#completing the circle at the end of their run as companions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

himbosandhardwear · 2 months

Text

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

#dustin: this steve hes my babysitter and he DROVE ME HERE #steddie #meet cute?#anonymous grinding #ficlet #my writing

723 notes · View notes

dalishious · 28 days

Text

Dragon Age: Origins is still great today, and you should give it a try

I want to preface this post with an important disclaimer: I am not about gatekeeping, and I think that ultimately, you should play or skip whatever Dragon Age games you want. If even after this post you feel like Dragon Age: Origins just isn’t for you, that’s fine! That doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the Dragon Age media you do want to consume, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re any less valid a fan. But I personally adore Dragon Age: Origins to this day, and I would love to see more modern gamers give it a chance, despite it being from 2009.

It’s a great introduction to the world of Thedas

Dragon Age: Origins had the tall order of being the first in a potential franchise, yet it climbed those heights and beyond. It perfectly balances the need to explain the world setting and tell a story within that world at the same time, by organizing the plot into puzzle pieces. You, the protagonist, have to recruit different factions into your cause to save the kingdom of Ferelden, so each piece of the game has a different focus on those factions. It spoon-feeds the player information at an easy to understand and absorb pace.

Dragon Age: Origins also makes good use of codex entries for those of you who are big lore buffs and want even more information. Yet at the same time, it does not overly rely on the codex; all the most crucial parts of the lore that you need to know are included in your interactions with characters and plot.

The player gets to shape the story

The nature of those puzzle pieces also means that you have huge control over the story from start to finish, because the puzzle itself is shaped by you! The outcomes of each piece form the blueprint of the climax. The end of the game is reactive to the choices you make in the story throughout. (Mind you, a lot of those choices have been retconned in later games, but still, within the confines of Dragon Age: Origins itself, it’s still fun to see the outcomes of your decisions.)

The story itself is great

I would consider Dragon Age: Origins to have the most straightforward premise of all the Dragon Age games released thus far, with a strong identity linking the different main quests all together. You are a newly recruited Grey Warden, left to unite Ferelden against the big bad Blight after 99% of the Order within the nation is wiped out in a catastrophic battle. You may get caught up in dwarven politics, ancient curses, demonic possession, and plenty more along the way, but no matter where you find yourself, your motivation always falls back to that ultimate responsibility.

The characters are also great

Almost all the companions you’re able to collect along the way are very easy to love, or at least appreciate them for what they are.

Alistair is also a new grey warden. He is struggling with grief over the loss of his mentor, and the weight of having no control over his identity his whole life.

Morrigan is a witch who grew up isolated in the woods with no one but her abusive mother for company. Now she must learn to interact with others, and dependant on the player, perhaps even make a friend, lover… or enemy.

Leliana is a bard from Orlais, whose faith told her to assist the grey warden plight. But beneath the demure outward appearance, she has a much darker past she’s running away from.

Sten is a Qunari warrior who was taught that outside his culture, everything is backwards and nonsense, but he cannot return home until he has restored his soul by recovering his lost sword. Along the way, he may learn to appreciate or despise Ferelden.

Zevran was enslaved by the Antivan Crows as a child and made into an assassin. If the player can chip away at his nonchalant mask, they will find his past has left a lot more scars on him than he thought it safe to admit.

Wynne is a mage from the Circle who is struggling to deal with the nature of age, death, and life purpose.

Shale is a golem who was once under complete and total control by her former master, now learning what it’s like to be free, and wanting to uncover her forgotten past before losing that freedom.

Oghren is there too, unfortunately.

And the player character really feels like they are of your own creation. The choices you make, little and small, offer a lot to shape whatever kind of protagonist you want. Additionally, the benefit of starting the game with a different origin, and playing out that origin before getting recruited into the grey wardens, offers a lot of prompting to get into the roleplay!

The datedness can be easily upgraded with modding anyway

Do you find the combat clunky? There’s mods for that. Do you find the graphics too bland? There’s mods for that. Do you wish you could kiss Alistair as a man or Morrigan as a woman? There’s mods for that, too. Dragon Age: Origins is very easy to mod; most of them you just drop the files into your override folder and start playing. Otherwise, you use the DA Modder app for DAZIP files, which is also not that complicated.

A lot of people consider Skyrim to be dated without mods, too. I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating the ability to mod a game, as a positive point.

If you want to play, make sure you use LAA though!

Large Address Aware is a must-have on PC for Dragon Age: Origins.

For GoG or EA App/Origin users: You can just run LAA like normal!

For Steam users: You need THIS first

#dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #meta

375 notes · View notes

felassan · 1 month

Text

A new blog post from BioWare in which they talk about the PC experience for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. The blog covers display features, graphics settings and controls. "We're PC players ourselves and have a dedicated team focused on PC."

"Journal #4 PC Features for Dragon Age: The Veilguard A look into the PC Experience in Dragon Age: The Veilguard Hello everyone, Today, we want to specifically touch on the PC experience for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. The Dragon Age franchise started out on PC, and we wanted to make sure PC is a great place to play our game. Many of us at BioWare are PC players ourselves, and when testing, PCs made up 40% of our platform testing effort, with over 200,000 hours of performance and compatibility testing. Getting the PC experience just right was crucial to us and we created a dedicated team to focus on PC. We can’t wait for you to experience it for yourselves! Let’s talk about inputs first. We wanted to ensure the controls and UI are a good experience for both KBM and controllers; so we did close to 10,000 hours of user research testing to make sure of it. Dragon Age: The Veilguard will feature native support for PS5 DualSense controllers with haptics support in addition to the standard of Xbox controllers & keyboard + mouse. Additionally, you can seamlessly transition between controllers or keyboard + mouse while playing or in menus. There are many different ways to play our game; so, in order to allow you to find the most comfortable set-up, we’ve added the ability to customize class-specific keybinds that you can easily switch between. This means that your Rogue Rook can use a different set of keybinds than your Warrior Rook, if you’d like! Along with the standard resolution options, we also have full support for 21:9 Ultrawide monitors. Don’t worry; we didn’t forget the cinematics, either - just disable the option titled “Cinematic Aspect Ratio.” This will remove the enforced black bars; so you can watch the cinematics in full ultra widescreen glory. No matter what size monitor you’re rocking, you can adjust your FOV with an FOV slider in the Settings. There will be an option for uncapped framerate, as well. We’re also launching with full HDR support. Most changes to Graphics and Display Settings are reflected in real time, and you can see the impacts of those changes through the cutout in the UI. This will help you make informed decisions as you tweak your game to look exactly how you want. For a full list of Settings, check the rest of the blog below! We know a lot of you play on Steam, and we wanted to meet you where you are. We’re happy to be completely Steam Native for Dragon Age: The Veilguard! We’re already Steam Deck Verified; and with Cloud Save on Steam supported, you can seamlessly switch back and forth between your PC and your Steam Deck as much as you want, with no interruption to your progress. We also have Remote Play enabled if you’d rather play on your TV! If you’d like to utilize it, there will be a completely optional linking process to your EA Account."

"If you want to hear about a few advanced settings and options for the PC community, let’s go over that now. We support a suite of Ray Tracing features, as well as an “Ultra RT” mode for extremely high end rigs. We have several types of upscaling available: NVIDIA DLSS 3, FSR 2.2 which has been heavily modified, specifically for the game, and XeSS. We also support DLSS 3 with frame generation and NVIDIA Reflex. As we have more PC features to share, we’ll circle back on those before launch. We’re inching closer to our release date of October 31, 2024! We still have more information coming on Combat, the Companions, Exploration, and more; so keep your eyes peeled on our socials. We are eager to see your battle stations running Dragon Age: The Veilguard and the resulting screenshots. Chat soon! — The Dragon Age Community Team"

"To summarize the above, check out an overview of the PC specs and features we’re ready to unveil now: DISPLAY FEATURES - Full Support for 21:9 Ultra Wide Resolutions - Ability to Uncap Frame Rate - VSync, including fractional rate VSync - HDR Support - Optional Upscaling (DLSS 3, FSR 2.2, XeSS) - NVIDIA Reflex - DLSS 3 Frame Generation - Optional Dynamic Resolution Scaling - Cinematic Aspect Ratio (Disable this option for cinematic 21:9 ratio) GRAPHICS SETTINGS - Presets Available (Low, Medium, High, Ultra) Texture settings: - Texture Quality, Texture Filtering Light & Shadow Settings: - Lighting Quality, Contact Shadow, Ambient Occlusion, Screen Space Reflections, Volumetric Lighting, Sky Quality Ray Traced Settings*: - Ray-Traced Reflections, Ray-Traced Ambient Occlusion, Ultra Ray Tracing Geometry Settings: - Level of Detail, Strand Hair, Terrain Quality, Terrain Decoration Quality, Visual Effects Quality Camera Effects: - Depth of Filed, Vignette, Motion Blur, Post Processing Quality, Field of View Controls: - Class-specific Keybinds, Keyboard + Controller Bindings * Ray Tracing can be “ON” or turned to “Selective”. Selective Mode enables Ray Tracing features in specific areas that can best take advantage of the feature."

[source] <- at the source link there is also some new screenshots/clips

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

91 notes · View notes

orqheuss · 1 year

Text

A duel most desirable

(Sebastian Sallow/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

It was a dance, this game— two sharks circling, waiting for the other to bare their teeth and charge, and you had drawn first blood. *** Emotions are running high, and a friendly duel between you and your best friend, whom you're completely and entirely infatuated with, takes a very...steamy turn.

