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yukinemaroop · 19 days ago

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A Place to Fall

Alucard x reader, Part 2

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It had been four weeks since you left the castle, yet you couldn't forget why you sought out Alucard in the first place—to become his apprentice, to learn medicine, to save your ailing village. You had responsibilities, people who relied on you.

You promised him two weeks.

You overstayed.

Leaving had been a difficult choice. After all, you had just confessed your love to each other. And yet, you left, knowing it meant he would be alone again in that vast, somber castle... or so you thought.

TW: Im pretty much new to this and english isn't my first language so bear with with me :)) Post-season 4 Castlevania fanfic. Clingy Alucard & reader, character introductions, possibly inaccurate(??),fluff, alucard, sorceress reader, fools in love, should i make a part 2?

"This is all I can do. The rest is in your hands alone."

His voice had been steady, but you had seen the way his golden eyes softened as he handed you the leather bag. Inside, carefully wrapped, was every remedy he could prepare—enough to turn the tide against the plague that threatened your home.

Alucard’s fingers lingered against yours. As if by holding on for just a second longer, he could keep you here. As if the thought of you leaving didn’t gnaw at him, didn’t worry him to the core—

"I know," you had said, meeting his gaze.

For a long moment, the two of you simply stared at each other, words unspoken but deeply understood. Then, he sighed, a quiet thing, before breaking the silence.

"Do come back to me," he murmured. "I'm already missing you, and you haven’t even left."

The warmth of his hands enveloped yours, one shifting to cradle your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheek with a gentleness that still felt new between you. Then, he leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your eyelids.

It had left you flustered—heart pounding, cheeks burning.

"I know," you had whispered again, this time with a smile. A smile that made his cold heart melt.

_____________________________

You hadn’t planned to stay in Beleyrone for so long, but how could you leave when your people needed you? They had been relieved—grateful that their dying grace had not forgotten them. You returned with knowledge that helped them weather the plague, and for the first time in a long while, hope flickered in their weary eyes.

With Alucard’s teachings, you worked tirelessly, slowly helping the village stand on its feet again. An extra week turned into another. You had no parents, but Beleyrone had raised you, and in their time of need, you couldn’t turn away. Still, no matter how much comfort the village offered, one truth remained—you missed Adrian.

You missed him terribly.

You missed the warmth of his touch, the hesitant way he learned to love again under your care. You had healed him, not just in body but in heart, teaching him what gentle, unwavering love could be. In return, he offered you everything—his home, his trust, and most importantly, himself. And you accepted without hesitation.

Now, as the haunting towers of Dracula’s castle finally rise in the distance, relief floods your chest. You’re so close to home. Soon, you’ll be back in his arms, sharing the warmth of your bed after too many nights spent alone.

But something is wrong.

At first, it’s just an uneasy feeling in your gut. Then, you see them—people, far too many of them.

Your grip tightens on your cloak as you take in the unfamiliar sight: villagers in makeshift tents, half-built houses clustered near the castle walls, and scattered debris from the fortress itself. Signs of battle linger in the air like a ghost.

Panic claws at your throat.

What happened while you were gone?

It’s only been four weeks.

As you pass by the tents, a few people—still awake at this ungodly hour—glance at you. Some curious, some anxious, some afraid. A stranger at their doorstep, after everything they had been through.

Then you see the injuries. Some light, others fatal. The villagers were no exception to whatever disaster had taken place here.

You force yourself to look away. You can’t focus on them now.

What matters most is—

Adrian.

God, was he alright? Did he have enough blood to heal? Anxiety coils in your stomach, threatening to choke you.

You push open the heavy doors of the castle.

Torches flare to life one by one, their golden light stretching through the stone halls as if welcoming you back. You almost want to collapse right then and there—this place, despite its eerie silence, is the safest you've felt in weeks.

But now’s not the time to rest.

“…I’m home?” you call out hesitantly, voice trembling. “Alucard? Adrian?

No answer.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. The silence is suffocating.

Was he dead? No—no, that couldn’t be. Then—

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

A voice. Steady. Firm.

A woman’s voice.

You whirl around, heart hammering. A sword gleams in the dim light, pointed straight at your throat. The woman holding it has sharp green eyes that burn with warning, her brown skin glistening with sweat, her messy hair falling in loose strands around her face.

Beautiful.

And dangerous..

Soon, you'll find out that her name is Greta

She must have noticed your confusion first because she mirrored it—her sharp gaze softened slightly, her brows furrowing. But you only stared, still hidden beneath your hood, struggling to process who this woman could possibly be.

“Well?” she asked, voice edged with warning. “Do you usually just stand there and wait to be stabbed?”

It wasn’t fear that kept you silent. You were simply too tired—too drained to even recall your purpose here, your place in Alucard’s life. So you took the safest route, avoiding any answers that might lead to more questions.

Slowly, you raised your hands in surrender. “I’m Alucard’s apprentice.”

“Apprentice?” she echoed, surprise flickering across her face. Her grip on the blade loosened, but you barely noticed. Instead, you simply unclasped your cloak, letting it slip off and land onto a nearby chair. The fabric pooled as if discarded by the wind, revealing the state you were in—greasy hair, dirt-streaked clothes, boots caked in dried mud.

The night creatures weren’t kind what state your in, the fight you had to travel back to back , when there’s someone living in the night alone, it’d been an easy meal for them hence why your energy is so depleted. You cant even light a small fire even if its on your hand with magic, thats how tired you are.

“Apprentice,” you repeated, as if saying it again would make it feel true. Calling yourself his lover felt too bold, too premature. After all, nothing had been made official yet.

“You’re his apprentice?” The woman frowned. “Then why did he never mention you? What’s your name? What can you—”

“I’ll ask the questions first,” you interrupted, stepping forward. “Is he alive?”

Your voice wavered with exhaustion, with dread. Your legs felt weak—whether from the sight of the familiar red couch by the fireplace, the warmth that almost coaxed you into collapsing, or the unbearable fear that the next words you heard would shatter you completely.

Something terrible had happened here.

The great hall bore its scars—gaping holes in the walls, crumbling stone, rubble swept into untidy piles. Whatever took place in your absence… it had been disastrous.

...

"Of course, he’s alive. He’s on patrol with Trevor tonight," the woman sighs, rubbing the back of her neck.

You stop mid-step, the words taking a moment to sink in.

Alive.

The tension in your body uncoils all at once, like a thread being pulled loose. Weeks of fighting, of running, of barely surviving—all of it crashes down on you in an instant. The exhaustion you’d been holding at bay finally catches up, heavy as a landslide.

Behind you, Greta watches in silence. Talking to people isn’t exactly her strong suit—convincing them, comforting them, making things easier. That’s Sypha’s job, and Sypha is asleep.

For fuck’s sake. Why did it have to be her who woke up?

She exhales sharply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She has no idea what to do with you, this stranger who walked in claiming to be Alucard’s apprentice. And yet, here you are, standing in his home like you belong—like you know you belong. Even her own people aren’t allowed to just wander in here. Not without his say—

Thud.

Greta’s eyes snap open just in time to see you crumble.

You don’t even try to catch yourself. Your arm barely moves, weakly shielding your head before you hit the ground. For a second, she tenses, ready to act, but then she notices the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest.

You didn’t faint.

You just… fell asleep.

Right there on the cold stone floor, like your body had been waiting for permission to shut down. And knowing he was alive—that had been permission enough.

Greta sighs, staring down at you.

Well. This part, she knows how to handle.

It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.

Guys this is a first for me lmk if you liked it cus ill definetly post a part 2 (ill also tag u soo), lmk if u have any recs on my writing🥺

#adrian tepes x you #alucard x reader #castlevania x you #greta castlevania #castlevania sypha #castelvania netflix #castlevania alucard #adrian tepes #lord have mercy #castlevania x reader #castlevania #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard #fanfic

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elliespuns · 20 days ago

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The scene where Joel opens up to Tommy about the events in Salt Lake City is emotionally gut-wrenching.

Not only for the gravelly tone of Joel's voice as he recounts everything to his brother because it's clear he's deeply remorseful about his actions, even though he doesn't regret them for a second. But also Tommy's immediate reaction—he's on the verge of tears, if not actually crying, and the tone of his voice conveys the full weight of his shock and heartbreak.

What will always haunt me is the moment when Tommy asks his brother, "And she believed you?", to which Joel replies that he told her they just ran some tests. Joel then gives a doubtful smirk, as if he already knows the answer, and responds with "She didn't say otherwise." implying a deep distrust in situation.

It becomes clear that Joel doesn't truly believe Ellie accepted his explanation. Deep down, he knows she sees right through his lies. This uncomfortable silence that has settled between them, even when they still spend time together, stems from the unspoken understanding they share. Ellie is fully aware that Joel has deceived her, but she struggles to fully accept it. This ambiguity is what makes her hesitant to spend much time with him. And Joel, for his part, knows that she is at the very least suspicious of his story, even if he can't quite bring himself to admit it out loud. The weight of their unspoken knowledge threatening to shatter the fragile connection between them.

This could never have lasted long-term. Deep down, Ellie was still clinging to hope that Joel would come clean to her about the truth of what really transpired. That he would have a heart-to-heart with her, providing a more thorough explanation than the one she received. But as time never came, so with not a word from him in over two years, she made the decision to take matters into her own hands find out on her own.

