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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Text

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up.

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel?

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out.

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale.

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out.

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you.

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions - but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own.

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad.

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going.

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear.

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope.

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.”

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest.

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him.

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction.

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair.

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more.

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever.

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines.

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.”

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood?

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him?

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising.

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth.

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours.

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time.

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again.

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want.

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it.

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture.

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same.

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy.

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.”

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates.

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale.

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you.

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea.

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering.

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him.

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don��t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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chunky-chee · 1 month

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Okay, so I know a solid 40% of the new Fantasy High was about Tracker "There's still deep attraction here" O'Shaughnessy, but HERE ME OUT

Gertie Bladeshield is the perfect woman for Kristen Applebees.

Cause, like, look, there was a lot of talk in episode 11 about impulsivity and chaos as an aspect of Kristen's character, mainly in how it's mirrored in Princess "Kristen if she had money" Naradriel, but it's also been a general focus this season, especially in how she often uses it to guard her emotions. Think back to "That's what you think", an incredible improv moment, but if you look at the big picture, Kristen's estranged parents make an incredibly inflammatory statement about her religion right after actively bullying her little brother, and instead of honoring any of the actual negative emotions she's being filled with in that moment, she pirouettes away. It's brought up in the adventuring party after this exact episode how Kristen is a cleric, a high-wisdom class that is naturally insightful, but uses these silly deflections to hold other people back from being insightful into her (hence Mac & Donna's lifetime insight disadvantage)

This isn't just limited to small moments, too. To take a broader look at the season so far, Kristen's chaotic, shrimp-jumping, wrangler-wearing, salsa-dipping, middle-school-campaigning, steel-workers-union-supporting bid for class president is often shown explicitly as a distraction from her existentially important job as the only cleric of Cassandra. Even when trying to earnestly apologize to Cassandra and prove to them that she's gonna prioritize her over class presidency, the only way she can articulate it is "You're the meat, mama." Her emotions are always guarded by some amount of chaos and impulsivity.

Now, how does that relate to Gertie "I've had a crush on you for a really long time" Bladeshield?

In both of the two scenes we've gotten of The Best D20 NPC (/j (but I do really like her)), Gertie has shown a pretty similar propensity for making bold, chaotic decisions in the heat of the moment. However, in my observation, these decisions do NOT come from a place of emotional suppression. Quite the opposite, actually.

Think back to her Grand Entrance into the narrative. Gertie, being one of the last people awake at Fabian's party, gifts her longtime-crush a jar of honey, something that connects directly to her passion/special-interest of beekeeping, in a homemade container designed as a pun on Kristen's last name. (in hindsight, the crush was very obvious) Then, in the middle of her infodumping to her about honey, Kristen's rich friend makes an incredibly dismissive remark about her good-natured gift. This obviously pisses her off, but unlike Kristen "That's what you think" Applebees, Gertie "I don't give a shit who's kid you are" Bladeshield lets herself feel those emotions very loudly, immediately starts a duel with possibly one of the most accomplished sword-fighters in the history of Aguefort, and declares him a life-long nemesis. She acts very brashly and impulsively, but in a way that doesn't hide her emotions, instead expressing them.

(I know there's a lot of talk about outbursts of anger being tied to Ankarna, but not only does the scene not really seem like foreshadowing to me, it's more interesting to see it through the lens of being Gertie's actual actions)

This trend continues with the 12th most noteworthy thing to have happened in episode 11 (which incredibly high acclaim), where after being explicitly asked to talk about bees by her crush, and being placed inches away from her face, kisses her on the lips. Now, excusing the albeit upsetting lack of consent, it once again shows Gertie acting very impulsively in a way that exposes her feelings to the people she likes. With these two instances of characterization being literally the only two scenes we get with her, it poses her as a very interesting parallel to Kristen, someone who shares in her willingness to make impulsive decisions, but differs wildly from her in the way she uses them to react to strong emotions.

However, does this really make Gertie the Autism to her ADHD?

(idk if Gertie really shows autistic traits, I just wanted to say that) Well, part of what Tracker a good companion for Kristen was that, as a fellow cleric, she naturally had very high wisdom, meaning she had enough insight to look past the layers of shrimp and salsa and engage with her on a deep level. However, clerics aren't the only class that cast spells with wisdom, so do rangers, including swarm-keeper rangers, which is a subclass that both has a good few abilities focused on spell-casting and was confirmed to be Gertie's subclass in an adventuring party. While her highest stat still could be dex (which, come to think of it, is a hilarious contrast to Kristen), there's no doubt that Gertie has a higher chance than most at being able to look past Kristen's barriers and see the complex hive of sweet, buzzing emotions underneath.

Hell, maybe that's where Gertie's crush comes from in the first place. Maybe, seeing this popular, proudly sapphic cleric be incredibly playful and chaotic on school grounds, she not only saw a bit of herself, but a little more. Perhaps, the type of mind that dedicates itself to allowing small, harmless critters to prosper even when no-one cares to join her club, is also the type of mind able to recognize when someone isn't allowing their truest emotions to prosper, making her wonder if they might have something to gain from sharing some of that chaos, using it not to hide, but to be free.