Word count: 5k

Tags: Sexual content, feral behavior, p n v sex, handjobs, fingering, table sex, rough sex, switch!sebastian and switch!reader, competitive sex, slight breeding kink, possessive!sebastian (but when is he not yf)

AN: I'm back after camping out west for two weeks! Have some feral, animal instinct smut as a "thanks for sticking around" gift from me.

It all began with a simple challenge. Ever since you came to Hogwarts in your fifth year, the discussion of who was the best duelist in the school was a heavily debated topic, particularly between you and your best friend, Sebastian Sallow (the previous best duelist in all of Crossed Wands, as you liked to remind him). Within a week of coming to the new school, you had blown his record out of the water, much to Lucan Brattleby’s delight and the Sallow boy’s chagrin. The brunette challenged you often, and every time you wiped the floor with his, quite perky if you said so yourself, behind. Even still, he made it his personal mission to knock you down a peg. Little did the both of you know, it would all cumulate to one particular rapturous battle of fire and passion.

On this particular night, it was just the two of you in the Undercroft; Ominis had long ago gone to bed, with a snarky remark about keeping the “tension” to a minimum in his precious space, of course, as the moon reached its highest peak in the sky. Sebastian scoffed at the other boys' retreating form, musing in his mind that there was no such tension between him and you— his newest best friend. Even still, he couldn’t help his eyes flittering over your form every once and a while, admiring how the candles scattered around the space caught on the exposed skin of your forearms and the sliver of skin peaking out from between your skirt and socks. You both lapsed into a pleasant silence, simply enjoying each other's company in the late hours of the evening. Secretly, you agreed with your blond companion, you could feel the obvious desire that scorched the air between you and the Sallow boy— you could take a knife to it and cut it right down the middle. Not that you would want to— heaven’s no. See, that was your other secret: you knew all about how Sebastian felt about you, even if he hadn’t realized it yet himself. You were distinctly aware of how his eyes landed on you often, how his gaze would sometimes burn into you so scorchingly that it felt like your clothes would go up in flames any moment, and you loved it. It had become a game for you to see how far you could tease Sebastian, how far you could drive him into madness before he snapped like a weak-willed man beast. You had been doing this dance for a year at this point, and as the middle of your seventh year drew closer, time was running out for the boy to make a move. Even still, you were not going to be the one to break this silent battle— this push and pull of little flirts and lingering touches (no matter how much Ominis begged you to end the misery of hearing Sebastian lament about you on a daily basis).

Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian was also aware of your fun with teasing him, as well as the mutual feelings that sent both of your hearts aflutter when together. He had decided that he, also, was not going to be the one to snap first. And so, much to the displeasure of everyone around the both of you at any moment of the day, you both continued to dance around your feelings and push the other more and more with increasingly crass whispers and near sinful touches.

At least an hour later, you both had not moved from your spots, save for the occasional shift here and there. Each twitch of your hips caught the attention of Sebastian, to the point where he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you in some time. His eyes widened significantly after one particular movement shifted your skirt up slightly more, just enough to reveal the strap of your wand holder pillowing the flesh of your thigh, and you silently giggled at the audible hitch in his breath. Up and down, up and down your skirt had been going for the entirety of your time together, and the brunette was in agony. A dangerous smirk pulled at the corners of your mouth, the plan that had been brewing in the darkest corners of your mind slowly moving its way to the space just behind your temple. Flicking your irises up from the book adorning your lap and meeting your beguiling friend’s gaze finally, your gut began to burn at the hunger you found groveling in his pupils. It was time to put the next step in motion.

Just as the boy was about to speak, your voice cut through the silence of the secret hideaway. “Sebastian, care for a duel?”

A smile began to break the stony exterior of Sebastian’s face, something delightful but deadly tempting you in the way his shoulders squared in confidence. His wand audibly swished through the air as he stood, pushing the chair back with his foot before taking up his normal battle stance. You could hear the slight tease in his voice as he spoke— the playful fire that no one else ever saw from the dashing Slytherin, save you.

“You’re on, sweetheart.”

You stood from the settee you were lounging in, taking care to sway your hips slightly more as you strode to the other side of the room from him, adopting a similar stance and preparing your first strike.

Sebastian’s lower stomach warmed, the butterflies banging against his gut catching fire under the scrutinizing gaze you had him locked in. He could feel the obvious power shedding off of you in waves, wrapping around his throat and squeezing before the battle even began. It was intense, otherworldly— a force stronger than anything natural, and he loved it. There was something so encapsulating about your strength, something that drew him into your orbit since day one. It took him like a forest fire takes ruined trees, quickly, ferociously, and with intense fervor.

A basic cast struck his chest suddenly, sending him stumbling back a number of paces. His eyes quickly focused on you again, the slight pain shaking him from the daydream he had been sucked into for a moment. The smirk on your face grew even more, nearing the point of mocking as you stood watching him, your arms crossed across your chest and your foot impatient tapping at the ground.

“Do pay attention, won’t you?” You purred.

Sebastian’s eyes flicked between yours, how they were alight with a borderline evil glow, and the way your chest squeezed over the top of your crossed forearms, the soft flesh breaching through the button holes of your top like two loaves of fresh baked bread. He fought the desire to lick his lips.

Yes, ma’am.

The brunette held your gaze as he stood to his full height, taking his wand between his teeth and beginning to carefully undo each button of his school jacket. He haphazardly shucked the fabric from his form, wasting no time to do the same with his forest green vest before working on the buttons adorning the cuffs of his pressed dress shirt. It was your turn to begin to feel flustered, a slight blush coloring the apples of your cheeks with each inch of tanned, freckle covered skin revealed. The way the tiny flames of the braziers lining the walls danced against the veins lining his forearms made your mouth water— you wanted to bite into that flesh, wanted to feel the body heat of his palm pressed against your neck as he had his way with you.

Sebastian loudly cleared his throat, a mischievous look in his eye and a laugh in his smile as he raised his eyebrow at you, silently questioning your sudden silence and lack of composure.

Tease.

You huffed, furrowing your brow in anger and embarrassment as you holstered your wand again, doing the same as he did with your clothes and throwing them into the corner. Not one to be outdone, instead of just loosening the tie around your neck (which left a dastardly tantalizing view of the brunette’s collarbones) you took it off completely, slowly pulling it from your neck and letting it glide down your arm as your eyes drank the Sallow boy in. For one final tease, you unbuttoned the top two clasps of your shirt, giving him the smallest taste of your cleavage. You raised your eyebrows at him like he did you, knowing that you were beginning a very dangerous game— one that you knew he couldn’t resist.

It was a dance, this game— two sharks circling, waiting for the other to bare their teeth and charge, and you had drawn first blood.

Sebastian frowned deeply, releasing a soft sound akin to a growl that sent a spike of arousal down your spine, and quickly shot a basic cast back, watching as it bounced harmlessly against the shield you generated.

A silent sentence passed through the both of you, your eyes glowing in the low lamplight.

Let the games begin.

You chuckled darkly, listening to your explosive Confingo sing through the air only to be silenced by a loud shout of Protego. Levioso’s were met with Stupefy’s, Bombarda’s were expertly dodged as they slammed into the crates just beyond your view. Even a Diffindo or two could be heard (but don’t tell Ominis that. He banned you from the spell after you nearly sliced Sebastian’s head off one day). You danced around the room like an expert ballet dancer, your wand movements matching your feet in an elegant show of control and grace. Sebastian was enraptured by your beauty as you pushed him farther into the room, sending him stumbling back more and more. Sweat gathered at his brow, dripping down the side of his face and dampening the collar of his shirt. Your eyes carefully followed each of the droplets as they fell, only shifting your gaze away whenever another spell was launched in your direction. The brunette was no better, his own stare locked on the way your chest heaved against your breaths, your own sweat beading along your clavicle and tumbling delicately down the valley between your breasts. He sent two red-toned spells in your direction, them slamming against your shield in succession and creating an enticing incarnadine glow on your skin. A wicked smile stretched across your face as you glowered at your opponent; a look that said “You shouldn’t have done that,” taunting in your victory-hungry eyes.

Sebastian couldn’t decide if he should feel scared or aroused. He settled on both.

You quickly fired back, your Depulso sending him slamming into the side of the table just behind him. His breathing came out in heavy pants as you inched closer, a lioness approaching her newest meal. He shouldn’t feel so desiring, so lustful about the look of triumph in your eyes. This side of you always intrigued him, the side that smiled at the Ashwinder's you conquered and blasted them to smithereens without a second thought. You raised your wand, preparing your final blow while your eyes drank him in hungrily.

Unfortunately for you, but very fortunately for your prey, you had a tendency to stew in your wins prematurely. You always finished every duel the same, and this time he was prepared for it.

You grinned at him, your eyes alight with laughter as you calmly spoke your final spell.

“Descend—”

“Expelliarmus!”

Just as fast as you had flicked it into your palm moments ago, your wand was quickly thrown from your grasp, the small piece of wood flying through the air and clinking against the floor just out of reach. Your eyes widened in shock at the slight smirk on Sebastian’s face, his wand still smoking lightly in his left hand as his right held him steady against the table you had thrown him into.

“Accio!”

He fired a second spell at you, the magic snagging on your clothes and pulling you through the air, smacking your front against his. His wand arm wrapped around your waist, your faces barely a hair's length away from each other as you fought for balance. Your breaths mingled in the space between your parted lips, each sigh heaving more and more oxygen into the other's lungs and vice versa— his inhales your exhales. He smelled intoxicating, a mix of mint and leather, a hint of the distinct smell of the old books he loved to pour over and the ash of the fire spells he loved so much hiding just under the surface. Flicking your gaze upwards, you stared directly into his eyes, finding them already trained on your face. His brown irises swirled with a feeling you were unfamiliar with, something similar to want, or need, or some intriguing, undiscovered third option. Sebastian’s pupils dilated with desire, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your hot pants against the junction of his neck and across his cheeks. His heart stuttered as your hands gently moved up his chest, your fingers splayed open as you felt the heat of his skin through his thin cotton shirt.

