#or wizard of ALRES

[wizardofarles]

i hope im not just a princess to you guys, but also a wizard

I think a wizard can be a princess sometimes.. I mean a tower is a tower

[timdrakesbussy]

WHO DID THIS 😂😂😂‼️

[florsial]

Thinking about Rabastan. He's a dog to Rodolphus' god. He loves his brother but from how they were raised he mistakes it for blind devotion. He has his mother's face but none of her personality. He should've looked exactly like Rodolphus but he doesn't. He's shunned by his paternal family but accepts it quietly and erases his identity to be the spare/guard dog. He's like a messed-up completed puzzle piece that looks fine from far away but when you take a closer look certain pieces don't quite fit right. He's bitter and self-pitying but it's all compacted in a poorly concealed stoic expression. Unlike his brother, he was born to feel and it does him no good. Also, he likes fish and his favorite is the cowfish.

[nyaskitten]

"modern au" and then its just a way to make everything so generic and boring and throw all the characters in ugly-ass outfits and make everything "down to earth."

[kamenwriter]

[theevilicecreamsoda]

Btw I can never be tumblr famous. You shits can fucking try. Wont fucking work. I got cursed by the wizard

[chisungie]

.

[justasecretflower]

~🪻 sdv men as boyfriends headcanons ~

Incl- Alex, Elliot, Shane, Sam, Sebastian, Harvey, Willy, Gunther, M. Rasmodius (Wizard.)

You look lost, visit my garden?

Alex

- He’s the type that’ll make you become apart of his workout. Lemme explain..

- he kisses you in between every push-up and crunch.

- you sit on his back during pushups

- he sees how many times he can deadlift you. (It doesn’t matter what size you are, yes, he can deadlift you.)

- “babe” “baby” “sugar”

- D1 YAPPER.

- he’ll talk your ear off about his childhood, gridball, his feelings when he first met you.

- he’s GREAT to have conversations with because they keep going on for hours.

- when he cuddles you he like..crushes you. He always ends up snoring loudly, drooling on you, and his whole muscular body right on top of you.

- touchy touchy TOUCHYYY.

- he’s the type to run up to you and spin you around then hug you saying how much he missed you. Even if you’ve only been gone for like 5 minutes

- he doesn’t cry often, thinks it makes him weak, but the one day that you got him crying in your arms, your fingers in his hair and quietly whispering that it was okay, he literally fell in love again x2 harder.

Elliot

-…🙄

-CORNYYYYYY

- you alr saw that coming though.

- writes you poems and puts them under your pillow like a tooth fairy..

- he likes holding you. Makes him feel like he’s a protector.

- romantic home dinner dates with balloons, rose petals galore, candles, fancy table cloth, ect.

- love language is words of affirmation muahaha..

- “my love” “my dearest” “my darling”

- tells you everyday how much he loves you in old Shakespearen English

- slow dances in the living room with you.

Shane

- he’s really insecure and gets jealous easily.

- it’s like. You’re talented, hard working, beautiful, how could you ever like him?

- in his eyes, he was old, washed up, no longer a fit gridball player, alcoholic, suicidal.

- he distances himself from you whenever he has these episodes.

- it’s really bad, he knows, but he doesn’t want you to know how insecure and helpless he is.

- you do find out, and you hold him.

- his safe space, his savior, is you.

- he gets better for you, for himself, and for everyone around him and he constantly tells you how much you’ve saved him.

- “doll”

- he gets a new coat and has your initial on it with a heart (Marnie sewed it)

- DAD BOD.

- movie nights. Not those aesthetic ones. The messy ones.

- the ones where you have dirty plates on the floor, pizza rolls, a bag of candies in between you and popcorn on the couch.

- it’s comfy, and it’s fun either way.

Sam

- he’s so cute.

- “babe” “baby”

- DEFINITION of golden retriever bf

- skateboards over to your house.

- he gets cuteness agression😭.

- he just randomly, aggressively, nuzzles your shoulder, or pecks a thousand kisses all over your face.

- makes songs for you and sings them to you.

- his favorite place to kiss you is your shoulder. Not even sexually he just loves kissing your shoulder.

- teaches you how to skate so that you can skate with him.

- he’d def be that cliche that’s like. Tried to flirt with you by leaning on the doorway but missed the doorway💀 (SAME WITH ALEX)

- He likes skating dates, MESSY cooking dates, and playing just dance with you.

