding herself against him, her bare cunt rubbing against the length of his hard, leaking cock. Ominis slipped his hand between their bodies, gripping his cock and trying to guide himself inside of her, but she pulled away, sinking down to her knees, trailing kisses down his chest as she did so. 

Her pace was slow as she took his cock into her mouth. The oral pleasure she had given him before was always quick and quiet, either in an alleyway after one of their dates, or in an empty corner of the library when they were still in school. But right now she was taking her time, savoring every second of this alone time they had, and it was driving Ominis crazy, moans freely falling from his lips as his hands wrapped around her soft hair. 

“Wait, wait, stop, not yet!” Ominis groaned, knowing that if she kept this up any longer he was going to fall off the edge way too early. “Come here.”

She did as she was told, resuming her original position on his lap, her lips immediately latching on to his. As he kissed her, he slipped his hand between their bodies once again, this time turning his attention to her as he slipped two fingers inside her wet cunt. She moaned against his lips, and adjusted her hips so that she was matching his movements as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. After a few moments he pulled his fingers out of her, using the same hand to slowly stroke himself as she lined herself up with his cock. When she was positioned perfectly, Ominis’s hands went back to her hips as she slowly sank herself down his length. 

She let out a long, drawn out moan as her body adjusted to the new feeling. “Easy, darling, easy. We can just go slow.” Ominis whispered softly. She gave him an affirming hum before she began to slowly ride him, Ominis’s hands encouraging her as they remained on her hips. Her hands moved from Ominis’s shoulders to the back of the velvet sofa, gripping it as she picked up her pace, Ominis’s hands still keeping her steady.

The Gaunts would surely kill their son if they knew what he was up to right now, and with a muggleborn no less. This was the ultimate act of rebellion against his family, and the realization of this, coupled with the way she moaned in his ear, coupled with the way her walls tightened around his leaky cock, almost made Ominis fall over the edge right then and there. But he kept his composure, knowing he wasn’t anywhere near done with her yet. 

“On the rug, now.” he commanded breathlessly as he lifted her off of his lap by her hips. She obeyed immediately, lying on her back on the large white rug that adorned the floor in front of the sofa. 

For a moment, Ominis felt it a bit crude to be taking the woman he loved on the floor, but he ignored the feeling, immediately diving between her spread legs. Moans of his name filled the room as he alternated between licking and sucking her clit. When her moans became louder, he slipped his two fingers back inside of her, working her with both his mouth and fingers. He was so lost in the taste of her, it was difficult to pull away, but eventually he did, positioning himself so he was directly above her.

“I love you.” He whispered against her lips before he gently kissed them. As she kissed him back, Ominis once again weaved a hand between their bodies lining himself up with her, gently sliding back inside of her. 

The gentleness was gone the moment Ominis bottomed out, as he began to fuck her mercilessly on the rug. He knew he didn’t have much time before he reached his climax, between the sound of her moans and the feeling of her legs wrapping around him. But, Ominis, ever the determined Slytherin, refused to let himself finish until she had first.

Almost as if she could read his mind, Ominis began to feel her walls tightening around his cock. His soft praises of “you’re so close, darling” and “you feel so good” gave her the final push she needed as she nosedived off the edge with a whimper of his name. 

Ominis slowed his movements down slightly, savoring the feeling of her orgasm as he himself was finally pushed over the edge. He once again considered the significance of this moment, juxtaposed with their current location, and cursed his bloodline as he emptied himself into her. 

There was no sense of urgency as they laid on the rug reveling in the afterglow. No need to quickly clean up and get dressed, or act as if they weren’t doing anything at all. Ominis could just lay there with her, listening to the sounds of the crackling fireplace, and the soft sighs of her breathing.

Although he could have laid with her on that rug for hours, Ominis eventually sat up, still wanting to enjoy the empty home. He led her into the garden, where they took an evening stroll before she provided Omins with his second orgasm of the night, taking him into her mouth again while they sat on a garden bench.

Once they had gone back inside, the two retired to Ominis’s bedroom, fatigue beginning to catch up to them. The time was approaching midnight anyway, and Ominis didn’t want to take any chances in case his family arrived earlier than expected. As they drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, Ominis couldn’t help but wonder when his family would be attending a dinner party next. 

[tavyliasin]

In Sickness, And An Elf - Halsin Comfort Short

Written for a dear darling who is feeling unwell, a short and sweet SFW piece of Halsin x Reader to comfort someone suffering from flu (or a similar ailment)

Short below the cut~ (Yes, the title is a pun, and yes I am proud of it~) --- ---

“My heart?” Halsin’s voice was soft, quiet, his hand already pressing to your forehead. “Too warm…” He muttered, already channeling a little magic to cool his hand. He was right, too. You could feel the fever burning in your cheeks, your head spinning every time you tried to move, your throat raw from the cough that woke you every hour. “Hal-” 

“Shhh. There is no need for you to try so hard, my love. I have no intention of going far.” His hand smoothed back the stray hair that had fallen forwards, pushing it behind your ear before cupping your cheek. The kiss on your forehead felt achingly tender. “Close your eyes, wait here.” You nodded silently, earning another brief and chaste kiss to your heated skin before his presence withdrew. The sickness was dreadful, taking its toll on your whole body with the fever, the ache, the shivers that seemed to go from your skin and deep into your bones. Still…there was some comfort to know that the druid was near. Halsin’s footsteps roused you from an uneasy sleep you hadn’t even realised had crept back in, his face a blur as you blinked away to find him kneeling beside your bedroll. “Here, let me help you.” His arm slipped behind your shoulders, his other wrapping around your chest to brace your shoulders and help you sit up. More pillows had appeared behind you than were there when you lay down, providing a place to lean back a little. Your vision cleared more with a few blinks, the worry lines in his brow far clearer now. Golden eyes traced a path across your flush skin, assessing your symptoms quickly. 

“Drink this first, my heart, it will help. Even if it does taste terrible.” The mug had a smell of fresh lemon, spiced ginger, and a few bitter herbs mixed into the brew. He chuckled softly. “I am not fond of it either, but it will work.” 

Your nose wrinkled after the first sip. “I’m not sure how torture is a cure. Or is this poison to put me out of my misery faster?” “If you are good and finish it quickly, I may consider giving you a reward.” Halsin winked, a wry smile playing across his lips. “But that means no more complaining. Come, now, all of it.” The flavour did not improve, so you decided it would be better to just hold your nose and drain the lot in a few quick gulps. You fought the urge to gag, but true to his word your chest felt eased, your throat stinging yet strangely soothed by the spiced burn of the ginger. “There, that was not so bad, was it?”

“No, it was worse.” You managed a lopsided smile as you handed the mug back to him. “See? Empty. All gone.” 

“Very good, my love.” He kissed your cheek, a distraction as he reached behind him. “Just my cheek?” You huffed with mock disappointment. “I thought you promised a reward.” “I do not think raising your temperature further is wise.” Halsin dabbed the sweat from your forehead with a cool and refreshing cloth, the slight scent of mint infused in the water it had soaked in. “We can save anything like that for when you are fully recovered.” “I hope your medicine works fast.” “You’re not the only one…” His reply was so quiet you might not have heard it, especially with your ears feeling as blocked as your nose, but you could have guessed how he felt from the way he shifted his position. “Now, your reward. Open wide.” You closed your eyes, trusting him not to feed you more poison, or medicine if that’s what it was. You were pleasantly surprised by the sweetness that hit your tongue, the slick treat melting down across your tastebuds. There was a slight sting as you swallowed, but it was warm and soothing. You should have guessed this was what he meant. “Honey?” “Yes, my love?” Halsin laughed, already pouring another trickle onto the spoon for you. “A little more, it’s good for you. Then we will see if Gale is done with the soup he has been preparing for you. Karlach has been helping with the bread to go with it, though luckily Wyll is there to ensure it does not burn. Shadowheart and Lae’zel were very insistent on gathering and hunting the fresh ingredients, too. Even Astarion offered to supervise the pot so it doesn’t boil over, though truth be told he may be picking the job that allows him to put in the least effort.” 

“You’re all going to these lengths for me? Why?” You felt a few tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hadn’t known them for long, and often you worried that you were bothering them with your questions or talking to them at camp. “Does it matter?” His thumb gently dried your eyes. “Let yourself be cared for this time. You have given enough of yourself to solve all of their problems, and no doubt you will continue to leap straight into the hells for any one of them.”

You tried to find the words to respond, to tell him that it was only the shared burden that kept them with you, but even in your mind that felt sour. They were putting in an effort, they were showing their care in their own ways. 

“As for me,” Halsin continued, pulling the blanket up to wrap closer around you before the chill of the night air could make you feel any worse, the energy slowly leaving you again as your eyes grew heavy. “Well, my heart, that is simple.” The whisper of his affection in your ear was barely audible, the depth of his feelings reaching you at the edge of your dreams as sleep won out once more. The druid pressed one last soft kiss to your head before standing to leave. “Rest well, my love. I hope you feel better soon.”

[astarioffsimpmain]

I'm sick, I feel terrible, and I'm having Halsin thoughts.

This is self indulgent, don't look at me.