The true tragedy lay in Joel's inability to find the courage within himself to explain everything to Ellie. If he had mustered the strength to open up and share how deeply her life meant to him, how he could never bring himself to abandon her to an uncertain fate, I believe Ellie would have come to understand his choice, even if she remained angry and chose not to speak with him. In time, the two may have mended their fractured bond. But Joel's silence, while perhaps born of a fearful heart, stole them of this chance at healing and reconciliation.

The true tragedy lay in the shattering of Ellie's faith. She had placed her trust in just one person, the man she believed to be the only one who truly loved her. Now that trust was broken, and the only remedy was for Joel himself to make amends. But fate dealt a cruel blow, for the opportunity for him to do so slipped away, lost forever.

#i can't cope #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #ellie williams #ellie and joel #the last of us part 2 #the last of us talk #elliespuns analyses

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mihii-i · 2 months ago

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sanctuary.

Pairings: vi x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, self destructive habits mentioned, alcoholism, vi’s trauma, reader is vi’s best friend (again, GO READ PART 1.), friends to lovers, girls kissing this isn’t even a silly warning anymore cause whys there a rise in homophobes, emo vi yes she’s hot but I was lowkey scared at first, mmm angst very yummy, ouuu this is turning out good okay, violence, idk what other warnings to put, caitvi not working out in this fic’s course of events, gay gay homosexual gay, not proofread.

A/N: now playing: head over heels by gunboikaz—here’s the lil surprise I was edging yall for ong- collab fic with @kadriss-loves-gifflars please go read part 1 on her page, yes it is mandatory cause this fic is a part 2 to that. Anyway I guess this was my little way of jumping out of saying that I’m writing for arcane now so yippee 🕯️

“Don’t thank me, it’s what I want to do for you.”

Those words rolled off of your tongue in a timeless, slow sentiment, accompanying your ardent embrace you enveloped Vi in as if you never wanted to detach yourself from the woman hemmed between your arms. Breath fanning against her soaked shoulder, you took the initiative to briefly thumb along the drenched fabric stuck to her skin in comforting, circular motions. Easing Vi into your touch as you attempted to outline her masked tattoos through the fabric as best as you could remember.

Each shaky breath quivering against her lower lip only allowed her to pathetically wallow in the small sliver of solace in your warmth, clinging onto the simple sentence of consolation you had provided her like a lifeline while fighting back the sting of her tears threatening to circle back and spill.

She weakly attempted to push back the fleeting moments of adoration that remained burned into her skull, every time that wave of dizziness latched onto her temples and seeped across every little crevice of her head whenever she reminisced on Caitlyn’s features, staring her down ever since that awful day where she groveled at her feet in tears.

It truly was too much for her. Torn down on countless occasions with nothing but the awful stab of guilt and regret, eating away at her alongside the twist of every set of knuckles burying into her gut, drives of pain endured from her beatings in Stillwater gradually ripping away her sanity along with it over the years. Vi’s motivation had tensed and wavered along a thin string of stability she had dug into the thick earth of her breaking soul, being dragged away from both her younger sister and her best friend, left to wonder what became of them as they were alone…seperated.

Punches upon punches cracked along the rugged stone splayed along the cell walls filling the numbing void within her that swallowed her whole. The two people she had loved wholeheartedly either lingering within the sharp outcome of death, or something possibly worse. Although Vi had always hoped that the former wouldn’t become of you both, praying to herself that she wouldn’t have to stumble upon either yours or Powder’s corpse whenever she was able to bust out of prison—it was undeniable that death would’ve been the more merciful option for the two of you in said circumstances.

Strangely enough, Caitlyn’s presence remedied the sickening ailment that split her in half, being able to slowly piece back together the person Vi once was. The one that she had been stripped of in the hellfire of her waning sanity in the Stillwater Hold. It was ironic, really. The seeds of her pain and suffering where rooted in the causes of enforcers, who reduced her feeling of any security drowned into heaping piles of gravel making up the post rubble of battle.

However the woman who had healed that ache, touched her heart in a way was none other than an enforcer herself, supposed to be draped clad in her armor from head to toe like the rest, yet her soft features as a mural of her humanity were able to pull Vi in, like the calm to a storm, soothing the hurt swirling within her chest.

Perhaps that irony could now be shot down, considering the current situation at hand. Or rather, in your arms. The very source of this newfound pain Vi was drowning herself in, was indeed that same enforcer. Digging herself into the pits of her self destructive habits slowly chipped away at her identity, leaving her to question who she truly was in the midst of the thudding maelstrom her emotions conjured up.

“Vi? You feeling okay now?” You inquired in a soft murmur, the showers of rain continuously pattering against the ground outside both heightening and easing Vi’s anxiety in a mind breaking juxtaposition. Your voice however, no doubt was a remedy to her pain, the tip of her nose brushing against your neck once more as her eyes glued shut. Her hold on you remained firm as she tried to calm herself in the moral quandary of what she had became, attempting to suppress those rising feelings of abhorrence that consumed her whole.

Vi simply shook her head in response to your question, choking back the light sniffles that threatened to gag out themselves. The freezing steel of her nose ring continued to collide flush against your already frigid throat, thin drops of water dribbling down your chin as you somber expression remained fixed on your best friend’s ruined form.

Dull streaks of black paint smudged along the dusted skin of your arm, taking in the vile tar smudged along her face to mask the tattoo of her own name engraved deep onto her cheek. It was quite hard to tell from the way she remained silent in your arms, had she truly lost herself altogether? You could only do nothing but ponder if the Vi you had once knew had dissipated into a mere memory lingering in the back of your head.

Every hit. Every scream, each downed bottle of alcohol was disturbingly clear in your head. Tracing back on the times you in fact watch Vi lose herself right before your eyes, unfolding into a self destructive flurry that circled back on and on in a seemingly unending routine. Clatters of coins pebbling to the ground at your feet as she continued throwing hook after hook at her opponent, along with steel alcohol cups colliding against each other with erupted cheers among the crowd was nothing short of sickening for you.

God, why couldn’t you see earlier how bad this really was?

You were a shitty friend for being unable to stop her.

Frequently, you’d have an arm slung over her wasted form, the reeking scent of alcohol emanating from her soiled lips in shallow breaths. Often times even having to treat her bloodied self as you spent several minutes cleaning and patching up her wounds.

“Why are you still here?”

She finally croaked out, her voice hoarse and shaky. You replied with a shrug, retracting your head before giving her exposed shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“Probably cause the woman I was best friends with was nowhere to be seen for seven years? I knew that once I saw you again, I wouldn’t let go again. Not for a second.”

“You’re oddly stubborn aren’t you?”

Her brief laugh was mixed in with a hint of a scoff, disbelieving of the fact that you’d go to such lengths for someone like her.

“Maybe I am. What about it? I care about you, Vi. I thought that much was obvious.”

You paused, a hint of a tiny smile crossing your lips in an attempt to lighten the mood.

��Also, you’re getting that paint all over me.”

Before she could back away as a subtle apology, you swiftly grasped her calloused fingertips between yours, gently tracing your thumb against the crimson lumps of her knuckles through the wrapping of the bandaging. Expression residing in a woeful sting, you carefully observed the battered injuries protruding through the dirty white lining, a grim reminder of the turmoil she had suffered at the disheartening experiences of both her sister and—now ex-girlfriend is what you supposed you could call her.

“You’re strong, Vi. You’ve got a good heart, and I’m proud of you for being able to endure this.”

A brief flicker of that fluffy tenderness returned for a split second to mist over her eyes, both your scent and touch occupying every sense in her body to block out the dizzying whiff of alcohol, alongside the trashy odor of the crappy room she found herself laying in to cope with her grief.

You. Her best friend. You were able to keep yourself anchored to her like an angel looking out for her best needs, keeping an arm around her even when she batted it away. She was truly greatful to you.

But was she supposed to be feeling this for her best friend? Especially after she had gotten all mopey over Cait to the point where she was in every sight of hers. Fuck, was this how Jinx felt every waking moment of the day?

Despite the presence of Caitlyn in her life, Vi couldn’t help but feel the pressure of her affection toward you clenching her heart like the cut of a thin string, the twinge of guilt quickly being replaced with the manner in which you entranced her with a magnetic attraction. She wasn’t supposed to, but perhaps she imagined what life would be like with you if Caitlyn didn’t steal her heart first, picturing the impossibly perfect life of residing on peace with your head nuzzled to her shoulder.

Vi felt safe whenever you were so much as seated beside her, basking in the comfort of your enchanting presence even if you were doing nothing but staring off into space in exhaustion. The comfort of her best friend was her sanctuary where she could escape the struggles of this battle ridden life, balanced on an imbalance of chewing off scraps and living in luxury among the duality of both Zaun and Piltover.

That feeling only amplified upon feeling your palm caress her tar stained cheek, tilting her head to face you directly as her eyes fixated on your piercing glare of fondness. Eyes boring into yours, Vi really couldn’t tell what came over her as she strung her fingers into the back of your thin locks, digging them to massage along your scalp as her lips gnawed at yours hopelessly in desperation.

She was about to withdraw herself from you in regret, fearing that she had broken the only relationship she had left intact. But she wouldn’t have to worry about that. Not from how you were grasping at either side of her face with a heightened need roused in your own kisses dragging along her chapped lips to drown in the metallic aftertaste of old blood seeping along your tongue. Pressed chest to chest with her as you could practically feel both of your hearts hammering against each other’s chest in rhythm.