- owns an “I love my girlfriend” t-shirt and wears it all the time. No shame

Sebastian

- kisses the tips of your ears and nose.

- very soft and gentle kisses.

- black cat …muahahhaaha

- he likes to make bracelets with you!

- matching bracelets

- also, matching pjs

- movie nights are the best with him. Matching pjs, snacks, cuddles, the rain pattering in the background.

- he’s a listener, not a talker.

- he said he can listen to you talk for days.

- of course, he mumbled that while flushed but he still said it.

- you’re his comfort person.

- he gets insecure but he doesn’t project it on you, just gets extra clingy.

Harvey

- HARVEY!!!

- he gets flushed easily if you flirt with him.

- he goes on rambles about medical stuff and it just 😩

- takes care of you while you’re sick. Carries you to a bath with salts and bubbles in it, cuts up fruits, feeds you, helps you drink water, dab a cold rag on your forehead.

- he’s super romantic, makes you dinner sometimes and makes it healthy / canon

- kisses your forehead to get you to wake up in the morning.

- breakfast in bed on your anniversary.

- he’s a family man / canon

- give him a picket fence life /srs

- he likes kissing you deeply. Just pouring his whole heart into it.

Willy

- he likes fishing with you, if you don’t know how, he’ll stand behind you and guide you.

- “darlin” “hon” “pretty thing”

- puts your initial on his favorite fishing pool.

- he likes you sitting on his lap, just because he likes to be close to you.

- date nights on the beach, or on his fishing boat watching the stars together.

- OH GOSH THE QUIET MORNINGSSSS

- he gets up “bright and early” so he just holds you, whispers in your ear with a raspy morning voice, gently kissing your shoulder “g’mornin pretty thing”

- really values quality time, even if you’re not talking just sitting near him while he’s fishing.

- definitely thought he was gonna stay single until he died before he met you, like he wasn’t even being pessimistic, just thought that he wouldn’t find anyone in that small town.

Gunther

- I feel like he would’ve messed around when he was younger but never settled down.

- so when he moved to pelican town, he never expected to meet someone that would make him wanna be all lovey dovey and stuff.

- teaches you about history. His head in your lap, hand up to your cheek gently stroking it with the pad of his thumb as he yaps on, with a deep, smooth voice.

- remembers everything about you. Every detail even if you were just mentioning it in passing.

- “hon” “my darling” “love”

- date nights are those little missing persons cases (the fake ones), discussing history under a willow tree, taking small naps intertwined I

- prolly has a kid from a hookup…sorry?!

- not much for physical affection, but he’ll indulge a little, hand holds, cheek kisses, kisses.

- his love language is acts of service 100%.

M. Rasmodius Wizard

- he kinda watches you with his magic..not creepily !!

- stops you from falling all the time.

- “my love” “dearest”

- not touchy, but shows his love for you with actions.

- gifts you flowers, makes you food, cleans your room for you.

- fine..he’ll go to the flower dance for you.

- he’ll just end up dragging you to a secluded area to do the dance tho.

- it’s kinda cute ngl.

Tags

[masivechaos]

don't panic!

── ☆ dads! wolfstar x gn! reader

── ☆ Request: yes / no

── ☆ Synopsis: you get sick while Remus' at work and Sirius tries not to panic

── ☆ Warning/content: reader throws up, my English

── ☆ a.n.: 1k words-

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Remus was out for the day– working at his bookstore as always– leaving you and Sirius alone, as it was the winter holidays, you were back home from Hogwarts for two weeks.

Sirius thought he could handle it. After all he had been your father for the last 14 years, him and the werewolf adopting you when you were 2 and half, and he knew how to take care of you alone. Also, you were 16 now, old enough to occupy yourself alone without Sirius needing to watch after each of your actions to make sure you’re not doing anything stupid, like eating candle sticks (which you would often do around four years old).

But when at 10 in the morning, which was already suspicious– you were an early bird, you came into the living room with disheveled hair and drool in the corner of your mouth, Sirius felt like you were his six year-old little girl again.

“Papa… I threw up…” you said weakly, that was definitely not the way you wanted to wake up today.

Sirius’ face dropped. Remus was the one who knew how to deal with this, he was more composed and calmed. Everything was going to be okay, you were just a little sick, nothing severe he thought.

“I’m sorry, pup” he said as he rose from his seat and walked to you. “Where did you throw up? Your bed?”

You nodded, tired. “Tried to go to the bathroom but it was too late.”