○ I want to curl up against this man's chest and purr like a cat. I feel like death warmed over so maybe, just maybe, being so close to his strong and consistent heartbeat will make me feel a little bit closer to life

○ I just know he'd play with my hair, even just absent-mindedly. Braid it, un-braid it, braid it again, run his fingers through it, pet it (I'm gonna purr again, just you wait), etc. Honestly, if Halsin playing with my hair for hours didn't put me to sleep, I don't DESERVE to sleep

○ He'd find healing herbs to reduce my symptoms and help me get through my sickness a little easier. "Here you are, my heart. Do not drink it quickly, the effects will last much longer if you sip. Good, my dove."

○ If I felt a little better one day, he'd convince me to take a walk with him in the woods because "nature can heal all ailments." But he'd feel guilty for taking me out so soon when, by nightfall, I was wheezing again, my head aching so badly I couldn't keep my eyes open. "It's alright," I'd tell him. "Nature is just taking its time with me." He would still feel responsible, but he would know I didn't blame him, and that would ease his mind

○ In the evenings, he would insist on cradling me to his chest as he slipped into trance, not wanting to delve too deep and possibly miss something I might need upon waking. I would try to tell him I'd be alright for a few hours without monitoring, but he wouldn't have it, gathering me up against his bare chest. I wouldn't complain either, curling closer to his warmth as his strong arms surrounded me and protected me

○ When the fever struck and no amount of layers could warm me, he would wildshape into a bear and wrap his furry body around me like a living heated blanket, and only then would the ice in my bones abate enough to stop shivering and rest. When he sensed that my fever had broken, and I had started sweating into his fur, he would nudge me gently with his snout until I awoke, then would transform back into an Elf to pat down my glistening skin with a cloth

○ Once I showed improvement over the course of several days, we would step outside once again. I'd be able to tell how much he'd missed being amongst the trees, and I'd feel guilty for keeping him from it. But he would see it in my eyes and admonish me tenderly. "I chose to be beside you, my heart, and I do not regret it. Nature will always be there when I return, but I may not always be lucky enough to have your beautiful eyes looking upon me. I cherish every moment that they are."

○ I would promise him quietly, later on that evening when all was quiet and still, and we were wrapped up in each other with myself on the mend, that I would always do the same for him should anything - even something as seemingly trivial as a cold - should ever befall him. He would hum against the flushed skin of my chest and pull me closer, his lips pressing his answer straight into my heart.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Midnight Prayer | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge / Tiny bit of Enver Gortash x Dark Urge

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 4,016

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 after Gortash's coronation in Act 3. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge after the implications of a past relationship between the Dark Urge and Enver Gortash are made known. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature

Author Note: Those new lines in Patch 6 between Durge and Gortash are to blame for this. Plus the fact that I adore the Astarion x Dark Urge dynamic because they're on the same level, meaning they're both barely functioning beings who no business getting into a relationship and yet they make it work. Also, Astarion gets to be the supportive one when Durge goes off the rails.

All these idiots live rent free in my head and I had this scene that just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. This is a one-shot based on the same Durge MC, Eli, as my other ongoing fic - which I have not updated in some time, and I am sorry for that. Have some brainrot to make up for it! This is grade-A mushy, soft garbage.

Sleep was difficult to find as Eli lay on the stiff makeshift cot. Her glassy half-focused eyes were fixed on the patchwork ceiling of Astarion’s tent as her mind coiled around and around, like a snake trying to suffocate itself. Her thoughts were circular, aimless and chaotic as she chased the ghosts of memories that always haunted her nights.

Sleeplessness was nothing new, and Eli’s propensity for restlessness and nightmares was well known throughout camp. She had a tendency to toss and turn as rest evaded her, and when the darkness of slumber finally overtook her in the small hours of mornings it was never peaceful. She was often agitated and unsettled, mumbling low to herself until the shock of some cruel fever dream sent her into an outburst of screams as she flailed and fought to rouse herself from whatever terror had uncaged itself in her mind.

She’d wake shivering, breathing as if she were fighting for her life against legions of the Absolute rather than visions within her own mind. He was always there, though, whispering soothing reminders that they were safe. That they were together. That the horrors inside her broken mind were toothless phantoms. Remnants of a fractured past she could only catch flashes of.

She’d offered on many occasions to sleep alone, saying it made little sense for both Astarion and her to suffer because of her tortuous insomnia. He’d been firm in his refusals and finally told her that if she didn’t stop saying such ludicrous nonsense he’d figure out how to charm one of Gale’s used socks to jump down her throat every time she mentioned the idea.

Gods, was she thankful for that absurd and stubborn man.

She turned her head, eyes focusing on the pale elf who slept beside her. They’d settled into a habit of overnighting in his tent due to the plank of wood that served as a haphazard bed. Like her, Astarion’s sleep could be troubled, disturbed by his own breeds of monsters that lurked around the corners in his brain. His past was filled with grim and vicious memories. What small comforts he had been able to acquire over the past 200 years were things he clung to like life rafts upon a boiling and thrashing ocean. The stiff plank he slept on brought him a strange sort of peacefulness. He’d told her once that the only soft bed he’d been allowed to use while under Cazador’s control was the large plush bed in the palace’s guest room. The room where he and the other spawn “entertained” those who were brought back for Cazador to feast upon.

His bed in the dorms had been stiff and old, and yet he’d far preferred it to the lavish guest bed. Sleeping on something too downy and cushioned reminded him of the countless nights he’d spent being smothered into a pliable mattress by whatever piece of transient garbage he’d lured back to the palace. They’d have their way with him while he’d disassociate, his body working through the motions of sex while his mind walled itself off. It had become second nature to disconnect himself from the present the moment he slumped onto that soft bed.

It was a cruel byproduct of his torment that laying on comfortable bedding triggered a deep seeded anxiety in him, but Eli honestly didn’t mind the stiff makeshift cot Astarion had set up in his tent for them. Her body recalled sleeping on worse, even if her mind didn’t clearly remember the details. Astarion had even started laying down a thin bedroll atop the plank once their shared sleeping arrangements became a regular thing. It had been completely unprompted. One evening she’d entered his tent and it had simply been there, an unspoken acknowledgement of the validity of their relationship.

They were both uncouth morons when it came to navigating the delicacies and emotions of romantic relationships. They’d been quick to indulge in one another physically, the both of them looking to find refuge from the specters of their pasts in one another’s arms. They hadn’t meant for it to mean anything, and yet they’d kept seeking one another out - drawn together like kobolds are drawn to shiny objects. They’d tried ignoring their growing affections, but neither one of them were particularly good at pretending to be nonchalant and stable. Primarily because neither one of them really knew what that looked like.

Astarion had confessed first, admitting to his initially manipulative intentions with her and revealing truths about his enslavement to Cazador that made her heart ache for him. Eli knew, instinctively, that empathy was not an emotion she was incredibly familiar with. It made her anxious, feeling for someone else. And yet, when Astarion had said he wanted something real with her, she’d felt an almost wild desperation surge to life within herself. She wanted that, too. With him.

A cruel and vicious voice at the back of her mind had admonished her for her pathetic weakness. She should be punished, skinned alive for allowing herself to feel this kind of fondness and yearning for someone else. Once, she had been worshiped as a god by those around her. Once, she had been feared and her name whispered in awe and horror. Once, she had been something powerful, something violent and vicious, a conduit of destruction and carnage. Though the details were fractured, scattered about her ruined brain like shards of glass, she knew instinctually that she was a child of slaughter and that the bonds of mortals should have been beneath her.

But that didn’t stop her. Perhaps…perhaps she could be different. Something else. Something that was valued as more than just a weapon. Something that wasn’t just a means to an end. Something that didn’t need to butcher and rip the world inside out in order to be loved.

She’d pushed the Urge down, beating it back as she confessed her own affections for Astarion.

That had been some weeks ago, back in the Shadowlands. Now, they were just outside Baldur’s Gate, and things were…good between them. To her never-ending astonishment.

Her eyes focused on the sleeping elf next to her. He looked so peaceful, the worried lines of his face smooth and serene at rest. He was pallid, pretty and perfect like a cadaver forever tranquil. Just one stab, a stake through the heart and he’d always be like this – he’d never know torment or despair again. No one would ever hurt him.

She took a long, slow breath and banished the intrusive thoughts back to the shadows of her mind where they always lingered. She would never…she couldn’t…gods, she hated those thoughts that never let her be. They filled her with a sick guilt as she recalled nights tied up, howling and screaming and raging as she spat out all the ways she’d flay and ruin his beautiful body. Afterwards, once the Urges had quieted, Astarion would simply laugh as he cut her bonds, always joking about how you had to pay good coin for degradation like that in the city. He’d hold her until she calmed, the both of them quiet, content to just be together for one more day.

They shouldn’t work, not as a couple or as anything else, really. They were barely functional as individuals. Together, they should have been about as operational as a dumpster that was missing one wheel and was on fire. But they did work. They were careful with the broken pieces of each other, treating them with reverence and respect. They understood pain all too well, and not just the physical kind but the raw and panicked pain of having everything you valued ripped away. Of having your very self torn from your control…the pain of being used and the fear that no matter how loud you screamed or how hard you fought it would happen again.

The fear that you would never be anything more than a tool.

And so they were gentle with one another, in a way only reserved for them. Careful touches and trusting hands, concerned glances and warm smiles, constant wordless affirmations that they were at one another’s backs - that when one of them crumbled the other would be there to help build them back up, attentively and without judgement.