Heavy breaths fostered the atmosphere of the murky room upon pulling away from each other, a tired smile adorning Vi’s lips form the aftermath of your gentle kiss as she collapsed back onto your chest in exhaustion. You could only muster up a giggle as your heavy breaths subsided, stroking your fingers along the remaining fades of pink peeking through the blackened stains of her locks before whispering while you hugged her from behind, leg draped over her waist.

“I missed you, you know.”

A/N: BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAA YES GAWDDDDD SURPISE HOS I WRITE FOR ARCANE NOW please request more of this show now I’m back in my arcane prison phase pls PLEASE REQUEST THIS ALONG BES YUMYUMYUM

Anyway @kadriss-loves-gifflars tysm queen I had so much fun with this collab and this turned out very yummy I love this

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breelandwalker · 11 months ago

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Strawberry Moon - June 21, 2024

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon 🍓

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. Sadly, the Strawberry Moon does not turn red or pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. North American Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

This year's Strawberry Moon also roughly coincides with the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, with peak illumination occurring at 9:08pm EST on June 21st. (The solstice is occurring one day prior, on June 20th.)

What Does It Mean For Witches? 🍓

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do? 🍓

With a full moon ripening in the sky and the summer solstice upon us, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

The full moon is always a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Strawberries are also excellent ingredient in spells for love, beauty, fertility, and emotional healing. Create a charm for self-love or perhaps to attract a summer romance. Enchant your favorite makeup or skin care products with a glamour of confidence. Just as expectant mothers once carried strawberry leaves as a folk remedy for pregnancy pains, you can carry a clutch of them in your pocket to help heal a broken heart or assuage the pain of grief. A packet of strawberry leaves is also a potent good-luck charm. Snack on strawberries to bring fertile abundance into your life, whether you're looking for creativity or opportunity or perhaps hoping to grow your family this year.

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized. (If you're planning to use it for any consumables, please make sure you're using fresh, potable drinking water rather than rain or runoff.)

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Bree's Lunar Calendar Series

Bree's Secular Celebrations Series

The Full Moon of June: A Special Solstice Full Moon, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Strawberry Moon Meaning: The Spectacular Full Moon of June 2024, The Peculiar Brunette.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison.

Image Source - Pesto and Margaritas

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witchblr #witch community #lunar magic #full moon #strawberry moon #witchcraft #summer solstice #witch tips #moon magic #lunar calendar

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thiriann · 5 months ago

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"The Darkest Place" - Oneshot

You can also find me on AO3

A smutty oneshot

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, Vampire Spawn Astarion × Tiefling Tav ,Traumatized Astarion (Baldur's Gate) ,Getting to Know Each Other ,Falling In Love, Injury, Caring Astarion, Vampire Bites, Blood Drinking, Vaginal Fingering,PIV sex ,one shot

Summary:

After a grievous wound Astarion does his best to take care of Thiriann while trying to figure out just when his simple plan fell apart completely.

It took one hit to take her down. A single strike from those shadowed claws sent her to her knees, writhing in agony. Astarion screamed at her to get up, even though he knew there was no way she could. As he tried to run to her a wraith pulled him by the arm, its cold touch chilling him. Another sprung up next to it with a sickening sound effectively surrounding him. Somehow, he managed to recall Thiriann had given him a flask of holy water. He'd thought it a joke at first, something to throw at Cazador, as if it would help. It decimated the horrors as it shattered.

By the time he reached her, shadow tendrils were already trying to bleed into her skin, her glowing blue eyes blackened entirely by the curse. Shadowheart was at her side before him, her eyes wide with alarm.

"I can't do anything about this out here. We must get her to camp—fast!"

He knelt to cradle her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. She felt cold to the touch, even to him, even through his gloves and fear clutched at his gut like a vice.

He hadn't even noticed how much she was bleeding until he stood up and her blood gushed down and onto his legs.

The return to camp was mostly a blur as they sprinted through the gnarly terrain.

Upon their arrival, the group sprang into action, laying her on a bedroll beside the fire and Astarion was practically shoved away by the healers, his protest dying on his lips as he caught sight of her pallid face. She looked dead. Or somehow even worse than dead—her cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, her color drained from blue to an ashen white, with blackened blood smelling like rot trickling from her lips. The scent of decay was overpowering.

Gale began chanting in a loud thundering voice, magic crackling through the air like static. Abruptly, the air cleared, as if a cloud had been lifted. The curse was largely purged from her body, yet her appearance remained unchanged. Halsin, meanwhile, was a blur of motion, concocting a myriad of remedies at her head.

"I need to apply this on the wounds. Remove her garments." He instructed.

Astarion finally looked away from her face. Three long gashes ran over her stomach all the way down to her hips. With swift resolve, he spurred into action taking his dagger and splitting her top and bottoms in one swift motion. The fastest and worst way he'd ever undressed someone.

Halsin began applying the salve he'd made around the edges of the cuts and with a relief Astarion noticed the bleeding turn from a flowing stream to a trickle, though the stench of rot remained, lingering in the air.

"We need to apply this again in two hours and maybe attempt to give her a healing potion then as well. " Halsin stated as he prepared more of the medicine.

The group's panic finally started to ease. Astarion surveyed her form once more, finding it as gaunt and drained as her face. It made him feel ill. His eyes landed on the only part of her that still had some color. Two pink dots on her breast right above her nipple. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. It was his bite mark. With her drinking healing potions every day it didn't really scar, smoother new skin had grown on the bite but because it was still relatively fresh, the color was pink not yet fully healed. She had matching ones on her neck as well as on her thigh.

The marks were practically glowing on her. He quickly glanced to the others to see if they've noticed, only to be met with Gale's stern glare.

"We should... ahem... cover her, to preserve her modesty," Astarion suggested looking away.

Dashing to her travel chest, he rummaged for any piece of clothing he could find. The party already suspected him of leading her into all manner of vile debaucherous acts —admittedly, they were not wrong—but such intimacies were meant to be private and now everyone had seen the evidence of their activities.

Regardless, none of that mattered now. And it wasn't as if their opinion of him could sink any lower.

He grabbed a loose robe, one he'd never seen her wear, and returned to her side. He draped it over her like a blanket, unsure if he should move her more than that.

“When do you think she’ll wake up?” he asked Halsin.

" We have no way of knowing for certain," Halsin responded, his voice betraying a hint of concern. "It could be hours, perhaps days. The curse has burrowed deep; she’s not out of the woods yet."

“Can we really leave her like this in the open, in the middle of camp?” Shadowheart voiced looking around.

“Bring her into my tent, at least she’ll have some privacy.” Astarion spoke. He hadn’t even thought about it as he said it but a strange surge of protectiveness rising within him pushed the words out of his mouth.

“Not a chance.” Shadowheart balked at him.

“No offense but your tent is hardly a sanitary choice for an ill person, Astarion.” Gale spoke up as well.

“I’ll have you know my tent is the least cluttered out of all of yours, thank you very much. She's already quite accustomed to spending her nights there anyway," he countered, his innuendo intending to shock the others into agreement.

“That will probably be for the best,” Halsin agreed "In a confined space, I can prepare a steam inhalation to aid her breathing."

Gale narrowed his eyes but miraculously stayed silent.

And with that, the argument was concluded and she was carried to Astarion’s tent along with a solid stack of herbs, potions, and a steaming bowl of medicinal brew by her head.

Despite the sanctuary of his tent, Astarion was restless. He sat by her, attempting to read, but worry knotted his insides, rendering him unable to focus. Halsin was right; her breathing sounded terrible. She was wheezing on every inhale, the sound horribly resembling a death rattle.

He was being foolish, surely. They had survived worse. By the morrow, it’d be as if nothing happened. Yet, the memory of that Harper wouldn’t leave his mind. The way he had succumbed to the shadows within moments, undeath claiming him irreversibly.

That couldn't be her fate. It simply couldn't.

“Did I say you could die?” he asked in his typical playful tone. It sounded deafeningly loud in the dark.

“Come on, wake up.” He continued whispering “We need you alive.”

No answer came but her quiet breaths.

Cautiously he leaned down and pressed his ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was quiet but steady, persisting.

A wave of calm washed over him and for the first time since entering the Shadowcursed Lands, he relaxed.

Exhaustion from the day's events and his lingering fears weighed heavily on him.

He laid gently beside her and let the rhythmic pulse of her heart coax him into slumber.

Astarion chased off the druid when he’d come with the salve a few hours later, insisting that he’d apply it himself. Backing up his claim with the fact he had intimate familiarity with her form already. Her wounds had stopped bleeding but as the morning came, she still hadn't woken up.

" What should we do? We can’t stay at camp all day," Shadowheart pressed, infinitely curious to learn more about her mistress’ domain.

“Normally, I’d agree but we can’t exactly leave when Thiriann is in such a grievous condition,” Gale interjected.

"A single affliction won't subdue her for long; she's bound to rally soon," Lae’zel asserted confidently. “It will be beneficial for us to look for supplies in the meantime.”

“Lae’zel’s right, our rations won’t last long,” Shadowheart added, her siding with the Githyanki betraying her eagerness to explore this “endless darkness”.

"If it’s all the same to you I’d rather stay .I’m not exactly dying to go back out there.” Astarion said, refusing to admit he wouldn’t leave Thiriann’s side unless they dragged him away.