He grabbed a tissue and wiped the corner of your lips “It’s alright, I’ll clean it up.” He was trying his best not to appear nervous in front of you. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead “Merlin, pup. You’re burning.” You had fever, the alarm rang in his head.

He took a deep breath “I… It’s going to be alright,” he said for both you and him. “It’s just a fever” he whispered to himself. “You should take a shower. No a bath. Or maybe you need to go to the doctor. But should we go to a muggle one or a wizard one?” That was it, he was really panicking.

“No,” you chuckled tiredly. “It’s probably a stomach bug, I just need to rest.”

“Rest,” he repeated “Yeah rest okay, we can do that.”

SIrius led you to the sofa and let you lay there, pulling a blanket over you. “You need painkillers for the fever,” he reminded himself, cursing himself for not giving one to you earlier. “Uh… don’t move.”

You answered with a hum, there was no way you were going to move just a single toe.

Sirius stood in front of the pharmacy shelf… What muggle medication did you need again? After some time, he grabbed ibuprofen and hoped he got it right.

He came back with the pill and the water and saw how pale you looked. “Pup… are you okay?” he asked.

“I…” you whispered before gagging “I’m gonna–”

Sirius’ eyes widened. No, no, no Why didn’t he think of this earlier? Panicked, he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the first bucket he could find, making the rest of the cupboard fall in the rush. He went into the living room again and placed the bucket underneath you, “It’s okay,” he whispered, trying not to let his worry show.

He patted your head as you threw up, trying to calm down. He waited for you to be done before he reached for the phone– he was never more thankful that Remus obligated them to have those muggle things.

He called Remus’ work number. “Remus?” he called anxiously

“Hi? Sirius, it’s you?” he asked, not expecting him to call.

“Yes uhm… Y/n threw up and has fever and I don’t know what to do, I already gave a painkiller but I don’t even know if it’s the good one and- and they threw up again and they look so tired, I’m so worried and I don’t know what to do.”

He heard Remus let out a short chuckle on the end of the line “Woah, Woah, Woah… calm down… I know it’s scary, but Y/n will be alright. Just stay by their side. You got this.”

“Are you sure? Because they look so pale and I’m so worried and- what if we need to go to the hospital?”

“We won’t need to go to the hospital. We’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and they’ll be fine in a week, alright? I come back home during my lunch break if it can help but please don’t panic”

“Okay,” Sirius said, “Okay…”

He hung up and went back to you “Hey, Pup… are you feeling a little better?” he said softly, managing a little better to hide his worry

You nodded, already almost asleep. Sirius went into your room and removed the dirty sheets, throwing them in the washing machine. He then grabbed the bucket and cleaned it up before putting him back next to the sofa. He stood there, watching you tenderly, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Papa..” you whispered.

“Yes, pup?”

“Can you stay with me?”

Sirius smiled “Of course, pup.” He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you close.

–

Remus came back around noon, a little worried. He knew Sirius could manage to take care of you but he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. 

He opened the door only to find Sirius holding you, both of you asleep.

Remus smiled to himself. He could finally be reassured, you were alright. He walked closer to you both, pressing his lips to your forehead and then Sirius’ temple “Now, that’s my family” he whispered with a quiet chuckle.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ wolfstar! dads taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @rhydianissuperior  @loveeharrington @princess-paramour @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @songs4themoon @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin-deactivated202 @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @imshiningjustforyou @vancitycharlie @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @venussflytraps @dori-and-gray @maddipoof

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hello :D

I wanted to ask if you could pls do yuno w/ a s/o who’s very chaotic, waggish, unserious n silly I think that type of dynamic is rlly cute n funny n if you don’t mind also include some other characters reactions pls!

If u do it thank u <3 but even so it’s alr if u don’t :)

Hello!

I had fun trying to do a "opposites attract" kind of a fic for him ^^ I hope you like it~!

Pairing: Yuno Grinberryal x reader Genre: Fluff/comedy Fanfic type: Oneshot Length: ~0.7k Contains: Established relationship between reader and Yuno, Yuno is a VC in this already, and his prince status is known, there is a kiss on the cheek, teasing, a prank, reader and Yuno are opposites in personality

Yuno Grinberryal, the vice captain of the Golden Dawn, and the prince of Spade Kingdom, was a stoic young man on the surface. Which didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have felt deeply, but he merely wasn’t one to show a lot of his emotions to the world. Partly because, once upon a time, he had decided to not be so sensitive, and thus, he had made an effort to toughen himself up.

