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house-of-daena · 8 months

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my doctor is a succubus!? [succubus.afab.baizhu x m.reader]

contents: he/him pronouns, subtop reader/powerbottom baizhu, nsfw, s3x with a LOT of feelings, virgin reader, overstimulation, praise, degradation, vanilla-ish, creampie, blood, fem genitalia/anatomy terms w/ baizhu (pvssy, cvnt, womb), mention of top surgery scars, ooc baizhu(? he's just really inlove w/ you), hurt/comfort, tell me if i miss anything. [wc. 5.2k]

꒰ GRAHHHHH finally able to post this... after 2-3 weeks posting the masterlist im . i can't with myself 😭 so sorry it took so long and im extra sorry it came out with this monstrosity. i very much like this imo buuttt i can't say the same for you guys. anyways, i probably wont write smth like this ever again unless y'all end up liking it!! (also this was supposed to celebrate 600-700 followers but uh. oops! ty for 800!) ꒱

let's fuck monsters tonight!

it was always peaceful at night. crickets chirping into the cool hours of darkness, fireflies lighting up as they flew, like the stars above the clouds, and the silent crashing of waves against the shore.

no soul could be seen wandering in the streets of liyue, except for some mililith patrolling to keep the city safe. but something lurked in the shadows...

something sinister.

hungry.

lustful.

he crept from house to house, looking for the perfect prey to feed on. he searched desperately, the hunger that had been ignored for treacherous years, leaving his monstrous instincts salivating and wild. the pain of starvation he brings himself to, in fear of hurting others, has weakened him, but his hunt didn't cease for a moment. it made him crave it, the essence of someone who could fulfill his devilish needs, and the warmth his insides long yearned for.

the mark on his pelvis had gone dull, and it ached more with each passing day.

baizhu usually relied on medicine he had made for himself. to keep his salacious desires at bay, and though it wasn't much of the real deal, it managed to keep his body relatively healthy without the base nutrients it required for his succubus blood, and it truly helped him for the longest time.

but it has been years since he had feasted on someone's precious essence, and baizhu has diligently refused to feed again. while his nature is uncouth, his heart remains pure, and he worries that if he tries to feed again, he will hurt them, despite hurting himself.

but this time, his hunger was different.

it was an ardent need. essential. his body reacted so negatively, rendering him unable to properly work for days. it was clear that his body was demanding him to go and hunt for food, so it could sustain itself properly. perhaps after feeding once, he could go back to his regular intake of pills.

for now, he searched for a feast.

and, indeed, he found it, inside a familiar house.

your home,

and you were sleeping inside your bedroom,

a succubus' meal.

if he were to do it with anyone, it would be you, as much as he didn't want to.

you were a sweet man, always visiting him and qiqi in bubu pharmacy and offering a hand whenever you were free. you get along with just about everyone in the pharmacy; being old friends with gui, helping qiqi with deliveries—even changsheng has taken a liking to you, slithering onto your arm when you step behind the counter with baizhu, giving you a warm welcome.

he can't help but find himself falling for such a man like you.

and he absolutely hates the fact that the only person he'd feel safe within such a vulnerable state is you. he could kill you, and he would never forgive himself if he got carried away.

you were too precious to him. but he was starving.

it greatly intensified once he took a step inside your room, almost salivating the moment he inhaled your scent. archons, he smelt you everywhere, it was almost suffocating. and he had never smelt something so divine, so pungent, he was slightly aware of how his thoughts were slowly getting muddled—he admired you as you slept, chest steadily rose and fell, soft snores from your parted lips. you looked so peaceful, and yet here he was, hovering above your unsuspecting form, biting his bottom lip and his hands trembling as he held back from touching you so soon.

you began to stir on your bed when baizhu turned off your lamp, a faint hiss that was dangerously close to your ear made you blearily open your eyes in the dead of night, the weight of your bed shifting to one side more as you felt something move right beside you.

quickly, you jolt from your bed, startled at the man beside you. a scream almost leaves your lips when he leans towards you, face inches apart, his hot breath hitting your skin. "don't worry," he murmurs, voice silky smooth, so sultry it made your skin crawl, cheeks flushed as he moves even closer to you. "i won't hurt you, i just... need some help, is all."

the man before you reassures, his cool fingertips tracing your jawline, sharpened nails digging slightly into your skin. baizhu knows that if he suggests that he needs help, even though he was a stranger breaking into your home, you'd assist him. perhaps the charm he was using in his voice also helped, considering your eyes have easily succumbed to his mesmerizing haze of seduction.

all it took for him was to speak with his voice in a low, alluring tone, press his lithe, and smooth body against yours, allowing your hands to glide onto the skin of his exposed belly and touch you like he owns you—teasing you with assurances of bliss, only to pull away. like bait attached to a string, luring you into his possessive hands.

baizhu almost lost himself in his desire for you, his heart pounding and the mark on his womb ached more than ever before. he craved to have you inside him, nearly jumping on you and just taking you then and there.

but gods, baizhu's love for you was the only thing that was holding him back, so he settled on peppering wet kisses on your quivering adam's apple, his hand rubbing your thigh. "you'll help me, right?" he hums, golden irises glowing faintly in the dark. he sees you squint as if you're trying to discern who he is—he was probably oddly familiar to you, considering his voice and the shape of his body were similar to the kindhearted doctor from the local pharmacy not too far away from your home...

your thoughts were chased away when his forked tongue flickered against your lips, suddenly aware of his... unnatural features. slitted, but gorgeous golden eyes, scales on certain parts of his skin, small horns, akin to bumps, that protruded from his forehead, a tail with a heart-shaped tip, and fangs that made your heart lurch at both fear and excitement.