You were the one who broke first, your hand reaching up that last little bit and winding around his low hanging tie, tugging him down to your level and slamming his lips into yours. He responded just as eagerly, his lips capturing yours with a ferocity you’d only ever seen from him in the most heated of battles and his arms wrapping tightly around your waist like a python capturing a mouse. He quickly lifted you off the ground, using the gasp you released as an opportunity to let his tongue begin to explore your mouth as he turned you both around, throwing you down onto the table and slotting himself between your thighs. Your kisses were bruising, each one more rough and clouded with more desire than the last. Nearly three full years of pining cumulated in that moment, bursting forth like a broken dam and sending a monsoon of lust into both of your veins. The brunette that had you tangled in his arms bit your lips harshly, sending a soft tumbling moan from your throat as he began to kiss his way down your jaw, his hands gliding up your arms and chest until he found the buttons of your shirt.

You laugh breathily, little sounds of pleasure escaping through your parted lips with each love bite he sucked onto your skin. “Eager, ahh, are we?”

He bit harshly at where your neck met your shoulder, pulling a whimper from the very depths of your soul.

“You have no idea.”

His fingers made quick work of your shirt, shucking the fabric from your shoulders at a speed that would make light itself jealous and flinging it to Merlin knows where. He pressed open mouth kisses to the new skin he had unearthed, admiring the way the tops of your breasts looked poking out of your chemises low neckline. Licking a stripe up your neck, the boy blew on it gently while he pawed at your chest, sending an earthquake level shiver up your entire body with sinful infatuation.

You could feel every soft brush of his lips against your ear when he spoke, his hot breath warming you deliciously. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

He bit the cartilage of your ear, causing your breath to hitch in eagerness.

“How much I have wanted you since we first met.”

You pulled him closer again, your teeth clashing together in your need for him to be as close as possible— hell, impossibly closer. Your hands wracked up the front of his shirt again, fingers digging into the holes separating some of the buttons and yanking with all of your might, pulling the two halves from each other and sending the clasps to the floor like the twinkle of tiny stars against the night sky. You had to show him that you wanted him just as much— that you desired him from the very beginning as well. Sebastian hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back, pressing his hips as close to yours as humanly possible and allowing you to grind against the hard length that had been tenting the fabric of his pants for some time. You took this opportunity to begin kissing down his throat, marking him as yours just as he did to you. With fumbling fingers and tiny moans spilling from his lips with every press of delicious friction against his groin, he undid the buttons of your skirt, throwing it to the floor before sliding your chemise up your body and over your head, leaving you completely bare before him. Your deft fingers quickly undid the button of his trousers, letting him tug them and his pants to the floor to be kicked in some unknown direction like every other piece of your uniform.

You behaved like wild animals in heat, your feral sides taking over as soon as you both were free of your clothing. Papers on the desk behind you were quickly swept to the side, your body soon taking their place as Sebastian pressed you to the wood with all his weight. You could feel his manhood rubbing against the inner skin of your thigh and you keened at him, grinding your hips upwards into his and pleading for him to just finally take you. He was quick to respond, carding his hand down your side with a burning heat and letting his palm settle between your legs. With a precision you didn’t know he had in him, he ran a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness gathered there and locating the tiny button at the top of your cunt that made you see stars.

He groaned deep in his throat, the sound dangerously close to a guttural growl as he mouthed hotly against the apex of your right breast.

“Merlin. So wet for me, just from a little duel. I could just slide right in there already, no prep needed. So ready for me, my perfect girl—”

His praise was cut off by your hand grasping at his throbbing cock, your soft skin dragging up his scorching skin like an ice cube on a hot summer day. He threw his head back at the feeling of you stroking him, his mouth open in a toothy smile and a silent moan breathing into the air around you.

You smiled, eyelids slightly twitching as his finger rubbed tighter circles on your swollen clit. “Not so cocky now, are we, Sebastian?”

His head pitched forwards again, his chin roughly smacking into his chest as he laughed breathlessly. With a quick movement he switched the fingers playing with you, instead pressing his thumb to your nub and sliding his middle finger into your winking opening. Your wanton moan filled the Undercroft, echoing off the tall ceilings and only being swallowed by the terribly ugly shag rug you conjured onto the floor last year during a particularly cold winter.

Sebastian’s voice rumbled against your chest. “You’re one to talk, dove. Snake got your tongue?”

You thread the fingers of your left hand into his soft curls, tugging him harshly towards your neck and shoving his face against your pulse point. He laughed again, a dark thing that made the spool of thread in your stomach knot tighter as he worked you closer to your climax, and bit lightly at your skin, seceding to your whims.

Screw this little game of yours, his fingers felt too good for you to care anymore.

Your moans mingled together in the air around you as your hand sped up, pumping his cock with quick motions. Sebastian buried his face into your neck, his unruly hair tickling your face as he moaned unabashedly into your skin, his teeth nipping you whenever your thumb ran over his slit. He in turn thrust into you at a more bruising pace, adding a second finger to your weeping, needy cunt and curling his fingertips against that one spot that made you scream with earth shattering pleasure. The both of you crept closer and closer to your orgasm, seemingly treating making the other finish as a continuation of your challenge— a second duel of the sinful kind.

A sudden, very loud mewl that flew from your open mouth seemed to bury deep in the mind of the brunette, causing him to pull his hand from your center, yanking yours from his member with the same velocity before surging his hips closer, rubbing his length against your slick folds. The tip of his cock rammed against your clit with each delightful thrust, causing you to rut against him with a ravenous appetite, your voice howling into the air like a lone dire wolf searching for its pack. Sebastian’s groans answered your call— a truly feral, instinctual game of call and response in your metaphorical animalistic wild.

The Sallow boy stilled his movements as his voice reached its peak, his orgasm just on the precipice and threatening to spill over. You whined deep in your throat, desperately grinding your hips against his once again until his forearm stopped you. You were so close, one more thrust and you surely would have toppled over the edge. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes from the lava that set your pelvis aflame.

Sebastian heaved oxygen into his lungs, biting his lip and attempting to starve off his finish before he could get to the part he has been longing for. He timidly met your eyes, his irises soft and pliant. You gapped at all the emotion he held there; you could see love swirl around his dilated pupils, longing in the streaks of dark, almost black-ish green stemming from the centers, lust in the deep, mahogany brown that took over the rest of his eye, and finally vulnerability— nervousness— in the black circle that ensnared all of the colors together like a biogenic piece of twine. The boy softly pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes falling closed once again as he continued to try and catch his breath around the words he needed to say.

“I can’t take it anymore. I need to be inside of you. Please, darling, can I? Can I claim you as mine?”

That dangerous smirk took over your face again at the whine threading at the edges of his voice. “Can I claim you as mine, as well? Can you be my beautiful boy?”

Sebastian whimpered at your words, liking being called yours a bit more than he originally thought, as he unconsciously rutted against you again. You sobbed at the feeling, your head nodding before the words even left your mouth.

“Shit! Gods, yes! Make me yours, Sebastian.”

His lips surged towards you, capturing you in another bruising kiss as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing in slowly but with purpose. You both groaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, swimming in the sudden influx of pleasure that wrapped you both in a warm, steamy hug. He was completely filling you up, each ridge of his member rubbing in the most arduous way along yours with every inch pushed deeper inside. Sebastian pressed delicate kisses to your skin as he slid more into your awaiting heat, sending a flutter of love into your stomach and loosening your muscles like a perfect cup of tea. After a moment he finally hit home, his pelvis flush with yours as you became completely connected. You didn’t even need to wait for the stretch to stop burning before you were a writhing mess underneath him, begging and pleading for him to move— to do something to get rid of this ache in your loins. He easily complied, needing very little persuasion to rock his hips with yours, pulling out halfway before surging forwards again in a sweet taste of euphoria. You sang together like cicadas on a southern spring night, moaning with fervor as your peaks fast approached for the second time that night. Sebastian slammed roughly into you, absolutely wolfish in his impulses to claim you as his, to spill his seed deep inside of you until you were completely filled with him and only him. He had a primal desire inside of him to make you the mother of his children, and as loud as the voice in the back of his head told him that you both were too young, his beastly side continued to scream louder and louder at him as he got closer and closer to finishing.

You weren’t much better at this point. You could feel your walls tightening around him with each little spasm of your approaching orgasm— every time his head would hit your g-spot with a rabid lust. You wanted to feel him empty inside of you, for his essence to pool inside of you and spread the warmth that you feel in your heart whenever he was near to your whole body. With what little strength your jelly-filled muscles had left, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and digging your hand in his hair once again, the other scratching down the entirety of his back and leaving long red welts.

He growled in your ear, biting your shoulder with all his strength and drawing blood at the new deepness he was able to reach. He lapped like a Saint Bernard at the pebbling red liquid, feeling along the ridges his teeth left with his tongue and smiling slightly at his work. He could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, and with a gravelly voice he murmured against the column of your neck.

“Fuck, so close, baby. You want me to come inside? Huh? You want me to fill you up entirely?” He groaned headily as your hips bucked, his dirty talk doing something ungodly to you. His hips began to stutter and lose rhythm as he approached the precipice. “Want me to remember this moment whenever another man talks to you— touches you? Remember how it felt to fill you to the brim with my seed so no one else ever can?”