"I, too, will stay," Halsin offered, “But should you find anything regarding the curse, please do let me know.”

The days melded into one another, with the party venturing forth and returning at dusk, leaving Astarion and Halsin to keep vigil. Karlach spoke of a sanctuary amidst the curse and a meeting with a Baldurian legend—an idol from her youth— but Astarion couldn’t find it in him to care at the time.

He was starting to get annoyed at Thiriann’s insistence on not waking up. But deep inside he knew the irritation was covering up the dread, the thought of what it would mean if she really didn’t wake, or woke up as something much worse.

He cared about her, more than he was ready to admit. He hadn’t cared about anyone but himself for so long, maybe ever. Staring at her pale sunken face in bewilderment he wasn't sure how it'd happened.

But there stretched out on his poor imitation of a bed she looked so small and fragile and he felt an overwhelming pull to do everything in his power to make her better. It itched under his skin along with thoughts of her that buzzed in his head day and night- when her wounds needed redressing, when to make her a new steam inhalation, when to push healing potion past her lips but slowly so she wouldn't choke, he even gave her a sponge bath to wash off the dried up blood.

He hadn’t eaten anything since they left the mountain pass, and his hunger was gnawing at him relentlessly. He realized he must have gotten spoiled in the last month if a mere few hungry days were getting him this worked up.

He supposed he could go hunt back at the mountain pass but that would require leaving her side and she needed him.

The thought occurred to him that he could ask one of his companions for some blood but their disdainful glances whenever Thiriann permitted him to feed dissuaded him. He also may have lashed out at them here and there in the last couple of days. Possibly hissed at Gale. But it's not like they would have agreed anyway, most of them had strictly told him not to look at their necks weeks ago when everything had come to light.The only person he could see accepting to give him some would scorch him alive. Perhaps if she bled into a cup, and he waited a day or two, it might cool to a tolerable temperature. A miserable sigh escaped him; desperation was setting in.

One evening, driven by necessity, he approached Shadowheart.

"What?" She asked flatly and he flinched at the chill in her stare, the words he needed to say caught in his throat.

"I was just wondering if you might have an extra healing potion for our dearest leader," he chickened out, coming up with an excuse on the spot.

Her eyes softened immediately, of course for Thiriann they would " Yes, of course." she replied, delving into her bag. "You know, you don't have to bear the burden of her care alone. We're here to help."

"She's not a burden," he snapped, snatching the potion and striding away.

"That's not what I meant," she called after him, her words lost in the distance.

He contemplated asking Halsin for blood,he certainly had some to spare. But he wasn’t sure he liked the way Halsin looked at her. Or at him for that matter. He'd been around long enough to know what desire looked like and he did not want to deal with that right now.

No, he could wait. She'd wake soon and then he could hunt, once assured of her recovery.

As night enveloped the camp once again, he grabbed a book and settled beside her. He’d taken to reading to her out loud as of late. It made the tense quiet more bearable, and he liked the sound of his own voice so that was a plus. She seemed to enjoy his voice too before.

“As the paladin of Sune stepped into the forbidden temple, his gaze met that of a striking dragonborn cleric.”

"I've encountered my share of daggers, sir. Best not to brandish yours so carelessly," Astarion mimicked in a feigned feminine tone.

"Rest assured, you've yet to lay your eyes on such a mighty weapon. Brace yourself to take my blessed greatsword," he continued, deepening his voice for the male character.

A snort interrupted his dramatic performance, and his gaze shifted to Thiriann's face. Her eyes were open, filled with mirth as she stared at him.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Please, do tell more about your mighty sword.” She bit her lip trying to contain her smile, her voice was rough as gravel, but she was talking, she was awake, she was herself and she was talking.

“Darling, you…” His voice broke, emotion swelling. “You finally stop being melodramatic and the first thing you do is ask about my greatsword? Not surprised at all, my dear.”

She openly laughed then, and he felt as if the shadow curse itself had lifted. He wanted to hug her, he wanted to kiss her, just any type of touch that solidified that she was alive, instead he stood there, frozen, held back by his insecurities as she struggled to sit up.

“How long was I out?” she asked, wincing as she sat up.

“Four days,” he replied, closing the book and rising to meet her gaze.

“What a right mess,” she groaned, dragging her hands over her face. “We should have been in Moonrise by now.”

“I think the others will forgive you dear. They thought the Shadowcurse might have claimed you for good.”

She went quiet at that, staring at her hands.

“Perhaps it did, for a while.”

He stared at her shocked while she continued.

“I journeyed to a place... elsewhere. Somewhere dark, devoid of wind, absent of sound. It reminded me of…” she hesitated “…somewhere I’d been before, years ago. The darkest place.” She smiled but it was a twisted thing, like it hurt to do so.

Shaking off the shadows of her recollection, she turned to him with concern. " And what about you? Did anyone else get hurt?”

“We got away unscathed. Some of us have better survival instincts, darling.” he quipped with playful arrogance.

She laughed again then, bringing more brightness into his tent.

"Forgive me for lacking your uncanny dodging abilities."

"One cannot expect to match such excellence," he gestured to himself, then with a quieter voice he added, “Just don’t do it again.”

She swallowed before looking away. “I’ll try.”

“Why am I in your tent?” she asked as her gaze wandered the canvas confines.

“Well, we couldn’t exactly leave you in the middle of camp like a drying fish now, could we?” he remarked with feigned exasperation.

“Oh…” she looked away guiltily, “Sorry for imposing on you like that.”

“Nonsense, darling, you know my tent is ever open for you, any time.” He tried to sound flirtatious but came out shockingly sincere at the end.

She smiled a little before standing up, a slight wobble betraying her weakness, but she steadied herself with determination.

“I am grateful for your hospitality, truly. But nature calls and I’m starving so I’ll head out.”

He was at her side in an instant, supporting her as her knee gave out on the first step.

“I’ve got you. Why don’t you let me help? The last thing we need now is to have you collapsing just as you've returned to us."

Thiriann bit her lip, considering his offer. She was pretty sure she could make it on her own but was reluctant to lose the feeling of his arms around her.

“I’d like that.”

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

Astarion stood around the edges of the shadows waiting for Thiriann to finish her business when he heard her call out. “What happened to my clothes?”

“They were torn beyond repair I’m afraid. We had to discard them.”

“Damn, that was the only good leather I could find in this wilderness.” She bemoaned “And what of my small clothes?”

"Those too," He failed to mention his involvement in the tearing of those.

She looked uncomfortable as she emerged from the bush.

“That was my last pair.”

“How unfortunate.” his tone lacking any semblance of genuineness.

She offered a wry smile and an eye roll in response.

“Shall we, my dear?” he extended his arm in mock imitation of a courtly gentleman.

"Your gallantry is most appreciated, good sir. Lead the way," she accepted, allowing herself to lean on him just a little during their walk back.

And for a moment his mind drifted, away from this curse ridden place and into the parks of the lower city. Holding hands just as they did now, walking to a blanket setup in spotted shade, a bottle of rich red wine waiting for them.

Stop it! He chastised himself.

What was the point of these childish fantasies? They could bring nothing but more misery.

She wouldn’t want these things with him and he shouldn’t be wanting them in the first place. It was all so stupid. It must have been her close proximity that was bringing these on, that and the fact he had to play her nurse for the last week and his hunger and all the romantic books he’d been reading by her bedside, lack of sleep, they were confusing him, urging him to look for something that wasn’t there, to hope for something that wouldn’t happen.

And yet when she leaned against his side a little more, he felt his breath catch in his throat as her warmth spread through his side.

"Do we have any eggs?" she asked suddenly, breaking his reverie.

"What?" he asked in confusion, as she released his arm and began sifting through a supply pack. They had reached the campfire before he noticed.

"Never mind, found some," she declared, settling down to prepare her meal.

Her knife danced through the vegetables with a speed and precision he hadn't seen from her before. She moved with such ease, like she'd done this thousands of times, tossing her ingredients swiftly into the frying pan with a few eggs and some spices that Gale had left lying about.

"You know how to cook," he stated even though there was a question in his voice.

"Because I made an omelette?" She asked incredulously.

"Because of the way you handle a blade," he clarified.

She raised an eyebrow at that, unsure if he was trying to make a sexual innuendo. Knowing him, probably he was.

“I wasn't sure you knew how to hold one, what with that debacle back at the forge.” He smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes at the memory. The only other time he'd seen her actually attempt to use a knife was when she had failed spectacularly at cutting off the drow's head and he'd had to intervene to help.

“I'll have you know I'm actually quite decent with a dagger.” She replied arrogantly, waving her blade around in the air in a way that did not backup her claim at all.

"And yes, I can cook. Had my heart set on becoming a chef once upon a time," she confessed, her gaze lost in the flames. " I travelled all over to learn from the best. The quests I've taken for some of my recipes..." A self-deprecating chuckle escaped her as she reminisced. "It all seems so trivial now."

She retrieved her meal from the fire and took a mouthful, not waiting for it to cool. She always preferred it hot anyway.

"You've never cooked for this lot. Not up to your master chef standards, are they? " He teased.

" It's not that but I'd rather it stay this way. If they knew, I'd be roped into cooking duty, and I much prefer being served. Besides, Gale's ego might not survive any more competition."

"Understandable," he conceded, appreciating the appeal of having your meal delivered to your bed every night.