Or maybe it's just cause her last name has "bees" in it, idk.

#even if Gertie's crush gets played off as a bit #I love gertie so goddamn much #and she deserves more love #fantasy high #gertie bladeshield #kristen applebees #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 fhjy #fantasy high junior year #bladebees #beesbees #appleshield #gert's bees

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libbyfandom · 4 months

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“In This Life, and the Next. I Swear.”

Happy Holidays, have a bittersweet reincarnation fic.

Summary: Mizu may not believe in reincarnation, but you do. You'll believe in it enough for both of you. You may not be strong, but your soul is. You'll carry her to a better lifetime.

Content Warnings: Did your really think no one would die in a reincarnation fic? Hmmm?

“Next lifetime, you have to court me,” you murmur into Mizu’s neck as her fingers trace along the bare skin of your back where you lie atop her. “None of this... stoic loner act where I have to wear you down into letting me love you. Yeah?”

Mizu snorts, her other hand resting over her eyes. “Not on your life.”

Making an offended noise, you bite her collarbone in retaliation, hearing her laughter fill the inn room.

“When we come back, I want our lives to be simple,” you say as Mizu helps you down from the horse you borrowed on your escape from the last town.

Resisting the urge to let a sigh slip at this fantasy coming back up again, she mutters, “Yeah? You’d prefer to have a boring life, after you basically attached yourself to me and Ringo to escape your home?”

“Well yeah, I’m getting all of my adventuring done in this life cycle.”

“And you don’t want that again?” Mizu starts to lead the horse toward the outer skirts of the city, hoping to find a stable to leave it without being spotted.

You walk alongside her, studying her passive expression. “I do." A beat. "But I want you to have peace more.”

Her eyes dart to you, genuinely caught off guard. The openness, the honesty in your face has a bubble of overwhelming emotion welling up in her chest.

Her head turns back to the road, retreating into her silence to avoid speaking and risking her voice betraying her.

But after a few minutes of her staring off into the distance, she quietly says with a softened brow, “That’s kind.”

‘Do you regret choosing this life, knowing how quickly it will all end? Or did you walk into it blindly, optimistic for some happier resolution?’

Mizu jerks you up into her arms, apologizing frantically over and over as you scream in pain when she applies pressure to the stab wound deep in your stomach. She tenses her grip as your body tries to seize and jerk away from the splitting, hot pain radiating through your nerves from pressure on the gash. You’re too scared to look down and see your own insides peeling away from each other.

Taigen and Ringo are fending off the last few bounty hunters, the clashing of swords and knives fading into the background as you dig your bloodied fingers into her haori. “Come find-find me again,” you say with frantic eyes, swallowing back another mouthful of metallic blood forcing its way up your burning throat.

“What?!” Mizu’s attention is torn between keeping an eye on her back and wrapping a torque around your middle from the fabric she torn off your kosode.

You grab her face, leaving a bloody streak on her cheek as you force her to look at you. Her widened blue eyes are forced to look into yours with no barrier, her glasses lost somewhere in the snow from the fight. You can feel how fast your body is losing warmth. The edges of your vision are blurring, and the draw to fall asleep is growing more powerful than the burning gap in your stomach. Mizu may not know how to die, but you-

‘I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.’

You need her to hear you before everything stops. So you grip her cheek and stare into her panic-stricken eyes. You’re scared too, but you’re more scared of coming back to this world and not seeing her again than you are of not coming back at all.

“Come find me again.”

Mizu hates the concept of promises, and the bigger and more impossible they sound the more she avoids them. But you nose is turning pink from the cold, or from your crying. Tears are trailing down the sides of your temples, cutting through any blood stains across your face.

And she hates promises.

Tears well in her own eyes as she clenches her teeth against a violent sob.

But she hates denying you proof that she loves you more. If you pass without it… if you die with the last words in your ears being 'I can't'…

Every whisper and cry of “Onryō” she’s ever heard echo louder and louder in her head until they're all scream chanting in unison. She blinks, and for a heart-freezing moment your terrified eyes turn her shade of blue.

“Onryō!”

“ONRYŌ!”

"𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬-"

Her hand lifts away from the rapidly growing stain of blood coming through the makeshift torque across your abdomen and settles on your cheek.

She forces the corners of her mouth up into a reassuring smile as her own body trembles.

“Okay,” her voice wavers as she blinks out tears. “I’ll come find you.” Her voice is like a child making their first vow. “I’ll, I’ll come find you again.”

You smile weakly, and despite her own forced one, her eyes fill with terror for just a moment at the blood staining your teeth.

You reach up and tug her hair out of its high bun, watching it tumble around her shoulders.

You need your soul to memorize what she looks like when she’s not hiding. For next time.

Your own smile wavers. “You have to. I won’t… I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

The fragile look on her face crumples into despair. Mizu leans her temple against yours as the sobs overtake her, her long hair draping over both of your faces and blocking out the world. “I will. I will I will I will I will I-“

Her fractured voice fades away, and your vision swims.

But your soul is at peace.

‘It's your turn, Mizu.’