You whined, long past words from the levels of rapturous pleasure that coursed through your system. Both of your hands clung to his shoulders as you held on for dear life, nails digging deep into his skin and creating little crescent moon-shaped scrapes. He pounded into you like a man possessed, dragging sounds from you that you had never heard even in the latest of nights— your bed curtains closed and all of your roommates at home for the winter holidays as you pumped your fingers deep into yourself over and over, the same boy’s name on your lips as every other time. The volume of your wails only grew louder as you inched closer to your finish, your legs wrapping even tighter around Sebastian’s thrusting hips as the only coherent thing that fell from your moaning lips was “inside, inside, inside.”

With a final stutter of his hips, Sebastian released inside of you with a grand growl, his teeth once again latching onto the supple skin of your neck like a dog going in for the kill. You fell over soon after him, screaming into the night as every vein in your body was set alight with uproarious pleasure and a dash of pain. You both twitched as the last bits of your release shocked through your bodies, sending tiny whimpers from both of your lips as over-stimulation began to set in. With one last long groan, Sebastian carefully extracted himself from you, laughing slightly at the small sob that you let out when his tip rubbed against your sensitive clit. You both looked at each other for a moment, eyes taking in the sweat that beaded on your temples and the hair that stuck to your skin, the new scars that decorated your necks, shoulders, and various other stretches of skin, before dissolving into giggles. The brunette fell forwards again, wrapping his arms around the back of your neck and pressing your face into the junction of his throat. You hugged him to you, feeling his joy seep into the space around you and become one with yours. There was nowhere else you’d rather be at that very moment.

This time it was Sebastian to break first, releasing his hold on you and pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. He found the same emotion that he held in his before glowing in yours, a lovely concoction of love and acceptance burning into his corneas like the brightest of sun rays.

You smiled wide at him, tired eyelids lowered but all of your teeth on display in a show of true happiness, and whispered against his lips.

“Call it a tie?”

The boy laughed loudly, mirth dancing in his eyes as he gently kissed you on the forehead.

“Agreed. A tie sounds about right.”

He smiled at you again, that same devious look shining in his eyes and mischief laughing behind his clamped teeth, as he began to kiss down your chest. Your breath grew deeper for the third time that night, your hand coming up to card through his hair and pull lightly at the root to gain his attention.

“Seb, w-what are you—”

He quietly shushed you, stopping your sentence in the middle as he explained.

“I have to clean up my mess, don’t I?” He laughed at your deep inhale, kissing one of the freckles he discovered on the top of your mound. “Just point me in the right direction.”

He laughed again at your frantic nod before spreading you open once again and diving into your sweet center.

It would be hours until the both of you emerged, newly invigorated but so, so tired all the same.

And if the Undercroft were to smell like sex the next day when Ominis returned, well, that was a problem for future you.

***

like what you read? here's more!

#tina speaks #smut #hl smut #hogwarts legacy #hl #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #ao3 smut #masterlist

697 notes · View notes

ruhorih4ra · 2 months

Text

I really reaaally should be sleeping right now.

This chapt contains descriptions of violence against humans and demons, big demons and little ones. :(

Get out of my way 🌈

The devildom isn't suitable for humans. Everything is too dangerous for the vulnerability of their souls and the fragility of their bodies. The days were cold, but the nights were colder, freezing. Human eyes can adapt in the morning; the sky even resembles the one in the human world when the sun has just set. Even so, the devildom doesn't have a sun and the dark just grows more intense as the hours pass with no promise of a brighter tomorrow.

There comes a time when you cannot see a thing and the cold stiffens your muscles so much you start to look like a statue. But you had never had to worry about it before, the brothers were always there to hug you, guide you, protect you with their hands and warmth.

“You don't want to open your eyes, Mc? Don't worry, dear, you don't need to see us devouring your soul.” The Little D. of pride said. Even though he had the same voice of Lucifer, it sounded different. “I'm just enjoying the clean air.” you answered.

“Ah, so that's why you are protecting yourself with magic?” The impersonator of Satan inquired. You finally opened your eyes and searched for the new addition to the group, all of the Little D.s had morphed into the brothers' demonic forms.

“Zzzz Night, Mc. Zzzz.” The copycat of Belphie was sleeping in a fetal position over a bush. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Heh, no problem. We don't need him to start the feast!” Leviathan's impersonator cracked his knuckles. “I guess that's true, but first listen to me.” you stood in the middle of them. They had surrounded you in a circle, leaving no place to run.

“We are on the outskirts of the Devildom forest, as you can see, we are completely alone except for the creatures that lurk in the dark.” Your voice was calm as you inspected the demons’ faces. “We are the creatures that lurk in the dark, Mc.” Asmodeus's copycat said.

“Yes, one of them.” you took a rock and closed your hand into a fist, bringing it to your lips and chanting a spell. “Look, it is pretty, isn't it?” the rock glowed a bright green color.

The demons looked at each other as if they were questioning your sanity. Some raised their eyebrows, and others merely shrugged. “Catch it!” You threw the rock at the Little D. of Wrath, who caught it effortlessly. “Oh! Look! it's me!” He said excitedly, turning to the Lucifer impersonator. Sadly, before he could even meet the eyes of his companion, fangs, huge like sharp knives, sank into him.

“A fufufucking giant venus fly trap!! Aahh get the hell outta my way!!” The first to run was the Little D. of Greed and you followed in his steps, quickly closing your eyes and casting another spell. “I am the magician, MC… Heed my words! Open the way forward and create a path where there was none!”.

Suddenly, the air changed and you knew you were far from the forest. You were in the coliseum, surrounded by the vestiges of Diavolo's ancestors. The peace didn't last much as sardonic laughter filled the place. “Hahaha! I must admit that was funny, Mc. But as you may know, you CAN'T kill us!” the Little D. of Envy spited, fury evident in his agitated movements.

“Oh, but I can and you know it. For all these months the truth about your kind was impossible to find, there was nothing!” You walked towards him. “But in the end, you are just demons. I know I made you stronger but I did not create you.”

One by one the Little D.s arrived, all but one. “Phew! that was close hahaha!” The demon of greed laughed while wiping away a drop of sweat. “Ugh! my clothes are ruined!”

“Hey! where is your arm?!” Beelzebub impersonator asked, looking at his partner in crime with confusion. “Enough!” the voice of Leviathan resounded in the silent place, the echo of his order made sure that the others obeyed. Even you stood still for a moment, trying to remember if you had heard Levi speaking in that tone before. It makes sense, after all, Leviathan is supposed to be and admiral.

“I will not give you my soul. I’d rather die.” with a swift movement of your wrist a dagger materialized in your hand and you adopted a fighting pose. “As you wish, Mc.” Lucifer imposter ran towards you and kicked you right in the stomach, throwing you against a wall.

He was incredibly fast, you only saw a shadow before crashing into the hard surface. “Already bleeding, human?” The Little D.s were surrounding you again but they stopped when black, well defined lines appeared on your neck. You stood up with no effort, arranging your clothes and brushing off the dust. “I borrowed some of Beelzebub’s strength, I'm sure he won't mind.”

“Ha! Points for trying but you cannot avoid the inevitable.”

***

Sc ran towards the house of lamentation under the inexplicable feeling of urgency and shame. The other students looked at her with curiosity and amusement as she left RAD, most looking for the demon chasing her just to realize that the human was simply running.

It felt unreal, everything since she had arrived to hell feels the same way, like a comedy. She paid no attention to the blurry faces and shady laughter, she couldn't care less about them in this hellish asylum. She heard the high-pitched squawk of a bird in the sky and noticed how a couple of crows flew back to RAD after looking at her. “The Avatar of Greed and his thousand eyes.” she thought, unconsciously running faster.

“Fuck you, you blabbermouth jerks!” Sc shouted, already sensing their intentions. Her whole body felt ready to explode, her lungs were burning, breathing had long since become painful. “I won't make it, I won't make it, I won’t ma-”

The sudden image of the house of lamentation's door appeared in front of her, seconds weren't enough for her to stop before crashing into it. “Shit, oh, fuck!”

“I saw you running away, I thought I’d give you a little push, Sc.” She heard a condescending voice from behind. She touched her nose and the pain was sharp, surely it was broken. The blood on her fingers took her attention away before her brain could process the demon's words.

“Did you open a portal in front of me?” She asked, still confused. “You seem to be in a hurry.”

Sc looked at Satan with wariness, he looked mad but it was quite different to previous times, he seemed tranquil, peaceful. Sc felt goosebumps trough all her body, something was screaming at her to get up and run away and so she tried. “Not so fast, little rat.” Satan moved so fast it looked like he had teleported, he took her arm before she could open the door and pulled her closer, gripping her hair tightly with his free hand.

“We have some unfinished business, Sc.” Tears unconsciously welled up in Sc’s eyes as the burning of her scalp became unbearable.

Satan's eyes widened, confusion filled green irises, darkening his gaze with pain. Sc sunk the dagger deeper into the demon's stomach without taking her eyes off his. “I'm sorry, m'lord but I don't have time for your tantrums.” Sc twisted the dagger viciously, years of experience helping her to keep her hand still against the fear. “I’ll kill yo-” She thrust the dagger again until the grip in her hair disappeared and Satan fell to her side, moaning in pain as dark blood pooled around.

***

The pain in your stomach was sharp as the knife that caused it, you looked first surprised and then with fear at the black form of Mammon, drops of saliva sliding through his fangs as the knife sank more and more in your body. “What kind of idiot gets stabbed with their own knife?!”

You took the Little D.’s hand, the one that was wielding the knife, while the other hand searched for his face with apprehensive calm. “…ring of light!” you murmured, tightening your grip on the demon's face that gradually changed from mocking to pained. Rays of divine light came from the ring that had belonged to Lucifer so many years ago, light that worked as a deadly repellent against demons.

