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zhongrin · 11 months ago

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honey, can you…. un-sick me please?

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, diluc

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, crack, 'puppy' nickname used (wriothesley), you’re sick but nothing life-threatening (common cold/flu/fever), they’re all just so soggy for you

✼ a/n ┈ i did change my formatting recently, yes. i like this one better methinks hehe

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“dear, i assure you, the ‘passing on the sickness by kissing’ method has never been proven to work... ah, please don’t give me such downtrodden eyes, you know i cannot help but give in when you look so saddened…”

zhongli was ever so patient with your whininess, clinginess, and overall annoying (your words, not his) self when you were sick with this kind of fever. he personally thought it was adorable, the way you insisted on following him around, asking to be pampered and spoiled in such a vulnerable moment…

… and boy, did he spoil you rotten.

though his mortal vessel is incapable of catching mortal diseases, he had seen the ever-evolving medical treatments throughout the millenia to know that your request to ‘kiss me so i can heal faster’ was meant to go unfulfilled. but how could he refuse you when you look so cute? he sighed fondly and ended up peppering you with kisses all over your flushed face, a gentle smile curling his lips when you giggled and clung to him even tighter in response.

anything to soothe his treasure.

“you’re delirious. go back to bed.”

your boyfriend might sound blunt and mean, yet the way he cradled your sickly self carefully and the gentleness in which he tucked you back into bed behind the blankets was everything but uncaring. al haitham was as complex as the books he read, but if you were thorough enough, you would be able to see the worried lines creasing his eyebrows and the turmoil behind his usually impassive green eyes fringed with bright terracotta lines.

al haitham became a mirror of his grandma ever since your body proceeded to shut down on you. he would make you soup and helped you eat it when you couldn’t muster the energy to do it yourself, and he fussed over you in his own way. admittedly, he had secretly sneaked in some herbs - grown with the help of his dendro vision - into said soup, which he read would aid you in your recovery… but that was a secret he shall keep to himself.

wriothesley looked torn between wanting to laugh at you or being incredibly worried if the fever was affecting you too much. he opted to shake his head with a chuckle and hoisted you up into his arms before tucking you back to bed despite your feeble protests.

“sigewinne told you to take plenty of rest, remember? you’ll get ‘un-sick’ed soon enough if you just listen to her, you silly puppy.”

your whines and pouts did nothing to convince him otherwise. your beloved seemed intent to keep you on the bed. he was very much tempted to threaten you with a promise to cuff yourself to the bed if you keep being stubborn, but he decided not to. instead, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal hound until the medicine kicked in and you fell into a deep slumber.

“let's have a picnic under the sun when you recover, yeah? but for now, let me just guard you while you're at your most vulnerable, sweetheart.”

neuvillette, the infamously aloof and diligent iudex, was anything but austere when it came to you. one might say he takes his role as your husband more seriously than his role as the chief of justice - and considering his accomplishments as the latter, it was an understatement to say that he excelled as your lover.

the day you got sick, rain fell throughout fontaine, persistent and seemingly neverending. it mattered not if it was just a common cold. you might as well be on your deathbed judging from the saddened gaze of your dearest’s sharp eyes and the way he was calling upon all doctors in fontaine to check up on you. even when you tried to lighten up his somber mood with your words, he merely grasped your hands tighter and brought them to his forehead, silently vowing to do all he could to make you healthy again.

“it is maddening that i do not have the power to heal humans, but rest assured that i will ensure that you can recover in the fastest and most efficient way possible, my love.”

the only time master diluc would be present in the kitchen is when 1) it’s a special day to you or the both of you, or 2) you’re cooking, or 3) you’re sick.

and currently, you’ve fallen ill from your recent adventure of dancing in the rain with your beloved. it was an addition into the romantic moments which the two of you would no doubt engrave in your hearts, yet while his pyro vision had subconsciously kept your lover’s body temperature from droppimg, it failed to do the same to you - hence why you were left with a bad case of flu and sore throat.

still, being sick while being diluc’s lover had its perks: for one, there were the maids who would take a good care of you, and they were always so considerate of your needs, especially when you were in this condition. but the best part would have to be your devoted red haired man doting after you like an overly attached falcon, personally taking it upon himself to nurse you back to full health. he was ever so patient with you, chuckling when you babble nonsensically, brain fogged and loose-lipped.

“yes, dear. i shall take it upon myself to ‘un-sick’ you. now, it’s time for your medicine. i’ll help you sit up... my love, don’t make that face… i promise to give you a forehead kiss if you finish the medicine.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #al haitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli #wriothesley #al haitham #neuvillette #diluc #rin writes

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fanaticsnail · 6 months ago

Note

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid #kid x reader #op kid x reader #one piece x reader #gn!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #eustass kid x reader #subtle killer x reader #killer x reader #one piece kid x reader

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anenaturallc · 7 months ago

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Promoters of Echinacea believe that the supplement boosts the immune system and can reduce symptoms of infections and other illnesses, including the common cold.

#herbalism #herbs #herbalist #herbsforhealth #medicinalherb #medicinalplants #medicina #medicinalherbsclass #medicinalherbsgarden #aneapothecary #anenaturallc #allmedicinalherbs #echinacea #immunity #immune system #cough #cold and flu season

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year ago

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fever (what a lovely way to burn)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: M

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, character with fever/illness, mild sensual content

Summary: request: "since you saved Sebastian from Azkaban, he has met you in the common room every morning and you have gone to breakfast together. One morning he isn't there so you go to his room looking for him to find him in bed, poorly."

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–” He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.” “N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

Monday, October 5, 1891

Even a month after the start of term, it’s unseasonably warm in the Highlands. The heat from the dog days of summer persists well into the arrival of autumn, permeating the ancient stone walls of the castle and settling like a thin layer of fog across Hogwarts’ students.

Professor Sharp’s N.E.W.T.s-level Potions class meets promptly at nine o’clock every morning. Despite the early time slot, the dungeon-level classroom starts to become warm rather quickly thanks to the heat of two dozen bodies and six potion stations, each with their flickering flames preheating the students’ pewter cauldrons.

Your little trio is usually the last to arrive from breakfast. Sebastian sidles up to the doorway just as Professor Sharp is preparing to close it, gallantly offering to hold it open for you and Ominis as you take your time sauntering down the hall, arms linked together and chatting happily about the latest gossip to have surfaced in the Great Hall.

Then you settle in at the potions table squarely in the middle of the classroom, which you’d unabashedly claimed at the start of term. (Ominis can hear Professor Sharp most clearly here, and Sebastian, as always, gets to remain the center of attention.)

Finally, with Ominis’ dictation quill hovering over his parchment, Professor Sharp begins his daily discourse.

“Dittany, as you’ll recall, is one of the most useful herbs for creating a wide range of healing draughts,” he explains, showing off a tendril of the fiercely pink plant clipped from Professor Garlick’s greenhouse just that morning. “Can anyone give me an example of one?”