‘I ended up burying you with as many red spider lilies I could scavenge. They’ll help guide you to the next life. I made Ri( ) swear to bury me next to you with just as many. If he’s around to collect my corpse when I go. If anyone is. ( )I used to not care if anyone did, as long as I finished my mission. But now I’m terrified something happens and I can’t keep my promise.

I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m sorry I made a promise that’s out of my hands.

( )

I’m sorry.’

You stare down at the spread of papers and antique diaries written in kanji. You’re trying to organize them by chronological order based on context from the letters and diaries, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult as you go. Especially with words smudged and faded by centuries of time. You rub your eye behind your glasses.

‘She really is making this hard for me.’ You sigh through your nose as you bite down on the end of your pen.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?” You glance to your side, surprised to be pulled from your work and come face to face with probably the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” she smiles, lowering her head to pull her tinted glasses off. “I just saw you over here and uh-“ her expression goes a little strained as she looks for the right words. “I just, uh-”

You glance between her and the spread of antique writing from the archives. “Are you the person that checked these out last? Do you need them back?”

“No. I just-" She makes a face. Whatever she planned to say when she came over was quickly unraveling. Her eyes dart away, and land on the diaries. Her eyebrows furrow slowly, something flickering in her blue eyes.

Very pretty eyes…

She jerks her chin down at the spread of papers. “What is that?”

A little thrown off at the changes in conversation, you pick up one of the diaries. “Um, this is work for my master thesis. I’m studying unknown woman and queer history of Edo Japan.” Your fingers drum over the cover. “Came across this treasure when going through the archives. It’s a bunch of writing from a rogue swordsman to his lover after her death. But in my review of it, I’m positive I can prove that he was actually a woman,” you grin a little with pride, shifting your weight side to side with delight at getting to discuss your research.

“Lesbian samurai,” she laughs lowly, eyes warm.

“Something like that,” the corners of your lips lift up.

“Well that’s really fascinating,” her fingers trail across the edge of the table as she steps closer. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe… over dinner?” The corner of her mouth grimaces for a moment, her eye twitching once with frustratation at herself with that cheesy delivery.

Your lips part, eyes widening with a breathless little “Oh.”

The woman gains confidence from how your eyes light up behind your glasses as you flush. Her hand squeezes her shoulder, a nervous tic. “I’m sorry. I saw your over here and had to give it a shot.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” you’re quick to reassure her. You look up at her with bright eyes as you dig through your backpack for notebook paper.

“I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t.”

A tilt of her lips, her hand outstretched. “Mizu.”

You introduce yourself.

You hold out the pen and paper to get her number, and she asks as she leans over to scribble it out on the table, “Anything good in those letters?”

“Most of it’s pretty grief heavy,” you smile sadly. “But in a poetic and romantic way? Like, even though her love was gone, probably pretty young, she kept her memory alive as she fought through life.”

Mizu glances up at you, and something tightens in your throat and sinks into your stomach. You don’t know why you admit quietly, “The first time I read them I started crying in the archive room.”

A beat, where you feel dread creep up your neck at suddenly tanking the mood.

Her face grows impassive, deadly quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You quickly blink back tears that come on alarmingly fast. “What?”

Mizu blinks too, straightening up. “Just, sorry that it made you sad. I guess.” She smiles again, albeit a little smaller this time, and hands over the paper. “I guess I’ll see you? Hopefully soon?”

A soft laugh huffs out your nose as that melancholic moment passes. “Yeah,” your hand brushes against the inside of her palm as you take the paper. “Really soon.”

She leaves you with a satisfied grin, her nose scrunching up as she turns and walks off.

You watch her go, feeling something tighten in your stomach again at how relaxed she looks.

You look down at her number, and see that she slyly signed it with the kanji for “Promise”.

As you begin to organize the letters to skim through them again, your hesitate on the one you had just been reviewing. You hold it and the notebook paper up side by side.

The letter unfolds and a single, dried, book pressed red spider lily flutters to your feet.

Mizu perfectly copied the handwriting of the swordswoman’s kanji.

“Huh.”

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #modern mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blueeyesamurai

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pinkexpertnerdghost · 8 months

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Watch and Be Amazed!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: As a simple person with a boring job, you set out to travel the nations. You attend a renowned magic show only to be suddenly placed in the shared spotlight with the magical duo.

GIF by @c6jpg

{ i'm still exploring Fontaine but quick heads up on mentioning new locations, dw its spoiler free about the archon quest}

General: SFW, fluffy, magic tricks, Lyney being extra and sneaky, feat Lynette

A/N: i love him. Cheeky little guy with his equally cheeky little grin mulkin cat- I didn’t think I’d like him this much but he easily sneaked himself into my heart already also because I recently got him- I just wanna squish him (endearingly)

“ Voila! And now in its place are our feathered friends taking flight!” The magician exclaimed as a small swarm of doves flew out of his hands. Just seconds ago, he held a gorgeous bouquet of arranged daisies and prisma like roses, complete with adorned white ribbons and lace. The small bush of green and flora had simply vanished and transformed into a mass of white feathers.