Neither of them knew what they were doing. Their combined histories with healthy relationships added up to an unsurprising number of zero. Astarion had admitted to her that he couldn’t remember ever bedding the same person twice. And Eli…well, she couldn’t remember anything, frankly. Her memories of past lovers were nonexistent…at least…

At least until today. Today, when they’d finally met the infamous Enver Gortash.

The name had always struck her as strange, from the first time she heard it when Karlach told Eli about the tiefling had acquired her infernal engine. The name had stirred something in her brain, like a familiar tune that she couldn’t remember the words for. And every time someone mentioned him, that sense grew stronger. It was as if there was a crack in her skull and every time she’d reach for that sense of familiarity, it would leak out and away just beyond reach.

Until today, when they stood in the opulent and grand hall of Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, surrounded by the elite of Baldur’s Gate, and she finally saw the man who had wrought so much suffering not only upon the city and the coast, but on her friends…

The flash in his eyes when they met hers…a sense of knowing, a sting of excitement. That spark of familiarity suddenly blazed hot and she knew this man was not a stranger. Not to her…

“If you keep staring, darling, I’m going to start charging you for the privilege,” a soft and slightly chiding voice lurched her back into the present.

Eli flinched, startled, blinking away the haze of her thoughts and focusing on Astarion, who now was peering at her through half-lidded and slightly weary eyes. He’d been sleeping with an arm draped across her waist – Astarion had grown fond of resting with an arm or a hand touching her, and she liked it, too. It was comforting.

He trailed his hand along her side in a calming manner, brows furrowing slightly with a hint of concern.

“Sorry,” Eli said with a slight yawn. “I was worlds away.” She gave him a small, tired smile as she reached out and brushed her fingers against the ruffles of his shirt, mindlessly beginning to fiddle with the cloth.

Astarion’s hand slid to her back, pulling her closer until her head was tucked below his chin and he could rest with his cheek against her silvery hair.

Eli could feel the soft rumble of his voice vibrate up from his chest as he chuckled quietly. “I’ve been told I have that effect on people,” he mumbled cheerily as his other hand began to gently brush through her hair, fingers carefully smoothing out any snarls as he stroked back and forth.

She hummed appreciatively, breathing deep and feeling eased by the familiar scent of rosemary and bergamot. “And who told you that?” she asked, teasingly.

“Hmm,” he pondered, running a dexterous finger along the side of her ear, causing goosebumps to prick along her arms. “I think it was you,” he mused slyly before his voice dipped lower into a growl and she felt his breath warm against her ear. “You remember, don’t you? That one night you told me I ravished you so thoroughly your soul left your body.”

He couldn’t see Eli’s exaggerated eye roll, but he could hear the grin in her voice as she responded. “I seem to remember that very same night you saying I exhausted you into delirium,” she teased, poking tenderly at his chest. “In the best way possible, of course,” Eli smirked.

Astarion sighed, the hand on her back drawing aimless circles as he murmured, “I do miss our nighttime trysts.”

Eli smiled, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and placing a light kiss there. “You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Or some such bullshit like that…”

“They sound awfully boring, whoever they are.” The vampire hummed low in his throat, kicking a leg over her waist and hooking his foot between her legs at her knees so that they were tangled together in a possessive embrace.

Eli just chuckled. They’d backed off the sexual aspects of their relationship for now, the both of them having their own flavors of hang ups that they needed to sort through. For Eli, that meant parsing through her strange, sometimes disturbing Urges which continued to insist that the lines between butchery and eroticism were blurred. Bloodplay was one thing, and that would likely remain a happy little staple in their titillating toolbox once they were ready to be that physically intimate again. But Eli had…other thoughts. Thoughts she wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Darker ones that bubbled up at extremely inopportune times and had her questioning whether she really wanted to shed light on her obscured past.

She breathed in Astarion’s scent, grounding herself in the now and pushing those musing away for another day. The desire between Eli and Astarion had not diminished, and on more than one occasion they had teetered precariously on the boundaries they’d set and wondering whether they should just say fuck it and…well…fuck. They’d always talk themselves down from the ledge, though, comfortable in the knwoeldge that when it did happen it would be earthshattering.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, love?” Astarion’s voice held a note of worry and Eli realized she’d been drifting off into the confines of her own brain again.

“Everything,” she sighed, frustrated with herself.

Astarion was silent for a moment, considering. The hand in her hair stilled while the one on her back pulled her in a bit tighter. “Is it…” he began, then paused a bit uncertainly, hesitant with his question. “Are you thinking about today? About…Gortash?”

He said the name so quietly that it would have been inaudible had they not been so closely pressed together. Eli wasn’t surprised about the question. She’d been acutely aware of how Astarion’s eyes never left her as she spoke with the newly crowned Archduke of Baldur’s Gate earlier that day. How he had discreetly positioned himself closely behind her, just off to her right. How he’d tensed, fingers ghosting near the hilt of a hidden dagger when Gortash said he’d always liked Eli. How his gaze darkened and his jaw tightened as Astarion sized the man up from across the hall before they left.

She knew this was a delicate situation for the vampire. Astarion despised showing any sort of vulnerability that could be construed as a reason for pity. Vulnerability, in general, was something he was still figuring out how to navigate after two centuries of living in an environment where anything and everything that could be used against him was twisted into a tool for subjugation and pain. Even with her, there were times when he wouldn’t let his walls come down, needing space to sort through his own internal barriers before he was ready to open up. Eli didn’t mind, and would give him all the time and space he needed. And bit by bit it became easier, for the both of them.

“That…yes,” she admitted, wanting to be truthful with him.

It wasn’t just Gortash, though. It was what he had told her, about Eli’s role in the whole Cult of the Absolute fraud. It was difficult for her to reconcile what she had apparently done with who she was now…the misery she’d set in motion. The lives she had destroyed. She shut her eyes and pressed closer to Astarion, seeking comfort in the cool of his skin against the inferno she felt inside.

He hugged her close, voicing a thought that had been gnawing away at his insides all day. “Were the two of you…close? Like us?”

The tentative, halting way in which he asked squeezed at her heart. As if he were bracing himself for something terrible, for something that would rip her away from him, just like everything else he’d ever given a damn about.

She thought for a while, mulling over the question. There was still so much that she didn’t know about who she was. Who she had been. She’d tell him what she could, though. He deserved that.

“I think we were. Close, I mean,” she clarified when she felt Astarion stiffen anxiously. “Not like us, though.”

She pulled her head back, out from under his chin, so she could see his face and meet his gaze with her own. Astarion’s eyes were round and distressed, the pinch between his brows furrowed and the lines of his face were tense. His eyes searched her own, desperately wanting to know who that man was to her while also fearing the answer.

Eli smiled warmly, bringing her hand up to brush one of his white curls behind his ear. His face softened slightly at her touch while the hand on her back clutched at her shirt as if to hold her here with him.

“There’s still so much darkness in my memory. But, there are things that have come back in flashes and fragments,” she explained, holding his gaze as her finger trailed to the edge of his eyebrow. “And while I’m not wholly sure what Gortash and I were to one another, I know it wasn’t like this.” Her hand came to rest on his cheek, thumb gently caressing his face near the corner of his mouth.

“Not like us,” she affirmed with a tenderness that allowed Astarion to relax, the stiffness easing out of him as the hint of a smile twitched at his lips. “He knew what happened to me,” she said softly, putting into words a thought that had been lingering at the back of her mind.

“He knew what happened to me, and he welcomed the person who did it into his confidence,” she said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. There was an ache of betrayal behind her words, and thought she didn’t fully understand everything her history with Gortash entailed, she understood this. “He stood by while I was unmade. While everything I was, the person he claims to care for, was brutalized and decimated.”

Eli’s words took on a cold edge, sharp as a shard of ice. Astarion listened intently, his breath caught at the back of his throat. He ached to pull her back into him, to wrap her up in his arms and shut the world out. Instead, he placed his hand on the back of her own and intertwined his fingers with hers, holding it against his cheek as Eli spoke.

“When I woke up on the nautiloid, I was nothing. Just the discarded scraps of whoever I had been. I had been thrown away. And nobody came looking for me.” She paused, her eyes flicking down in a brief moment of uncertainty.

There were some truths between them that had still gone unsaid. Truths that neither of them were ready to admit, and some that simply didn’t need words to be understood. Not this, though. This, she wanted him to hear.

“Since then, it’s been difficult not to think of myself as damaged goods. Something that was used up until it broke and was discarded.” She felt Astarion squeeze her hand and she looked back to him. There was a pang of recognition in his red eyes. “Everyone who I spoke to about my…urges, they all confirmed that there was something very wrong with me, even if they sympathized. Everyone except you.”

She paused, brushing her thumb once more against his face before she lifted her hand from him and took his own hand in hers. She pulled it to her lips, lightly kissing his knuckles while he stared at her, afraid to take his eyes off her for fear that she and this moment might evaporate if he did. He had stopped breathing, which luckily was not something he necessarily needed to do in order to maintain his existence.

Eli searched his face as Astarion waited for her to go on, breathless and just a tiny bit desperate to hear what she would say next. She wondered if he understood just how much it meant to her to have someone who didn’t see the wreck that she was when they looked at her. Someone who didn’t see a monster and only saw her, broken pieces be damned.