"i've been starving for an awfully long time..." he whispers into your ear, his hand slowly creeping inside your shirt and card his nails onto your stomach, soliciting a small whimper from your throat. baizhu almost moans in delight at the wonderful sound. "you'll feed me, right? let me regain my strength?"

slowly, you nod, hand resting on his shoulder. "y-yeah," you manage to say, still trying to make out any of his features in the dark. "i can cook you something real quick-"

"oh no, you're quite mistaken." he purrs, licking his lips as his hand begins to lower itself down to your crotch. "you see, darling, i'm a succubus." he hears your breath hitch at his confession, his lips brushing against yours as he pins you against the headboard, straddling your lap. strands of his hair fall to your face, your hands feel as if it belongs on his slender waist as you grab hold of it, his eyes gleam brightly with lust as he looks down at you and lifts your chin to stare back into his bewitching face. "i'll need a different kind of sustenance...~"

even in the dark, you can tell that he is absolutely gorgeous as if the gods themselves carved him into existence. your grip tightens, so much so that your nails leave crescent-shaped indents.

baizhu was experiencing absolute heaven, and the both of you were still fully clothed. his heart was beating so hard against his chest that he was afraid you could feel it if he pressed his body against yours. he was smiling ear to ear in excitement, and he fought hard to hold back. his body was in a love-struck frenzy, skin hot to the touch and his cheeks flaming red, his tail flicking back and forth.

oh, he never would've expected to have you like this so soon. underneath him, looking up at him with those lovely eyes, lost, but still so eager to help. if you only knew the things you do to him...

he could see your hesitance, probably thinking about the risks of indulging in a succubus' request. it was understandable, honestly, even though baizhu was in complete control of his body, he could still put your life at risk. after all, he hasn't eaten in years.

"you won't die," he murmurs almost too sweetly, his voice making your poor, charmed mind buzz pleasantly. "that's a promise~" thankfully, you could still make coherent thoughts, shooting him a serious look, hands curiously tracing the sensitive mark on his pelvis that glowed in the dark. he hums at the feeling of your fingers, gently pressing and kneading, yet it burned ferociously with ardent need. gods, his body needed you now.

"if you say so...." you whisper back, nervous, "i put my trust in you, if it meant helping you..."

so as soon as those words left your lips, baizhu grabbed you by the collar and smashed your lips together, kissing you so hard that it felt like he was devouring you. teeth clashed against each other, his fangs sank onto the fragile skin of your bottom lip, making it bleed, and he sucks on your tongue, kissing and practically taking all the air out of your lungs.

baizhu was ecstatic, swallowing the lavish taste of your blood, drinking in all the whimpers and moans you make just from the addicting kiss. your hands were now on his ass, guiding his body and grinding his crotch onto your hardening cock. when he pulls away, he pants, moving his hips languidly to meet your thrusts, absolutely enamored at the string of saliva that connected the two of you.

"you shouldn't trust so easily," baizhu warns, cradling your head into his arms, his kisses never ceasing, making sure to attach his lips to every inch of your skin. he wants to savor every single second he spends with you, loving your body, getting a taste of something so sacred, you, that he would surely grow to yearn once this is all over. "if it were another succubus, you might not be treated as nicely as i have~"

his voice put you in a hypnotic trance, eyes trailing down his body as your hands moved on their own, stripping him bare from his clothing. fingers, featherlight and delicate, trailed the scars that adorned his chest, the tantalizing feeling of your hot breath on his nipple while your hand pinched and flicked his other. "there's just... something so familiar about you." you murmur against his skin, pressing the pad of your wet and hot tongue against his perky bud, making baizhu let out a pleased sigh, hand grabbing the back of your head. your mind was clouded with his drowning lust to recognize him, but still awake enough to think. "you know me, and... i know you."

baizhu felt his heart drop, the urge to run away and find someone else to feed him gnawed at his stomach. he would rather starve than let himself be known to you; him, a succubus, seducing you to do his bidding. baizhu longed to have you in his bed, to make love to you and have you all for himself, to call you his, and call himself yours. just—not like this!

and as if you could sense his inner turmoil, you gently turned your bodies, laying him down on your bed. you kissed the tip of his nose, down to the apple of his cheeks, the corners of his bloodied lips, and onto his chin. you kissed him like he was a masterpiece to be worshipped, hands stroking his supple skin. he could see the admiration in your eyes, sparkling from the slightest of light the moon provided that seeped through your curtains.

and while baizhu couldn't tell if it was all because of his hypnotizing charm, his heart skipped a beat.

then, you grab his hand, lips brushing against his knuckles and kissing the callouses that graced his fingertips. "i feel safe, for some reason." you continued, leaning back to take off your clothes. "like we have met before, and you are company i enjoy myself a lot with... isn't that weird, stranger?"