But on the other hand, he had been more concerned with his own goals and ideals than the thoughts and opinions of others. Because… if he didn’t believe in himself, who would? Which contributed in him becoming more secure and displaying so little outwards.

The masses judged him, back when he still bore the title of an orphan, for daring to dream about becoming a Wizard King. The opinions of those who didn’t matter, didn’t matter either. And so, why would he have laid out his emotions to those who didn’t matter to him?

Not that hiding away his emotions hadn’t been difficult in the beginning. But he had grown used to it over the years. Up to the point where he appeared to have none. At least to those who didn’t know him.

On the contrast, there was you. A bubbly, wear-your-emotions-on-your-sleeve type of a person, who smiled like the summer sun. But who was always coming and going, and… because of whom more than one thing was left in disarray rather often.

And today was no different.

You giggled as you ran away from the Golden Dawn’s kitchen after replacing the sugar container with salt.

The cook was trying out a new recipe, so they were making a small batch. Meaning that there would be no huge amounts of food destroyed by your little prank. Especially since it had been just the specific sugar container, which had been by the cooks work bench.

“HEY!” You heard while running from out the door, quickening your pace just as soon as you heard the yell.

“Catch me if you can!” You yelled over your shoulder before turning the corner and intending to run into the vast gardens. There’d be enough places to hid-

*Bump*

You collided together with someone, and staggered back.

“Sorry! But I gotta-“

“No you don’t.”

You stopped, recognizing Yuno’s tone of voice.

His amber eyes were peering into you, and his brow was raised.

“What did you do?” The words flowed out of him with the same tone, almost sounding like there was a sigh at the end.

Only that there wasn’t.

You flashed him a cheeky grin. “Just thought that something was too salty, and that sweeter things are better.”

And that was when the sigh left him.

“Unbelievable…” he muttered under his breath with a slow blink.

“Not really,” you gave his cheek a quick peck. “If you know me.”

“I do,” he said while raising both of his eyebrows in a knowing look.

“Well then it shouldn’t be unbelievable,” you teased while flashing another grin to him.

He shook his head, and a sliver of a smile appeared on his lips. “What do I do with you?”

“Hmmm…” you hummed as your grin widened even more. “Beats me,” you shrugged. “But your life would be a lot more dull if it wasn’t for me.”

“I think I was the first to say that.”

“And I didn’t claim anything else.”

His smile widened even further with the admission, the words and the sentiment. Because it was true, his life would be a lot more dull, one sided, if it wasn’t for you in his life. But, admittedly, at times he did hope that you’d calm down a little.

Just so that, now that he was the vice-captain, you wouldn’t be one of the greater sources of trouble with the day to day functions of the squad.

“Just keeping you on your tippy toes!” You laughed, giving him a wink.

But yes, you’d try to give him a little less trouble. Because you did care for him, and didn’t want him to have to worry more because of you.

Just a little harmless fun, and added… spice, in his life.

[ask-eyefestation-archived]

Alr fish, it's wizard and fishes time!!!! I'm back and better than ever!! /Silly

- @d20-anonymous

y'know, the guy who melted the glass, poisoned you, and mage handed you, all while underwater and not drowning ????

"Oh goody..." *It remarked sarcastically*

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!” 

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

__

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles. 

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step. 

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving. 

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap. 

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know. 

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn. 

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle. 

So you go with your instinct. 

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are. 

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic. 

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down. 

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice. 

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry. 

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action. 

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder. 

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them. 

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs. 

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover. 

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage. 

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips. 

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.” 

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

[neverchecking]

Imagine a whole ass debate with a rebuttal and everything 💀

Warriors is citing his time as captain or wtv and that he’s reliable and protective (rebuttal would probably be about how he can’t retire from that job for a long time and it’s very taxing)

Legend has a ton of protective gear and he’s just really cute (rebuttal would be abt his hoarder tendencies)

Sky is one of the firsts so of course his child should be first but also he’s well educated kinda, good with kids, has a tight knit community, and has a super cool bird the kids could ride (rebuttal, he’s in the fucking sky. What if the kid just jumped off)

Twilight has a ranch and a horse. Good with animals, works at home kinda, can become a fluffy dog (rebuttal me personally I’m mildly allergic to dogs, and also ranches take up a lot of time. As a country person I know, I know it all too well)