She thought he probably did…

“You were the only one who encouraged me to simply be whoever I was, darkness and all. I know at the time you were probably just looking to entertain yourself with whatever chaos and bloodshed I could cause,” she laughed and the expression on Astarion’s face melted into one of complete adoration.

“Guilty,” Astarion admitted with a laugh of his own. “And you haven’t disappointed,” he added softly, brushing a knuckle back up against her lips with delicate reverence.

She kissed at it, holding his tender gaze. “I don’t think you know how much that meant to me, though. And then later, when I was at my worst, you stayed by me and took care of me and you never stopped.”

Eli swallowed down the lump in her throat and blinked away the warmth that was threatening at her eyes.

“Nothing else could be like us, because no one has ever cared about me like you,” she concluded, smiling softly and whispering the words with the sincerity of a prayer.

Astarion stared at Eli for a long moment, emotions colliding and burning in his chest with so much vigor he was surprised his dead heart didn’t start beating again. He felt elated and awed by what she’d said. So much so that he was struck speechless and could only play her words over and over again in his mind, wanting to capture them perfectly and tuck them somewhere deep inside himself where no one could reach to steal them away. He couldn’t recall anyone ever saying anything to him that made him feel so cherished and significant. He traced the planes of her face with eyes that were beginning to wet as he tried to clear his throat and failed.

Eli watched Astarion carefully for a moment before her eyes widened in concern and she lifted a hand to him, carding it gently through his curled hair.

“Oh shit, did I break you?” she asked, only half joking as she stroked her hand through his hair.

The feel of it helped to calm him as a wide smile spread over his face, eyes half-lidded and looking at Eli like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“Come here you sweet, silly thing,” Astarion said, voice low and underpinned with a raw adoration that caused a flutter to take up in Eli’s chest.

He pulled her into a needy embrace; one hand placed softly in her hair as he tucked her head back under his chin, the other hand tightening around the small of her back to hold her close. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in slow, savoring her scent. She’d always smelled like wildflowers and the cool mist before a storm, like something exciting and freeing.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathed, wondering what in the hells he had ever done in his irrelevant life to deserve her admiration. “I don’t think I’m ever going to want to let you go, my love.”

Eli wrapped her arms around him and for a moment she felt safe, secure and at peace.

“Then don’t,” she whispered against him.

They stayed wrapped up in one another until dawn, thankful to have one more day and hopeful for so many more.

[littlejuicebox]

Midwinter Carol 7 / The Interrogation

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.3K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago.  Her arm is still deteriorating. Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night. 

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion's past trauma

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

A/N: And here comes AA with some absolutely unhinged behavior.

-----

At first, Astarion hires Delilah for several hours at a time. Typically, a half day, but sometimes more.

It’s always the same experience.

He pays her to morph into a likeness of Eirianwen, based on sketches from the Baldur’s Gate Gazette and his own descriptions. She never gets the vitiligo quite right, but the Ascendant, in his desperation, will take what he can get. 

In the beginning, he simply lays in bed as Delilah runs her fingers through his silver curls and hums. Sometimes he trances, sometimes he watches her without saying much at all. 

For the first time since Ani left, he experiences uninterrupted, nightmare-free sleep.

And the woman is smart enough to simply follow instructions and not pry. At least at the start..

Eventually, Astarion has Delilah make private calls to the Palace. He pays a ridiculous amount of gold for this, but it’s no matter. 

Most nights, she’s still a glorified sleep aid; other nights, he becomes more physical. But the voice and the vitiligo are wrong every time, and it takes weeks before he’s able to fully commit to the act. Even then, something feels not quite right. But it’s as close as he can get.

And then finally, several months after their peculiar agreement first began, Astarion, after far too many bottles of wine, reveals he’s a vampire to the shapeshifter.

“As in a true, blood-sucking vampire?” Delilah asks, eyebrows furrowed as she assesses the Lord. It’s a rare moment in which she’s in her own chosen form, rather than the likeness of Ani that he pays her for. 

“Something like that,” He laughs, though it comes out quite wry, “I can drink blood; I no longer need to for survival.”

“Show me,” She responds, her curiosity getting the better of her. Delilah is wholly aware she is flirting with danger, but she’s never been one to shy away from an opportunity, especially one that comes with the allure of money or power. 

Astarion stares at her for a long while, finishing off the final bits of his goblet, his thoughts entirely imperceptible. He taps his cup with his index finger as he tilts his head and watches the woman. She thinks he’s going to reject her request.

And then, surprisingly, he nods, “Very well. But you must morph, first.” 

Delilah obliges, and at first the Lord brushes her hair from her neck and moves to sink his fangs there. But he retracts at the last moment, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. 

It’s not really Ani, he reminds himself. 

After a brief pause and a sharp inhale, Astarion takes her hand and turns it, finding the pulse point on her wrist. He keeps his eyes locked onto the distorted appearance of his ex-lover as he bites into the changeling’s flesh.

And what a terrible decision that was. He’d just invited a devil onto his shoulder and a snake into his bed.

*

The constant bashing of Astarion’s fists sounds like a poorly played drum as he repeatedly swings into Edmund’s hanging body. The human is strung up by his arms in the office, dangling so that his toes barely brush the white marble floor. 

The bastard is annoyingly sturdy, and manages to stifle most of his grunts as the Ascendant continues his torment. This only angers Astarion further, and he begins to hit harder, now intentionally aiming for the man’s face every time and splattering dots of crimson around the room.

Great. He will have to call the servants into his private office to scrub the floor and walls. He might have to replace the curtains.

It’s clear that whoever turned this vampire has conditioned him quite well. It’s been an hour of repeated strikes and the human seems nowhere near his breaking point. 

Between the physical exertion of pummeling Edmund and the draining effects of his ring as Eirianwen continues to burn the poison through her system in the next room over, Astarion is beginning to tire. He is sure he must escalate his methods to rip any information from Edmund, but he refuses to give the spawn a single break in his torment.

So he barks an order at one of his own spawn standing guard not far behind him, “Thrak! Continue where I’ve left off. I have more important things to attend to than beating this disgusting vermin.” 

A final blow to Edmund’s face and then Astarion spins on his heels with a sneer, flicking his hand up to examine his cracked knuckles and bloodied nails in distaste. 

Thrak is a large half-orc with slashes running vertically down his chin. The marks are an intentional, cultural scarification, Astarion is told; his sister, Melga, has the same ones. 

Astarion focuses his eyes on Melga, where she is now watching her brother assault Edmund with mild interest. A few gestures of his hands, and the Vampire Lord communicates to the female orc that he wants to be informed if Edmund breaks. 

Melga quickly gestures her understanding. Astarion is not fluent in the sign language Thrak and Melga speak; it appears to be a mixture of Thieves Speak and something else he does not recognize. Perhaps they made it up themselves. But over the years, he has learned enough to get by and Thrak has always willingly worked as the translator. 

When the Ascendant first offered immortality to Thrak, the half-orc indicated he and his sister were a two for one deal. He would change with his sister or not at all; he hoped vampirism would restore the hearing she lost as a child. And the Ascendant, still thinking himself better than Cazador in that he did not change people against their will, agreed. 

Unfortunately, there are some conditions vampirism cannot fix.

*

Jaheira took leave to return home and check in on her wards. The druid indicated she needed to delve into her medicinal stores and confer with Halsin on the matter of Eirianwen’s affliction.

Mention of the wood elf’s name instantly caused Astarion to bristle. If Halsin had a solution, it would not be the first time the oversized elf helped Eirianwen in a way the vampire could not. The Ascendant is quite sure he loathes that man more than any of his other former campmates; he idly thinks it’s a bit of a shame it’s Edmund instead of Halsin strung up next door. 

Another surge of acid through his veins. Another healing potion. The Lord sits quietly next to Ani and watches the slow rise and fall of her breath as if in contemplation. Her fever finally broke not long ago. Her arm is still deteriorating.

Astarion leans forward and brings his bloodied, cracked hand to gently stroke her cheek along that tiny patch of vitiligo. And then he lifts two fingers to his lips, kisses them, and presses those fingers against that same spot, thinking about how he used to kiss it morning and night. 

Thrak continues to pound his massive fists into the foreign spawn next door, and now the Ascendant can hear the sounds of Edmund's resilience breaking. The pained grunts and sobs are music to his ears, and he smiles in sadistic delight at the spawn’s suffering as he simply lounges in his chair, continuing to watch the sorceress breathe. 

“We’ll figure this out, little love.” He whispers before he brings his hands together as if in prayer and analyzes the cries of agony from the next room. 

Not long now. 

*

He’s on the freezing marble floor. Cazador is straddled over him, pinning Astarion’s arms down with his knees. They’re in the spawn dormitory, in front of all his brothers and sisters. No one steps in to help him. 

In the end, it’s all about self-preservation, isn’t it? 

His master yanks at his silver curls and bends so close to Astarion’s face he can feel Cazador’s hot, disgusting breath on his skin.

“Where is it?!” The older vampire questions, pulling Astarion’s hair with vitriol and forcing a pained wail out of the spawn, “Where did you hide it?!”

“H-hide what? Master! Please, I don’t know what you’re–” 

A solid strike to Astarion’s face causes him to stop his defenses mid-sentence. 