baizhu could hear the slight recognition in your voice, but his initial fear was forgotten when he felt your cock pressed against his thigh. his body immediately reacted to your warmth, moving his hips to feel more of you, against his desperate, aching hole. stars above, it is so much bigger than he anticipated, your drooling tip smearing pre all over this thigh, and baizhu gulps at the groans that rumble from your chest.

it hurt to have you so close, yet so far, so empty despite the promise of being filled. still, baizhu managed to find his voice to reply. "o-oh, certainly. i am a succubus after all," he tried to regain the flair in his tone, to keep you enraptured to his hidden beauty, delude you into thinking that he wasn't the same man you thought he was, "a demon, monster."

though it was dark, baizhu saw your lips curve downward, frowning at his harsh words. your hands slid from his waist, down to the back of his thighs, squeezing the flesh, before parting his legs and letting him wrap them around your waist, keeping the two of you connected until the succubus that lays before your bed decided he had enough.

you were completely at his mercy, and it made you impossibly harder.

gently, as if he was your lover, you pushed back a strand of his hair behind his pointed ear, fingers lingering on the shape of his concealed, yet beautiful face. "don't speak to yourself like that," you kiss his collarbones, and feel him squeeze you between his legs a little tighter, pulling you closer to him, "it breaks my heart."

"does it now?" baizhu quips, sharp, quick, defensive, and disbelieving. "you don't even know me."

"you still have feelings, don't you?"

baizhu's heart can't take it. it feels so full, about to explode, despite the agonizing emptiness of his hole, thighs quivering and hands clinging onto you. he feels breathless, heartbeat in his throat—you're treating him how you'd treat baizhu, the caring doctor of bubu pharmacy, not the succubus trying to get you to fuck him. you don't know who he was, he was certain of it.

but perhaps he was just in denial, too afraid to let someone as good as you be so close to him. you are deserving of more, someone who can be devoted to you, as much as you are to him. he can't bear the thought of you leaving him once he has taken grasp of immortality, growing old without him as he lives on. nor the burden you'll surely carry with him.

that is why he has never made a single move to you, nor acknowledged yours. he adores you from afar, breaking his own heart by keeping himself close to you despite knowing he can never be with you—his mission won't allow it. he can't let it happen.

but oh, when you hold him so tenderly in your arms, caressing his cheeks with your thumb and kissing him so sweetly, it feels like the walls he has built specifically to keep you away from his heart, fall apart so easily.

"if you're a monster, then why do you talk so gently to me?" you whisper, and the hairs of his skin stand, sharp nails digging onto your skin. "so careful of my body, asking me for consent, even though you're salivating in hunger."

the smile you gave him made baizhu fall in love with you all over again, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "i think you are quite nice, person that i totally don't recognize." a soft chuckle escapes your lips, and it eases him how comfortable you were, worries melting into nothingness. "so please, tell me what i need to do to help you."

ah, he was so weak for you. baizhu wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him, capturing your lips once against with his. "then you better start fucking me," he demands, his other hand scoops the slick his body has been producing wildly, copious amounts in his hand and coating your dick with it himself.

you lean down to his ear, letting him hear all of the lewd sounds that escape your lips as he squeezes your length, stroking it with his experienced hands, and grazing his nails on a thick, bulging vein that makes you whimper onto his neck. you quickly caught on that he enjoyed your noises. his wetness felt cool on your throbbing cock, the squelch of each movement of his hand making you tremble above him, burying your nose onto his shoulder as he coos your name and played with your cock.

maybe you were just extra sensitive because you were... inexperienced... but there was something odd about his wetness. it made your dick tingle, ache, and burned fervidly. you felt lightheaded all of a sudden, your mind and body screaming at you to just have your cock inside of him.

it must be one of his succubus traits, you gulped nervously.

you were so cute, so pliant, despite having him underneath you. a surge of pride swells in his chest, digging his thumb onto your weeping slit, thoroughly satisfied at the moan that came from your trembling lips. he felt himself grow hungrier when you moved your head back, gazing at him with enchanted, half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, and parted lips. baizhu has never felt so grateful for his night vision.

when his skillful hands lined up your cock to his hole, parting his glistening folds with your pulsating tip, you stop him for a moment, brows furrowed worriedly. "w-wait," you breathe, voice wavering, "what about you?"

baizhu merely laughs at your concern, cooing at you and caressing your cheeks, to which you leaned against his touch. "oh baby, you think i'd come here unprepared?" he chuckles, tone teasing as he pushes your cockhead into his awaiting hole while he thumbs your skin to soothe you, softening the creases that formed on your face. "now go ahead, put it in me, darling."

baizhu had bite down his bottom lip until he bled to stop himself from screaming, his back arched at the burning stretch as you slowly plunged your fat cock into his hole. no matter how much he prepared himself to take you, he still found himself getting split open by your sheer girth. he didn't expect you to be so big, his gummy walls fluttering around your throbbing cock.

you moaned, louder than before, when you bottomed out, patiently waiting for him to adjust to your length, like the gentleman you were, but you were grinding your hips against his. you clung tightly onto baizhu, overwhelmed at the warmth that surrounded your virgin cock as his pussy clamps down on you, sucking you in deeper.

all the while baizhu felt like he was high above the clouds, being stuffed full just by your dick inside of him—his body was elated, forked tongue poking out between his lips as he stared up at your eyes, full of lust and desire.

cursing underneath your breath, you grew weak on the knees, the blistering heat slowly spreading all over your body; from your stomach, crawling upwards and onto your chest, to the very tips of your toes. it was almost paralyzing, his insides squeezing your poor, sensitive cock, wrapped in mind-breaking euphoria.