Your wound was nothing compared to the cries of pain from the Little D. of Greed who begged for mercy with a voice that no longer resembled Mammon's. His body fell at your feet with a loud thud. “5 left.” you murmured, looking at the Little D.s, who were becoming more and more manic with every passing second.

***

Sc entered the house of lamentation as if she was coming from a peaceful walk in the gardens rather than a death fight with the Avatar of Wrath. However, once that she realized the other demons weren't coming at her, she started walking faster, following a direction that only her intuition knew.

She stood in front of the attic door, where she had been staying since she had arrived to the devildom. An ominous feeling filled her when she touched the doorknob, her skin was crawling as she opened the door slowly. The fast beating of her heart slowed down when she saw the Avatar of Sloth sleeping in deep slumber, like that he even looked like an angel.

Suddenly, something called her, a force too strong and pressing to ignore. Her gray eyes landed on the little cage she'd bought, like the sleeping beauty was lured to the spinning wheel, she was lured to the bird cage. It was situated above a dresser, just a few steps ahead of the bed.

Once she took it, the urges to go became stronger, as if the cage was commanding her to move. A voice in her head murmured words she could barely register. “Forest. Dark. Cold.”

“What?” She murmured, her voice as feeble as the one in her head. “Careful. Attic.” Sc's hands tightened around the small bars of the cage, absorbed in the voice and the message she couldn't decipher. “I don't understand you.” She said, how was she supposed to sharpen her hearing if the voice was coming from inside her mind. But it wasn't necessary because what she heard then was loud and clear.

“Behind you.”

***

A left hook from the Little D. of Gluttony sent you straight to the ground. The other demons had returned to their more amicable form, small black demons with friendly smiles cheered every time Beel imposter landed a blow. Before you could stand, you received a kick that conected with your jaw and made you kiss the ground again.

“You're the best, Leeb! Give them a good lesson!” The little D. of Envy shouted. If not for Beelzebub’s strength, you would be dead. “Leeb? This is the first time I hear your name.” You said, breathless.

“It doesn’t make sense. Don’t try to fake it, I know you’re not my ‘inner demons’.” You were beaten and bruised but there weren’t broken bones and so you could hold your ground. “You stole his shape and now his name?” The Little D. of Gluttony didn’t answer, instead he charged towards you. You dodged his punch at the last second, putting distance in between. “Where did you come from?”

It was clear that your questions wouldn’t be answered, the demon was too focused on ending you. “Hear me, denizens of darkness, you who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it. Hear me and do as I command! I, MC, call upon you to give me the strength of one of your number! the Avatar of Greed, Mammon!”

Before Leeb could land another blow, you moved behind his back, but you were so fast that it let you disoriented. Your body felt so light weighted and free, no wonder why Mammon is the fastest of them all. The demon aimed a kick to your torso, with Mammon’s speed you avoided in no time and thus began a round of blows and dodges.

“This is taking too long! Just break their legs!” You heard the voice of Leviathan, the Little D.s were tall again, clear proof that they were getting impatient. Leeb charged towards you one more time and, just like last time, you waited until the last moment to launch yourself out of his reach.

The demon crashed entirely into the wall, he stood there for a few seconds before turning around. Just when you thought another round would begin, what was left of the giant wall came crushing down on Leeb.

“Clearly, you are not on the good side of the Avatar of Greed.”

***

SC turned in time to see Belphegor aiming a punch, she dodged it in time too, her eyes glued to the hole Belphie made in the wall behind her. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Mm-hmm.” Belphegor murmured, but didn’t move. Sc looked at him, his eyes were closed and his head was tilted to the right side, occasionally moving to the left. “Lord Belphegor, are you a sleepwalker?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s okay, I’ll leave now, okay?”

The Avatar of Sloth remained still, breathing calmly over Sc’s face. She wanted to relax, but she couldn’t remember any animal with claws as large and sharp looking as the demon in front of her. The same demon that had killed Mc in the very same place.

“Ookay, my lord, I’ll take my leave.” She moved slowly around Belphegor, never turning her back on him. She was almost out of Belphie’s reach when the demon straightened and dug his claws into Sc’s arm, making her gasp in pain. “Mc?” he murmured sweetly, in stark contrast to his actions.

“No!” She muffled her mouth with her free hand, noticing how the sleeping demon was in fact still sleeping. “They’re not here.”

“Where are they?” Belphie asked, tightening his grip, making the woman bend over in pain. “The news-” She gasped, closing her eyes. “The newspaper club, my lord.”

The relief she felt was immediate, Belphie let go of her arm and went back to bed. “Stupid eggplant.” He said, then a bunch of snorts as adorable as those of an angel were heard.

***

The Little D.s started attacking all at once, too upset by the current situation. You moved, attacked, and avoided as efficiently as you could, but the constant use of magic was taking its toll on you and more often than not their hits were successful.

"Spirit of the fire, bring your force upon the demons before me" you screamed, breaking the spells that allowed you to use the brothers’ strength and directing all your attention on the current one.

Two of the Little D.s avoided the intense fire that appeared out of your surroundings. Asmodeus and Belphie impostors screamed as the fire consumed their flesh. Similar to the others, their bodies didn’t die like a human one, instead they crumbled as if they were made of porcelain.

For a few moments, the world stopped moving and you watched them burn, the fire illuminated your face and your eyes reflected the flames. “Only two left.” Both the Little D. of Envy and the Little D. of Pride stood in silence, their faces disfigured by a perverse grimace of hunger.

“You are correct, Mc. We aren’t your inner demons.” The Little D. of Envy took the first step, as soon as his foot touched the ground, his leg broke and rolled into itself, his body did the same. “Congratulations!” He broke into maniacal laughter. As for Lucifer copycat, he vanished from his previous spot, leaving behind a cloud of black fog.

Your eyes scanned everything as fast as they could, but the fear had flooded your brain, stifling your ability to move. “Don’t resist, Mc.” Said a voice you hadn’t heard before, the real voice of the Little D. of Pride. You tried to move but something was forcing you to stay still, a black mist adhered to your body like freezing cold. “No, I refuse.”

The Little D. of Envy finally stood in front of you, taking your face with his hands, sinking his claws into your jaw. “Open your eyes.” He demanded. You had closed them, remembering Mephisto, Mammon, Amodeus… they had seen something in you through your eyes. “No!”

The fog that had adhered to your body forced your eyelids, tears of pain, fear and frustration slid down through your face. “Oh! It is not as white as before, is it?” the demon laughed. “So resilient, so persistent!” “Stop!” You screamed one last time before the mist prevented you from even that.

He looked at you and you looked at him, something stole your breath and left you empty.

The smell of your favorite food, that reminded you of Beel.

That feeling when you sleep on freshly washed sheets, that reminded you of Belphie.

They vanished, something absorbed them until you couldn’t remember what was there before.

A deep laugh, he doesn’t laugh often. Well, he does laugh a lot when he is with you. It makes you feel proud. Proud. Lucifer. That disappeared too.

You try to fight it, to grab an invisible rope that is not there for your soul knows no strings.

Someone is pulling your wrist, a voice is calling your name, asking you to follow him and only him and no one else. Your first disappeared too.

Your favorite color, that one song that accompanies you in all your difficult moments and the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks. Your favorite book and the hand of Satan, holding your hand as you turn the pages.

You started crying, feeling the emptiness as a part of you.

Someone hugging you, the relaxing smell of tea, the warmth of the fireplace, the silly jokes, the routine. A decorated cane, a simple courtesy.

“It’s mine!” You cried in vain.

Flowers, roses hanging from the bed and a beautiful demon smiling at himself, smiling at you. A bathtube filled with roses and then empty, just a pillow and a sheet. The faint sound of video games while you see the slow movement of a goldfish, alone in a giant tank.

And the only thing you can feel at the end is love, tender love.

You can feel the taste of your favorite food, the rhythm of that song, the ache in your stomach when you laugh too much. And what you thought was emptiness was only the resistance of your soul, the incorporeal fight for your soul.

And you feel it in yourself, with all its colors and shades.

You smiled, no longer looking into the dead eyes of the Little D. but looking at everything that makes you feel alive. “I told you, you can’t have my soul. It’s mine.”

As soon as you finished talking an intense pain spread from your stomach to your throat, blood came out of your mouth and choked you for an instant. “If not your soul, at least your body.” The Little D. of Envy said with boredom and hatred.

Before delivering the final blow, a dazzling golden flash hit him on the head, a woman holding a bird cage landed blow after blow at Leviathan impersonator, who was now lying on the ground. Gradually, the mist that held you still vanished and took the form of the Little D. of Pride, but this time it was as little as the Little D. of Envy that you had seen the first time, no bigger than your hand.

“Catch him!” You barely had the strength to speak but Sc heard you, quickly launching herself with the cage in hand towards the little demon. The bird cage did all the work, sucking inside the little demon.

“Thank you.” You murmured. Sc was hugging the bird cage, slowly sliding against a wall. Until that moment, you hadn’t noticed how injured she was. “No problem.” She said before passing out, the cage firmly secured in her arms.

You heard hurried footsteps and frantic voices but your eyes couldn’t resist more, you surrendered to your tiredness and closed them, perhaps forever, you thought.

Last part ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ???

Taglist: @yuumaofc @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @exrellian @kaiserkisser @cutestpatoootie @fandumshippr @frenchmess23yo @reject-queen @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

Yes, next one is finally the end of this long ass fic that is taking me forever to finish (feign surprise please 🙏🏻)!!