Wild has long hair the kids could braid. Has horses, can cook a good meal, doesn’t get tired of cooking, has a thing he can take pictures on, well travelled. (Rebuttal he does some stupid ass shit bro, and also he isn’t always considering what his actions do. What if he does something stupid and gets seriously injured and the kids and reader are like fending for themselves for a bit)

Time. He’s responsible, a good leader, the oldest, has cool markings. (Rebuttal. What the fuck happened with the moon. Also FD mask, what if the kids got their hands on this super dangerous mask that has a god inside of it. Assuming that FD isn’t unleashed alr)

Hyrule. HES SUCH A CUTIE OMG. He’s half fairy, good with kids, soft, inviting, can literally heal (rebuttal, the blood curse. What if the kids inherit it cause like genetics and stuff)

Four. Works at home kinda, he’s also a cutie. Could make little toys, is good under pressure, is around their height, good playmate (rebuttal. If the smithing area is inside the house easy access to burns. Also the four sword is a thing)

Sage. Has nice hair as well. Protective, has two houses technically, can fuse things together, can make cool little things to ride around on with reader and children (rebuttal. He can make literal torture machines, and he’s a little unhinged. Also Wth is up with his world. That place is not safe at all)

Fierce Diety. A literal god. (Rebuttal. A literal god. Does godliness get passed down, idk but he’s also like really tall and that’d hurt a lot. Like procreation and having fucking this dude who’s built like an actual monster’s kids pop outta yah)

I don’t have a good read and cal but pretty much the same stuff abt Sage and wild. Just a different font.

HBGFIFBND SKY'S NF9FF 'What if the Kid just jumped off?'

THAT LITERALLY TOOK ME OUT-

I also love how a point in all of this is whether or not their hair is good. That's an incredibly important point.

Wars I love because his job would take a lot of his time. But because of said job, mans is loaded. So money is another good stand point for him. (Rebuttal: He had a literal time and space wizard-ess after him??? imagine her going after your kid man-)

Legend is someone who has seen everything. So he is so smooth and steady, nothing really phases him anymore. Including anything your kid brings to the table. (Rebuttal: He's an asshole. I guarantee any of his spawn are also assholes)

Sky is literally hug shaped. He would be the cuddliest dad and so affectionate <3 (Rebuttal: I deadass almost couldn't come up with anything- mans is such a helicopter parent. His kid couldn't even breath without him being there)

Twilight is also so dad shaped. Like, look at him. As someone who also lives in the countryside, I know he's the dad to hold his kid close, watching the sunset as he explains some far off tale. (Rebuttal: Is the 'Just rub dirt in it' dad.)

Wild. His horses are a great point. But, he also has so much energy? He can take all the night shifts with no problem. Can make meals filled with both vitamins for post-partum and energy boosting effects that taste Amazing. (Rebuttal: He has ghosts. Just following him. Like??? Those can't be good babysitters???)

Time. He's so calm and patient. So anytime the baby gets to be too much for Reader, he's easily stepping in and swooping them up, settling them within seconds. (Rebuttal: Fought the fucking moon- Also, has farts that are comparable to an actual try on your life. Idk what this man eats, but someone has got to find what crawled up his butt and died)

Hyrule. Loml. I love him. Gibe him smooch- He has babysitters out the freaking door. His sisters absolutely adore you and your baby and bring the best presents. (Rebuttal: Yeah that blood thing is pretty bad, but he also is the worst at saying no to your kid. That kid will be so spoiled and you'll be forced to be the stricter parent)

Four. He's also got babysitters. That are him! Win-win! Can handle multiple things at once and should the colors be needed, he's got that male relative that I'm still uncertain about! (Rebuttal: Talks to your kid like their both men in their fifties sitting in a bar, catching up after years lmao)

Sage! Great hair. Also cool arm. Has two houses, but that asshole princess took one, bitch. BUT he also has horses :D AND DonDons. We love those guys. Can also cook and he's the dad to walk around shirtless with the kid on his chest, napping, while he does one thing or another. He is also rich because he cheats the system--I.E. the universe. (Rebuttal: Yo wtf is UP with those hands in the ground?! And the TREES?! Nothing is safe. Also, the sages? Not great babysitters. Especially his giant robot. That one is not the worst however. That's Sidon's title.)