Your awes become a droplet in the sea of gasps and astonishment from the people around you . Pushing yourself to the end of your cushy seat, you stare ahead in amazement and curiosity.

Even though you sat some rows away from the front seats, you were mesmerized by the trick. You were certain the bouquet had practically melted and shifted into the cocoon of feathers. At least, that’s how it appeared to your eyes.

Trailing the doves as they flew above the audience, you unconsciously let out a small laugh of joy like that of an entertained child. The doves flew around freely, some reaching high atop the Opera House’s stretching ceiling and some flew closer to the audience barely grazing above their heads.

You had been traveling for weeks, as you were lacking some excitement in your mundane life as a simple shop clerk. It had a well off pay and the owner was kind. Yet every passing day became more boring than the last. Soon enough, the days would weld and mend together in your memory as a tapestry of a lackluster pattern. You were afraid it would overshadow a great portion of your lifetime.

As a shop clerk, you had seen many travelers coming and going, talking about the beautiful sceneries across the rest of Teyvat they have witnessed, varies dishes you’ve never tried before being described as mouthwatering, the wonderful cultures, festivities and traditions people from around this world took part in. It had always left you in a state of entrance and jealousy for them, as they would have the freedom and determination to see the worlds wonders with their own eyes.

Seeing your yearning gaze and saddened expression when the travelers or adventurers left through the front door, your employer had generously given you some vacation time. You were one of your boss’s most dedicated workers, often swooping in for a fellow coworker if they fell ill or couldn’t make it otherwise. You have done more than enough to earn yourself this time off.

And so, you took your life by the rings and were off into the road. Traveling from one nation to the other and to the now where you were. In the seat in one of the most impressive buildings you have ever seen.

From the moment you boarded off the Aquabus; the little guides being one of the cutest beings you’ve ever seen; you oogled and awed in the splendor around you. Fontaine had been one leap of a cultural shock for you. Sure, sometimes you moved boxes of bits and bobs of Fontaine imported trinkets onto shelves, but seeing this much advanced technology was a bit exhilarating as well as a bit imposing

However, something there was something that immediately caught your eye when walking about. On a bulletin board was an array of multicolored posters and newsletter, but the bright red one with a grinning cat in the hat caught your gaze immediately.

“ Come and behold A magical performance performed by renowned Magicians Lyney and Lynette! ”

The names struck a cord in your memory. Ah, that's right! You had heard a great deal about a very specific Magic show in Fontaine. You remembered it being brought up a good number of times back in the shop. The way people would sound excited and how they could barely contain themselves trying to describe a magic trick as best they could.

Since you were in the area you had managed to investigate it and wound up purchasing a ticket to go see.

“ Back to the stage my feathery entourage!! Being in the presence of such a wonderful audience is indeed riveting, but I’m going to need the spotlight back to preform the next trick, haha!” The magician Lyney said with a pleading laugh. The doves seem to have understood them as they all flew back onto the stage. From either side of the giant velvet curtain, the flew behind it disappearing into the shadow.

“ For this next trick, I’m going to need a hand!” He exclaimed while putting his hands on his hips. He then put a hand on his forehead and looked around the area while squinting his eyes. From the right side of the stage came another person. She had on a similar uniform to her twin brother, adorned with teals, blues and grays. It was a counterpart to the reds, pinks, and plum Lyney wore in his intricate performer’s outfit.

Yet they both had the motif of that same toothy grinning kitty you saw tagging the corner’s of the promotional posters.

Lynette had walked behind Lyney and tapped his shoulder twice with a stoic expression. Lyney had turned dramatically around on his heel, immediately stopping his dire search for help.

“Ah, It seems as though Lynette has come to the rescue!” He cheered and with a grateful hand gesture divided the audience's attention to Lynette. She stood there facing the crowd with a curt expression. Lynette seemed to be the polar opposite of her brother. While Lyney was loud, extravagant and energetic, his assistant and sister was quieter, docile and seemed unmoved with the theatrics. However, to you she was as equally impressive as the red Magician.

In an earlier trick where they’d pull objects directly out of flat cards, Lynette had elegantly swiped off a parasol, a tea cup with piping hot tea given the steam, and an adorable hat with that grinning black cat. All while keeping a calm disposition as if she knew everything and anything that was to come. It boggled you how she managed to slip the illustrations to real physical objects.

But then again, the Magicians never reveal their trade secrets.

Lyney tapped his cheek before he spoke again. “It seems as if we will need a little more help to perform this magic trick, wouldn’t you agree Lynette?”

Lynette simply nodded.

Lyney’s shoulders relaxed as he twirled around to face the audience. He held his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth. His eyes never leave the audience.

“ For this trick, It will require three people.”

There were very quiet, almost inaudible murmurs and whispers in the crowd. You paid them no mind and kept your eyes focused on the stage. In your mind, you were guessing how the next trick would go.

Lyney stopped center stage.

“ I can see your enthusiasm and excitement! In that case, I shall pick one person from the crowd who will help Lynette and I out!” He said with a jovial grin. His cat-like eyes scanned around the crowd. After this, many people kept their eyes on the Magician scoping out for an available assistant.