"So only you know my little secret. I’m trusting you to keep it." She said, trying to sound mischievous.

This is so typical of her, he thought with some exasperation. Her 'secrets' were nothing more than hidden talents and achievements. Nothing dark lingered around her, no deep pools of morally questionable choices. Sometimes it was infuriating how innocent she was.

" We should introduce you to a bit of corruption if these are the worst of your secrets, darling," he jested, turning back to the fire, oblivious to the shadow that crossed her face.

" We all have things that haunt us, Astarion," she replied after a pause, her voice heavy and unexpectedly sad.

He looked at her then. For the longest time, he'd felt like he'd had the most world experiences than anyone in their group because he'd been alive the longest. Thiriann's naivete especially made her seem so childish to him sometimes. Like she barely even knew the types of people that lived out there, all the possible worst the world could offer.

But looking at her now he finally saw her experiences etched upon her face. She looked worn down, aged, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes filled with misery and acceptance.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that they didn't know each other at all.

That was understandable, they’d barely known one another for a month, and most of the time they were running around in some crisis or another.

What didn’t make sense though was his desire for that to change. He wanted to know what made her look like that, and to never speak of it again just to avoid seeing this misery in her.

But once again he remained motionless, caught in the uncertainty of how to reach out and offer the comfort she so clearly needed. So, he just nodded.

“You can talk to me, you know. We are technically in this together. “ He said in the end, his voice soft but uncharacteristically serious.

“Before I was taken by the Nautiloid, long before, there was a man I knew.” She began, uncertainty evident in her voice probably wondering if he was even interested in hearing her out. He turned his body fully towards her, trying his hardest to convey he was listening.

“He was my senior, my commander. I served under him for years. And he was a right asshole, never had a kind word to say. You could do everything right and he’d still have a ready plethora of insults to throw at you. Our troops hated him almost as much as the enemy.”

She smiled faintly as if this was the fondest part of her memory.

"But he was also fiercely loyal, utterly devoted to the woman he loved. I admired him for that. He would do anything for her, even the most heinous acts. I thought there was something noble in that blind devotion."

Astarion scoffed. "Your ideas of romance are rather twisted, aren't they, darling?"

She shrugged, not particularly offended."Too many lonely years and trashy books, I suppose."

He grimaced, her answer hitting too close to home.

It’s not that he was in any position to lecture her on the matter given his own ideas of what was considered romantic came from much the same way.

“So, what happened to this rude smitten fool? I presume he met his grim end running after his lady’s coattails?” he asked unable to shake off the bitterness.

“Yeah, you could say that.”she replied and Astarion’s smirk fell as he saw the grim look on her face.

“When the tides of war turned and it became clear we’d lose and be accused of treason, we were instructed to infiltrate the rebellion ranks, a last-ditch effort to gather intelligence. But no further orders never came. Instead, we were sent to eliminate a hostile entity.

When we got there he already knew. Hells He had orchestrated it all. He wanted to die by our hands, by my hands..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes filled with a profound sadness.

"I had to be a part of it, couldn't stop it, couldn't run away, couldn't…" She shook her head trying to push away the memory.

Astarion understood this feeling all too well. The helplessness, the forced complicity in acts he never wanted.

A sudden overwhelming feeling of sadness and pity settled in his chest at the thought that she knew what those things felt like.

"You were a pawn in their game, nothing more. A toy to be manipulated," he said, his voice gentle. "It's pointless to blame yourself when you couldn't have changed anything. The best thing to do is forget and move on."

She nodded, a sad smile playing on her lips. "That’s easier said than done." she whispered.

“I know.” He said, voice filled with a quiet understanding as he handed her a bottle.

She accepted the wine, taking a deep swig without tasting it at all.

A moment passed before she spoke, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“He died an asshole, lived an asshole and no one mourned him.”

“Except you.”

“Except me ," she confirmed, her gaze drifting back to the dancing flames. Lost in the countless memories, she seemed to relive a bygone era.

“He gave the most insane orders sometimes," she murmured, breaking the silence. "Once, he commanded us to hurl bird droppings at the enemy, a tactic he called 'psychological warfare'."

Astarion's brow furrowed in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

A wry smile crept across her lips. "Oh, I am. And it worked. The look of utter confusion on their faces was priceless."

“Tell me everything.” Astarion said, his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

As the night progressed, he could see her eyelids were getting heavy, her words slurred slightly as she slumped more and more. Soon they'd both retreat to their respective beds and settle for the night. His tent looked strangely dark and lonesome despite being close to the fire.

A gust of wind flew past them followed by an unsettling howl from the shadows and she shivered.

She looked at him with uncertainty and what he was sure was longing, resembling a stray puppy waiting at someone's doorstep.

“Thank you again for… before and for tonight, for staying with me. I-I’m not sure when was the last time someone did this for me. “

She looked at him with so much gratitude in her eyes and heat bloomed in his chest, making his heart clench.

Her words were plain, just a simple thank you yet they unexpectedly lodged in his chest. When was the last time someone had thanked him for anything? Or he done something worthy of gratitude?

“Don’t mention it,dear. I should leave you to rest.” He said preparing to walk out trying his damnest not to betray how his composure had crumbled.

“Astarion,” she called out after him “when was the last time you fed?”

“Well, you know,” he started gesturing with a flair “I pop out to hunt every now and then.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re starving.” She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he had to ask himself how could she possibly know.

“Come, you can feed from me if you’d like.”

He balked at her, outraged. “Have you lost your mind, darling? You just woke up.”

“I’m fine,I’m just tired.” She waved him off “The curse has left my body completely.”

He eyed her uncertainly. The thought of drinking from her now made him uneasy but even at her mere suggestion, he could feel his hunger resurfacing. His eyes trailed to her neck involuntarily and he felt his stomach clench violently at the sight. He hated this part of himself, more beast than man in his uncontrollable desire. But holding back was never his strong suit and when she’d offered so willingly, it was harder than ever to resist.

“Why don’t you come back to my tent then?” He asked suddenly “It will save you from the draft and we could have ourselves a little privacy.”

Laying her down on the pillows that he’d arranged his eyes drifted once more to her neck. He swallowed painfully, his throat dry as a desert.

“Are you really sure?” He heard himself murmur.

“Yes,I’ll be alright. Now come here.” She moved to make space for him.

That warm bubble of affection in his chest which he'd largely been ignoring was pushing insistently at his ribs as he stared at her bright blue eyes.

Sliding his body over hers, Astarion lowered himself on top of her. He bit quickly, trying to minimize her pain.

Finally, it was as if a damn burst and all of the feelings he had felt the last few days- the fear of losing her, the stress of her illness, the relief of her finally awakening and the incredible joy of her blood - were threatening to overwhelm him. She was so warm and so alive and he felt that very life essence flow into him filling him with happiness and comfort.

He groaned into her neck, needy and desperate and it set her skin on fire. Lost in the sensations he let his body guide him closer and closer to her. Their bodies slotted together, her breasts pressing up into his chest, one of his legs sliding between hers.

Moving back from her neck he kissed her, momentarily forgetting his lips were still coated with her blood. He tried to pull away once the realization hit but she chased him with her lips unwilling to let them part.

As he dipped his tongue into her hot, wet mouth he found that it is not enough. She wanted him and he wanted more, more heat, more connection.

He could feel his body responding to her already. Her fresh blood going straight to fuelling his arousal.

She squirmed under him, dragging her thigh against his length sending a jolt of pleasure through him and he instinctively ground against it, trying to prolong the sensation. At the same time, he pressed his leg against her core forcing her to gasp into his mouth.

He was such a fool. But no one before had made him feel this way, no one had compared to her.

Out of all the feelings he had learned to suppress, he had no experience dealing with this one in particular. He had tried to nip it in the bud but now he wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop or that he could even stop it.

Maybe some part of him had wanted to fall for her. Wanted to allow himself to feel once again. Up until recently he hadn’t even considered love a possibility. What a terribly cliche way to realize one's feelings.

He glided his hand down her robe undoing the ties holding it together. She was still fully nude under and he wasted no time grasping a breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

She reached for his shirt trying to untuck it from his pants but the gesture brought a wave of unease so he swiftly grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it over his head. He nudged her knee with his own, fully settling between her legs and she wasted no time pulled him in for another hungry kiss. With their naked chests pressed together, he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs as if it were his own.

They ground against each other, the feeling of his leather pants against her naked cunt only fuelling her desire. She gasped at the contact and arched her back into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He could feel her scorching heat against his member even through his pants and felt himself throb in response. Thiriann reached down to unlace them but he stopped her hands.

“Not until you’re ready for me, darling.”

She whined in protest but moved her hands back. Having her obediently listen to him always managed to bring a small thrill of excitement.

He reached between their bodies dragging his fingers over her centre. She was wet but not wet enough, it would most likely hurt if he entered her now. He started lowering himself down her body, but felt her tensing under him, her hands on his shoulders squeezing firmly, keeping him in place.

“No, don’t go.” She pleaded.

“Don't worry, I'm here, love.”

“I want you inside me, can we…like this?”

"You'll have to come first, darling. Do that for me, just relax, I’ve got you.”