“Petras! Leon! Bring me a barrel of water, rags, and a pillow case.” Cazador orders coolly, as his eyes briefly flicker to the elf’s siblings. The two other spawn quickly run to retrieve the requested items for their enraged Master. 

“You traitorous leech. Where is it?” Cazador asks through gritted teeth, gripping Astarion’s chin so tightly he is convinced the bones in his jaw are cracking under the force. 

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know where it is. If Astarion knew, he would’ve already spilled all his secrets. It never takes this much to rip a confession out of the elf nowadays. 

He’s stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at the older vampire, unsure what to do or say to make this interrogation stop.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can do or say. Astarion knows it and the thought fills him with dread.

Cazador growls and spits in the elf’s face before shoving a cloth in Astarion’s mouth and completely shrouding him in darkness with the pillowcase. Leon and Petras are instructed to hold the elf’s limbs as he emits gagged screams of anguish. He tries to break away from his brothers, but it’s to no avail. 

He was always one of the weaker spawn.

Astarion’s screaming is stifled by a shock of icy water filling his nose and throat as Cazador begins to waterboard him. He doesn’t need to breathe, but the sensation alone is terrifying. The silver-haired spawn continues to thrash against his siblings as their Master enacts his violent punishment. It feels like it goes on forever. The entire barrel is emptied over him before Cazador stops.

Astarion knew it was mostly for show. Cazador often made an example out of him to deter anyone else from committing the same act he was blamed for.

In the end, Astarion was thrown into the kennels for further torture. He never truly knew what it was, though he suspects he found it much later.

*

The Ascendant is straddled over Edmund as Thrak and Melga hold onto the foreign spawn’s bound limbs. Long, pale fingers grip the vermin’s jaw, prying it open with nearly enough force to rip the mandible from its joint.

“Last chance. Who is your master?” Astarion asks, tone low and coming across as far too bored for the violence that has recently ensued within this room. He’s watching Edmund with expectant, cold eyes. 

“Fuck you!” Edmund responds in a venomous hiss, glaring up at the Vampire Lord with what little expression in his face he has left after the hours of repeated blows.

“Wrong answer.” The elf sighs, and then he procures a spoon from his pocket and forces it into the spawn’s mouth.

Astarion chuckles sadistically as Edmund begins to thrash and twist against the half-orcs. The spoon is quickly wedged underneath the spawn’s gumline, and the Ascendant begins to slowly pry out the traitor’s left fang, grinning all the while. 

He could do this much faster, of course, but what’s the fun in that? The bastard deserves to suffer. 

The bastard deserves to die. And he will. Just not yet. 

First, Astarion gets to have his fun. A chance for him to make someone bleed was a rare, delectable thing nowadays. The temptation was difficult for the Ascendant to resist.

Edmund is screaming now, flailing around in agony and fighting for an out. But it isn’t going to work; three on one is never truly a fair fight. 

Especially as a starved spawn. 

“WHO. IS. YOUR. MASTER?” Astarion bellows over the tortured, terrified wails of the spawn. His curls are falling out of place, dangling in front of his narrowed scarlet eyes and obscuring parts of his vision as he continues to slowly peel fang from flesh, undeterred by the useless, pitiful crying and bucking underneath him. 

Eventually the left fang pops out with a spatter of blood across Astarion’s hand and he scoffs in disdain before cleaning his hand on Edmund’s barely recognizable, heavily swollen face. 

Disgusting vermin. 

“FUCK YOU!” Edmund screams, but his voice cracks at the end and he is no longer able to hold in the tears rolling out of two swollen sockets. 

Astarion tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if disappointed. Then he sighs a long, belabored breath as he rolls his eyes at the spawn, “You are strong, Edmund, I must admit. But what you have in brawn, you certainly lack in brains, don’t you?”

And then the Ascendant abruptly plunges the spoon into the human’s gum line just above his right fang. Edmund jerks his head at the last moment and the dull instrument slices against his mouth and tongue, still causing a laceration due to the amount of force Astarion is using on the manufactured weapon. 

Blood quickly pools in Edmund’s mouth and he spits it at the silver-haired elf in a final act of defiance. 

The switch is instantly flipped.

Astarion’s face contorts with pure, unfiltered hate. His heart starts pounding in rapid fire. Whatever modicum of control he had over his violent desires instantly slips from his hands as his grip around the spoon tightens. 

He doesn’t realize he’s wrapping his hand around the spawn’s neck and crushing it with the full force of his Ascendant power. He cannot think past his red, blinding rage as he’s stabbing into Edmund’s chest with the blunted instrument. 

He pierces through the spawn’s flesh over and over and over and over. 

When the Ascendant finally gains control of his senses, the first thing he sees is Edmund’s mangled body beneath him and his hands coated in scarlet. The first thing he hears, however, is a woman’s scream ripping through the office. 

When Astarion jerks his head toward the source, he sees Ani standing in the doorway, both hands clasped over her mouth. 

He hates what he sees.

Terror. Pure terror. 

She’s terrified of him. And she runs.

[dullgecko]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

Gooooood fucking damnit i wasnt planning on writing more but im like a dog doing backflips for bacon bits. Cant help myself. Comments are my kryptonite.

------------------------

His friends didn't end up going back to school that day, Sklonda leaving the door to Riz's room cracked so they could watch him as they sat quietly in the living room. Gorgug, Adaine and Fig left at one point to go to the store, returning over an hour later with some snacks, a new lightbulb for the ceiling light which Gorgug replaced without comment, and an entire new locking mechanism for the door (once Gorgug gave up trying to fix the current one) including spare keys for all of them. All of which was paid for with a large handful of silver coins from Fabians wallet, though the fighter had refused to go with them as he stayed watching vigil with Kristen over their sick friend in case he got worse.

Kristen had tried using greater restoration on the sleeping goblin and it seemed to help, his breathing getting a little easier though his temperature still remained rather high as he continued to try and sleep off the virus. She seemed somewhat satisfied with being able to at least do that much, eventually leaving with Adaine and Fig when Jawbone came to pick them up once it got dark. Adaine sneaking into Riz's room to place Boggy in his arms before leaving. The rogue sleeping lightly enough that he was able to mutter a quiet thanks to his wizard friend as he curled around the familiar and pressed his burning forehead against the cold presense.

Fabian and Gorgug had stayed longer still, Riz himself being the one to tell them to go home when he dragged himself out of bed to go use the bathroom and noticed them still hanging out in his apartment. He was still swaying a little on his feet as he walked, face pale and skin hot to the touch as he ineffectivly shoved them both towards the door. Even if he wasn't sick he'd never be strong enough to push them but they got the hint. Relenting only after watching him take another dose of the powdered medicine before he shuffled back to his room to sleep some more.

The half-elf was still frowning and worried when he finally got home, the Hangman seeming to pick up on his pensive nature and not making any comment as Fabian dismounted. Simply nudging against his hand before turning to go put itself away in the garage. He tried to school his features into a more neautral mask as he entered his house but his discomfort must have been fairly obvious. Cathilda stopping in her tracks as she scurried past him carrying an armfull of perfectly folded towels.

"What's wrong dearie you look upset?" She had to turn sideways to look at him, the pile of towels in her arms easily reaching over her head and swaying slightly when she stopped walking.

"Oh it's nothing~" Fabian waved a hand, trying to look flippant before reaching out to still the dangerously teetering pile before it fell over. "The Ball is quite ill at the moment and I was mearly thinking about something. He's got quite a fever but I'm sure he'll be fine by tomorrow."

The halfling pursed her lips, drawing them into a thin line as she looked up at Fabian from behind the pile. "Oh dear. Isn't often that you'll see a goblin actually sick. They're quite hearty folk y'know, up until they aren't. I've seen more than a few go down that way."

"Pardon?" Fabian blinked, reaching down to take the top three-quarters of the stack off Cathilda when she started walking again. Mostly so he had an excuse to follow her and get more information on that rather concerning little tidbit she'd just dropped.

"Oh yes, poor dears are built tough. They have to be to live up in those dreadful mountains. Headaches and exhaustion are run of the mill but if they get proper ill they're not able to keep much of anything down. They get so weak from lack of food that their wee hearts just give out trying to fight off the sickness." She sighed, directing Fabian where to deposit the clean towels as she lead him from guest bathroom to guest bathroom as they talked.

"And how long does that usually take?" The half-elf hoped his voice was managing to stay even, maybe with more of a curious tone, but it was starting to rise a little bit with restrained panic.

"Ohhh I saw one lad, Grilbak I think his name was, went down in one night. Spiked a nasty fever and was gone before he woke up again. Though he hadn't eaten for a few days at that point, you know what goblins are like, and we had no medicine on board for him when he first took ill." She pat Fabians leg, finally clocking that he was probably not doing well with talk like this. "BUT I'm sure your wee rogue will be fine. Perhaps we can send him over some weak soup, they're usually okay keeping that down."

Fabian swallowed around a lump in his throat, mouth feeling a little dry as he nodded and put down the last of the towels where he was directed. "That sounds like an excellent idea. He certainly didn't eat anything while we were there so he must be ravenous by now."