Seeing as you weren’t in the first row or a local, you have settled that your chance of being picked was slim. So instead of paying attention to the main stage and spotlight, you turned your head from side to side. Envisioning the lucky person who would be fished out of the ocean of filled seats. Perhaps it would be the beautiful woman with quite the attractive headpiece sitting a row down from you. Or maybe, it would be the little boy three five seats to your left practically bouncing in his seat chanting to let it be him.

The choice could be anyone but yourself.

“ You my dear! Could you help Lynette and I out with this trick?” Lyney’s voice resounded once more.

Your eyes squirted suddenly as a bright source of light was now trained above you. Sinking back onto your seat, you turn to face the stage.

Those cat-like lilac eyes stared directly into your own [E/C] ones. Alongside with the deep royal purple eyes belonging to his assistant Lynette. Looking around and behind, you noticed the two people beside you glance at you with slight surprise.

You pointed at yourself just to make sure. You didn’t know if you made a face with the sudden surprise of the spotlight, but Lyney chuckled in amusement.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he nodded, his hair bobbing along with his head and sturdy hat. His laughter made you feel a bit fuzzy in the chest. Maybe you were just starstruck.

“ Yes you. If it is alright, could you perhaps follow the staff by your row to escort you on stage?” He said, extending a hand to a person in a theater mask and green vest standing at the end of the row. His lilac eyes never left you.

It was hard to say, but you could assume he was silently communicating with you. His soft eyes were patient and still, unlike his theatrical energy he demonstrated earlier.

‘ Are you okay with this? ‘

He didn’t mind the sudden recess of silence, in fact it only added to the build up to the magic trick. It wasn’t long until you blinked, breaking yourself out of your star-stricken surprise.

You nodded at Lyney, to which he gripped the brim of his hat quietly tipping it to you with a satisfied grin.

“ Very well, please follow the staff down the aisle while we set up on stage!”

After squeezing down your row and next to the staff member with the mask, you followed them as they led you towards the stage. The staff member was kind enough to guide you through the dimly lit place, your eyes were examining the person. Their mask is what stuck with you, you’ve never seen anything like it. It was both beautifully crafted yet it gave you a small chill of danger and mystic. It was probably made for this purpose of the show.

No elemental magic of those who wielded visions, but instead a tightrope thinly strung between reality and fantasy.

The stage was elevated but after climbing up the stairs onto the polished stage. Lyney beckoned you to come up next to him. You shuffled closer, both your hands behind your back fidgeting in a nervous manner.

The spotlight was now back onto Lyney and Lynette and now you as well.

“ Might I know the name of the new assistant I’ll be working with temporarily?” He asked as he now faced you. Lynette came to his side, her violet eyes glazing over you with relaxed attentiveness.

You felt your mouth become a bit dry. “ I’m [Name].” You spoked normally.

Lyney bowed, taking off his tophat bringing it close to his chest.

“ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear [Name]” He bounced back up, flipping his hat back onto his head.

You shifted on your foot and that seemed to have caught the attention of the magical duo.

“ Hmm, are you perhaps nervous?” He asked. “ It is quite alright. Whenever the light is trained on you, the feeling of stage fright comes at you like the onslaught of tidal waves.” He said, in a non projecting voice. He still sounded loud enough for the audience to hear, but his words weren’t exaggerated in a way to make you feel queasy. Instead, it sounded like he was cheering you on, a little push of confidence he would share with you.

Maybe you were overthinking it. He is a performer so its his job to turn up the charm towards the audience.

Lynette had subtly sent you a reassuring little smile. She walked up next to you and stood by you now.

“ Perhaps, you may just have some butterflies in your stomach. It happens to the best of us!” He spoke. His gloved hand came up to you.

“ May I have what’s in your side pocket?” His eyes shifted down to your right pocket. Confused, you reach down into your pocket and feel around. There was a smooth and flat object that you didn’t remember having there, so you slipped it out.

In your hand was a playing card. It wasn’t an ordinary playing card. It looked to be one of the card props that belonged to the two Magicians. Figuring he wanted it back; without you having the faintest Idea of how it got there in the first place; you handed it to him.

He grabbed the card and raised it up to his face to inspect it.

“Aha! Just as I thought. You had made a bundle of these pesky little butterflies.” He slipped the card back to his palm. He twirled back to face you with a triumphant smile as if he’d found a treasure chest. “ Fear not, for I will rid you of this troubling kaleidoscope!”

With that being said, he tossed the card over your head.

Or at least, a zipping card was what you were expecting.

Instead, a small little tornado of little butterflies escapes from Lyneys hand. They fluttered around you in a tunnel-like pattern.

Completely forgetting about the audience, you craned your hand up and stared in awe. Looking closely, some butterflies had little trails of violet shimmer. The butterflies themselves didn't seem to be real butterflies. On some you managed to see the wings to be made out of the back of playing cards.

The butterflies dispersed out onto the crowd, until each one vanished without a trace.

“Now then, are you feeling better?” Lyney asked, both hands on his hips.

You nodded with a smile on your face. The small pit of nervousness was now reduced to a grain.

“Wonderful! And, it seems as if you have magic in you yourself, what luck!” Lyney exclaimed. Lynette all the while silently side eyed her brother and his antics.