“Wiggenweld Potion, sir,” Amit chimes in.

“Very good, Mister Thakkar,” Sharp replies with an approving nod. “Another?”

Adelaide Oakes timidly raises her hand. “Essence of Dittany, sir?”

“Well done, Miss Oakes,” he murmurs. “Though not as effective as a properly-brewed bottle of Wiggenweld, dittany on its own can be used to craft a powerful restorative tonic – especially useful in preventing the occurrence of scars. Five points to Hufflepuff.”

Then Professor Sharp glances around the room expectantly. “One more, perhaps?”

“Moustache paste, sir?” Sebastian mumbles under his breath, and you quickly elbow him in the side.

“What was that, Mister Sallow?” Professor Sharp drawls.

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek. “Er, the Antidote to Common Poisons, perhaps?”

Professor Sharp levels Sebastian with a dubious look. “I’m afraid not. While dittany is a broadly useful herb, its powers are generally limited to healing, not curing. When considering its uses, think ‘paper cut,’ not ‘influenza.’”

You raise your hand and ask, “Sir, are there any potions that do cure illnesses?”

“Yes, in fact,” Professor Sharp answers. “The Pepperup Potion will quickly resolve any common colds or cases of the flu, with the enigmatic side effect of generating steam that will pour from your ears for hours on end.”

You wince a bit. “I suppose that’s worth being over a cold in a day.”

“I should think so,” he replies with a slight grin. “So has the majority of the wizarding world since the twelfth century.”

As Professor Sharp segues into a lecture on the history of healing potions, you pull out a piece of parchment and start to take down some notes.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “What does Pepperup Potion taste like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “I’ve only had it once, and it was a decade ago.”

You frown. “Why’s that?”

“I can’t drink it,” Sebastian says simply. “I’m allergic to bicorn horn.”

You blink, surprised. “You’re… allergic? How did you even discover that about yourself?”

“Oh, it was gruesome,” Ominis chimes in gleefully.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well, I had my suspicions as a child when my parents gave me Pepperup Potion and steam poured out of my ears, nose, and mouth for a full week. Simply suffering through the cold would have been better.”

“And then?” you prompt.

“Well… in our third year, Anne and I made some Polyjuice Potion,” Sebastian admits, glancing around furtively. “We wanted to see if we could attend our classes all day as each other without anyone noticing the difference.”

“And Polyjuice Potion has bicorn horn,” you surmise.

Ominis looks delighted. “They were both in the Hospital Wing for three days, stuck as half-formed versions of each other.”

You gasp in disbelief. “That sounds awful!”

“It was the one and only time in their lives they were truly identical!” Ominis crows. “‘Sebastianne,’ we called them.”

You can’t help but giggle at Ominis’ delight while Sebastian sulks.

“In any case,” Sebastian grumbles, “I can’t take Pepperup Potion anymore, but luckily I never get sick.”

“Really?” you ask skeptically. “Everyone gets a common cold once in a while.”

“Not me,” he says proudly. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. At the very least, if I have been sick, it must have been so mild that I wasn’t slowed down in the slightest – no need for Pepperup, thanks.”

“I’d be careful, Sebastian,” Ominis demurs. “Wouldn’t want to tempt fate, would we?”

With a lazy shrug, Sebastian turns to his potions station and begins to roughly chop some dittany leaves for a new healing potion Sharp intends to teach that afternoon. He glances up surreptitiously while you tie your hair back with one of those green ribbons you like to keep around your wrist for when the Potions classroom becomes especially humid with cauldron steam.

Though it’s unwise to lose focus while holding a knife, Sebastian has become quite skilled at multitasking while tending to his lovesick heart with stolen glances and half-formed daydreams.

He becomes so distracted staring at the column of your neck that when he suddenly feels a bit dizzy, he merely attributes it to the thick, heavy air in the room.

—

Tuesday, October 6, 1891

“You look dreadful,” you tell Sebastian cheerfully as you take a seat at breakfast.

Across from you, Sebastian looks a sight. His generally unruly hair is sticking up in every direction, and his face, which until this morning had still been sun-kissed and freckled from his time carrying out summer chores in Feldcroft, is ghostly pale.

“Cheers,” he grumbles, his head in his hands as he stares down at a plate full of untouched tattie scones.

You know for a fact they’re his favorite. In fact, you’ve stolen countless scones from the Great Hall on weekends when he treats himself to a bit of a lie-in just to make sure there are some left for when he finally emerges, hair rumpled and cheeks creased with pillow lines.

“Late night?” you ask him as you pour yourself some juice.

“The opposite, actually,” Ominis explains. “Sebastian was asleep before I even finished my Runes assignment last night, and I practically had to drag him out of bed this morning.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” you comment, frowning. “You’re usually up half the night reading. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Sebastian shrugs weakly. “I’m fine, I just… It’s dreadfully warm in the castle, and my head is aching.”

Without thinking, you reach across the table and press the back of your hand against his forehead.

“You’re quite hot,” you mumble.

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers, his eyes going wide. “What did you do that for?”

“You have a fever,” you explain to him. “Old Muggle trick. And your eyes are quite glassy. I think you might be coming down with something.”

Ominis unsubtly slides further down the bench.

“I’m not sick,” Sebastian protests. “It’s just the heat, it’s making me tired.”

You eye him warily, and as if to prove that he’s not ill, Sebastian lifts one of his hoarded scones to his mouth and takes a bite.

“See?” he asks with his mouth full. “M’fine.”

You grimace. “Lovely.”

Sebastian determinedly joins you and Ominis for Potions and manages to remain upright until the very end of class. He sways just a bit as he gathers up his belongings, and you offer him your shoulder while you make your way toward the stairs to Divination.

He balks when he sees the twisting spiral steps.

“On second thought,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll skive off today and get some rest.”

“Will you be alright?” you ask him concernedly. “I can come with you…”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists. “I’ll just lie down for a bit and then I’ll be grand, I promise. Save a seat for me at dinner, will you?”

Later that evening you linger in the Great Hall until the last of dinner melts through the tables down to the kitchens below, but Sebastian never shows up.

—

Wednesday, October 7, 1891

“You do not want to go in there,” Ominis tells you warningly. “Trust me, he’s a mess.”

You scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sebastian still hasn’t emerged from his dormitory in nearly eighteen hours, and you’re starting to worry for him. Ominis had brought him back some food from dinner the night before, but according to him, it had gone untouched.

When he’d failed to show his face at breakfast, you knew you had to step in.

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like this,” Ominis tries. “Sebastian is hardly a gentleman, but some things are sacred.”

“He’s our best friend,” you remind Ominis. “I really don’t care if he’s not entirely put together.”

Ominis opens his mouth as if to say more, and then seemingly changes his mind.

“Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll tell Professor Sharp you’re tending to Sebastian, and I’ll ask Amit if you can borrow his notes.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ominis,” you breathe, quickly pulling him in for a hug. “What would we do without you?”

“Rot in Azkaban, most likely,” he grumbles, which… is fair.

Once Ominis leaves for class, you gently knock on the seventh-year boys’ dormitory door. “Sebastian? Can I come in?”

Through the door, you hear him whine, “Go ‘way.”

“Sebastian,” you call out patiently. “Ominis told me you’re sick, and you haven’t gotten out of bed in too long. I’m coming in.”

He protests weakly from his bed as you open the door and slip inside, carefully pressing it closed behind you. As you’d expected, his other roommates have all gone for the day. Only Sebastian remains – or at least, you think it’s Sebastian.

All you can see sticking out from underneath the pile of pilfered blankets on his bed is a mess of curly, brown hair.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh.

“Jus’ leave me alone,” he mumbles from beneath the covers. “...I think I’m sick.”

“Finally facing the music, are you?” you tease him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed over,” he groans. “I’ve never been this ill before.”

“Should I take you to see Nurse Blainey?” you ask him. “I know you can’t have Pepperup Potion, but perhaps she has something else that would help.”

“No,” he sighs. “Ominis already sent for her, she said I’m a dafty and I’ll be fine in a coupl’a days.”

You bite back a laugh at Sebastian’s deteriorating accent; for how posh he usually sounds, apparently that rougher Feldcroft vernacular tends to slip out when he’s feeling poorly.

“Poor lamb,” you croon. “Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten?”

“M’not hungry,” he sulks. “Ominis made me drink some water before he left.”

You hum softly as you start to slowly pull his piles of blankets down low enough that you can see his face. Quickly you realize that Ominis had been exaggerating – Sebastian doesn’t look entirely a mess.

His eyes are a bit wet and glassy, you observe, and his nose is bright red from persistent rubbing with a handkerchief abandoned on his bedside table. He looks a little swollen beneath his jaw, but otherwise, he looks like he’d merely stayed awake all night, and you’ve seen a sleepless Sebastian countless times throughout your friendship.

There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw that you’ve never noticed before; it’s the same rich brown color as his wild, unkempt hair.

(Honestly, how dare he still look handsome even when he’s ill.)

“Hello, you,” you tease him in a voice just above a whisper. “Was beginning to wonder if you were even there under all those blankets.”

“I’m cold,” he complains.

“That’s the fever talking,” you tell him. “You should probably–”

But before you can tell him that he’d be better off with less covers, the blankets shift lower and you realize he’s not wearing a pajama shirt.

(Your disobedient mind immediately raises the question of whether he’s wearing anything at all, and subsequently, if you could get away with having a look. Immediately you scold that particular thought away.)

“Er, you should… don’t overheat yourself,” you finish lamely.

He’s flushed down to his chest, fever-pale skin burning red where the blankets had been piled on top of him. You discover that he’s got a thin smattering of hair here, too; he’s grown into the body of a man much sooner than many of your classmates, you imagine.

Sebastian watches as you swallow, your own eyes raking down his body.

“You’re missing class,” he observes. “You never miss class.”

“It’ll be alright, just this once,” you say softly.

For a moment you aren’t sure if you’re talking about missing class or being in Sebastian’s bed.

Then Sebastian suddenly starts to cough and hastily reaches for his handkerchief. He sounds utterly pathetic as he coughs and groans in discomfort, rolling onto his side and looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

“My chest hurts,” he whimpers. “I’ve been coughing all night.”

You reach across him and gently stroke the backs of your fingers down the middle of his chest. His skin is noticeably hot to the touch and damp with sweat.

“I can put some Muggle herbs in a warm compress for your chest,” you offer. “I know they’re not as effective as a potion would be, but it always helped me feel better when I was a child.”

“Alright, I suppose that’d be nice,” he mumbles.

But when you move to stand, he quickly snags your wrist.

“Wait,” he says. “Er… where would you go? For how long?”

“Well, I’ll have to go see if Nurse Blainey has any, and if not I can go look at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” you explain. “It might take a bit of time, I’m afraid.”

“Then, just… stay,” he whines. “Keep me company? That’s better than some plain old herbs.”

You shift onto the bed, curling up on your side behind Sebastian. It’s a tight fit, and you’re dangerously close to falling off the edge, but you’re able to leave enough space between your bodies that you can make the argument that it’s friendly, and it’s fine.

“Can I rub your back?” you ask him softly. “It might help with the soreness.”

You have no idea if it will help his aching body, but you’re eager to try it nonetheless.

“Go on,” Sebastian rasps. “I… I might fall asleep.”

“You should,” you croon. “Your body’s telling you that you need to rest.”

“S’pathetic,” he grumbles. “I never get sick.”

“You had a good run,” you tease him. “But the common cold comes for us all eventually.”

He falls silent after that, his leanly muscled arms curled around a pillow while you stroke your hand up and down the length of his back. He’s so warm, and you’re a bit anxious about letting him ride out a fever as long as he has, but soon he drifts off to sleep.

You learn two things while he rests: he snores when he’s on his back, and he frowns whenever you take your hands off of him.

—

Thursday, October 8, 1891

Ominis had managed to talk you into returning to your own dormitory for the night, promising to look after Sebastian while you got some rest. When you return the following morning, you find him in even worse condition.

His sheets are bunched down to his hips, and he’s still bare from the waist up. His entire body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and the bags underneath his eyes have worsened – despite how much rest he’s getting, he seems more fatigued than ever.

“What happened?!” you ask Ominis.

“He’s had a fever all night,” Ominis says grimly, looking just as worn out as Sebastian. “He hasn’t eaten a thing, and I’ve barely been able to get him to drink some water.”

“Oh, Seb,” you sigh, taking his clammy hand and resting it in your lap as you sit on the edge of the bed. “You poor thing.”

“I think I’m dying,” he rasps. “This is it, right?”

“Hush now, there’s no need to be so dramatic,” you gently scold him, pressing your hand to his forehead. “You’re quite warm, but I’m not worried about your imminent demise.”

“I’m disgusting,” he groans. “I can’t stop coughing, I’m sweating everywhere, I feel like I’m going to be sick but there’s nothing to–”

He cuts himself off with several dry, pathetic coughs.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” you tell him firmly. “Ominis is going to go to class and come back this afternoon with some Muggle medicinals. In the meantime, I’m going to help you eat a bit of food and have a bath.”

“N-no, absolutely not,” he stammers. “You think I want you seeing me like this any more than you already have?”

“You’ll feel better,” you promise him. “And I swear I won’t, er… look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You argue back and forth until Sebastian, utterly depleted of his typical stubbornness, loses energy and gives in. Ominis promises to stop by J. Pippin’s to see if the shopkeeper has any draughts suitable for Sebastian’s allergies before leaving to go to class, and you help Sebastian get out of bed with his arm around your shoulders and your own around his waist.