---------------------------

Fabian felt a little bit stupid, standing outside The Balls house at 11pm, holding a bag with several tupperware containers inside and texting his crystal. Riz didn't answer, but given he'd probably muted his crystal after the last flurry of group texts Fabian wasnt surprised. He didn't want to just barge in... for the second time in one day... so he instead texted the number he'd procured earlier from Sklonda (in case of The-Ball-Isnt-Answering emergencies).

She was apparently out of the house and attending her night classes, Riz having gotten up at some point and assuring her he'd be fine by himself for a couple hours and that her classes were important. Sklonda giving Fabian permission to go check on their rogue since she'd be out for a few more hours yet.

At least this time he didn't have to kick in the door to get in, simply unlocking it with the spare key Gorgug had gotten cut for each of them when he replaced the lock and slipping inside.

He was surprised that it wasn't completely dark inside when he entered, the living room lit by the old television set against one wall. There wasnt any sound though, it seemed that whoever was watching had muted it before lying down on the couch.

The half-elf tried to sneakily hide one of the larger containers of soup in the fridge, blinking in surprise when he noticed that there were several other still-slightly-warm mismatched containers already inside. He shoved them around on the shelf to make room, depositing all but the thermos he'd brought with him onto the shelf and shutting the door.

"Fabian? Didn' you go home?" A slightly croaky and sleepy voice drifted over from the couch, Fabian only able to see where Riz was from the light reflecting off his eyes like a cat in torchlight. "Ah yes... but Cathilda thought I should bring you some soup. She was quite worried so I obliged." Fabian held up the thermos, heading over to the couch and sitting down on the end oposite of where Riz was curled up. The goblin still clutching Boggy in his lap as he sighed and dropped his head back against the arm of the couch.

"Gods there is so much soup. We'll be eating soup for a week." Riz closed his eyes, tail flicking backwards and forwards at the tip where he had it draped over the edge of the seat. "Jawbone came back and dropped off a bunch from the girls. 'm not sure how safe Kristens is but she says her corn-soup is usually pretty... non-murdery."

"Ah, well, if you don't wish to battle another corn monster we have stocked your provisions with some chicken noodle as well." Fabian leaned forwards to put the thermos down on the low coffee table but stopped when Riz held his hand out towards him and made a 'gimme' gesture. The fighter instead handing off the thermos to the goblin who took it with one hand, the other putting Boggy down on the ground so he could sit up and open the lid.

Fabian tried his level best to look like he was interested in what was going on on the television, eye flicking over to watch as Riz made a valiant effort to drink some of the soup before giving up and screwing the lid back on when the thermos was half-empty. He certainly wasn't consuming it with his usualy gusto but it made the half-elf feel a little better knowing he had something in his stomach now.

"Thanks that was... nice." Riz rubbed a hand over his face, leaving the thermos on the couch where he'd been sitting as he skootched over to where Fabian was instead. The rogue fully clambering over his leg to curl up on his lap with his head pillowed against the arm-rest of the couch.

Fabian had frozen when Riz started climbing over him, a protest at the action dying the back of his throat when his smaller teammate tucked himself into a tight circle and closed his eyes. The fighters arm hovering in the air above him for a long moment before he brought it back down to rest against his side where he could feel his chest rising and falling with every breath.

The goblin was still very warm to the touch, nowhere near as bad as he'd been when he tried to shove them out the door earlier but it was still concerning. The cuddling was also rather out of character, sure Riz would climb all over them whenever he was awake but when sleeping he tended not to want anything to do with anyone. Even during sleepovers he would post himself up nearby but not quite touching any of his teammates as he dozed. Fabian decided to chalk it up to Riz probably being still a little delerious and weird from the fever and didn't try to shove him away.

There was only one small problem he found himself confronting now though. He had been planing on leaving once he dropped off the soup but he couldnt very well wake Riz if he had fallen back asleep. The fighter ended up trapped there until morning when Riz's fever finally broke and the goblin had slunk away from him in mortified embarasment. Fabian complaining bitterly of the cramp in his neck from sleeping in a seated position for days afterwards.

[devotion-disorder]

I wanna put a leash on Asa

we learn something new about ourselves everyday! :D

[judgementdaysunshine]

☀️ + Tolkien + enemies to lovers!!

could be one of the Elves, Thorin, Elendil, Kili, or Aragorn - you can choose (really just no hobbits)

Oooh this could fit for any and it shall be 🧡

Legolas

The two of you always had to be kept at arms length due to the fact that simple teasing would lead to your weapons at each other's throats causing Boromir and Aragorn to step in

You hoped that the journey wouldn't last for a long while so that not only all of you could go back to your homes but so that you wouldn't have to deal with the blonde elf that was driving you mad

What you didn't expect was to be gravely ill after being injured by an orc crying and moaning in pain on the ground crawling slowly until you felt gentle hands on you stopping you and carrying you to safety not expecting to see legolas above you with the most terrified look you had seen on his face

You went in and out of consciousness not knowing what happened or that legolas was right by your side cleaning and bandaging your wound and stopping anyone who wanted to step in and help when they found you laying in your sleeping bag with him next to you holding your hand

Slowly you started gaining consciousness and lucidity seeing him sleeping next to you noticing that you not only felt quite better but that you were wrapped in bandages as you looked around you saw aragorn next to you "You were stabbed by an orc and you already had a fever you almost died from how ill you were had it not been for legolas being by your side" you slowly looked to the sleeping elf in surprise

After getting well and all of you continued onwards you trailed behind pulling a confused legolas to a private spot of the forest while the others went ahead not knowing your absences

"You saved me...I thought you hated me" he looked at you in surprise grabbing and holding your face making your heart stop and beat faster "I don't hate you I never did mel" you turned rosy pink of him using elvish to you "Mellon nin Im mel cin" you both end up in a kiss that took your breath away

The two of you announced your relationship with everyone of different reactions from shock to surprise with aragorn smiling and hugging the both of you while frodo cheered making you giggle

Kili

He tried to be kind to you despite your rare trust with others there were only few people who met and got to know you that you truly trusted with your life and for a long while he wasn't one of them

That changed however when you were captured by the elves and when you were taken away to be questioned by King Thranduil and kept right by him for hours of questioning coming back with fingerprints embedded in your arms and a huge hand print on the side of your face

He immediately saw red saying every swear in the book and after escaping he wouldn't let anyone but you go near or touch his leg carefully bandaging it and checking on it every so often while gently talking to him

The two of you started feeling different towards each other not really knowing what to think of it but with advice from Bilbo and weirdly enough the beautiful elf Tauriel when she found you after getting lost you decided to confess to him

The two of you both told each other how you felt not really knowing what the other would think or do but when you started at each other but what you didn't expect was for him to surge forward pulling you into a passionate kiss

Soon the two of you were together always by the other's side holding hands or pinkies if you were around other people you didn't know always smiling at the other as you followed behind the others

Aragorn

He didn't know why he acted the way he did towards you but he knew that he had an off feeling about you but that he also wanted to protect you which confused you quite a bit

You didn't hate him because he was who he was or that he sometimes did things without thinking but you only didn't like him because the way he treated you ever since the two of you met after you volunteered to go with your friend Boromir on the journey to Mordor

Slowly overtime with help from Legolas and boromir the two of you became friends and were never seen without smiling or helping each other with something along the way

When boromir passed he held you as you cried watching his body go over the waterfall and you both would talk when the others were asleep one of those nights leading to something more

The two of you were enjoying the quiet of the fire and while talking he caressed a small cut on the side of your face leading to the two of you in a slow and loving kiss sleeping next to each other

Soon the two of you were stealing comforting hugs when either of you were upset,quietly crying and grieving for boromir who you had been friends with since the two of you were children,and breath taking kisses that made you feel love like you never felt it before

Before the battle of Helm's Deep you both broke the news to everyone which caused many reactions from everyone with Merry saying Pippin owed him money having a bet on the topic,Gimli full of surprise not believing it,Sam congratulating the two of you glad they you weren't arguing with each other,Eowyn smiling hugging both of you tightly at her two friends in love,Frodo smiling big while holding sam's hand,and Legolas giving his well known smirk realizing that he had already known for an amount of time

Thorin

The two of you could never smile or talk respectfully to the other if you were in each other's presence always having to be pulled in another room by Bilbo or Balin

You were always in the back staying as far away as you can from him rarely talking or looking at him unless it was an argument or a brief moment of respect in order for everyone to get out of a situation alive

That changed when you jumped in to save him from Azog bilbo right next to you ready to fight while you checked him for wounds dragging him to the tree where everyone else was until the eagles came and took you to a much safer place

After hugging bilbo and as everyone walked away far enough he stopped you before you could follow "I thought that the way I felt for you was never going to change and I thought I would never love anyone but now over this past while it has changed" you stare at him feeling your heart race as he stares at you

He smiled which rarely happened especially towards you making you not only realize that the weird way you'd been feeling towards him also changed but that you knew that you couldn't see your life after this journey without him surging forward into a emotion fueled and truly wonderful kiss while the sun shines over the two of you

You took things slow and after reaching Laketown you both told everyone causing a bit of surprise amongst them except Gandalf who was smirking and bilbo who smiled hugging his two best friends as the two of you smiled at the future ahead together

[kurjakani]

I feel like you have probably seen these but. in case you haven't.

IVE SEEN THE FIRST ONE BUT NOT THE TWO OTHERS? THANK U FOR CUNTY GPA CONTENT

No but fr im kinda obsessed w these images. I love that the ruffle is attached to his claws.