Also, I KNOW it was kind of sappy, if I were Mc my soul would already be marinade and ready (bon appétit! 🍷) but this Mc is amazing just like you! (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

Still, I feel like I lacked angst in this chapt. My soul is sad rn. :(

Thanks for reading and commenting! 🩷

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #obey me fandom #obey me gn!reader #obey me lucifer #obey me angst #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me little d #obey me leviathan #obey me brothers #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus

55 notes · View notes

kit-williams · 6 months

Text

The Spider Suite

Apothecarian Imperial Fist: Astel Redlane

Sickly/weak darling named Mouse

I need to say the biggest shoutout to @bispecsual because a good CHUNK of the yandere boys had her help involved. The small mood boards had her help as well in helping me pick out pictures. 100% helped with getting a plot for the White Scar, helping pick out music for both Azazel rework; the imperial fist; and the white scar as well. They're been an amazing soundboard to work off of and have given me ideas for more short stories/au's etc. Like they have been such a big help that I can't thank them enough for giving me an ear to just go off on tangents about "what if the boys but chaos" and other such just random stuff that during fluffuary I didn't want to write about just yet. (And also keeping me on track with writing all the insane stuff)

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon

Thank you to @squishyowl for the Dividers

tw: SMUT, non con/rape , somnophilia, drugging, yandere behavior

Astel was one of the few brothers suited to taking care of others. Now that did not make him less of a fighter but he could handle returning from a battle covered in the gore caused by tending his battle brothers. Perhaps such a burden and weight upon his shoulders and to keep such a smile and tenderness in his person... perhaps such a thing is what turned his hair white. He entered his room and his eyes settled upon the chapter serf resting upon his bed, his Mouse as he had taken to affectionately calling her. Chapter Serfs were different from most baselines... but Mouse?

Sickly thing... and he could not help but take such pity on her, he wasn't heartless so how could he not take pity upon her? She had simply gotten the short end of the genetic lottery as he had studied her predispositions and she, for a chapter serf, was weak. The laborious lifestyle she was born into did not help her completely while hardier to baselines but compared to her peers she was such a sickly thing. Such a hardy stock serfs were, his fingers danced over her arm as his grey eyes looked over her body, but she tired easy... she was often sick or unwell... out of breath often... just she was just unlucky... if he was a crueler man one might say she was a burden even. His fingers trailed over her back and gently rubbed circles as she let out a small cough.

This is how Astel kept sane... he would find himself a pet project for him to feel good about. He made sure his door was locked and that he wouldn't be disturbed... he looked over the work orders that he had convinced Mouse to give to him to ensure that there would be a nice chunk of time that her companion was busy. He hummed softly as he opened a medical cabinet and pulled out a special mixture for her, making sure there were no air bubbles in it before he injected his mouse. She sighed and relaxed at the cocktail of medications and relaxants entered her veins. Things to help her and try to strengthen her and to help her body relax for what was to come. His fingers ran through her hair as he pulls her messy bun out looking at her hair cupping her face with a loving look in his eyes.

Astel undid his body glove, a part of him wishing she was awake to watch him so he could watch her eyes move over his body. His fingers running through the white happy trail on his stomach as his balls felt heavy... it had been awhile since he had some relief. His fingers pushing back the skin around his cock as he lazily strokes himself to half mast. A grower he's been called and far too girthy as well. He cocked his head to the side with a smile on his face as he just watched her nuzzle his pillow. He did his best to help her with her aliments and make her feel good. He always made sure she left his presence well rested and feeling better, if not slightly sore sometimes.

The bed, made for a man like him, had hardly any impression made by her body and it groaned as he sat on the bed and starts to undo her clothes. He can't help but lean down and press kisses to the back of her neck, wanting to suck on her skin and leave marks there, but his fingers work her robe free from her body. It didn't start like this... he just was a weak man for her weak body... it just started with touches to help soothe her as she slept... and then his hands roamed and she made such irresistible noises as she slept... and finding out that she could take so many of his fingers in her without waking up and just mewling instead is what drove him to this. She had to like it if she mewled right?

He rolled her over... his hand caressing her cheek and moving a strand of hair away from her cheek. His fingers made quick work of her breast bindings and freed her breasts. He leaned in as he wrapped a mouth around one of her nipples and suckled. His tongue caressing the hardening nub as his own member hardened slowly between his legs. The scent of her arousal spurring him on as did many things... he learned how to touch her and make his Mouse feel good. He just had to make sure... she didn't wake up for what he was going to do.

He pulled his mouth away from one overly wet nipple and trailed kisses in the valley of her breasts whispering to her flesh, "Do I make you feel good, little Mouse?" Astel asks before pushing his fingers between her folds and he hears her whimper of pleasure in reply. He always made sure to prepare her, like he did with any lover, but she always took him so well its what made him focus so much on her. Her soft whimpers become akin to an earworm for him haunting him throughout the day as he wrote down medical notes or sketched organs... and the way her face emoted with such soft pleasure haunted him that he has a book full of sketches of such soft faces.

He cannot wait for the day that he won't have to make sure she wont wake up but for now its for her own good for her to be so relaxed. He pulled his fingers out of her sex and pushed them into his mouth as he licked them clean as well checked on her health, she tasted so good. His cock, now fully hardened, twitched in excitement as he could see it as her body being willing to be taken by him. He pulled her up and into his lap as her head rested against his chest as he could hear her whimper as he positioned her over his cockhead. As he eased her down he couldn't help but let out soft moans... he couldn't get relief as often as his brothers due to his girth and he could feel how her walls tried to push him out.

He moved a hand down to her hooded bead and played with it feeling her walls flutter and the waves of her natural lubricant coat his cock to help him sink in till her hips touched his. Astel flexed his thighs as he resisted to thrust up as he had to give her body her time to adjust to his size. He wonders how she would let him know to move? Would she play coy? Would it just be a simple word? A nod of her head? A trail of her hand on his chest? Down his arm? As she looked up at him blissed out in pleasure upon his bed.

His lips touch her forehead and some part of him wanted to see her eyes open and her judge him in this moment... would she look at him as blissed out and lovingly as he wanted or would it be the disgust and horror that he probably deserved for what he was doing to her. He furrowed his brow at the shame that washed over him and he pushed it away by thrusting up into her body and hearing that soft pleasured whimper from her. Her hair tickled his chest and his arm as he held onto her hips as he had her leaning on him, his hands sliding her up and down his cock. It started innocent... touches to help soothe her... a stolen kiss... trailing hands and more intimate touches followed by suckling marks upon her skin where she would not see them easily. The backs of her thighs and close to her ass is where he marks as how else can she see behind her easily?

He did have some competition... her overseer was a failed aspirant and while he didn't like her weakness... it too charmed him and he was trying to court her in his own way. He knew what charm she had... but he made it clear to him that she was his Mouse. And like a good aspirant he listened to his betters but he wasn't a mean peer to his lesser... he just turned the aspirants gaze to his Mouses' companion, someone who was overly concerned with how long Mouse spent in his bedroom, and thus he solved 2 problems.

He felt adventurous tonight as he stood up and continued to thrust into her willing entrance. Hot tongue confessions in gothic left his lips as drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. He so badly wanted to hear her gasps of pleasure and her screaming his name as her walls spasmed around him. His mind raced at what positions he would take her in as they fucked, no not fucked but as he loved her properly. She wasn't as weak or as sickly as many made her out to be... she could handle his cock with ease and it was always so hard to find serfs who could. Usually he was so pent up and perhaps he had a bad habit of always clinging to a serf that can handle him... and with that being also his pet project... well that's how she was both a project and a sexual release. He was so close... he played with that bead and felt her strangling his cock and he came with her name slipping from his lips.

She woke up to the scratching of a stylus to parchment which meant that Brother Astel had returned. She rubbed the heel of her hand into her eye wiping away the sleep. She felt tired but in a good way... and that was more than what she normally got in her bed. "I hope you had a good rest, little mouse." She heard Astel finally say as he turns in his chair looking over at her with his usual warm and kind smile.

"Yes I did." Mouse said finally noticing her hair was now braided and she smiles as she always appreciated how Astel would do this for her, "I really shouldn't sleep here." She says softly.

"Nonsense. You need this my dear and I'm happy to offer my little serf some help." Astel said with his usual mirth.

"Your serf?" Mouse said with a laugh, closing her eyes and missing how Astel tenses and the distress in his body. She stopped laughing but still smiled at him, "I suppose I might be."

"Do... do you not wish to be?" Astel says softly in a curious tone... unknown to Mouse this was a question he wasn't ready to hear rejection too. He was just taking things away from her... giving her all of the time and freedom she wanted with him... Astel stopped his racing mind... he would give her back all her freedoms soon, just he had to make sure she wouldn't leave.

She kicked her feet as she sat in the bed just thinking, "I doubt I'm cut out to be a personal serf, Lord Redlane."

"I think you could be." He says encouragingly to her and she always appreciated how Astel, while it might be pity, still did not think of her as being overly weak.

She hopped off his bed looking at those charming grey eyes of his and that smile... that encouraging smile, "I'll... I'll think about it at least." Mouse said before making his bed and cleaning up a few things before slipping on her shoes and leaving his room to return to her duties. Astel let out a sigh as his eyes returned to the parchment as again there she was once more drawn in the nude laid upon his bed with such a beautiful peaceful look upon her face and for now Astel had to live with this vision upon parchment... and he could for now at least do that.

#warhammer 40k #yandere space marine #yandere #yandere imperial fist #imperial fist #space marines #tw: rape #tw: smut #tw: noncon #tw: somnophilia #tw: drugs #a medical professional abusing his powers #tw: abuse of power #apothecary astarte #this is also a big thank you post

91 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 6 months

Text

For the anon who asked--

The Charlatan Duchess (TCD) was a blog back in the early Harkle/Sussex days that really focused on the contradictions and inconsistencies, if you will, that Meghan presented. Among their information, they had:

Receipts of edited articles and photographs.