(He’s got pants on, thank Merlin, but you have to help him into a pair of pajamas to make the walk to the Slytherin baths.)

Sebastian balks when you enter the boys’ baths, but you both quickly learn there are no enchantments in place to keep you from joining him. You offer him an arm to lean on while he takes off his pajamas and coughs – this time pointedly – for you to turn around while he sinks into the lukewarm bath you’d drawn.

“This does feel nice,” he finally says once he’s settled in the opaque, murlap-scented water.

“Good,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice how your voice has gone up a bit higher than usual. “I’ll be back in a few moments with some fresh pajamas for you.”

“I’ll try not to drown while you’re gone,” he drawls, and even though he still sounds exhausted, you smile to yourself knowing that the bath is already helping him feel more like his usual self.

Hogwarts’ house elves were exceptionally fast in tidying up the boys’ dormitory while the two of you were out, so when you finally lead a clean, dry Sebastian back to his room, you’re thrilled to find freshly laundered sheets and a new pair of pillows waiting for him.

“Gods, I love magic,” he groans as he collapses into bed.

You stay all afternoon and into the evening. Ominis returns shortly before dinner with a brew from Parry Pippin himself, similar to the Pepperup Potion but with cinnamon instead of powdered bicorn horn.

(Sebastian seems to emit thin tendrils of steam straight from the top of his head after he drinks it, but he perks up all the same.)

Feenky herself brings a tray of soup and some leftover scones from breakfast once Sebastian regains his appetite. While he eats, he tells you about how he used to sit with Anne during the summers when she was particularly ill from her curse.

“At the time, I wondered if my being there was more of a help or a hindrance,” he says ruefully. “She was… hard to read, then. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed by me or appreciated me staying.”

You pause before shyly asking, “Am I helping? By being here?”

“Of course,” he says without thinking.

“Then I’m sure you were helping Anne, even when she was annoyed,” you tell him reassuringly. “That’s all we ever want to do really, isn’t it? Help the ones we love?”

Sebastian glances up at his tray with an inscrutable expression on his face. His eyes are still glassy and he’s a bit peaky, but the cinnamon-laced, not-quite-Pepperup Potion has restored some of the usual warmth in his gaze.

“Right,” he echoes. “Help the ones we love.”

You end up staying the night in the boys’ dormitory. Only Ominis knows you’re there, as he draws the curtains around the both of you before the boys’ other roommates return from the common room. Given that Sebastian seems to be feeling better already, it’s not strictly necessary.

But it feels nice all the same.

—

Friday, October 9, 1891

Sebastian’s fever finally broke during the night.

When you wake up he’s wrapped around you from behind, one of his legs jammed between yours with his arm curled possessively around your waist.

You’re sweltering, but he’s cool to the touch.

“Sebastian,” you whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Judging by the way sunlight pours over the top of Sebastian’s bed curtains, it’s well past when you’d usually wake up during the school week. You can’t hear any other snoring boys around you, either.

“Sebastian,” you hiss. “Wake up.”

He groans tiredly into your hair as his arm tightens around your waist. “No.”

“N-no?!” you sputter. “It’s morning! We… we should, er.”

You trail off when you realize you aren’t quite sure what you should be doing. Evidently you’ve missed breakfast, and you’ve likely missed the start of Potions for the third day in a row. Professor Sharp will have no choice but to give you a detention; just as well, you suppose, as you can use the time to make up what you’ve missed.

But now that the damage is done…

“How are you feeling?” you ask him softly, your eyes still fixed on the green curtains in front of your face.

“Loads better,” he says, only this time his lips are pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You gasp as he rolls more of his weight toward you, pressing you more firmly into the mattress.

“Sebastian…” you sigh.

“I had a dream about you last night,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper beneath your ear. “I’ve heard Pepperup Potion can give one strange dreams.”

“St-strange?” you whisper back. “Why was it a strange dream?”

“I suppose it wasn’t really ‘strange,’” he acquiesces. “But it was nice. Really nice.”

“Tell me about it?” you ask breathlessly.

“Perhaps I’ll show you instead,” he asks, and when you nod, he slides his hand down to your hip and turns you onto your back.

Then quite suddenly he’s leaning over you, one knee still between your thighs. He rests on his elbows so his face is just centimeters from yours, and it’s the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him since the boys put out last night’s fire.

Sebastian looks so much better. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are clear and bright, and the sickly sheen of sweat he’d worn for days is entirely gone. (His hair is still a bird’s nest, but that’s to be expected.)

“We were like this,” he tells you.

“Were we just talking?” you ask him, but you’re met with only silence.

After a beat, he asks you, “Why have you been so kind to me this week?”

“You’re my best friend,” you tell him softly. “I – I wanted to help you feel better.”

“Is that all I am?” he asks. “Am I simply your friend?”

You bite your lip hesitantly and his gaze dips down to your mouth, his brown eyes nearly black in the soft morning light.

“Do you want to kiss me, Sebastian?” you ask.

Rather than answering, he surprises you by leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he lifts one of his hands to gently tip your face toward his, cradling your jaw while he deepens the kiss into one that’s hardly sweet at all.

It feels like it’s perhaps the first time in days that Sebastian has felt hunger.

You gasp his name into his mouth and then he’s the one biting your lip, just a quick graze of his teeth before he soothes your ensuing whine with another slow kiss. He shifts his weight onto his hip to rest on the mattress beside you, using that leg between yours to coax you into lying next to him. He rewards your body’s assent with a filthy kiss – the kind you’ve only read about in those Muggle romance novels you hide under your pillow, the kind where the hero kisses the girl with his tongue in her mouth and his hand in her blouse.

“Seb,” you moan.

“I didn’t know,” he confesses against your lips.

“Didn’t know what?” you whine.

“I didn’t know you loved me until last night,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

You’re so distracted by how red and swollen his lips look that you nearly miss him saying, “You stayed with me all week, you held me, practically healed me, and I still didn’t know.”

“Of course I love you,” you tell him.

“You love Ominis, you love Poppy,” he counters. “This – us – is different. Right?”

And the truth is, you would have done anything you’d done for Sebastian for any one of your friends. You would have helped Poppy into a warm bath and back into bed, and you would have sat at Ominis’ bedside all day and torn up pieces of scone to float on the surface of his soup.

But you would not have let them press you into their bedsheets and trace their lips along your neck, and right now Sebastian is eagerly doing both.

“Yes,” you whimper, both in answer to his question and as a plea for more.

“I love you, too,” he sighs against your jaw. “I have for ages, and I didn’t want you to see me all pathetic and poorly, but you still love me anyway.”

“I’ve loved you through worse,” you quietly remind him.