"that's it," he sighs, pressing kisses all over your face, reassuring, though amused. "such a good boy, already so fucked out by just penetrating me?" baizhu smirks, his fingers playing with the curves of your face. you whine at his words, very embarrassed as you bury your face in his neck.

"hah- this feels-" you swallow a mouthful of saliva, panting and groaning at the foreign sensations, twitching and pulsing deep inside of him, "all i can think about is fucking you—it's your doing, right?"

baizhu bats his eyelashes innocently at you, tilting his head as he hums. "oh darling, you can't blame me for every nasty thought that invades your mind," he purrs teasingly, grinning playfully when you give him a huff. "i am flattered, though."

it didn't take long before baizhu told you to start moving. it started off slow, gentle, and unsure, eyes searching for baizhu's guidance. it made his heart soar at how adorable you were, pouting as you sloppily thrust into him, exerting much effort to not lose yourself in the pleasure. you wanted to please him, so attentive and caring to his body.

don't worry, baizhu is more than happy to tell you what to do. he taught you many things you never knew before, to angle your dick just right, hitting a spot buried deep inside of him that made him curl his toes and cry out in delight—to ram your fat cock into his sopping wet cunt as he clenches on you, bucking your hips fast and hard.

baizhu throws his head back, smiling and clawing at your biceps, leaving red, angry scratches on them. he moans your name, nothing but praise coming out of his plump lips and drowning your thoughts with addictive lust. "you're fucking into me soooo nicely, darling~" he gasped when you kept precisely hitting his sensitive spot, his walls spasming and convulsing around your ravishing cock.

you grasped his thighs, gripping on them so tightly it's bound to leave bruises as you follow his every order, fucking him just how he liked, the loud slapping of skin on skin filling your once peaceful bedroom. it turns you on further on how vile the wet squelch it makes at each thrust you give. you held onto him for your dear life, fucking him with all your strength, body trembling from the unbearable pleasure.

moaning and whimpering, your head hung as drool dripped down onto his chest, body compelled to keep moving. it felt so good, each drag of your cock inside of his velvety walls felt like fire onto your skin, each squeeze and grind, it's making you mad, completely hooked on the feeling.

"such an obedient pup," baizhu coos and you let out a whine at his praise, eyes wide and glittering with unshed tears, and his heart skips a beat when he saw how easily fucked out you were. "does it feel good? hm? my pussy feels good around your cock?" you nod vigorously, leaning closer to him and angling yourself to reach even deeper. it made baizhu take a sharp intake of air, moaning obscenely into your ear.

"f-fuuckk! hgnn~ c-c'mon, use your words~" he smiles when you choke on a moan, never stopping your movements even for a second. "you're a good boy, aren't you? i know you can do it, talk to me~"

"s-stop-" you heaved, voice garbled as you tried to speak between your filthy sounds, nails digging into his skin. his voice was like honey to your ears, drowning in the thick viscousness of his sickeningly sweet words, making it difficult for you to properly think. it was all too much, and he wasn't making it easy for you.

"oh? you don't like praise?" his golden eyes shone brightly, and his nails grazed your skin painfully, but you reveled in the pain, panting, and shaking as baizhu cupped your face into his hands. "how about i call you a filthy whore instead? wanting to fuck a succubus that could drain your life away~" he whispers into your ear with such a haughty lilt in his voice, tongue licking your earlobe.

even though he was getting fucked by your fat cock, drilling into his insides until it all felt like numbing mush, moaning in delight as he wraps his legs impossibly tighter around you, keeping you close and never letting you go, he has you under his control. it was as if he owned your body, and you would only obey him.

it made your head fuzzy just thinking about it.

"you like being told what to do, hm? like some mutt?"

his words were like electric shocks down your spine, you couldn't help but pound harder into his warm, addicting cunt, a cry leaving your lips when he clamped down onto your cock once more. like a hand, gripping tightly onto something he owns, and in this case, your cock belongs to his pussy.