Tea and gossip about the Sussexes from people in their circles.

Reports from people who were actually in/at/around where the Sussexes were doing engagements that contradicted their PR.

Meghan's old Tig articles and Instagram photos/posts that contradicted her Duchess narrative.

CopyKates and Diana 2.0 behaviors/outfits.

A running list of Meghan's fashion don'ts and royal mistakes.

TCD also had a pretty big compilation/collection of photographs and videos from Meghan's first pregnancy that pointed out things like varying bump sizes (bigger one day, smaller the next) and behaviors that were incongruent with normal pregnancy (like squatting down at 8 months pregnant with a huge belly and keeping her knees and ankles together).

They had a pretty big following here on Tumblr and there was a companion Facebook group. (It's not really clear if Tumblr was first or if FB was first.) You had to be a member of the Facebook group to see the FB comments, but the tumblr was wide open and anyone could see/send asks. I think the FB group and the tumblr blog were being run by two different people, or two different groups of people, because the FB and the tumblr didn't sound the same and didn't have the same tone in their coverage.

(I was on the FB group for a hot minute and it was so disgusting there that I noped out of it a couple days later. It was a very different place than the tumblr blog.)

At some point, the administrators of the TCD FB group began asking members for money/donations for charity, which people would send them, and they used relationships built within the TCD FB community to scam the members for more money, including selling their data (obtained from "friendships" and the membership questionnaire you had to complete to be added to the group). In April 2020ish, the TCD FB admins were doxxed. That information didn't match up to the information the FB group were told, and people started asking questions about the charity donations they had been sending to the admins.

I don't remember who the admins were pretending to be - maybe they were pretending to be British aristos?, but they ended up being an Air Force dependa and her mother, basically running a huge grift and scamming a lot of people out of money and data privacy.

Anyway, once the TCD FB fraud was uncovered, FB members turned on the admins. The admins turned on the group members and the FB drama spilled over to the TCD Tumblr group. The TCD Tumblr admin also got doxxed, began getting the same harassment as the FB admins - everyone thought they were the same person - and in early May 2020, the TCD tumblr admin deleted the blog to stop the harassment and doxxing.

So that's what happened to The Charlatan Duchess and that's why this side of tumblr (in general) gets nostalgic for her - a lot of us found each other through TCD and a lot of us had our own theories and opinions about the Sussexes validated through the receipts on TCD's blog.

You can still find some of the TCD posts floating around here on tumblr in the reblogs. Pretty much everyone who was around in 2017-2020 will have some TCD in their archives.

#ask #brf #tcd

69 notes · View notes

brekkie-e · 11 months

Text

I have mixed feelings on the discussion about how "nice" Astarion gets if you go the Spawn route with him. Now, I am not reading fic so I've not personally seen the extent of how far people are running with the “redeemed” narrative. I might be completely unaware of some truly unhinged “Astarion helps old ladies cross the road with a smile on his face and kindness in his heart” takes. And I will be the first to point out his approval in Act 3 doesn’t always point towards a huge change of heart.

The flip side of that conversation that I’m not seeing discussed that much is the way Astarion talks about himself as well as the way the companions talk about him after choosing the spawn ending. In the scenes directly afterwards, and even in the epilogue a bit- you can see a very changed man. Not necessarily a humane society volunteer, but at the very least someone who’s taking responsibility for their life and viewing the world in a way they hadn’t before. Spawn Astarion’s growth cut scenes were almost jarring for me to watch after years of being comfortable with the bitch boy from Early Access.

Astarion is not the only one talking that way though! Karlach, Wyll, Minthara, Jaheira! They all respond to him as though he is a changed man. I scoured to find the actual lines since I’m away from my computer, but no luck. That being said, I do know that pretty much each companion reacts to his decision not to follow through with Ascension and his time afterwards by essentially saying, “You can’t fool me, we know you’re a good person.” In various degrees of intensity.

I know in his dialogue with Minthara he dead ass says, “Yep, love fixed me. I’m better now.” And he says it with zero shame, he’s happy about it.

At points the way the companions and he talk about it makes me frustrated with certain reactions and approvals that remain in Act 3. The further you get from finishing his plot line, the less of a changed man he really seems. His approvals in general still line up with Ascended Astarion’s. Some of his reactions to things seem out of touch with the man seen in the grave yard. For example, his reaction to being cheated on with Mizzora. Not only does his acceptance of that just seem like a different character than the one we see in his scenes after the palace, a man who clearly views your relationship as a serious commitment that he is proud of. But it also seems bizarre that he would be okay with you betraying Wyll at this point in the story. The man we see telling the spawn to go to the underdark, who thanks Tav for standing by him, and gushes about being excited to live again and embrace the good with the bad seems entirely juxtaposed to the asshole he continues to be.

Which is not to say that I want him to be all sunshine and rainbows. It just seems inconsistent. I think a part of that comes from the need to keep his reactions neutral enough that they might work for both endings. The problem with that being that Ascended and Spawn Astarion are such vastly different people in their main story scenes that it’s kind of impossible to line them back up again afterward. For me, it was hard to find it believable. Either his post Cazzador scenes were out of character, or his continued reaction scenes were out of character- it just depends on which you prefer.

Circling back to my original point, I guess what I’m trying to say is that his graveyard scenes and the companion commentary do make me think that he is still heading in a redemption arc direction. That it isn’t inherently out of character for him to be written as a character with a complicated relationship with morality, but more often than not ending up on the good side of the spectrum these days. The way I interpret it, it’s not so much because suddenly he’s altruistic and nice. It’s that he’s actively choosing change, which feels like a continuation of his recovery. He’s surrounded by people who hold him accountable. He’s trying to be better than he was. He’s trying to do right by the people who have helped him. He’s still going to bitch about it, and act like it’s stupid. But he’s going to independently prompt that the group save the kid from the hag because “that’s just what we do, I’m done fighting that reality.” In his post-Cazzador life, his only real loyalty is to his team. If that team is full of annoying do-gooders? Their his annoying do-gooders. He’ll complain about it, but he’d not trade his found family for anything. It kind of gives Loki in Thor: Ragnorak showing up with the ship. Or Megamind saving the city. I’m here. I’m going to be the hero because I guess I have to. I’m going to be positively insufferable about it though.

I certainly don’t think he’d be nice all the time. I think he’d still be a loose canon that lashes out. He’s in the middle of healing, not at the end of it. But I think if his redemption journey ends where it did in the game, the emphasis on how changed he was in his scenes and the companion commentary was a bit over done.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #astarion ancunin #brekkie thoughts #idk it’s late this is kind of rambles #apologies #i dont want him to rescue puppies or anything i just think him being the bitchiest hero is fun #like ugh i cant believe i am gonna rescue that old lady #random passer by: you don’t have to #astarion: oh no #im gonna

103 notes · View notes

eivor-wolfkissed · 1 month

Text

Replaying dragon age now that I'm older- I've actually changed my opinions about Anders a lot and honestly? I *hate* Anders. There are certain things about his character I do like, and I like the tragedy of it all. But honestly I'm just not the biggest fan of him anymore. I think he's a good example of a bad activist who ends up hurting others more than enacting good change. He's more of a selfish accelerationist, rather than someone who listens to the people and fights for change that actually benefits them, but in the long run, his actions end up hurting mages even more in my opinion. He was a better person before he ended up getting jaded and possessed by Justice, then later, Vengance.

I think another thing that fueled my dislike of him is watching his hardcore fans do terrible things on here to other people (like watching some of his chronically online white fans accuse people of color within fandom of supporting police brutality just because they liked certain characters or held nuanced opinions about the templar/mage stuff, and misgender/exclude trans fans from queer fandom spaces for the same reasons stated above, to name a few things). All of these things combined have lead me to just be extremely annoyed by Anders overall. Not to mention his dick behavior towards other companions- like supporting Hawke selling Fenris into slavery, while pretending to be a freedom fighter? Lmao. Cringeworthy. Anders is not a morally good character by any means. For the things I do like- I do always side with the mages in DA2, and I fully support the actions taken to help mages escape the Kirkwall circle specifically. I really enjoyed doing the side quests with the mage underground. I love Anders' refusal to be caged and his determination to live freely (just wish he respected that in others and didn't support selling Fenris into slavery simply because he didn't agree with him. That's beyond selfish and straight up diabolical. Again, another thing that reminds me of IRL white leftists who refuse to deconstruct their bigotry). I just think the final action of destroying the chantry only invited chaos and didn't actually help mages at all (see the violence in DAI and how many innocent less powerful mages get killed by mobs of non mages because they no longer have protection. The circles needed a lot of changes but ripping them away completely and suddenly left a vacuum and invited way too much chaos imo).

And to be clear, this isn't a post with intent to shame all Anders fans. Not all of his fans act in the way I outlined earlier- just a particular, small but loud subset of them I have observed up close and interacted with one on one in the past. I don't think it's wrong to like this character at all- it's silly to claim that someone is morally wrong for liking a fictional character. There are things I still enjoy about his character! However growing up, getting a little wiser about activism, and watching *some* (not all) of his fans act like genuine bigots towards other dragon age fans, have made me lose more and more enthusiasm for him overall. It's also extrordinarily tiring to watch extremely sheltered and privileged people who have never witnessed acts of mass violence say that his final act of blowing up a church is Good and Moral when in actuality, it ended up murdering people who had nothing to do with the conflict. I do firmly believe that people who are gung ho about that action have a very idealized view of violence and do not actually comprehend how horrific and traumatizing these acts are on societies as a whole. It only ends up hurting the most vulnerable people and does nothing but invite violent chaos. I will fully admit I used to be one of those people, until I actually talked with and listened to real life refugees and other people who have experienced acts of terrorism and violent revolution in their respective home countries. These things always impact the most vulnerable members of society in horrific ways, and never actually holds people in power responsible... and all too often, pushes societies into even more authoritarianism.