Astarion glanced at her face, intent on watching her expression as he eased his finger into her. She groaned at the intrusion but tried to breathe through the temporary discomfort. Moving carefully, he began pumping his finger in and out of her, focused on opening her up. Slowly she melted under his gentle ministrations and when he dragged his finger over that place inside of her, she couldn’t stop herself from moaning his name. Her quiet breathy mews filled his tent as he continued to assault the delicate spot causing her eyes to roll back and her back to arch into him.

It felt unexpectedly embarrassing to be able to feel his muscles moving between them as he pleasured her. His soft gasps of effort by her ear combined with the scent of his sweat and perfume filling her nostrils proved more erotic than she was prepared for. Sooner than she would have liked she was nearing her climax.

“Come for me love, I can tell you’re almost there.” he whispered in her ear.

A furious blush took over her cheeks despite the blood loss but she did just that. Moaning his name she came, her walls spasmed around him squeezing his finger so tight he feared it might break. She relaxed back into the pillows and he gave her a moment to recover, marvelling at the slick that now dripped down her thighs.

As he reached to unlace his pants, a part of him hesitated, the unease he felt every time before bedding someone would stubbornly not leave him alone. He still pushed it down. Having no patience to fight himself he opened his breeches and swiftly took out his cock.

Rocking his hips slowly against her opening, he inched his way inside before pushing forward and bottoming out in one swift movement. A soft sigh left his lips at how warm she was, how welcoming her body felt.

“Does this feel good, darling?” he asked, giving a few slow, experimental thrusts; she was still so very tight around his cock he could barely move.

“Gods,yes-...You know it does,” she pouted and he smirked, kissing her once again.

He set a gentle pace, pulling nearly all the way out of her before languidly rolling his hips forward, inch by inch, drawing moans from both of their throats. “You’re going to have to be quiet, you know,” he whispered against her ear.

He finished one particularly delicious thrust, groaning and burying his face in her neck, trying to muffle the sound. “Gods, you feel good,” he mumbled, luxuriating in the feel of her pressing around his cock, hot and wet and soft as silk.

Wordless little noises of pleasure escaped her as she started to rock back against him, joining into the rhythm he had set. Their motions felt like the waves of the ocean crashing against the sea. But his movements soon became practiced as instinct started to take over and he felt himself submerge into the fog despite his efforts to stay in the moment. He wanted to be here, with her, feeling this connection but his mind slipped away, beaches and vast waters behind his eyelids.

Suddenly he felt her grip his shoulders and push against him. When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the tent canvas before the rest of the surroundings began to come to him. The blanket that was under him, the stacks of books by side and various bottles of potions and blood strewn about. And finally, the woman on top of him who was straddling him now. The gentle feeling of her as she ground her hips against him and her glowing eyes attracting him like a moth to a flame.

“Oh? Are you looking for a ride, darling?” he teased, surprising himself at how even his voice sounded.

Thiriann answered him by leaning down, hair falling around him like wavy black curtains so she could kiss him again. He gripped her supple thighs as she rode him, savouring the sensation of her wrapping tightly around his length as they licked into each other's mouths, tongues sliding against one another.

She lifted herself up over him, letting her hands wander up and down his front, watching his muscles tighten and relax under the gentle pressure. Her fingers brushed over one of his nipples and she relished in the shudder the gesture drew out of him. He groaned, eyelids fluttering as she began to move earnestly on top of him.

Instinctively he gripped her hips pulling her down hard on his length causing them both to moan.

“That’s…cheating-” she gasped out as he kept thrusting from under her, refusing to surrender the upper hand.

“You were expecting me to play fair?” he smirked at her amused and Thiriann rolled her eyes. Taking the momentary distraction, he rolled them again and pined her under him once more.

“Fuck!” she hissed into his mouth but he didn't let her recover as he began bucking into her with desperate urgency. Driving deeper and deeper with every thrust he could feel the wetness gushing out of her, soaking him and the robe under her. She spread her legs further allowing him to pump freely as she held onto his shoulders, dragging her nails over his skin but keeping them far above his scars. He growled into her neck as her heat squeezed him impossibly tighter trying to draw him in even closer.

She saw stars as he ground his hips against hers, putting just enough pressure on her clit to push her over the edge.

“Astarion -” That was all she managed to get out before she came, hard, spasming and clenching violently around his cock. Ripples of pleasure spread through her body as her sweet moans slipped into his ear like sobs in tandem with the rhythmic contractions.

He bit into her neck again and followed her over, groaning into the mess he’d made of her throat. She held him as he shook with it, pleasure obliterating his every thought and for a moment there was nothing but the blissful sensations of her warmth. Half-gasps, half-moans spilled out of his throat as he rode the aftershocks, fangs buried deep in her neck.

After his body stopped shuddering and the fog of pleasure lifted, Astarion finally collapsed on top of her bringing a soft sigh from her lips.

He felt he should get up, move away, and dress himself but he didn't want to leave, to go out of her vicinity where the cold would surely sweep in and chill him to the bone. He wanted to stay here in her arms, to soak in the warmth of her body, of her presence. Every inch between them felt too much, too long.

He relaxed onto her further, head still buried in the crook of her neck and she could tell he had fallen asleep. Unusual as it was, he drew breath even in slumber, the gentle cold exhales caressing her collarbone. The way he curled up further reminded her of a cat, maybe an overgrown undead cat. He hissed like one too when irritated. A wave of protectiveness surged within her and she wrapped her arms tighter around him. He would probably hate it but this felt nice, holding him like this, enjoying the security of his embrace and keeping him safe in hers, next to her heart.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #astarion x thiriann

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utarinho-bonjour · 3 months ago

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my tsats 2 expectations!

Nico looking healthier: At the end of tsats1 we see him thinking "how could i not eat when it gives so much pleasure?" or smt like that. I can see him improving significantly his eating habits and at least gaining a bit of muscular mass (is that how we put it?), which will make him more powerful, since normally eating a grape a day might reduce your necromancy powers.

Nico being cute: we can absolutely expect that he will be insufferable next to will in this book. Like, he was already being the cringiest nerd ever at the first book, where he still had a LOT of emotional limitations, he wouldnt let go of will, always touching him and showing absurd amounts of affection through his touch. We can expect him being a little shit even more now that he seems to be getting more and more comfortable with wills touch.

TEENAGER COCOA PUFFS: (god i love this one). I think it could be something like: the more nico grows comfortable with aspects of his trauma, the more the cocoa puffs grow. The more he accepts and deals with shame, the more the little ball of darkness grows until it actually evolves as something with a physical form. I remember seeing something about the cocoapuffs taking animal forms as they grow and i LOVE this concept. Imagine some monster or deity trying to taunt nico with shame or envy and this teenager sized bear shows up from the darkness. God, i cant, nico is the coolest character EVER.

COCOA PUFFS: i like the concept of them also growing independet, as much as the idea of some little balls of darkness following nico is very dear to me, i also like the idea of them exploring the world or evolving as creatures too. They would be independent creatures but as an extention of nico, they have their own personalities, connected with their respective trauma but you can see the action part being similar to nicos.

COCOA PERSONALITIES: Shame being shy but when cornered they get angry and defensive. Envy being full of pride and "comunicative" but when triggered they get quiet and cold.

NICO GETTING HADES' BLESSING: i think one of the things most of the nico stans have in common is an absurd love for his demonstrations of power 🙂‍↕️. The thing with hades' blessing is: we dont know what it is, up to this point we havent seen anyone get it and deal with it yet, which is very cool because we can overpower it on our heads 🤭! I THINK, the hades blessing would act to counter the biggest weakness of most (ig) children of hades, it would waste way less energy. Of course it would seem sick, like making nico actually look and perform as a creature of the underworld, him getting horns, maybe? nico getting black eyes? his skin turning grey? his hair turning white? nico having less form? being completelly engulfed by shadows? God i loooove fanservice, lets go rick and mark yall have one job, and it is to make nico look like a dragon ball transformation, so we can look at it and think "sick". I like to think that his fighting style at this state merges with his powers, going for a kick at his oponents head then suddenly apearing behind them? sick. stealing the life of his oponents? killing them while healing himself from it? sick. getting shadows with venon around him? absolutely sick.

NICO BEING GOOD AT GAMES: i love gamer nico. It matches his personality soo well. That is like the best remedy to insomnia, right? Im not really a gamer myself aside from competitive online games, and i cant really imagine nico playing league (ew), but i could see him ending resident evil 7 in a night. Playing tomb raider? yes! I could see him playing most adventure, suspense and horror games, and the thing is: bitch can play the most gut wrenching games with the scariest jump scares EVER, and he wouldnt even flinch. on the other side, him getting easily scared by anything on this games would also be super funny. Bitch screaming like a prey runing from a lion while playing dbd. He went to tartarus and is dissolving by a jumpscare? funniest concept ever.

NICO LOOKING HANDSOME: and way more intimidating. With some sun, actually being happy for once, better eating habits and accepting himself i think he would look quite good. I see him now with very black hair and very black doe eyes, a full mouth and a very straight and a bit too big nose, a bony face shape and a little bit of eyebags. I like to think he still has these features but his face is really symetrical and his skin makes him look like a doll, his lips and beautifull but his eyes, even though they look beautiful, the look is haunting, and make you need to look away. He looks like he's reading your mind, but he also looks so handsome you want to keep looking. I think he has long lashes too, and his scar only makes him more intimidating, it is the only not symetrical thing on his face and it makes him stand out. He has a cold look in his eyes, you never know what he is thinking (aside from will that reads him like a book), and the fact that he is constantly getting healthier and more handsome is very haunting.