"oh my!" he grits his teeth as he lets out a long, drawn-out moan, pulling your head to his chest as he rolls his eyes back. "shit, hnff- t-that god you more excited, huh? so pussy drunk that you're only thinking with your dick~"

suddenly, you let out a shout, squeezing your eyes shut and burying as deep as you could inside of baizhu, a tear rolling down your cheek as you shot thick ropes of your cum straight into his starving womb. and oh, baizhu took it all, a small, joyous yes yes yes! leaving his lips as he moved his hips against yours, not giving you a moment's rest as he fucks himself onto you.

you didn't know what came over you after you orgasmed into his welcoming pussy, but when the mark on his womb glowed a vibrant green, your body kept moving on its own, despite the sting of overstimulation overcoming your senses. you fucked him, again and again, pressing the pad of your thumb against his clit and fiercely rubbing it as you burrow into him, mind blank.

your body shivered, sobbing and drooling as you absentmindedly followed baizhu's every command, twitching and burning from the numbing pleasure, yet your body refused to stop, even after you've come numerous amounts of times inside of him.

baizhu's hair became a mess as he greedily took every load you'd spilled, absolutely obsessed at the warmth of your seed filling up his insides and forming a creamy ring on your cock. you looked so handsome crying, begging him for a break, and that you can't take it anymore.

despite this, you let him milk your cock for all it's worth, pumping him full until it leaks out of his hole, his ankles were now resting on your shoulders. you were so lost in the pleasure, hiccuping as you cum again for the nth time.

just one more, he promised, though he pushed you back, turning your bodies around so baizhu was straddling your lap. he began to ride you, with expert movements that had you mewling, your arm covering your face, moaning into the night, holding no regards for your neighbors through your thin walls.

his nails marked your chest, making it bleed along his scratches, grinding his hips onto yours. gods, you felt so fucking good, it was difficult for him to pull away. your length and girth were just perfect, his blood boiling in thrill and excitement just by having you inside of him. he wanted more and more, drinking in as much as you could give him. your essence was just so delectable, irresistible. it was all he could ever want to eat.

you moan in sync, watching baizhu as he arches his back so prettily on top of you, creaming around your cock. you could tell he was just as sensitive as you were, but his hips ceased to stop. shakily, you reached for his tail, which possessively curled around your fingers.

gently, as you always are, you kiss the heart-shaped tip of his tail, watery eyes, so unfocused, but stared into baizhu's eyes, so full of tenderness that it snapped him out of his frenzied stupor.

baizhu gasps, cradling your face into his hands as he frets over you when your head falls, catching your breath as if you've run a marathon. "oh archons," he calls your name, shaking you lightly, "are you okay!? im so sorry, i didn't mean to- i got carried away!" hearing the distress in his voice, you only put your hand atop of his, kissing his palms and giving him an adoring smile.

"m'fine," you rasp, and before baizhu knows it, there was a faint click! right beside him, and light engulfs your room. your eyes light up when you finally see him, his eyes wide in shock. "hah, knew it was you."

"you-i-" instead of reacting how he always thought you would, as all others have, you grabbed his hands, and pressed long, loving kisses on each knuckle. baizhu's stomach was doing flips at each kind gesture, and he was now acutely aware of how he could feel your seed sloshing in his womb whenever he moved. his cheeks flush in embarrassment. "y-you weren't supposed to see me!" he glares at you, fangs bared threateningly.

though you can't bring yourself to fear him—not when he's panting, covered in sweat that gleamed at the orange light from your lamp, his face red, and eyes still full of carnal desire. but you know, behind his hunger, was nothing but love, adoring and fragile. "it's okay," you whisper as you sit yourself up, leaning back against the headboard, "it's okay to be seen."

your fingers twirled around a loose strand of his hair, planting a kiss on it while your eyes were on him, other hand caressing the ever-glowing mark on his swelling tummy. "please, let me see you." you kiss his jawline, and baizhu groans when you press onto his abdomen, so full—both of your lust and love. "let me love you."

his eyes burned as he let you wrap your arms around him, engulfing him in a hug he has long yearned from you. "go ahead, love," his skin crawls at the pet name, rolling so naturally from your tongue, so heavenly to his ears. "i know you still need more. i can take it."

baizhu has a lot of worries, especially concerning you. but at that moment, when you held him so tenderly, connected, with nothing but love in your gaze and a smile on your lips as you kissed him—it felt like everything was alright.

the world was nothing, and it was just the two of you, in each other's arms, lips locked; nothing could separate the two of you.

he may have fears, ones that will probably never go away for as long as he lives. but with you saying his name so softly, caressing his sensitive skin, and telling him it was okay for him to keep taking from you, despite your creeping exhaustion—he wants to have you by his side for a little longer, if not, forever.

because with you, baizhu thinks that everything will be fine.

"...just say you want more of me," he replies, hiding his face from you, to which you merely laughed at. "you freak... letting a succubus fuck you..."

"please, stop ignoring my heartfelt confessions and countering them with something mean," you pout, your thumb wiping away the stray tear that trailed down his cheek.

baizhu just pins you down, grinding his hips and making you roll your eyes, mouth open from a breathless moan. "keep quiet pet, i'm not done with you." he threatens, but you just smile,

"i love you."

gods, he hates how this all feels so normal with you, his poor heart that was boarded up in the beginning, all so vulnerable and raw before you.

but perhaps,

"...i love you too."

everything will be quite alright.

#» asmo's writings #» asmo's series: monsterfucking 2nite!#» baizhu #baizhu x reader #baizhu x male reader #baizhu smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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daydreaming-nerd · 3 months

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The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too.

Mates.

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time.

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court.

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out.

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.

“I did,” I admit pathetically.

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden.

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones.

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes.

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd.

That was a week ago.

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week.

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry.

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council.

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin.

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me.

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight.

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon.

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating.

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo.

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase.

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff.

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks.

“What about them?”