“Now then if you may follow Lynette, she will guide you to this next trick or a trio.” he smiled.

Lynette had raised a hand to you in order to take it. You complied and took her hand as she led you behind the curtain.

“ Are you okay? I know Lyney can be a bit over the top, but if at any point feeling bad, let us know.” Lynette spoke calmly to you.

“ I’m alright now. I just wasn't expecting to get picked.” You said honestly.

Lynette nodded. “ It's like that for most who get chosen.”

She guided you towards a little box which was decorated with a little four pointed gold star in the center. The box was relatively small, reaching from the ground to knee level

“ When they take the box you’ll have to stand on it. I’ll stand in my own box next to you. Just follow Lyney’s instructions.” She said,

“Also, brace your feet after the curtain falls.”

You listened closely and nodded.

“Alright. Got it.”

Lynette hummed.

Behind the big red curtain you heard the crowd laugh and clap.

“And now for the anticipated trick, shall I have my two assistants step back into the light?”

Lynette and you came back onto the stage. Again in the limelight, you noticed the two boxes parallel to each other.

“ For this next trick, both my assistants shall switch their places before your very eyes.” Lyney spoke calmly.

“But wait a moment. This is a simple trick one could accomplish by simply walking across the stage to the other boxes. This trick is sounding more like a runway show than magic.” Lyney sighed in defeat. In a quick one eighty mood switch, Lyney perked up and raised his chin high.

“ But no, dear spectators in the crowd. This trick shall be done with neither of my assistants leaving the confines of their one by one area!” Lyney exclaimed, flapping his little side cape in the process.

Lynette turned and gave you a look, a very specific look. You took it to get on the box and you walked over to the one closest to you.

“ Now then, a little tent shall fall on top of both of them. Switching places without jumping, walking or running is a lot more exhausting than it sounds.” As soon as he said that, above you began to descend a festive red tent.

It slowly descended until the dark velvet of the inside tent obscure your vision of the crowd and them of yourself. You could only hear the echoing voice of Lyney as the crowd was now fully silenced in anticipation.

The words of Lynette rang in your mind, as you looked down to your feet.

“ For you see, the most can happen within the blink of an eye.”

You felt the box underneath you dip slightly. Barely enough time to even gasp, you had fallen through the solid box beneath you. Quickly you bent your knees and positioned yourself to be able to absorb the momentum of your fall.

Once landing soundly, you looked up to see how you had fallen. In the ceiling was a rectangular indentation of a trapdoor.

You heard a ‘psst’ to your right. There you say Lynette making a quick hand gesture to switch places; motioning to you and the spot beneath her feet.

Speeding over to her, you took little but key notice in your new surroundings. The walls were barren, the air had slight dust, and light from the stage lights barely made it through the miniature nooks and crannies of the floorboards. You were underground.

Once getting to where lynette last stood, you waited. Looking around where you stood there was a small ladder behind you.

Suddenly a similar trap door like the one where you initially stood, swung open.

Taking this as a new signal, you climbed onto the ladder trying to make as little noise as you could. Once above ground, the trap door that was once open shut, making the ground below you stable enough to stand on.

“ As such, a walk across this stage could be reduced down to none!”

You heard a harsh step down onto the floor followed by a snap of a finger.

The tent around you was pulled back up at lighting speed leaving you stunned in place. The crowd ahead was looking back and forth between the place where you once were and to where you are now. A roar of whistles and claps was heard.

Looking to where you once were, stood Lynette waving at the crowd. The same stoic expression on her face.

Lyney came skipping up to your side.

“ How are you feeling dear [Name]? I hope you aren't too disoriented by the little trip you took.”

You looked at him, he had a proud grin on his face. The light shown down was overshadowed by the brim of his top hat. And yet, his eyes and distinguishable teardrop mark on his right cheek made you feel all sorts of flustered all over again.

Then again you noticed just how packed the Opera is. You had forgotten momentarily that there was an audience. The showers of cheers came down like a bolt of lightning striking the still water.

“I’m fine, just a bit perplexed.” You shook your head trying to process what had just happened in what felt like a fraction of a minute.

“ Oh my, it seems you may have been slightly shaken when vanishing from one spot to the other.” He hummed.

“ That's it! I shall make it up to you! But I’ll have to get you back to your original box.” He said tapping his curled up hand onto his open palm.

He stood up onto the tips of his toes, as from your height atop the box managed to put you at a larger distance from him. Figuring he might tell you something , you leaned down slightly.

“ When the tent drops on you once more, close your eyes. Don’t open them until you hear me say, Hat. Trust me, I’m sure this trick will put a blinding smile on your face.” He said quietly, a hand placed by his mouth blocking it from the audience ahead.

You weren’t sure what he meant or what would happen but somehow, you trusted him. Maybe it was his pretty face, charming personality, or simply because a famous and professional performer.

A little breathy chuckle escaped him before he leaned away and waltzed back to the front and center. Something about him smiling and laughing made your heart almost pop.

You internally battled these pestering thoughts; You were just starstruck! A celebrity crush, don’t let it get to you. Especially in front of a massive crowd watching your every move!