Fierce Deity. He can reach the top shelf. He's got a cool sword. He's got a nice face, would like to sit on it. He also is super old and probably super wise. Probably. (Rebuttal: LDNFNG I LOVE YOURS SM I- YEAH, TEARING FROM THE V TO THE A JUST BIRTHING HIS FUCKING KID)

For Cal, may I offer-

Calamity. Strong knight and used to following the orders of those above him, especially his Goddess and his child. He would go to the ends of the heavens and hells should it be what they wish (Rebuttal; Mans has the emotional capacity of a fucking Rock. Also, he eats rocks. Imagine your kid just eating rocks because their dad did. Return them both/hj)

So obviously, with all these options, pros and cons, there is only one real option.

Courage and Koridai.

Nah I'm fucking with you-

First. I see no flaws with this man and if there are some I don't wanna hear 'em.

[birdco]

Anyway here's my Licorice Cookie Headcannons.

(This is my head cannon design for him. I made the edit.)

Backstory.

-Licorice was born into the Licorice tribe; A tribe that prides its magicians and known for its strict manner. Which slowly caused a resentment of the tribe to grow inside of him.

-The Licorice tribe has been the victim of extreme prejudice for the Cacao kingdom due to its relation with the Licorice sea. This caused Licorice to hate all other Cacao tribes, specifically the milk tribe.

-Licorice's mother was neglectful of him, mostly letting him live off of history, magic and fairytale books.

-As he grew Licorice began to strive to become a famous wizard in history. And with that, his expectations for himself grew out of control.

-After finding Dark Enchantress and getting information of a growing party-The COD- Licorice turned to the Dark arts because of his insecurity.

-In his kingdom, it is highly illegal to practice Dark magic. And is punishable by a type of crucifixion. So, when found out, Licorice would be persecuted. The way was by a cursed dagger, that from impact (such as a slash.) Would set you aflame. However, after two stabs Licorice would stay alive.

-Loosing himself, Licorice brought a storm upon the Licorice tribe which would destroy the entire village. Aswell as killing all the residents, some he killed personally.

-His mother had cursed him before he murdered her. A curse that slowly killed and corrupted him, his killer being his own magic. Licorice is very much aware of this curse. Infact, he has the curse tattooed on his wrist as a joke.

Alr that's over, here's some semi important trivia.

-Licorice has tried his hardest to recreate life with pure magic. This, being represented when reviving his dead cat (That would become Bat-cat.) Then, creating his best project; Poison Mushroom Cookie. Licorice *grew* Mushroom, and serves as their father figure. He is very protective over them.

-Licorice has a SMALL obsession with Red Velvet Cookie.

-Licorice currently has a "project" going on involving resurrection. He wants to perfect his craft, and make it simple. So he will either grave rob or simply kidnap cookies (typically Red Velvet's enemies.) To test his theories.

-Licorice plans every kidnap, with from what tools to what the air must smell like.

-Licorice has undiagnosed OCD and Autism.

-The reason why Licorice is obsessed with Red Velvet is-first he wanted to power of dating his bosses son.-yet it slowly turned to a romantic obsession as their relationship progressed. What started this obsession was the first time Licorice met Red Velvet. He would taunt and built him until Red Velvet diddled him...

Alright here's the nonimportant trivia.

-IDGAF About the bts update Licorice loves metal with his dying soul.

-Licorice has a terrible sleep schedule, like seriously, he goes to bed at 3 am. (His" job "requires him to wake up at 5.)

-His role -which is rather low- is a scout. Yet at first he was a bodyguard..But that obviously failed terribly.

-Licorice melts when he sweats or gets extremely stressed. It isn't like his skin falling off, but he'll feel his body dribble and shit or smth.

-Licorice has a insecurity about his masculinity, but also embraces it at times.

-Licorice loves to cross dress- privately of course. Yet he'll possibly take photos of himself crossdressing.

-He creates the majority of his clothes because of his sewing hobby.

-There's this large x shaped scar on his chest, nobody asks about it anymore. But if they do its a apparent "exile scar."

-Licorice swears he's straight despite his love for Red Velvet. Infact he's a lil bit homophobic at times when people push into the idea of him being into men.

-Licorice has a tattoo of the Licorice Sea on his thigh (that moves up to his hips.)

-Licorice is VERY tall. This is because he wears bigass boots.

I might update this or maybe another whole ass post about more, but I'm too tired too and I'm gonna eep. Gn.

[arudoe]

talk about bruise anything you want, i wanna hear

YAAAY MORE BRUISE

i alr talked about some hcs so ill chat a bit about some aus i have heehee!