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again.

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify.

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission.

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out.

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer.

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm.

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias.

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks.

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face.

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand.

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow.

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him.

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias.

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine.

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip.

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there.

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?”

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.”

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out.

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed.

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver.

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body.

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head.

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls.

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons.

“Get out of my head” I grumble.

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling.

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened.

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe.

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs.

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this.

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head.

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence.

Call me Rhysand.

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back.

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling.

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in.

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me.

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up..

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch.

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door.

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall.

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine.

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close.

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him.

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck.

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence.

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself.

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality.

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back.

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him.

Did he touch you?

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this?

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize.

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same.

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words.

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court.

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #acotar #rhys acotar

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 months

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I have this mafia Charles hurt comfort idea. Pretty platonic but somewhere where Charles sees her and is mesmerized and slowly creeps his way in the readers life. This is till one day the opposite mafia figures out there’s a weak spot and they take and rough her up and he comes and saves her will all “Who did this to you” trope etc

A/N: I love this, because it's platonic and I don't write that often

You don't know how Charles came to be in your life, one day you were working at your restaurant and serving him, and now here he was eating your chips on your coach.

It was weird to see this man, one who for some reason were scared off sitting on your god ugly couch wearing a very expensive Gucci suit. "Charles?" The man hums and stops shoving the chips in his mouth and cocks his head to the side. "Yeah, babes?" You roll your eyes and chuckle, Charles knows damn well you wouldn't date him, but that didn't stop him from calling you babes or baby.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a meeting or something?" You move from your kitchen and sit down next to Charles, pulling your legs up to your chest. "Yes, but I wanted to see you first." "To do what? Eat all my food." You snatch away the bag and he whines at the loss of his salty cheat food.

"Maybe, but np, wanted to let you know I have to go to France for a little bit." He shrugs, and you don't pry, Charles always told you when he'd be out of town and that the normal person who followed you, yet something you weren't supposed to know, would be following you. "How long will you be gone?" Charles smiles and pats your knee, rings on display.

He wore one that had an insignia on it and never took it off, you still remember when a shop clerk who was rude to you saw it. The shop clerk froze and when Charles turned and smiled you can still see the way the color drained from his face.

"I'll be gone for about a month or so, you going to miss me?" He grins and you shove his head slightly both of you chuckling. "No, I'll be free of your being a bother. And I'll have my chips to myself." Charles giggles, but stops as he clears his throat getting serious.

"Promise me, that you'll be safe, don't talk to strangers." His face stone cold and you snort. "Yeah should've listened to that advice. Then I wouldn't have a stranger sitting on my couch." You joke, but your laughter is only met with a stern gaze. "Y/n, you're my best friend, I'm serious please don't do anything crazy." He pleads and you nod your head.

"Of course, Char," You untangle your legs and move into his lap and hug him. Charles relaxes and wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. "I'll be back, don't worry." Kissing your temple.

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

"Anything else for you sir?" You smile at the creepy Italian man with big curly hair and round glasses on his pinched face. "No, thank you," You nod and quickly walk through the dark restaurant and shiver feeling his eyes on you still. "You alright?" One of your coworkers ask, worry evident in their tone. "Yep, just the usual weird customer." They nod in understanding and move away going to check on their own tables.

Your shift finally ends, and you shiver, shaking off the weird feeling of being watched. Tightening your coat around you, you jump and then giggle when you realize it's your phone vibrating. "Hey, Char," You knew it was him, his shadow must've told him you just left work. "Hey, gorgeous. How was work?" He asks, and you smile, missing having him beside you and walking you home.

"It was fine, the regulars, and then some gu-" The phone is ripped from your grasp and you scream but it's muffled by a hand closing around your mouth. Two men shove you into the alleyway hearing a crunch you whimper knowing they've destroyed your phone.

You want nothing more than to have Charles here, as pain explodes all over your body.

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

You don't know what happened, but the soft beeping has your body aching just wanting it to shut up. "mumph," You grumble, warmth is suddenly on you and fingers tracing the lines of your face. "Baby, shhh it's okay, you're safe." Opening your eyes, the best you can with them swollen you see a blurry image of Charles.

"Who did this to you?" He whispers, voice filled with anger and sadness. "God, I'm so sorry," He whispers and moves lying down on the bed with you. You whine, sore all over but it feels good to have Charles's scent and warmth all over you. "Missed you," You whisper, and Charles chuckles and cuddles closer to you. "I missed you too," He whispers and you drift off into sleep.