You took some short breaths in and faced ahead onto the wall behind the audience. You didn’t want to let this confusing feeling consume you.

“And now, one final trick before our amazing temporary assistant bids adieu.” He sighed. From his chest he pulled out a white handkerchief he blew into. The crowd laughed at his little mopping gag.

“ It was a pleasure to have you on stage with us, [Name].” He said before swiping the used hanky away. It disappeared into red and white sparks into the air.

The tent above you descended once again, and the moment you found yourself in the shaded confines you closed your eyes. You could only listen to what was happening around you.

“Now then, why don’t we send our new friend off with a grand finale?”

The surrounding noise of the crowd murmuring came through as buzzing. You felt the ground once more give out underneath you. Holding in your breath you prepared for what may have come next.

Something, or someone caught you. You felt the sudden mass underneath you, and suddenly there was a small breeze passing into your face. Your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Suddenly, you felt your feet touch a solid floor. You stood up, the person letting you go as you stabilized yourself.

“ And so, they shall appear where they once were at the drop of a hat!”

You heard it. Cracking open one eye you see once again a velvet curtain of a tent. Blinking, adjusting to the light, the tent was pulled up.

This time there was some cheer for a few seconds. The sudden Huhs? And murmurs slowly began to take a hold of the audience. Curious as to the mood shift you look around you.

Lyney, no longer wearing his signature tophat that had been left sitting on the floor.

Where Lynette was supposed to be, she was no more. Instead, there was a small top hat lying top down on the box.

Lyney, surprised, went over to the hat.

“Lynette? Oh Lyneeette? Where did you vanish off to?” He took the hat and looked inside of it, as if his sister were inside the hat.

You were slightly puzzled at first. Where on Teyvat could she have gone? Your doubts were suddenly clouded by an obvious truth.

This had to be part of the show.

So you kept your eyes on the male twin, anticipating what he will do next.

Giving up in calling out to his sister, still holding onto the small hat in his hands, he walked over to where you stood.

“ It seems that she won’t show herself unless we make her appear out of this hat. [Name], if you would.” He then extended the small hat in my direction.

You delicately grabbed the brim area closest to you. Lyney let go, and you looked inside the empty hat. The material felt slightly heavy but the intricate seamless pattern woven into the pitch black fabric made you closely look at it.

You heard a small tapping noise, you looked back to the magician as he tapped the back of his hand. Putting two and two together, you quickly flip the hat upright.

You mimicked Lyney’s motion on the hat’s top about three times.

The first tap, colorful feathers floated to the ground.

The second tap, petals of flowers twirled on their way down.

The final tap, a deck of prop cards spilt out and crashing against the stage floor with clicks and claps.

“Looks like she isn’t in there.” Lyney quipped. You were once again thrown into utter confusion. The comedic way the crowd gasped after one object came after another object from the empty hat. At some point the reactions of surprise slowly turned into snickers and giggles of amusement.

Lyney placed a hand on his hip and scratched his chin. “ Try doing it again with the hat upside down. Maybe, a different approach will convince her to come out.”

So, you turn the hat over. Sneakily taking a small peak inside, and as you suspected it was empty.

How does he pull these things off? Seriously! How?!?

Replicating your previous action, you tapped the brim.

A small puff of smoke and confetti made you step back. Out of the hat a cat sprung!

Or was it a cat?

It was a big cat face attached to a coiled spring.

It was cute! It had the signature toothy grin the show’s mascot had, yet it had it turned upside down in a frowny face. One eye has a teal star and the other has a teal teardrop. It even had a little bowtie making it a very fashionable cat creature.

It turned to face you as its ears twitched. You’re eyes locked with its own strange one and you found yourself in a staring contest….with the giant cat head on a spring of all things.

“ Oh dear, it looks like Bogglecat seemed to have answered instead of Lynette” Lyney laughed.

Tip Tap Tip Tap

You and Lyney turned to face Lyney’s hat that had just shook slightly on the floor.

Poof!

The hat had blasted up into the air and below the hat there was Lynette. Slightly obscured by the turquoise colored fog.

“ Here I am.” Lynette spoked up.

Grabbing the brim of Lyney’s hat she tipped it and bowed before the audience. The audience clapped and some people even stood up from their seats.

The Bogglecat in the hat leaped from your hands and jumped over towards the spotlight where Lynette was. Lyney came running over to you and carefully grabbed your now free hand.

“ C’mon, the audience is waiting for the final bows.” He hushed at you with that permanently charming smile of his. His pale blonde hair bounced along as he urged you to join him and his sister. With no reason to refuse, you ran along with him. You felt the corner of your mouth curl up in a giddy smile. Now unafraid of the public you stood in the bright lights with your chest held high.

Lynette tossed Lyney’s hat into the air, landing it perfectly on Lyney’s head. The cat in the hat jumped right into Lynette's hand. Once she caught it, she twirled it around in her hand like a skilled juggler. The cat suddenly vanished inside the hat, and the small hat now was held against her head.