He nips at your throat for that remark; you’ve both agreed to speak of your fifth year as little as possible. Truly, the only reason you’d ever bring it up now is to remind Sebastian that you’ve long since made your choice – him, over duty and the law and perhaps even reason.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “We have all morning, we have the dormitory to ourselves. Let me take care of you now.”

He pulls your thigh across his own and tangles his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair, holding you against his warm, bare chest.

“That’s tempting,” you breathe. “B-but perhaps we should check with Nurse Blainey, to see if you’re ready to return to–”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he grinds his hips against yours. There’s no mistaking that he’s aroused, and that alone convinces you that he must be feeling well – you’re positive that he would’ve been too weak for this type of debauchery yesterday morning even if you’d gotten fully nude before him and begged.

“Trust me, I feel excellent,” he moans into your mouth. “Love, please.”

You don’t come up for air for a long while after that. By the time Ominis stops by during lunchtime to check on Sebastian, he nearly trips over your skirt, hastily tossed near the doorway.

“I take it you’re feeling better,” he deadpans.

“That potion of yours worked like a charm, Ominis,” Sebastian drawls. “Cinnamon, who would have thought?”

“I don’t suppose I mentioned that Muggles find cinnamon to be an organic aphrodisiac?” Ominis says innocently. “At least, that’s what Mister Pippin said. He told me you might have some rather amorous dreams while you recover.”

“No, I think you forgot to mention that,” Sebastian replies just as innocently.

Ominis simply hums and says, “Well, now that you’ve been made aware, I’ll be off to Herbology. I’d recommend locking the door if our dear friend is going to be keeping you company this afternoon, Sebastian.”

You’re too embarrassed to say a word, but Sebastian cheerfully thanks him as he pulls the door shut and reaches for his wand on his bedside table to magically lock it behind him.

“We’ve become menaces,” you whine as he rolls on top of you once more.

Sebastian grins wickedly down at you. “Not yet we haven’t, but thank Merlin we’ve got all afternoon.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #my fic #man flu sebastian :(((

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ligayagardener · 7 months ago

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Fire Cider

Fire Cider is a lot of people’s go to remedy for colds and flu. It is best used as a preventative to stop chills from entering the body or pathogens from gaining a foothold but can provide symptomatic relief too. It includes a range of herbs that have warming, diaphoretic properties and many antimicrobials too. It’s a real shotgun approach to remedy making but includes literally everything that…

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#apple cider vinegar #colds and flu #Fire Cider #health #herbal medicines #herbal remedies #Herbs

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fangswbenefits · 11 months ago

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The Arrangement (8) - Revelations

Chapter summary: You finally confront Ava, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Innuendo. Mentions of abuse and trauma.

Word count: 5.3k

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You found him by the edge of a cliff overlooking Baldur's Gate.

The first rays of light began to spill into the morning sky in hues of yellow fused with orange. You would never tire of watching the city you called home being engulfed in such beauty.

“Enjoying the view?”

Astarion was holding a somewhat mellow smile on his lips as he turned to face you.

“I hadn't seen this much colour bathing the city in over two hundred years.”

You stopped next to him, looping an arm around his and resting your face against his shoulder.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

He sighed. “I do not want to get too attached to it. In case things go awry, that is.”

‘Awry’ meaning that he wouldn't be able to ascend…

It always made your heart clench to think about how much Astarion still held on to that.

But you didn't want to think about such things for now.

For now, you were more than content to share this moment with him.

“The sun looks beautiful on you,” you said truthfully.

It wasn't exactly a challenge, but you adored praising and stroking his ego.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “As most things do, darling."

"That is true.”

He then placed his cold hand atop yours. “As you once did.”

His words hit you with such force that you felt your chest too heavy all of a sudden.

You glanced up at him, meeting his soft crimson eyes. “Astarion…”

Would he ever move on?

Would he ever move on from you?

He offered a defeated smile. “I know, I know. Just friends, right?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He didn't utter another word as he looked on ahead.

You kept your grip around him, enjoying his firmness and how he made you feel so safe and comfortable.

Deep down, you were just thankful he couldn't see the single tear that streamed down your face.

The cold and wet trail brought you back to witness the sight of the sun emerging on the horizon line.

You pulled your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees, hugging yourself as the breathtaking view filled your vision.

How you wished you could share this with him like many times before.

As lovers.

As friends.

You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand as sadness spread inside you.

There was no point in dwelling in the impossible. At least until you found a way for him to experience all the colour the world had to offer with no limitations.

Sleep hadn't come to you this night and it wasn't because of nightmares or the fact that Astarion had left you painfully yearning for his touch.

Your mind was just all over the place, trying to make sense of how things felt with him after that conversation.

Truth be told, you were more than happy with the occasional intimacy and giving him space.

But his taunting words still lingered in your mind.

You were certain he craved more than a friendship, but how much of that spread beyond carnal lust was something you weren't sure about.

Maybe even Astarion didn't know.

As much as you longed for more, you still wanted to mend your friendship first and bridge the distance that had come between you two.

As you pushed yourself from the bed and slipped into your robe, you took a quick glance at the mirror in front of you.

Eyes puffy and reddened paired with deep eyebags.

Wonderful.

You heaved a deep sigh as you exited the room, heading towards the kitchen area to brew some tea.

The door to his room was firmly shut and you hurried past it with bare feet.

The entire house was still swallowed in silence and darkness.

You quickly lit up a few candles before reigniting the fireplace and putting the kettle on.

The familiar squeak of the door to his room filled your ears.

As the water came to a boil, you poured a few herbs inside the cup as you poured the scalding liquid.

You heard him call out your name and your stomach immediately fluttered as he came into view, slowly pacing towards you.

“How did you know it was me?”

Astarion's lips curled into a smile. “I know the sound of your footsteps by heart.”

There was no trace of deceit in his remark.

His voice rang true and not as a mere attempt at flustering you with honeyed words.

He meant it and you felt the warm embrace of his presence tightly enveloping you.

Astarion had learned the way to your heart like no one else had ever tried to.

He could crawl under your skin and have you yearn for him like no one else could.

And he did all of this effortlessly and like second nature.

You returned a warm smile, feeling the addictive embrace of his presence.

He felt like the home you longed to come back to.

As you moved to sit on the sofa nearby, enjoying the warmth that radiated from the cup in your hands, he eventually sat next to you, crimson eyes meeting yours and, for a moment, you held your breath.

He was your home.

“You look horrible.”

A snarky one.

You chuckled at his bluntness, taking a sip. “Didn't get much sleep.”

“Nightmares again?”

“No. My mind was just busy…”

He slowly nodded. “Was it too much? What we did?”

You glared at him in surprise. “What? No. What about you?”

His eyes narrowed. “I wanted more.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

He crossed his legs, adjusting his elegant shirt. “It wasn't nearly enough.”