"Sir, we found them," Charles doesn't move and just nods his head. "Rip his head off," Charles growls and presses a delicate kiss to your temple. "Rip all their heads off for all I care,"

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cinefairy · 10 months

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the comforts of the imagination.

here i am— confused, scared & worried about whether im doing a technique right. here i am, struggling on finding fulfilment of my desires, not realising that fulfilment is already within me and has always been within me. i just haven’t trusted myself yet.

there is no reason to second-guess your worthiness of your desires. your imagination accepts you. your imagination isn’t asking you and will never ask you to be perfect. the great thing about imagination is that it will accept you for whoever you are. the only thing it asks you to do is fulfil yourself how you wish to.

stop worrying about the if/when/how/when why would you worry about that stuff? its a whole other layer that disrupts the peacefulness you could be receiving, its hard to stop the cycle of the comfortability but there’s no other way around it, the cycle has to end.

ask yourself: what will doubting myself bring me? nothing but more doubts.

what will seeking from the outside rather than inside bring me? nothing but chasing something that already exists within you.

what will worrying bring me? nothing but more worries.

now does any of that serve you? does it bring you goodness and peace. the answer is no.

give yourself what you want in imagination and imagination will not deny, it will not stop you and say “you cant have that” it will only accept what you accept.

so there you go, let go of everything that is not serving you & give yourself everything that you please and when i say everything i mean everything. do not hold back (because why would you when you’re free?) why settle for something less of what you truly deserve to have?

don’t shame yourself if you fall out of the state, get back in! that state doesn’t just disappear, its still within you. find it and go back in. it may feel uncomfortable at first and thats okay— when i get uncomfortable at my first newly state i perceive it as me finally stepping out of my comfort zone. i am not used to feeling this way, i am not used to giving myself what i please. it will be uncomfortable but soon this great feeling will be my home. it IS my home. i am just settling in.

you are surrounded by love, you are love, you are safe. imagination will not let you down. it will accept you— so now that you are aware that everything will be okay, that you are safe to imagine the things you’ve so deeply wanted. what are you gonna do?

#law of assumption #manifestation #affirmations #dream life #manifesting

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folklvrsworld · 9 months

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between the books ♡

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, kissing, swearing/cussing, slightly spying

summary: reader is doing assignments in the library when she feels a pair of eyes watching her, harry decided to distract her and get her mind off of school for a hot minute

song: collide - justin skye, tyga

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

Being a sixth year doesn't mean you can relax. Yes, we do have a lot more free time, but those free times are mostly used for doing homework, which the professors gave a lot, or studying for N.E.W.T. exams that we will have to do in our seventh year.

I was in the library, scribbling down answers for my defence against the dark arts homework, while constantly switching books. The library wasn't empty that day, but it wasn't full either. As I was writing, I felt like someone was watching me. I looked around, but no one was looking at my direction.

I shrugged it off and continued on what I was doing. I finally finished my homework and I closed the books, before putting them back in the right shelves. As I was returning the last book, I felt a presence behind me and before I could turn around, I felt someone kiss my neck.

"Harry..." I giggled quitely while turning around to see the raven haired boy standing in front of me.

"Took you long enough to notice me." he grinned and pecked my lips slowly.

I kissed him back and pulled away with a raised eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"I've been watching you for the past ten minutes, I thought you would notice me, but you were very focused on your homework." he chuckled, kissing me again.

"I knew I felt someone was watching me." I said in between kisses, "Now we really shouldn't make out here, I have homework to do."

He groaned, "Oh come on, it's time for you to have a little break. What d'you say?" he smiled while running his hands up and down my waist.

I gulped and stared at him in the eyes, he wasn't wrong, I do need a little break. I've been doing homework for the past three hours, my fingers were tired from writing, my brain was tired from thinking, I needed a distraction.

"Fine.." I finally said, earning a big grin from him before he pinned me to the bookshelf and kissed my neck, "W-Wait...Here?!"

He pulled away and shrugged, "Why not? If you're comfortable with it, of course."

I reminded myself that we were on the back of the library, the section where no one really comes to, so if we were to do it here, it would be somewhat safe. We just have to be quiet.

"Okay...We have to be quiet though."

He chuckled, "You mean you have to be quiet, princess." he smirked as his hand started to go under my skirt, "Let me take care of you, yeah? I know you're tired, you don't have to do anything."

His words gave me butterflies on my stomach. Sex with him was always either gentle and sweet, rough and kinky, or lusty and passionate. Him being cute and gentle was always my favorite one.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and stroked the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him, as our lips collided and moved in sync, his hand made its way to my underwear. He stroked my clit through the fabric making me gasp and have goosebumps from head to toe.

"Shh, relax. I'll be gentle." he muttered through the kiss as he felt the wetness on the underwear, he fiddled with the fabric at first, before slowly taking it off of me.

When it was off, he kept it in his pocket and started to trail his thumb over my clit. I shuddered at his touch and he did it over and over again, "Can you tell me what you want, princess?"

I nearly come undone hearing his words, but I managed to look him in the eyes while saying, "Touch me...Please, Harry..."

He smiled and pecked my lips before slowly entering a finger in, while still caressing my clit with his thumb. I held back a moan as I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip.

"Merlin, you're so wet." he groaned quitely as he went in and out with his finger, and not long after, he added a second finger.

I threw my head back to the bookshelf and couldn't help but let out a little gasp, he started moving faster and faster, it was getting really hard to hold back my moans. When he added a third finger, he knew I was about to moan, because he slammed his lips onto mine.

"F-Fuck..." I moaned quitely through the kiss, his fingers moving in and out frantically, I pulled away and gasped for air.

Suddenly, I felt the knot in my stomach forming, my body was starting to shake, I was close. Harry seemed to realize as he stopped for a second to rest his fingers before going in and out in a frantic pace, his thumb stroking my clit.