NICO ACCEPTING HIS GOOD PARTS AND WILL ACCEPTING HIS BAD PARTS: I think this one is my favorite so far, Nico being able to sustain himself in a fight, stealing life from oponents (i loooove this one), or simply learning how to heal because he understands that death and life are the same thing. While Will understands that not all lives are meant to be saved, and to save more lives it might take some difficult choices like not saving others. It might make him get the hability of necrosing things just like nico, or (like canon) giving diseases just like he heals.

thats it for now! english is not my first language! be kind.

#nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #solangelo #the sun and the star #tsats spoilers #will solace

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foster-the-world · 22 days ago

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Help without the crazies

The past two years baby boy has had a really hard time, with accompanying bad behaviors the weeks following daylight savings time. Last year I thought it was just sleep disruptions but he seems to be sleeping fine.

This year it has corresponded with his eczema (constant itching) and asthma (coughing) returning. He also has some GI issues. He doesn't complain about it but his poop is not right. So I'm wondering if its a seasonal allergy issue? He's an excellent eater - so 90% of his diet is fruits, veggies, meat and pasta. He's not particularly into sugar but will have some on occasion (1-2 times a week a small portion maybe?). He has a high tolerance for pain/doesn't feel pain as much as other people. With all of these symptoms I suspect his body low level always feels bad but he doesn't know any different and/or doesn't know how to describe it.

I'm trying to explore if cutting out dairy or gluten or histamine (or, or, etc, etc it could be so many things??) could help him. I don't think red dyes are the issue. Again, he mainly eats whole foods. I've sent off for a tiny health brand gut test. I've read its really helpful and also read its a scam so who knows. I found a functional pediatrician that can help explore the allergy/diet issues but she doesn't have openings until June. She claims she'll do both holistic medicine and modern medicine. I don't want anyone who doesn't believe in vaccines. My kid has it hard enough damn if I'm going to let him get the measles.

Has anyone explored any of this with their kids?

I've tried joining some FB groups and the mom's are too MAHA for my taste. Someone was looking for natural remedies for a appendicitis and proceeded to list all of the classic/terrible symptoms they had been suffering with for days while trying to treat it with bone broth. BONE BROTH!!! Three out of roughly ten comments were like go to the hospital if your appendicitis burst you can most definitely die. The other 7 gave some natural ideas that absolutely will not work and advised avoiding antibiotics. WTF? Who cares if you have a "healed" gut if you are dead. Luckily, the commentator posted she did go to the hospital had the appendices removed and was doing fine.

Another commenter said their kid has been puking for days since they put them on the GAPS diet protocol and commenters saying to push through it. Not doing that to my kid. No way. No how.

Food seems like a great preventative "medication." I can believe it could help my kid feel better (or not but worth exploring) but I'm not looking for a cure. Anyone I'm looking for a group that's more aligned. Or maybe just the doctor can help. I find it hard to follow the Mom group's advice if they are so wrong on so many things.

Happened to have a pediatric patient yesterday whose mother randomly mentioned that diet (removing gluten and sugar) had made all of the difference. She said she wasn't talking before and post diet has gained a lot of words. This mom seemed like my kind of person - very even keeled. Odd coincidence for the same week I'm researching all of the diet link.

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jensthwa · 10 months ago

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

‎‎‎‎-ˏˋ⋆ cami ⋆ she/her ⋆ 21+ ⋆ˊˎ-

‎‎‎‎‎ -ˏˋ inbox ⋆ recs ˊˎ-

「 ♡︎ fluff 」 ✮ 「 ☽ smut 」 ✮ 「 ☁︎ angst 」 ✮ 「 ༊ one shot 」 ✮ 「 𖦹 series 」

𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙:

love's an uncharted path universe MASTERLIST ★.

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

coming soon !

ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

i was made for lovin' you - ༊ / ☽ / ♡︎ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

in an attempt to grasp at his youth, seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. when it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ

mountebank chem - 𖦹 / ☁︎ / ☽ / ♡︎ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

the first time you met yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. you didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and jeong yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. is that reason enough to hate his guts? well, of course! now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? and, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

our field of dreams ( ft. mingi) coming soon !

ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

coming soon !

ꜱᴀɴ

we can't be friends - ༊ / ☁︎ / ☽ / ♡︎ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

san is your first love. he broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. but his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid san when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

ᴍɪɴɢɪ

show & tell - ☽ / ♡ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

summary: you have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

show & tell pt. 2 - ☽ / ☁︎ / ♡ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

summary: after the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

a very show & tell christmas ☽ / ♡ (part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

summary: it's been a few months since you and Mingi got together. It's your first christmas as a couple but not your first one together. as he watches you re-organize the tree in his living room, he can't help but reminisce on the key moments that made him realize you're his person.

our field of dreams ( ft. yunho) coming soon !

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

wooyoung's prelude*: a clown's remedy to heal a broken heart - ༊ / ☁︎ / ☽ / ♡︎ (halloween special, part of the love's an uncharted path universe)

summary: a drunk and kind of akward conversation inside of a closet is the start of wooyoung's journey into healing his broken heart. only he doesn't really know the name of the scarlet witch that helped mend a heart that wasn't supposed to break anymore, even if she starts plaguing his thoughts and dreams after that.

* introductory one shot for his story on the universe.

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ

coming soon !

𝐁𝐓𝐒

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ

coming soon !

ꜱᴇᴏᴋᴊɪɴ

coming soon !

ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ

coming soon !

ʜᴏꜱᴇᴏᴋ

coming soon !

ᴊɪᴍɪɴ

coming soon !

ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ

coming soon !

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

so highschool coming soon !

rekindled fates coming soon !

#m:masterlist #ateez #bts #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #bts x reader #bts fic #bts imagines #bts fanfic #m:inbox

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iggyshippingcorner · 24 days ago

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2: alpha stone/omega robotnik (canon-compliant, s2) (word count: 2550)

[ here is my second drabble for the poll prompts featuring: reunions, the mean bean cafe, dubiously consensual bond-bites, talking around your feelings, and "it's not miscommunication if there's no communication to begin with". ]

this is dedicated to the lovely (-) anon in my inbox who has been absolutely DELIVERING with abo asks for the last few weeks. thank you so much for this idea!

The loneliness is the worst part, even after eight months of the doctor’s absence.

Stone brews coffee and serves customers and maintains the pop-up lab outside of business hours, while the loneliness aches like a bruise, nestled deep in his chest. There is a gaping abyss in his routine, in his life, a doctor-shaped hole in his every waking moment. Time doesn’t soothe it, just emphasises the raw edges of it. Sometimes, when the pain of it drives him to more traitorous thoughts, he supposes it would be easier if he knew the doctor was dead. If he knew there was no other recourse, at least he would know what to do.

But eight months without any evidence of his demise-- or his survival, his alpha brain whines, gutted-- means Stone can only follow the Robotnik Manifesto and wait by the door of the Mean Bean cafe for his doctor to come back home. Making too many cups of coffee for someone who hates the taste (he much prefers tea) and polishing the badniks until they gleam. Pressing his fingers into the slowly fading welt of a mark on his neck where the doctor claimed him-- has claimed him, over and over, refreshing the indents of his teeth every time they begin to heal.

Stone doesn’t know what he’ll do when the bite finally heals over. On the bad days, he considers going at the flesh of his neck with one of his trusty knives, to flay the marks of the doctor’s incisors open, begging them to scar more deeply. But he remembers how Robotnik feels about his tools, and knows the only thing he can do is wait patiently for the doctor’s return. Perhaps if he plays his cards right, the doctor will remedy the issue sooner rather than later. On the really bad days, he even fantasises about the doctor baring his throat, allowing Stone to claim him back-- though these thoughts feel even more traitorous than the others, to dream about the doctor being any kind of submissive. It doesn’t stop them from happening with higher frequency, the longer time goes on and the distance between him and his memories widens.

In a frantic effort to remedy this, he’s been thinking about the first time Robotnik bit him, turning the memory over and over in his mind like he might find something new. Replaying a cherished moment until he can see it every time he closes his eyes, seeking comfort from ghosts.

[ He’s only been working under Dr. Robotnik for a week, and it’s been one hazing test after another. Stone had been warned about this, the domineering and the posturing and the physical threats. But not one person had warned him about the proximity.

“Did I give you permission to think? In my lab?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so Stone keeps his mouth shut. Dr. Robotnik doesn’t seem to find this enough, as he clamps one gloved hand over Stone’s mouth and leans in even closer. “I asked you to do one simple thing, agent-- do not get your useless alpha stench on anything in my lab. None of this is yours. Hell, when you are working in my lab, you are mine. I decide where your scent goes.”

It violates at least three different HR mandates on physical engagement, five on hostile workplaces, and definitely qualifies for a designation harassment suit. Stone is honestly elated. The doctor has been searching for his scent. And the words themselves are halfway to an informal claim. Physical, non-sexual displays of domination are usually something a self-respecting alpha has to pay for, but all Stone has to do is breathe a little too loudly in the doctor’s direction and--

A sharp sting of teeth at his throat cuts through his introspection. It’s not an attempt to claim-- not anywhere close enough to be effective-- but it’s… it’s almost offensively brazen, to bite an unmarked alpha first. The doctor pulls back, self-satisfaction clear on his face. Stone isn’t sure what his own expression is, and isn’t that a treat? He tries not to breathe too heavily against the glove still covering his mouth.