“You were the one to stop it…”

“Because I had to. Gods know how long it took to… calm down, so to speak.”

The implication that dangled from his words wasn't particularly subtle.

Oh.

Your cheeks flared up. “I… didn't hear you…”

Astarion flashed a teasing smile. “I know how to avoid being heard, unlike a certain someone.”

Bad timing had you nearly choking on your tea.

“Careful, darling. You'll get all wet… again.”

The nerve!

You shot him murderous glare, wiping your chin.

Then the two fell into a comfortable silence.

You melted into the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cup in your hands, humming a tune that you had almost forgotten about.

“I find myself missing our journey, you know?” he said after a while.

“Even having to play the hero?”

He tapped his chin pensively. “Even that, as surprising as it sounds. I could have done without all your ridiculous acts of heroism, but I grew to enjoy indulging in some of them.”

Your heart thudded happily at his honesty.

“Who would have thought that you’d find joy in being selfless,” you teased with a smile.

He lifted one finger. “Do not misunderstand. I still come first. I spent too many centuries not being able to and I won't give that up now.”

You nodded, fully understanding his line of thinking.

In the meantime, your hand had dropped in between you two and you felt coldness reach your fingers.

You looked down, startled, only to be met with his fingers gently brushing against yours.

And just like clockwork, your heart sped up.

Astarion had his eyes fixed on the swirling flames that emanated from the fireplace.

Little by little, his fingers began to intertwine with yours until his hand gripped you tightly.

Your mind blanked for a moment at how unexpected this was.

In time, his cold skin began to warm up against yours.

And then it dawned on you that he had never held your hand this way.

He had helped you up on your feet more times than you could count.

He had gripped your hand in his as both of you hurried along collapsing halls and while being chased by the most vicious of creatures.

But he had never held your hand as if seeking for silent comfort.

You shifted so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

He tensed slightly under your touch, but eventually relaxed and you seized the opportunity to melt into his side, enjoying the familiar scent of bergamot and rosemary.

Home.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the tear in your cup had gone tepid and you began to feel guilty.

You had considered not telling him about confronting Ava.

But you didn't want to lie and hide anything from him, especially if it concerned him in the first place.

You pulled slightly away from him and he met your gaze.

“I'm going to meet Ava tonight.”

You expected an angry outburst of indignation from him, but were met with an inquisitive glare instead.

“Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”

That was it?

“Wait… you are not going to talk me out of it?”

At this, he faintly chuckled, still firmly gripping your hand in his.

“Honestly, darling, when has that ever worked?”

Point taken.

He knew of your stubbornness all too well.

“Besides, do you intend on killing her?”

You widened your eyes. “I – no? I don't think so?”

Though you couldn't swear on this until you were actually absolutely sure she was as harmless as he claimed her to be.

“Then, you have my blessing.”

You then narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. “You don't even want to go with me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“It's not necessary.”

He shrugged. “Then I won't.”

Astarion was acting uncharacteristically accepting of your intrusion, and that rang a plethora of alarm bells in your head.

It was as if he knew you'd have no reason to harm her.

“Why are you so… calm about this?”

His eyes met yours. “I am well aware you can turn Ava into a pile of dust should she cross your path. But I don't believe you will do such a thing.”

“Why not? I don't trust her.”

His grip around your fingers eased slightly. “I don't expect you to, but you do trust me, don't you?”

“Yes.”

You didn't hesitate for a second. After all, you had trusted Astarion through things that most people would have staked him for. The two of you were way past the uncertainty of not trusting each other's intentions.

It was more evident that the glaring issue that plagued your relationship was rooted in miscommunication and not mistrust.

“And I trust her.”

That ground on your nerves. “But why?”

“Because I have to.”

You immediately dropped his hand, turning in your seat to fully face him, already feeling the familiar irritation that came with him not being fully open with you at times.

“Astarion, you need to start telling me why you hold her in such high regards,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can also trust me. Whatever it is… just tell me.”

He glared at you with a faint scowl. “She is taking my blood with the intention of lessening some vampirism weaknesses.”

Oh?

“Such as?”

“Well, the insatiable hunger is the main focus.”

You stared at him in silence, not quite sure what to make of this.

The Wish Spell could grant him the ability to walk in the sun again, but this seemed even more ambitious.

And dangerous.

“Obviously, this is all rather theoretical, but it seemed like a sound prospect,” he went on, sinking into the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “As selfish as I am, I also considered how this could be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

His words took you quite aback.

“This… seems too good to be true,” you said hesitantly.

“Oh, I'm aware. That is why I am keeping my expectations in check.”

You really, really wanted to hate Ava.

But if her motifs were truly this altruistic, then you were going to have a hard justifying that feeling, which provided another added layer of anger altogether.

“So, if you want to talk to her, you are free to do so. Seeing is believing or so they say,” he said with a witty grin.

You sighed.

Astarion was a bad planner.

No. He was a terrible planner.

He could identify the end goal, but would have no clue how to get there and would merely make adjustments as he went along, hoping for the best.

Luck had been on his side as of late, but you lacked that optimism.

And he obviously saw that splattered across your face.

“Oh, please. I know that look – just say it,” he scoffed.

You weren't even sure what you wanted to say.

Deep down, you felt extremely protective of him and didn't appreciate that she was exchanging lessons in intimacy for his blood.

It all seemed very one-sided and the promise of also helping him – and by extension, the spawn in the underdark – still seemed unrealistically… convenient.

“Are you even sure any of this will work? Has she made any progress with your blood?”

“Some progress. Not enough to keep me too hopeful, but I will take anything these days.”

You could sympathise with the sentiment, but…

“I still think there is something off about her.”

Astarion just looked as amused as ever. “No jealousy?”

You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Well, she would have nothing to gain from sending us both to prison,” he said. “She knows I exclusively feed on you and that I do need to feed regularly.”

The nonchalant way in which he uttered those words, brought a wave of heat to your face, as the events from a few hours earlier resurfaced in your mind.

There was a hint of intimacy in the act itself, but also in the aftermath. Astarion's senses would be sharpened as your blood coursed through his body.

“Seems like I broke your concentration, darling,” he said teasingly, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.

You jolted briefly and then scowled, annoyed that he could see right through you so easily.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

He gave you a devious smile. “I don't have to. Not when your body provides the finest flattery there is.”

Gods.

You wished you could turn off the effect his honeyed words always had on you.

Clearing your throat, you straightened up in your seat. ��Very well, then. I am willing to be enlightened.”

A teasing smile tugged faintly at his lips. “Good girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Regaining your composure, you said, “Wyll is going there with me tonight.”

Astarion drew a sleazy grin this time. “Oh, so that was what the two of you were plotting yesterday.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And here I thought sweet Wyll had finally mustered the courage to take you out on a lavish date,” he said with a dramatic and forceful pout. “Seems like romance is dead, after all.”