- idol jay au !

i feel like this one is prolly the most well known (only because its the only one ive ever drawn for….) but basically jay is an idol/musician and cole is his nr1 fan! it was very inspired by prime empire and also those like harry styles x reader wattpad fics from back in the day… yeah…

all ive got for the story so far is that cole went to a fansign event and while getting his magazine signed jay also sneaks his personal phone number on one of the pages (something along tbe lines of xxx-xxx-xxx text me o_<) and… yeah things move on from there 🙏🙏

- mad scientist jay and his creature cole

OKAYY this might be one of my weirder ones but i think about it a lot 😭😭

anyways jay is a disabled basement dweller college dropout scientist guy and one day he kind of feels some paranormal presence in his lab and conducts a bunch of tests and comes to tbe conclusion there is a ghost floating around in his lab. so like the normal person he is he tries to communicate with it but only gets a bunch of weird cryptid messages that dont make sense… so he comes to bright idea of “hey! i should make this ghost a vessel they can possess!” so he makes a body frankenstein style and low and behold his plan worked!

cole, a ghost from the 80s who possessed the body is now chilling in jays lab with him, but like most people who have been dead for over 40 years he is very curious about the outside world and what has changed.

but jay for some reason is very adamant about him not going outside at all, which causes some tension between the two..

(the reason is jay has abandoned issues) (also cole is kind of a freak of nature) (affectionately)

I LIKE THIS AU A LOT cus its so stupid honestly and i love me some ghost cole also like im still mad about how ninjago decided to completely discard jays love for inventing… let the man make his little trinkets…

- wizard school au

basically what it sounds like… they are wizards.. at a wizard school… and do magic…

yes this was partly inspired by h*rry p*tter BUT ONLY THE VIBES (i barely remember the movies)

BUT UM this is like a whole universe thing and theres so so much lore and world building so… if u want a separate post about it… lmk

- roommates au!

this is my most recent one (and the one i think about the most) but um yeah pretty self explanatory it was based off this jdrama/manga called good morning call so uhhh ya!

basically cole and jay were enemies throughout highschool and basically spend all their energy hating each other but they to their separate ways during college but reunite (unwillingly) as roommates!

they navigate living with each other and learn to let go of their hate (which stemmed from a mixture of misunderstandings and insecurities) and then eventually fall in love!!

i think this is the au i have the most work done on (i have a draft for every major scene that happens in the story heehee) and perhaps! one day i will actually make it a real thing !

so um yeah! i have a bunch more but most of them are very unfinished or just… vague ideas or vibes i go by… i also have some aus that arent bruise so um if anyone wants to hear about those… smiles

BUTTT TYSM FOR UR QUESTION i dont rly say this a lot but any interaction i get with my content means the world to me and i always giggle and kick my feet when reading reblog comments bc everyone is so nice 🥹🥹

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

This isn't a new chapter, I have only seperated the first chapter from my masterlist for reasons of clarity and to have more space for general information there.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Adult f! mc

Summary: This chapter takes place shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. Aesop Sharp is the first of the teachers to arrive in the chamber of the last repository. He instantly notices something went terribly wrong.

Chapter 1 - The Battle of Hogwarts

A pained sound escaped her lips, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her body curling forward as if someone had cast the Cruciatus curse on her, which she would have preferred now if given a choice. Elaine couldn't remember the last time she had a choice. Knowing that Fig was dead was almost unbearable. Just like that. Her own voice sounded like that of a stranger as she whimpered "No-no-no-no-no-".

Elaine Hopkins knelt in front of Professor Fig's lifeless body. She couldn't believe she had lost him. Just moments ago, he had fought side by side with her to defend Hogwarts and the entire wizarding world, and now he lay there, his gaze empty. Dead. She had unconsciously held herself together as he directed his final words to her, to give him reassurance in the moments before his death. She felt the control over her emotions gradually slipping away as she realized what had just happened. She had lost her mentor and watched him die.

Suddenly, a hand and some calm, reassuring words rested on her shoulder. Elaine flinched but couldn't move.

"There's nothing more you can do for him."

As she heard the gentle sound of the familiar voice beside her, her stiffness melted away. She turned around and looked into a pair of alert eyes that seemed to convey an understanding of what she was going through. Professor Sharp stood next to her, leaning forward towards her.