"Come for me, baby." he said while unbuttoning my shirt and squeezing my boobs gently.

Not wasting another moment, I bit back a moan as I felt my body completely let go. I let out little whimpers of pleasure as my body jerk and shake a little from the force of the orgasm. When I've relaxed, he gently pulled his fingers out and licked them clean.

"Good girl." he smiled at me and kissed me, letting me taste myself on his tongue, "Do you want more or was that enough for you, my love?"

I panted heavily, still recovering from the orgasm, and looked at him and his bulge. I knew I would have to really fight myself to not moan if we go further, but my body needed him. Badly.

"You deserve some too, Harry. Not just me." I smiled while fumbling with his pants, he raised an eyebrow before smirking lightly.

He understood what I wanted so he quickly took of his pants and underwear, while I completely took off my shirt, leaving me only in my skirt and bra. He picked me up and made me straddle him before taking one of my boobs into his mouth.

I moaned quitely as I tug his hair and let out a sigh of pleasure. He continued sucking on my breast while playing with the other one, before pulling away and looking at me in the eyes, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, Y/N."

My body instantly was filled with euphoria hearing that, my cheeks went red as I smiled at him and kissed him. He kissed me back with tongue as he gave his dick a few strokes before gently and slowly entering me.

"O-Oh, fuck...." I pulled away from the kiss and moaned, with our foreheads still touching.

He breathed heavily and continued to thrust himself deeper. When he's fully in me, he paused for a second to take a deep breath, before slowly moving in and out.

"H-Harry..." I rested my hand on his shoulder and clawed his back, we were only getting started and we were already such a moaning mess.

"Y-You feel so good, Merlin..." he moaned, squeezing my ass as he continued his rapid movement.

We were looking into each other's eyes as he moved in and out of me. Both of us sweating and breathing heavily, euphoria and pleasure feeling both our bodies. It wasn't until we heard someone talking that we knew someone was in the shelf next to ours.

"No, that's not the one I'm looking for. Maybe it's in the next shelf."

I widened my eyes and mouthed to Harry, "We're the next shelf!"

He was about to pull out of me but before he could do anything, another voice was heard, "Wait, here it is. Nevermind, we don't have to go to the other shelf, Celia. I got it."

We both took a deep breath of relief and waited for them to leave, when they did, he looked at me and smirked, "Now, where were we?" he started moving in and out of me again.

Not so long after, he thrusted deep inside me, hitting my g-spot. I had to bury my face on the crook of his neck to hold myself from screaming out of pleasure. I was in absolute bliss. His thrust became faster and harder by the second.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck baby..." I whimpered into his neck, my body jerking from the force of his thrust.

He stroked my back reassuringly and eagerly kissed my neck to calm me down, "Shh, I know, sweetheart. I know."

He started hitting my g-spot over and over again, my body was jerking and shaking from the amount of pleasure I was getting. Little gasps and moans coming out of my mouth, as I feel the knot on my stomach forming again.

"I-I'm close, Harry..." I gasped and my legs tightened the grip on his waist.

He nodded his head and groaned, while pulling away from my neck after successfully making a hickey there, "Me too. Oh fucking hell, love.."

His movement suddenly became fast and hard, he was trying to reach both of our orgasms. My mouth was hung open in a silent scream, he was gasping for air and watching me slowly come building up to my release.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

With his words, I come undone. I tried my best to moan quitely, as my body convulsed and my thighs shake. I saw stars and I couldn't feel anything else except for pleasure. I never wanted it to end. I was having uncontrollable spams. It was the hardest orgasm I've ever had.

A second after my release, he had his. He buried his face into my chest as he groaned and released inside me. I felt his hot liquid filling me up, making me shudder and jerk slightly. As we were both coming down from our high, he stroked my stomach gently to calm me down, and I stroked his hair.

When we both have relaxed, we looked at each other and couldn't help but smile. He pulled out of me slowly and set me down on my feet, I trembled but I quickly leaned against the shelf so I don't fall down.

"Did you enjoy it, my love?" he said out of breath, while moving a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded my head vigorously and chuckled, "Every second of it, darling." I smiled, "God, I really needed that. Homework has been stressing me out lately."

He smiled and kissed my forehead, "I noticed, princess." he took out my underwear from his pocket and gave it to me, "We should dress up before anyone sees us."

We quickly tidied ourselves up. We made ourselves look like we did not just fuck the shit out of each other as much as we could. I fixed him a bit and he did the same for me, before we both walk away from the shelf hand in hand.

I quickly gathered my stuff that was still on the table before walking out of the library with him, "That was one of the craziest things I've ever done."

He chuckled and shrugged, "Hey, everyone does crazy things from time to time. But you didn't regret it, did you?" he said as he put a bit of my hair at the front, to hide my hickey.

I smiled up at him and shook my head, "Not one bit, Harry."

#harry james potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter smut #harry potter #harry james potter x fem!reader

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace.

“Holy shit, you scared me!”

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed.

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose?

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.”

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.”

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape.

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.”

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill.

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco.

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you)

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning.

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for.

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans?

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist!

Gods.

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow.

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before.

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan imagine #percy series #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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feyascorner · 4 months

Text

6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

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