Also i have to wonder bc. It does just look like his legs n arms were cut up in pieces and rearranged ⁉️⁉️⁉️ does some connection remain is there some nerves etc running in those metal parts. A little worried abt what seems to be a weebit of swelling around the thigh area but im not an expert ⁉️⁉️⁉️ i mean i think he has bigger problems so.

But yeah i love his like long legs short torso physique he's so. Elegant and wiry ooooh beautiful elf doctor i have a fever please talk to me.

No buy fr there's so many cool details here i wish I could sit w him for hours and talk abt all the wires and nodules and ask him about everythinhgh so mucj love went into designing him it's such a shame hes such a minor character :(

[on-a-lucky-tide]

We most certainly need more Wyll/Halsin content. Can I suggest 'bearlock' (since Wyll is a warlock) as a ship name? Though 'hornbear' is funny as hell, I agree.

I agree.

Halsin combines two of his favourite things: honey and Wyll.

CW: erotic use of food, oral sex, domination.

"Come closer. I'll take your mind off your devil."

Looking back, perhaps Wyll could have done more to resist such a sultry promise, but the rumble of Halsin's voice had a way of cutting down to a man's core. As an earthquake shook the ground, so did Halsin's voice shake a man's foundations; deep inside, where all his baser instincts and desires lurked.

Wyll had sat on the edge of the camp, nursing his mead, as Shadowheart had joked with Tav about 'conquering Mount Halsin', and while Wyll never dared to dream he would be anyone's choice of lover, and certainly wouldn't begrudge anyone the warm comforts of a strong and kind hand, he had been somewhat relieved when Tav had snuck off into the shadows with the pale elf.

Halsin had appeared not half an hour later, politely declining the offer of mead, while he settled down at Wyll's side with a sheath knife and a chunk of wood he had salvaged from the logpile waiting for the campfire.

Their conversation had drifted good-naturedly at first, steering towards humour and stories, but finally onto the issue of Wyll's quest. Halsin appeared intrigued by Wyll's story, particularly how he had ended up at the Grove, helping the Tieflings. All the while Wyll watched Halsin's hands work, his lips form in broad smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkle with mirth, his camp shirt barely laced at the front, teasing the firmness of his chest. Wyll wanted to trace every part of him; the red swirls of his tattoos, the edges and curves of his body. To have Halsin, to possess him, to be possessed by him.

Wyll had almost convinced himself that the fire in his belly and the tingling beneath his skin was part mead, part loneliness, part touch-starved and knowing no one would ever touch him again now that he bore the mark of a demon. His desires had to play second fiddle to his greater mission.

And then the offer had been made.

Wyll had looked up sharply, meeting those keenly intelligent eyes, edged with a golden light Wyll had come to associate with Halsin's fearsome Wildshape. Fierce, wild and staggeringly beautiful. He had swallowed, the words choked in his throat, and then Halsin's broad palm had brushed his cheek. Wyll hadn't pulled away. He couldn't. He was rooted as solidly to that moment as one of Halsin's great oaks was to the soil.

No, he had leaned in, desperate, needy.

Wyll didn't really recall how they had made it into Halsin's tent. A fevered fumbling of belts, buckles and cloth, overwhelmed by the sensation of hands and lips on his skin, his trepidation numbed a little by the warm buzz of mead in his blood and a desperate need to feel the full extent of Halsin's desire. Wyll gripped onto Halsin's shoulders as teeth and tongue roamed his throat and chest, his knees pressed to Halsin's hips, the wet, ruddy head of Halsin's thick cock brushing the inside of his thighs, his own desperate prick, whenever he leaned forward to taste more of Wyll's body.

And then Halsin drew away.

Wyll felt the absence of his warmth in a rush of fear. Had he done something wrong? Been too loud?

"I hope you can forgive me, but there is something I have desired for some time, and the way you wriggle with my tongue on your skin..."

"Anything."

Halsin smiled and dropped his eyes. He traced the inside of Wyll's knee in gentle circles, replacing his fingertips with his lips for a delicate kiss. "You must wait to hear the terms before you throw yourself in so readily, my heart."

Wyll swallowed. The term of endearment made something tighten at the base of his spine. "Then tell me."

Halsin leaned over, a hand braced at Wyll's side while the other sought something above his head. When Halsin moved back, it was to trace Wyll's lips with fingertips coated in sticky sweetness.

"Honey," Wyll said through a breathless laugh. He knew instantly he had stepped wrong, because the big druid retracted his hand and looked away, the glitter in his eyes dimming. Wyll recalled a conversation he had overheard, how Halsin's love of honey had been a subject of ridicule, and he reached out to take Halsin's hand, bringing it back to his lips for another gentle lick. "If you wish to spend the night kissing honey from my lips, then I will see it as a night well spent in excellent company."

Wyll watched the tips of Halsin's ears flush, and then that uncertain lilt of his mouth transformed into a truly devilish smirk. "When there is so much more of you I wish to taste?"

Wyll's prick twitched against his belly, still full and fat, and he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth with a soft groan. "You will be the ruin of me, druid."

Halsin hummed as he collected the deep bowl containing his precious store of liquid gold, and Wyll gasped as the first drops touched his skin. Halsin used honey to map his journey over Wyll's body. He started at Wyll's throat, leaving a trail down to the crest of his chest, and circled his nipples in lazy swirls before descending to the soft valleys of his stomach and the sharper angles of his hips. Halsin's path finished at the eager head of Wyll's cock, the slow spread of honey teasing the headier promise of Halsin's mouth.

When the bowl was empty, Halsin cast it aside with a feral urgency. His eyes had blown wide, his thick chest heaving, that golden hue ghosting over his skin, the beast barely contained in roiling muscle. Despite the threat of wild abandon, the first touch of Halsin's mouth was torturously slow. Halsin gripped Wyll's horns to pin his head back, and licked a long, indulgent stripe up the curve of Wyll's throat.

The bone deep groan Halsin let out rattled Wyll to the core, and he found himself clinging on to Halsin's wrists if only to bare himself fully to the druid's hunger. "Hals--yes, yes, please." He begged, and moaned, and gasped, body arching as Halsin's tongue circled over his chest and around his nipples, savouring every delicious drop of honey on Wyll's skin. "Please, please."

Wyll had expected to be supped like a pup cleaned by its mother; sweet, funny, playful. Not this. This slow, torturous devouring that held him at the aching brink, stripped him of his senses, left him as a shaking, whining mess beneath Halsin's mouth.

At some point, Halsin's hands had left Wyll's horns, but Wyll kept himself pinned back and spread, every muscle pulled taut and shuddering. The moment Halsin swallowed his prick, taking it to the base in one effortless swallow, Wyll almost spilled down his throat. The deep, guttural growls rising from Halsin's chest rippled up Wyll's spine, following the pulses of pleasure with each ripple of pressure from Halsin's mouth and throat.

All Wyll could do was cling on for dear life, his shaking fingers knotted in Halsin's braids, his thighs squeezing those elegant ears. He teetered on the edge, Halsin seemingly an expert in longing out his lover's pleasure until they were driven insane by it. But it was as Halsin pulled off, his tongue tracing the delicate seam of Wyll's sack to the intimate skin behind that the coil in Wyll's body released.

Wyll arched into Halsin with a wretched cry, light exploding behind his eyelids, his limbs flooded with warmth as he unspooled so completely.

In the soft afterglow, Wyll could barely keep his eyes open, but he did, if only to see Halsin's face. The effort was worth it; the druid's pupils were blown wide, his face a mess of honey and Wyll's pleasure, those large fingers tracing his own lips in search of every last morsel. He looked so thoroughly satisfied, that Wyll could almost have forgot about the straining erection arched up to Halsin's belly. So big, Wyll was surprised that Halsin had enough blood in his body to support it.

"Forgive me," Wyll rasped. "It's impossible to resist your ardour, give me a moment and I will attend to you before we retire."

There was that smirk again, and a renewed heat began to pool in Wyll's stomach. When Halsin spoke, it was with the lazy confidence of a predator with his prey trapped firmly beneath his paw. "The night's young, and it will take far more to sate my hunger for you. I shall be gentle," Halsin leaned over, knees easing Wyll's thighs apart once more, dark, hungry eyes tracing down Wyll's body, "well, I shall try."

[film-in-my-soul]

hurry up, we're dreaming | 1,148 | scissorghost

Summary: Steve and Bucky always meet up during their free third period so they can hang out (read: make out) behind the bleachers on the soccer field. They used to go to the football ones, but too many people had the same idea as them and they preferred the empty, if seriously worse-for-wear, soccer bleachers. But today, Bucky doesn’t greet Steve with his usual bruising kiss, instead sweeping him into a gentle hug and holding him there for a minute. Now, Steve’s never one to complain about hugs, but he would infinitely prefer to already be sucking on Bucky’s tongue by now (he’s got his inhaler ready and everything, just in case he needs it) so he stands on his tiptoes and tries to bring their mouths together, but Bucky just holds him away gently.