For some odd reason, Astarion was under the impression that Wyll harboured feelings for you that surpassed friendship.

But what Astarion didn't know was that your heart was too full of him to allow room for anyone else.

His taunting words created the perfect opening for you to return the gesture.

“No jealousy?”

His smile only grew wider. “Do you want me to be jealous?”

You were entering his territory, and should tread lightly.

“Maybe you should be jealous,” you whispered.

He shifted closer to you and you held your breath.

“And why is that? Why should I be jealous of your friendship with him?”

Gods, he was good .

Your heart drummed faster in your chest as his face drew near.

He was a master at disarming you with carefully laid out traps whilst using his words as alluring bait.

“He's very… friendly.”

You inwardly cringed at your ridiculous remark, which earned a chuckle from Astarion.

At this point, he was so close you almost feel his cool lips on yours.

“Well, hopefully not this friendly.”

That was it.

He was going to kiss you and you couldn't give a damn about it.

But before he could do so, the faint rhythmic thud of footsteps pulled you out of immersion, and the two of you pulled apart at once.

Lae'zel.

She reached the bottom of the staircase, eyeing both of you like she had just run into the most disappointing event of her life.

“The sun has yet to fully rise, and the two of you are already at it again,” she said with a scowl. “Wasn't the coupling from last night enough?”

Your jaw dropped open in sheer mortification.

Surely she hadn't… heard anything… right?

“Where is your sense of decorum, Lae'zel?” Astarion clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sofa once more.

She gave him a stern glare. “You wouldn't know decorum if it hit you in that pale face of yours, Astarion.”

He chuckled. “My, my… someone is feisty today.”

“The sounds you two made could raise the dead from their graves,” she said, moving swiftly towards the front door with her sword keeping her company. “I am not sure how much more of this torture I can take.”

You stood up at once, feeling embarrassment take over. “Oh! We… uh… Astarion was just feeding and–”

She held a hand up. “Spare me the grotesque details. I'll be going out on a hunt. Don't expect me for lunch.”

And without a further exchange, she slipped through the door.

Astarion was now on his feet and heading towards the staircase.

Somehow, you couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment as he left your side.

His company was something you reckoned you'd never tire from.

“See you later, darling. And do fix that lovely face of yours,” he teased dramatically. “Rose water works like a charm.”

And you couldn't hold back an endearing smile.

The night came quicker than you had hoped.

Confronting Ava made you feel truly uneasy, especially after learning some more about her.

As promised, Wyll had come to you, escorted by two Fists. The mage slayer stationed outside, quickly joined the four of you, and you felt the magic within you dip dangerously low from her presence.

The journey to The Blushing Mermaid proved to be rather uneventful and you were more than thankful for it.

“Does Astarion know about this?”

You nodded. “He has also told me the reason why she's taking his blood.”

Wyll's eyes met yours and you could see the tension on his face. “Whatever could be the reason?”

Fortunately, the two Fists walked far behind the two of you to preserve some privacy.

“She wants to lessen the effects of vampiric hunger.”

He arched an eyebrow and you approached the familiar tavern.

“That sounds too convenient .”

You almost pulled Wyll into a kiss as he unknowingly validated your concerns.

“Exactly. Maybe I am overthinking it, but I need to make sure nonetheless.”

He nodded firmly.

Those crowding the entrance immediately made way for you to walk inside, and you heard a few salutes as others inside bowed to Wyll.

Bork approached the counter with a tilted smile on his face. “Duke of Ravengard. To what do we owe the pleasure? Hope we are not in trouble?”

A few drunkards nearby erupted in laughter.

“Unless you have indeed done something unlawful, I wouldn't worry too much, Bork.”

He offered Wyll a forced smile, which he didn't return.

“We are looking for Ava,” you chimed in impatiently.

His face instantly dropped. “Ava? Is she in trouble?"

Honestly, what was with everyone and this woman? Was she some goddess in disguise?

“We just wish to talk to her,” Wyll answered.

Bork hesitated at first, but glared at the two Fists flanking you. “First floor. Third room to your left.”

You nodded and swiftly made your way upstairs, feeling your heart hammering fast in your chest as you paced along the corridor.

Wyll knocked thrice on the large door.

It swung open almost immediately, and Ava came into view, holding a knowing smile.

“I was expecting you.”

A swirl of nausea settled in your stomach.

She extended one hand, standing to the side so you could walk in.

“As pleased as I am to be visited by our Duke, I shall ask for you not to enter.”

You immediately turned to see Wyll scowl deeply. “Tonight I'm no Duke – I'm her friend and you shall let me enter.”

Ava tapped on the door lightly. “These are my quarters, and unless I am being charged with wrongdoing, I have the right to decide who to invite inside, Duke .”

The two Fists were gripping the handle of their swords, ready to draw them.

Wyll motioned for the to be at ease and turned his head to you. “I will be waiting outside.”

Ava wiggled her fingers dismissively, further gnawing at your nerves.

“Do not try anything witty, hunter,” Wyll said in a tone you hadn't heard since he last faced Mizora.

She chuckled. “I have abandoned those ways. You may simply call me Ava.”

But before he could reply, she pushed the door closed in one swing and glanced at you with an excessively sweet smile.

“So? I don't believe you came all the way here to simply gawk at me.”

You cleared your throat. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”

“Of course. I would be surprised if you didn't.”

Your patience was running thin.

“It concerns Astarion.”

“Still not surprised,” she said with a tilted smile. “I'm all ears.”

“He's told me about you.”

“Hopefully not everything, but do go on.”

She moved to a table and poured a red liquid into a goblet. “Can I tempt you with some red wine?”

You scowled and she laughed. “It is not poisoned, though I do understand your hesitation.” She then took a long sip.

Glancing around the room, you realised it could easily pass off as the inside of an apothecary store. There were endless rows of shelves and cupboards that housed countless vials of glass with suspicious content.

There was a small fire burning by the window with a large flask set right above, the flames barely reaching the bottom as a deep dark red liquid gurgled.

Ava sat on a lavish armchair, holding the goblet to her lips.

“I know you're taking his blood for some experiment in regards to vampirism,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Even to supposedly help the vampire spawn in the Underdark.”

Her pleasant face wavered momentarily. “He's offering it to me. Freely.”

“You are taking advantage of him.”

“I am not taking advantage of anything. It's a mere transaction that we have both agreed upon.”

“Blood for intimacy?”

“That seems rather… crass.”

“You are taking advantage of his… wounds…”

“Why are you so hellsbent on accusing me of being the one taking advantage of him? He also has much to win from this arrangement.”

“Because you have the upper hand here. The price for a chance at healing from his wounds seems rather unbalanced,” you said, feeling heat flare throughout your entire body. “You get his blood, which is a sure thing, and he gets a ‘perhaps’ on all fronts: intimacy and that hunger “cure” you're promising.”