"It's alright, I'm here. Please. Don't torment yourself more than necessary," Sharp's voice sounded almost pleading. There was a tone in his voice that burned through Elaine's chest, indicating that while it was important to say goodbye, to honor that one last moment, she shouldn't give in too much to the pain - at least for now. It was suddenly noticeably quiet in the cave under Hogwarts, as the battle had subsided and everyone realized what had happened. Sharp had immediately sensed that something had gone wrong, that something terrible had happened, that something was no longer as it should be. He was the first to correctly assess the situation. He had apparated instantly to the scene of the accident. To his student who had just suffered a great loss. "Come, you need to get out of here."

Elaine reached for his hand, and he pulled her up. His grip was firm, allowing her to find the stability she had just lost. Sharp wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. Elaine was surprised by the strength and ease with which the Potions professor had helped her up. On the way up to the Map Room, the other teachers watched them in silence - full of sorrow and horror. Elaine caught herself thinking that she was surprised by the smoothness with which Sharp moved at her side, interrupted only slightly by the limp that always accompanied the former Auror.

All sorts of accusations crossed Elaine's mind. If only Fig hadn't accompanied her on her journey to explore Ancient Magic and protect it from falling into the wrong hands. If only she had worked alone. If only she hadn't demanded so much from him.

Sharp led Elaine into his office and asked her to sit down. Like a statue, she sank into a chair in front of her Potions professor's desk and stared blankly into space. Sharp sat across from Elaine Hopkins on the other side of the table and looked at her patiently. He recognized that look. In his years as an Auror, he had seen many colleagues come and go, leaving their mark on the survivors. For some reason, seeing his student in pain hurt him a little more. Perhaps, he thought, it was because of her age and the idea that she had already endured a kind of suffering during her school years that was still difficult to bear even when one had learned to cope with it.

He could have asked her why she and Fig hadn't informed him and the other teachers earlier, why they hadn't given them a chance to support them, but he didn't. He was aware of the accusations Elaine must now face and didn't want to make it worse.

"If you'd like to talk about it, you can come to me anytime," he said instead, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Until now, he had always sat on the other side of such tables and been the one who had lost someone. Elaine was grateful that he didn't ask about what she and Fig had been working on over the last year; the tears that she had held back until this moment suddenly ran down her face. She buried her face in her hands. It tore Sharp apart to see her like this. No one should be subjected to this kind of pain. But weren't those his own words? None of us has a guarantee of survival? If he had known how soon Elaine would experience this firsthand, he might have chosen his words more carefully.

-

Sharp lay awake for a long time that night. What a day it had been. In the morning, he had been busy explaining the difference between bezoars and Ashwinder eggs to third-year students without realizing what was happening deep beneath the school at that moment. Even less could he have imagined that Matilda would rush through the school hours later in distress, talking about an emergency to gather all professors together to defend Hogwarts against trolls and goblins.

Sharp hadn't fought since the ambush where he lost his partner. Of course, he was always ready to defend himself and others, but he was sure that due to his injury, he had lost some of his abilities. Nevertheless, his senses were sharper than ever as he disapparated that evening to secure the school and, above all, support the student who was currently trying to protect whatever it was that goblins wanted.

Sharp sat on the edge of his bed and wrapped a cloak around his shoulders.

"Lumos!"

He walked over to the fireplace in his bedroom, lit it with "Incendio", and sat in one of two chairs in front of the fire.

The warmth relaxed him a bit. Since arriving at Hogwarts, the second chair in front of the fireplace had always remained empty. He didn't often receive visitors in his private quarters anyway, not least because he didn't want anyone to discover either his cane or wheelchair.

During battle, he hardly noticed his leg; he had been too focused on defensive spells and attacks while keeping an eye on what was happening on the battlefield. He had felt filled with passion during the battle - a feeling almost forgotten since his time as an Auror. It was a kind of passion only felt when one put their life on line for something significant beyond their own existence. Adrenaline surged through his body; the tension of not being allowed to make any mistake had given him the certainty that what he did mattered.

However, they suffered losses. Sharp gazed into the fire. Thinking about Fig made him sad; even sadder was remembering his student. Sharp's thoughts kept returning to her over these past few hours. She not only lost her mentor but also her trust - if it hadn’t already been lost before today. Who besides Fig knew what she had already gone through up until this day? At Fig's request back then, Sharp conducted investigations into Ranrok and goblins at Ministry but only now did complexity of situation gradually became clear to him.

Otherwise Sharp didn’t know much about Elaine Hopkins; until now his interest in her had been limited to her academic achievements which undoubtedly surprised him. Beyond that, all he knew were the rumors that she was caught hunting dark wizards outside school or rescuing lost Nifflers from poachers more than once.

This way to Chapter 2