It’s just another attempt to get him to quit. Stone ignores the heat rushing to his face and the growl of his alpha brain to get his own incisors on display in favour of raising one eyebrow, the closest to a challenge he can get without opening his mouth. Dr. Robotnik’s smug expression morphs into shock, then determined fury. He shoves Stone back against the wall he’d pinned himself against, one hand still clamped over his mouth, his other arm braced against Stone’s chest, forcing him against the lab wall. He narrowly avoids slamming his head back against the wall, his palms braced flat against it in an effort to keep from reaching out, from touching the doctor.

Another sharp bite, fangs sinking into the column of his throat, inches shy of the bonding gland. Canines savagely tear through flimsy skin, teeth just a tad sharper than any beta’s ought to be. Stone clenches his jaw, and makes no move to throw the other man off despite his capability to. The submission makes Dr. Robotnik growl, rumbling his displeasure right against Stone’s carotid. The position doesn’t let Stone move very much, but he still tilts his chin up and to the right as far as he can, bares his bonding site like a dare and the doctor--

Well, let it be said that Dr. Robotnik never backs down from a challenge. ]

The day the doctor comes back arrives without a whisper or inclination of difference. It’s a busy Tuesday morning that melts into a lazy Tuesday afternoon, pulling the last sheet of danishes from the oven in between an earl grey with lavender for Mrs. Mathers and a trio of frozen hot chocolates for some local teens. The text sends him into a flurry of activity, banishing his customers with a kind, disarming smile and a claim of “family emergency”. His scent must be doing something in his favour because several people pack up without him having to cajole them in the slightest, and wish him good luck. He has the entire cafe shuttered and cleaned in twenty minutes, and he retreats to make sure the pop-up lab is just as clean.

By the time the doctor gives him an ETA 5 text (gracious, lovely, merciful), he’s gotten the badniks spotless and the lab perfect and his ingredients measured out. The latte comes together like second nature, easy as breathing, but without any complexity to distract his whirling thoughts.The doctor is back. The doctor is back! If he had a tail, it would be wagging furiously. He carefully etches his foam art, willing his hands to stop trembling in excitement. His heart thumps loudly in his ears.

He gazes down at the foam and wonders if it’s a little over the top. His face and ears feel warm. His alpha brain crows eagerly for his… well. For his doctor. It may be humiliating to any other alpha to crave the presence of someone who you aren’t mated to, the way he does, but Stone cares little for the opinions of fools. His neck itches, tender bond gland throbbing under the skin. He wipes the back of his wrist across his cheek, letting out a quiet laugh as he gets a whiff of his own elated pheromones. Pull it together, Stone.

The bell above the doors chimes and breaks his moment of distraction. Stone straightens up, folds his hands in front of himself, tail wagging, ears perked. The doctor sweeps into the humble cafe with a manic grin on his face and a slightly surprising lack of hair, but it’s him. Fondness and relief swells within Stone’s chest. Robotnik draws closer, moustache wild and eyes shadowed by the dim lights overhead.

His hands reach out for the cup. Stone places it in his palms as delicately as he would a Badnik power core. Robotnik brings it up to his face, takes a long inhale of the dark roast, and then lifts the mug to his lips. Stone draws in a slow breath and--

The thick scent of honey and myrrh and something distinctly earthy fills his senses. And underneath it all, the immediately identifiable scent of an omega. The overload of information nearly causes him to miss the look of satisfaction that crosses the doctor’s face as he savours his first sip of the latte. The flashpoint surge of pride in his work is overshadowed quickly by a growing sense of envy. Eight months of absence and the doctor comes whirling back into his life smelling like some omega?

He forces himself back into the present as the strange red alien stalks closer, eyes wary and narrowed. He plays along as best he can, not having to fake his relief or his concern as the doctor gives a barebones explanation, but he seethes inside. He’s given a moment of reprieve when the doctor slips away to the bathroom and the alien exits the cafe to… Stone’s not actually sure what it’s doing. But the scent finally clears and allows him a moment of clarity, brain unclouded by the fog of jealousy. Stone assesses what he knows-- the doctor has been off-planet for eight months. The doctor smells strongly of an omega, an unbonded one at that. The doctor is extremely touch-averse, scent-sensitive, and difficult to get along with. The odds of him actually coming into contact with a foreign omega are, gratifyingly, next to nothing.

But then…. Where is the scent coming from? Stone sweeps the main lab floor to give himself something to do with his hands. He can hear the shower running in the other room. Robotnik smells like an omega. A particularly fragrant one. Stone has never encountered his unfettered scent before, usually buried beneath the lab’s scent dampeners and the smell of coffee and motor oil that clung to both of their clothes. His neck itches. The pieces come together slowly, puzzle unfolding

The door to the bathroom clanks open. Steam spills out, and Robotnik comes out, dressed in a loose, black tunic and some comfortable pants Stone had pulled from his own dresser upstairs. His moustache is still damp. That infuriatingly lovely scent fills the space between them rapidly, and something in it makes Stone’s mouth flood with saliva. The doctor sighs loudly, voice wonderfully familiar. “You would not believe how long I have been waiting for a hot shower, Stone. If I had the materials I would have-- why are you looking at me like that?”

Stone blinks several times. In his mind, a single lightbulb blinks on after several false starts. His hands tighten imperceptibly around the handle of the broom. If he blurts it, confronts the doctor, he might flee into the night and never look back. If he doesn’t confirm it right now, he might die on the spot. The itch beneath his skin intensifies.

It’s not his best idea, but it is… efficient.

Stone digs his fingers into the knot of his tie, loosening it. He works open the top few buttons of his shirt. Robotnik’s eyes zero in on the movement, and he draws closer, moth to flame, predator to prey. Stone has to swallow a few times before the words come out properly, slightly raspy, “I think we’re a little overdue, doctor.” Hook.

He bares the nearly-healed bruise of his bonding site, and he watches Robotnik’s pupils dilate in the familiar blue-tinged glow of the lab lights. He takes the next few steps into Stone’s personal space, that sweet, earthy fragrance washing over him like a thick fog. Each breath draws it deeper into his lungs, Robotnik’s true scent settling heavy on his tongue. A gloved hand comes up to grip his jaw tightly.

“A bit presumptuous, agent,” he hisses, though there’s a faint dusting of pink to his cheeks that makes Stone’s heart skip a beat. Its existence makes him bolder than he would otherwise be: “No more presumptuous than half-bonding your subordinate.” Line.

Robotnik draws back a half-centimeter, surprised. Stone watches the realisation strike him, and eagerly bares his throat before the anger (or worse, the horror) can take root. He’s sure the doctor can see his pulse thrumming beneath the skin like this, can smell the honest desire and devotion as he leans back in to sniff blatantly at his throat. The fingers gripping his jaw flex ever-so-slightly, and he swallows.

“You didn’t know?” Robotnik asks, the softest secret pressed delicately into Stone’s waiting palms. His voice doesn’t tremble, but it comes far too close for comfort. Stone settles a gentle hand on his hip, heart stuttering at the physical reminder of him.

“I never suspected anything,” Stone says earnestly. He feels more than sees a measure of tension bleed out of the doctor at his reassurance, and oh if that isn't the headiest rush of satisfaction. Robotnik lets out a laugh that is just a touch too loud for how close they are. “Of course you didn’t. I didn’t synthesise my own blockers for nothing.”

The response wrings a laugh out of Stone despite the hammering of his heart. He missed this-- their easy banter, the suffocating proximity. To have it all back now, after so long is nearly unbelievable. He could fall to his knees and weep, if not for the vice-like hand gripping his jaw and keeping him upright.

The wicked sting of fangs in his neck snaps him out of his maudlin thoughts. He groans, a thoughtless little sound, and Robotnik laughs again. The noise is muffled by Stone’s flesh, but the vibration of it sends shivers from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His teeth bite deeper, and Stone sighs as the itching under his skin finally abates and his bond gland settles in the wake of the doctor’s sharp canines, carving the evidence of devotion into Stone’s skin where it belongs.

When Robotnik finally pulls away, his teeth and lips are faintly stained with Stone’s blood. He looks… Stone blinks long and slow at him, feeling more than a little dizzy. After a moment of bated breath silence, Robotnik finally says, “I suppose it’s time we found a more permanent solution, mm?”

Stone’s mouth drops open. A dark red flush colours Robotnik’s cheeks. They stare at each other for a moment longer. The doctor shakes his head slightly with the hand still gripping his jaw. “Stone? Don’t tell me I killed what few brain cells remain bouncing around in your skull.”

A slow, uncontrollable smile threatens to split Stone’s face in half as the words sink in. A more permanent solution. The longer he stays silent, the darker the doctor blushes. As lovely as it is to watch, Stone would be remiss to leave him hanging.

“I would be honoured, maestro,” Stone murmurs, chest feeling fit to burst with the rush of fondness coursing through him. “To wear your mark for the rest of my life.”

It’s odd. Stone hasn’t gone anywhere the past eight months, but looking at the victorious, maniacal grin that spreads across Robotnik’s face, he feels an awful lot like he’s finally come home.

#stobotnik #iggy fic tag #abo #fic #(-)#this was SO much fun to write #i hope yall enjoy <3 #(-) you live rent free in my head with your abo ideas and i hope this is a suitable offering in return

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