Cabin Fever | 1,750 | neversaydie

Summary: Captain's Log, stardate 2246.5  Our diplomatic mission to Nova ended smoothly. Nova Prime and the Antaran diplomatic envoy have begun to hash out a trade deal and no longer require Starfleet to act as a neutral third party. We're heading to the Galiway trade hub to restock the ship and release the crew on an extended ten-day shore leave. Some of the crew are starting to get cabin fever with leave being delayed by almost a month now. Such delays are unavoidable, but I can't blame them for feeling cooped up when I, myself—  "Steve, c'mon already. This synthale ain't gonna drink itself." Anyway, we should arrive at Galiway sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully everyone should be less antsy after they blow off a little steam, including the officers. That's all for now. Rogers out.

Go Fish | 2,653 | notlucy / @notlucy

Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man stuck in an airport, in possession of an iPhone, must open Tinder.

Please see below for more recommendations!

You Will Meet a Stranger | 3,061 | spitandvinegar

Summary: When the mask falls off Steve recoils. He'll never forgive himself.

Dirty Pics | 3,117 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: There’s this one guy Bucky slept with three months ago who still sends pics of his ass whenever Bucky asks. What can he say? Grant’s got an ass that just won’t quit.

I Draw A Line (To Your Heart From Mine) | 3,728 | seapigeon

Summary: Bucky hates art therapy. Sure, he used to love art, but that was...before. So if this tiny, annoyingly insightful instructor could just let him coast, that would be great. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be Steve Rogers' style.

Follow Me Home | 4,599 | seapigeon

Summary: The Brooklyn SPCA has a running program for their high energy shelter dogs. Steve quickly becomes their #1 volunteer. Every time he's out with a dog, he thinks about stopping to talk to the cute guy in the park, and every time he chickens out. But today, someone else is making that decision for him. That someone is Engelbert the 80 pound boxer mix.

Prom Sucks! | 4,755 | VenusMonstrosa / @venusmonstrosa

Summary: “Is this a stupid end-of-year prank?” “Jesus, Steve, you think I’d do that?”

Gravity | 5,649 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: The Winter Soldier isn’t supposed to know what it means to want something.

We're a Couple of Misfits | 5,797 | notlucy / @notlucy

Summary: Working retail can be unforgiving, especially around the holidays. Luckily, Steve works in a store that has a view of Santa’s Village, the happiest spot in the mall - the place where dreams come true, children never cry, and parents never lose their tempers. Oh, and the place where there may or may not be a hot-ass elf assistant Steve can’t stop daydreaming about.

Nurse Rogers | 6,065 | Bellakitse / @bellakitse

Summary: He’s turning the corner headed back to the ambulance bay where Clint is waiting for him in the truck when he rams into this tiny figure in blue scrubs pants and a white undershirt, the kid is cute, blond and blue-eyed, barely reaching Bucky’s shoulder and so slim that if Bucky didn’t have amazing reflexes and reached for him in time the kid would be on the ground from their encounter. Where Bucky is a cocky paramedic and Steve is a tiny nurse.

We Have the Technology | 6,193 | zetsubonna / @zetsubonna

Summary: How Bucky Barnes's passion for mechanical engineering led him to create his own best friend.

what we are is unexpected | 6,597 | bitelikefire (theoleo) / @deimoslunaa

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know why people keep asking him for fucking favours. What’s even worse is how he doesn’t understand why he can’t say no and that’s how he ends up babysitting his nephew for his little sister and basically playing cool uncle for the next few weeks.

(760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. | 6,654 | relenafanel / @relenafanel

Summary: Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror. He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone. He got neither. New text from Steve: What do you want it to say?

If You Let Me | 6,900 | lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: Steve always thought it was silly how easily girls fell for Bucky, even though they must have known he would only break their hearts. Told himself that he would require more than a few sweet words and a cocky grin. But thinking that while watching Bucky charm his way into a girl’s bed for the night is completely different from being on the receiving end of it.

1023 | 6,982 | seapigeon

Summary: Steve has been blessed (or cursed) with a daughter who's just like him. On a crisp fall day, she befriends a man who sleeps under a park bench. Bucky doesn't say much about his past, but in no time at all, Steve is pretty sure he might be his future.

The Afterlife of The Party | 8,433 | neversaydie

Summary: "Oh no. Hell no." Bucky freezes with his hand halfway to the giant ornamental vase the new family have just unpacked. Smashing it would be the perfect way to announce himself on moving day: a big, stylish gesture that's ambiguous enough to leave them feeling only slightly unnerved until he decides things need to escalate. That is, it would be the perfect way to announce himself if a skinny blond kid hadn't just walked through the living room wall. "This house is taken, pal. What the fuck?" "Uh, this is my family." The kid is standing there awkwardly, like they're still corporeal and he might have to duck or deliver a punch in the near future. "This is my house." He narrows his eyes and slowly gets to his feet. The guy's eyes keep flicking to his missing arm and Bucky is starting to see red. "And I don't appreciate other people living in it."

Trains | 9,045 | misslucyjane

Summary: Bucky Barnes is the lead singer of Winter Soldier. Steve Rogers is their biggest fan.

Seawater | 9,330 | littleblackfox / @thelittleblackfox

Summary: He stops in front of a large glass tube; pale, translucent Jellyfish floating serenely within. “Look at these guys, Moon jellyfish. You’re an artist, tell me that’s not beautiful.” Brooklyn stares into the display, the soft blue light highlighting the cut of his cheekbones, the softness of his lips, and Bucky squeezes his hand a little harder. Brooklyn turns to him and smiles, small and crooked and painfully sweet. “Yeah, I guess they are.” Bucky can’t look away, something painful lodged in his throat. “Those horseshoe shapes on the caps are their gonads.” Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Nighthawks | 9,531 | mambo / @whtaft

Summary: Bucky's working the graveyard shift at the diner when some tiny guy in Doc Martens walks in and orders a strawberry milkshake.

Closing Time | 10,872 | RecoveringTheSatellites / @thisonesatellite

Summary: Steve works in a Brooklyn dive bar. A tall, guarded guy comes in to drink at regular intervals. He always sits in the back corner. Steve leaves him alone. He looks like a guy who deserves some peace and quiet. He does find out the stranger's name is Bucky. Finds out what he likes to drink. And little by little, conversation happens. Connection happens. Until one day a cock-flock of dudebros comes in (i made up cock-flock, but really, is that not their collective term) and the heckling goes up to eleven once they’re good and drunk. Bucky gets asked to take it outside. Steve will have none of that, thankyouverymuch.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (and Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14,159 | betts / @bettsfic

Summary: You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what. But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Exhale | 15,676 | seapigeon

Summary: After the Chitauri invasion, Steve parts ways with SHIELD, unsure if he can trust an agency that tried to deceive him and built weapons from the Tesseract. He finds himself alone in an unfamiliar future, penniless, not even legally alive. Fortunately, he knows how to survive. Steve Rogers is used to getting by on his own. The thing is, he doesn't have to.

Dream a Little Dream | 16,458 | velleities

Summary: Steve's MO for living his 21st century life is: keep it simple, fight the good fight with SHIELD and the Avengers, sketch the world around him whenever possible, forget to think about love and all things romance. Steve's 21st Century Life has different plans: a certain charming waiter, a bistro that almost becomes Steve's second home, and an attraction that sends Steve swooning as he starts dreaming of a less lonely existence.

Roots Have Grown | 17,280 | AustinB / @cornerficus

Summary: Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building. So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.

Where The Heart Is | 17,579 | attackofthezee (noxlunate) / @attackofthezee

Summary: When Steve gets home from work there’s someone in his apartment. A tall, foreboding, and goddamned metal armed someone.

Catalysis | 21,594 | follow_the_sun / @lasrina

Summary: Ex-soldier Bucky Barnes doesn't have time to think about that skinny blonde guy he met in the hospital. Especially not after the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. shows up on his doorstep and asks him to save the world.

if all my mistakes (led me to you) | 22,755 | bitelikefire (theoleo) / @deimoslunaa

Summary: Sam’s plans are always the worst plans. And now, Steve has to scramble to find a plus one for Peggy’s big day after being spontaneously dumped. Luckily, he doesn’t have to look very far.

Put Walk Among Us On and Turn it Up | 24,799 | essieincinci

Summary: When Bucky was sixteen and drunk for the first time (on schnapps, dear god, not that he ever admits that part) he let his friend’s greaseball older brother talk him into a homemade stab-n-stick that is just… awful. He walks into the shop from the business card late at night, and a little guy in a too-big hoodie and skinny jeans looks up from the counter.

Sweet Serendipity | 26,179 | velleities

Summary: A troubled city-style lumberjack. Sunshine personified in a man. An accidental phone swap. A serendipitous meet-up. Bucky lets out a small scoff. This isn’t the romcom that one looks for, not usually. It is, however, the one that found Steve and Bucky.

Rivers and Roads | 30,555 | AustinB / @cornerficus

Summary: Steve is working undercover for Hydra when he gets an unexpected promotion. To the Winter Soldier Project.

my heart tells me you are lonely, too | 43,212 | FanGirling

Summary: Bucky sinks into the chair. His ass is falling asleep. “So I just have to, what, learn to be more human?” Sam tries to hold back his sigh but Bucky notices it anyway.

It's Just Temporary | 52,615 | perfect_plan

Summary: Bucky Barnes has no idea what he wants to do with his life and is stumbling from one temp job to the next. Hopefully he can keep his new job at Stark Industries for longer than a week...

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