“ This has been Lyney and Lynette’s Magic show! Thank You all for watching!” The three of you held hands; Lyney at the center, Lynette to his right, and you to his left. Lifting your hands up, you three did a dramatic bow. This audience applauded one final time for the performance. It was the loudest applause you had heard during your time in the Opera Epiclese.

Slowly people had started to leave the theater, with the front entrance reopened many people had started to trickle out into the lobby. This left fewer and fewer people in the main room, the Opera house becoming

You were preparing to step down the stage staircase until you heard someone call out to you.

“ Wait, [Name]! If you could spare a moment?” It was a voice you had quickly grown familiar with.

The top hat with the plum colored ribbon, the pale blonde tuffet that covered just above his right eye, and that teardrop marking beneath the same right eye. Lyney came speedily towards you, his sister Lynette following a bit behind. Unlike him, she calmly walked over and that stoic expression on her face felt a bit more done than what you had seen.

“Hm? What is it Mister Lyney?” You stopped and asked politely. Looking over the male twin you glanced at his sister “Miss Lynette?”

“That was a splendid performance you made on stage! You went along just swimmingly with our act.” Lyney gushed.

Once again you felt flustered. Out of all things, a professional magician complimenting you on a magic trick? You scratched your cheek.

“ I was just following you guys. Really, if anyone should be taking compliments it is you two!” You spoke with enthusiasm. “ The way Miss Lynette pulled out the items right off the cards, or when you made my ‘ stomach butterflies ‘ disappear. It really was a treat to see!” You felt your face getting a bit warmer as you continued to spill your excitement into words.

“ This will definitely be a nice memory I won't be forgetting any time soon!”

Lyney chuckled and even Lynette’s eyes grew slightly larger with interest.

“ You’re too kind!” Lyney chuckled, his pale face getting the slightest bit pink in the cheeks. “ I don’t believe I’ve seen your face in our crowd before. Are you maybe a tourist coming from a distance to see our show?”

You nodded. “ I am as a matter of fact. I don’t get out much to say the least.” You confessed.

“ I’ve heard about your magic show for some time now, traveling groups have brought it up time and time again. Fontaine was my next destination so I took the opportunity to come see it myself.”

You smiled gently. “ This was my first legitimate magical performance I had the fortune of attending. Not to mention getting randomly selected to participate! Thank you for the fun time, Mister Lyney and Miss Lynette.”

Lyney and Lynette listened with great interest.

“ I see. Thus, making this show a memorable experience for you was all the more rewarding then.” Lyney took off his hat and brought it to his chest.

“We are both happy to have put a beautiful smile on your lovely face!~” Lyney very gently lifted your hand. Bringing it close to his face, he placed a small almost ghostly peck.

Okay. Now you definitely felt your face may have caught on fire.

Lyney might have noticed your sudden flustered face. The sneaky magician sent a very brief wink with a smile. Not just any smile. This smile had a more feline nature to it; as if he enjoyed seeing such a reaction from you.

He lowered your hand back down, and flipped his hat back onto his head. That cat-like smirk was nowhere to be seen anymore. Innocently smiling at you, he laughed. It sounded slightly nervous.

“ Well, if you will be around Fonaine for a while longer, find us by the Aquabus station. We might just have spare time to show you around!”

Slipping your hand behind your back, you tried to reply to his friendly invitation.

“ Mhm! Aquabus station. Go it!” you spoke in broken segments.

Oh dear, maybe it's time you’d step outside for some fresh air.

“ I think I should get going now. Who knows how long the people traffic is in the lobby now. It was great meeting you. Your cat mascots are cute and now I shall leave” You had begun to word vomit as you were shuffling away.

“ Bye bye!”

Facing away from the magic duo, you speed walk down onto the carpeted floor. Not daring to look back, you heard the sound of an amused giggle and an exasperated sigh.

“ Are you proud of yourself? You almost made them faint with your antics.” Lynette tipped the back of Lyney’s hat. It fell forward and off but he had quickly caught it before it hit the ground.

“ Hey, I just wanted to make evening a little more magical is all. It was the most I can do from withholding them back from leaving"

"Right. And you had to tease them until they were red in the face."

Lyney stared at his sister for a moment, until he thought.

He felt a small hitch of embarrassment in his chest realizing something.

"I- Uh, didn't go to far with the card letter, right?" He nervously asked.

Lynette sighed and shook her head.

"Brother, most of the time you don't even need the spotlight to be over dramatic."

Once you were outside and looking up at the sky. The skies were different in every spot you had been. Here in Fontaine, you could barely see the twinkling stars.

As you sighed contently, you made your way over to the hotel you had planned to stay in for the time. As you shifted you felt something shift alongside you in your sleeve. It was cold and smooth.

Surprised, you dug into your sleeve.

It was a playing card. A prop playing card.

“ I hope you had a magical Evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! “

There was a little doodle of a toothy grinning cat.

A/N: Should I make a part two? Idk maybe. EDIT: PART TWO HERE

#i wrote fanfiction because I can nothing is stopping me from expressing my sheer love and happiness for this little magic man #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney #genshin lyney x reader #fontaine #lyney and lynette #lyney x reader #lyney genshin #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin fanfic #fontaine siblings #lynette #lyney

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