Ava glared at you with eyes slightly narrowed, chin resting on the back of her hand.

“There are wounds that take time to heal. Some never heal at all, my dear.”

“I'm aware.”

“Are you? Are you, really?” Ava said with a scoff. “I am not the enemy here. Your vitriol against me is rooted in something primal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Primal?”

“Is it jealousy, I wonder?”

You clenched your fists. “It is not. Whatever bond you think you share with him is superficial and frail. There's nothing to be jealous of.”

“Actually, I do believe your words… it is not jealousy, indeed,” she said, tapping a long nail on her chin. “But rather… protectiveness.”

You remained silent.

“I dare say that protectiveness can blind even the wisest.”

“I am not blinded. I can see there is something unsettling about you.”

“You look, but you do not see,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “Your attachment to him is your weakness.”

“Caring for others isn't a weakness.”

“You taught him that, did you?”

The faint mockery wasn't lost on you, and it made your nails dig further into your palms, regning in your temper as best as you could.

“He doesn't need to be taught anything. Astarion may need some guidance, as we all do from time to time.”

Ava merely chuckled. “May I see your neck?”

What?

Her words caught you off guard, but you did not move an inch to comply with her request.

“Ah… your reluctance is answer enough,” she tutted. “He has fed on you recently, hasn't he?”

Now, that immediately had your stomach turn in revulsion, realising just how transparent she truly was.

“So this is what it's all about – you just want him to feed on you instead.”

Ava rolled her eyes with a forced yawn. “On the contrary. Of course, I have vaguely wondered what it feels like, but Astarion is far too devoted to your blood to even entertain the idea.”

“Then why did you complain to me about him not feeding on you?”

She crossed her legs elegantly under her emerald green dress. “I was merely taunting you. Again, his devotion gets in the way.”

“I wouldn't necessarily call it ‘devotion’.”

“Oh, but I would. See, Astarion's bond to you is exquisite and much welcome… to say the least.”

Her flowery words were really testing your patience now.

“Elaborate.”

“The last time he fed on you and gave me his blood was right when you left The Blushing Mermaid. A few days later, I tried his blood on some spawn in the city outskirts that have taken to living underground in search of a cure.” She paused briefly to take yet another sip from the goblet. “The results were vastly different from my previous experiments.”

“Can you just get straight to the point for once?”

“Oh, you really are a feisty one…” Ava said with a teasing smile. “As I was saying, the results were rather interesting and unexpected. The spawn reported feeling sated much quicker than before, but the effect wore off in the first hour, which was a disappointment.”

You froze instantly. “You're… using my blood?”

“Well, yes… and no,” she said in a casual tone. “Your blood mixed with his, that is. Before that day, I had never tried his blood after he fed on you.”

You felt as though you might be sick as your stomach lurched violently.

“This is… I – does he know?”

“Well, I haven't been given the chance, considering how the two of you got thrown into prison,” she said with a shrug. “And I am fully aware you think I am somehow responsible for it.”

You were still so taken aback by her earlier revelation, that you had momentarily forgotten about that detail.

“Now, what would I gain from setting you two up, especially after I just told you this.”

She did have a point.

Seemingly.

“You mentioned other spawn – why not use their blood instead? Why his?”

“Oh, darling… ”

The way that word rolled out of her tongue grated on your nerves, and you realised only one person could masterfully use it without provoking a visceral reaction.

“Astarion isn't really your regular spawn, is he? Even when he was under Cazador Szarr's influence, he would still rebel against his commands while his siblings cowered in fear of defying their master.”

An overwhelming sense of dread took over at once.

Astarion has revealed how Cazador had kept him buried alive for a whole year as punishment for letting a potential victim go.

He had clawed his hands raw from despair as he wished for death to just take him.

Even remembering this vaguely, made your heart hurt for him.

“How do you know that?”

Ava rose to her full height, brushing her long and dark curls from her shoulders.

She paced towards a desk and began ruffling through pieces of parchment.

“I was a monster hunter for over twenty years and my group kept a close eye on Cazador and his spawn,” she said, not lifting her eyes. “Astarion had been on our radar for a while, but he was quite experienced in slipping through the cracks whenever we tried to go after him.”

You swallowed.

“Imagine our surprise when he suddenly goes missing. My partners were dumbfounded beyond belief. No vampire spawn is able to resist the compell of their master for that long.”

She then moved back to the armchair, flipping through a couple of scrolls.

“We thought he had met his demise somehow, so imagine my surprise when I find out that he's back in Baldur's Gate. Walking in the sunlight and next to… you.”

You weren't sure where this conversation was headed and you weren't sure you wanted to know.

Ava took your silence as encouragement. “Cazador was attempting to become the Vampire Ascendant and we were set on stopping him, but were instead met with his manor bathed in blood and corpses littering the place.”

So they had gotten there after your group stopped the ritual and prevented the rite from taking place.

“So now you're suddenly an alchemist who wants to help vampire spawn? Why the change of heart?”

Ava met your eyes and her face was void of any amusement. “Astarion and I connect in more ways than you think.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and waiting to hear some circus clown reasoning.

“I wasn't a monster hunter by choice,” she said sternly. “I was born into it and molded into their ways.”

Your defensive demeanour wavered momentarily.

“I shall not go into details, but all you need to know is that once Cazador Szarr was gone, I was driven by curiosity and sought Astarion out so I could learn more about what makes him so different from all the other spawn I've come across.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “So you just left your group? Just like that?”

She snickered. “They were killed.”

“What? By whom?”

She snickered as she took another sip. “By me.”

You were left speechless.

“I thought that if a vampire spawn could break the chains from his master and embrace freedom again, so could I.”

She let out a chuckle, emptying the goblet in one sip.

“So, I offered to help him as he's helped me. No more, no less.”

You really wanted to hate her.

You wanted her to give you a solid reason to be suspicious of her intentions.

But…

“So you genuinely care for him?”

She nodded. “I do. And if Astarion were to walk through that door and ask for us to part ways, I would accept it. It would essentially kill my research until I found someone remotely adequate, but I would make peace with it.”

This conversation had not taken the turn you expected.

At all.

“I can see the confusion in your eyes. You truly believed I am out to get you when I'm probably your best option right now.”

“Best option? In regards to what?”

She extended her arm towards a chair in front of her. “Take a seat.”

You did so, reluctantly, never letting your guard down and her out of your sight.

“Cazador Szarr had many enemies, but he also had many allies. People who were not pleased with his death.”

She now had your undivided attention and you felt your palms sweat.

There wad actually someone going after you? After Astarion?

“I have ways to find who they are.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you immediately asked, feeling rather unsettled by her words.

She clicked her tongue. “I need assurances first, and I have a proposition to make.”

You saw the flash of a knife emerging from her sleeve and a tall glass container being placed on the table by her side.

TBC

Ao3

Series Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav

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