Anyways. That's my essay on why Anders now annoys me greatly as an adult fan and why I veiw him more as a tragically doomed character rather than a freedom fighter. Anders, to me, is a terrorist in it for him and his. Not a freedom fighter. Everything stated here is my personal opinion- I'm not interested in debating people on my post, only sharing what I now think of this character- any kind of combative harassment added to this post will be ignored, blocked, and deleted.

It will be interesting to see what happens after I post this. If this post upsets you, please ignore it and do something healthy with your emotions, please do not engage in bullying.

#dragon age #anders #da2

20 notes · View notes

minuteminx · 1 year

Text

My biggest frustration as a Preston fan in the Fallout 4 fandom is not actually the people who make hate content (that’s annoying and awful but my block button is a pretty great balm for that); no, it’s actually the multitude of people who “would like him if…” “would have been more willing to spend time with him if…”

Call me crazy, but aside from the annoying radiant quest mechanic (which can be circumvented if you 1. Listen to Radio Freedom everyone once and a while, 2. Don’t do the quests you’re assigned bc you’ll only get a couple at a time before it stops, and 3. Make sure your settlements are in good shape. You have so much less to do if you settlements are taken care of on the front end. If they have a high enough defense and they’re under attack? THEY DEFEND THEMSELVES. Imagine that. Anyway) I actually LIKE how the game handles Preston and the MM.

Maybe it’s just me coming from Dragon Age fandom, where in the very first game, my fresh out-out-of-orientation Grey Warden is asked to take the lead by someone with more seniority because the more senior person is riddled with grief, survivor’s guilt, and insecurity that they’d be able to do a good job… sound familiar? Preston asks you to be the General because after everything he has been through, he’s not ready to fill that role. He can’t stomach the responsibility because he is afraid he’ll mess it up, that he’ll let people down.

But the thing is, he still does the General Stuff. He is the one organizing, communicating with settlements, strategizing, expanding, recruiting, giving orders, etcetera, etcetera. The sole who agrees to be the General is honestly just a figurehead for the settlers and a sounding board for Preston’s ideas. At the end of the day it is not the Sole Survivor who settlers run to, excited to thank them for all their help and make donations. It’s not the Sole Survivor who is viewed as the face of the MM. It’s Preston.

Do I wish the game came full circle and acknowledged that? Oh yeah I do, which is why I’m writing fanfic. I think that Preston deserved a personal quest where you retake Quincy from the Gunners and get revenge on Clint. I think the end of his story should be the Sole Survivor acknowledging that he’s been the General the entire time and bequeathing that title back to him now that he is recovering and ready for it. That’s really all I would have needed to feel like his story was complete.

As is, I enjoy traveling with Preston in game. He is refreshing. He has a lot of hopeful commentary about the Commonwealth, a lot of sarcasm and dry humor, and it’s great. He actually gives you less quests when he’s traveling with you as a companion, too.

His romance is lovely. It is the only one with some additional dialogue if you do the flirts, successfully initiate, then back out when he asks if you’re sure. He will come back later and say “listen, I know last time we talked, you said you weren’t ready to move on, but it’s been a while now and I still feel the same about you. I was wondering if you thought you might feel the same about me.” He also is genuinely so happy and excited to be with you. He gets a little more flirtatious. talking about MM regulations not covering your little situation (little eyebrow wiggle included). He calls you babe and tells you to be careful. It’s just as rich of a romance as literally any of the others.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I’ve been seeing a number of new posts in this vein lately and I guess I wanted to add my thoughts. 😌

#preston garvey #fallout 4

325 notes · View notes

amethysts-tavern · 11 months

Text

Forgive my typos or grammar. Writing this one on my phone rather than the laptop.

Gale x gender-neutral bard reader. Gale needs some reassurance.

———

I choose you.

Every night before bed, you make the circle around camp to check in with your companions - to see if they need additional healing or want to talk about anything, maybe tell them that they did well in the day’s adventure or recommend some battle tactics.

This night in particular, camp is pretty quiet. It was an extremely rough day. Half of the party went down entirely while you and Gale were the only two who remained standing by the end, likely from staying back from the melee where you could cast your spells without fear of being run through with a pike.

Karlach thanked you for finishing the fight and helping to revive her at the end. She had done the most damage to the enemy, but had also suffered the most.

“That fucker just would not die!” she exclaimed rehashing her last few swings to you. “I’m glad you were able to finish him off.”

“Lucky shot on a dissonant whisper,” you tell her. “Had he advanced on me and Gale, we would have been toast. Thank goodness Gale thought to cast sleet storm, essentially holding those cultists at bay.”

“Yeah, that was amazing! Well, I hope you get some good sleep tonight. We all deserve it,” Karlach says before turning in.

“G’night, Karlach. Good job today.”

You make your way over to where Astarion is standing outside of his tent, staring up at the clear sky. He takes in a big cleansing breath as you approach.

“Enjoying the evening, Astarion?”

“You know, the one thing about being a vampire that never gets old is seeing the stars every night. It’s like a big comforting blanket in the sky.”

“I won’t keep you then. Just wanted to say good job today.”

“I was great, wasn’t I? I spilled so much cultist blood on the ice. Let’s do it again tomorrow. Tell Gale to have that spell ready,” Astarion says with a twinkle in his eye.

You chuckle as you turn to move to Gale’s tent. You usually save his visit for last, sometimes staying the night with him in his tent. But he usually waits outside for you. Tonight, he’s not where you expect him.

You approach his tent slowly, listening hard to see if you can figure out why he didn’t wait for you, but the tent is quiet.

“Gale, are you there? Can I come in?” you ask in the voice reserved especially for him, softer and warmer than what you use with the others.

There’s no answer for a moment, but you do eventually hear a quiet, “you can come in.”

“Are you ok, love?” your concern apparent, as you enter Gale’s tent, only to see his back to you. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m… I’m fine,” he replies, leaving you convinced that he is entirely not fine. You step gently toward the wizard, trying to suss out what’s bothering him. You put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “What’s going on, hon? You know can tell me anything.”

There is silence for a moment and then he starts, “I’m not strong like Karlach. I’m not sneaky like Astarion. I couldn’t even help our friends when they fell,” he says just above a whisper. “I’m completely inadequate in battle. I don’t deserve to be in your party. I don’t deserve to be with you,” he hangs his head at the last part.

“What are you talking about? There’s a very good reason I choose to have you in my party every day. Your sleet storm was exactly what we needed in this battle! You slowed the enemies down so we didn’t have to deal with the entire mob at once! Without that quick thinking and spectacular ability, we would not have walked away with a victory.”

It was true. The giant mob of Absolutists would truly have done far more damage to your party if they advanced as a unit. But the moment they had to deal with a sheet of ice, they were sliding all over, not able to control their balance and landing on their backsides.

“And as for that last bit,” you say, wrapping your arms around the man that you love in a tight embrace, “I think I get to decide who is worthy of my affections. And I chose you. Brilliant, funny, loving you,” you punctuate the last sentence with kisses and nips at his neck. “And I will choose you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“But I could be so much more for you…” he starts.

You cross in front of him so that you can stare into his eyes. “Gale, I don’t want you to be anything else. I love you because of the man you are and how you make me feel. You are enough. In fact, you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a love. You are an honest and kind man. Your wit keeps me on my toes. You openly share your thoughts and feelings and listen to mine in return. I have never once doubted this relationship.”

You step in and give him another long, tender embrace. Your voice drops to a whisper, “And good gods! That thing you do with your tongue… it drives me wild!”

Finally, the corners of his mouth curl upward into a smile.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

135 notes · View notes

catladywriter · 3 months

Text

Inotan Fanfic: Love Bugs

Synopsis: Nezuko's impromptu hair cut session for Inosuke and Tanjirou turns into a wild chase when she discovers curious welts on their necks. These weren't the usual training scars. These were shaped like crescent moons or bruised circles, tinged with a faint reddish hue that deepened when the boys stammered excuses. Zenitsu's flippant story about "love bugs" only fueled Nezuko's worries and determination to get to the bottom of things.

Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko)

Setting: Canon AU, 3 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: ~6000 words

Status: Complete One-shot.

This is the 8th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom and can be enjoyed on its own. But if you read the previous installments in the series, you may appreciate certain references and throwbacks as well as the character development throughout the series. If you have the time, I suggest reading the earlier stories in consecutive order before diving into this one.

To recap, our main characters and their birds live together in the Kamado family household, and they run an eatery in the neighboring town called the Wisteria Garden. In this installment, Inosuke and Tanjirou are 19 years old, Zenitsu is 20, and Nezuko is 18.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Three years had elapsed since the final battle, and the Kamado siblings, along with their loud but lovable companion Inosuke, and Zenitsu, her now-boyfriend, had infused new life into the Wisteria Garden, a cosy eatery they had inherited from a family friend. It was a legacy of hospitality, a sanctuary for smiles and piping hot dishes of comfort food, and Nezuko treasured this peaceful chapter of their lives. Today, however, the usual morning banter was muted. Tanjirou and Zenitsu had left early to do some errands, leaving Nezuko and Inosuke to handle the morning preparations.

A friendly silence enveloped them as they worked. They aimed to finish most of the work before Tanjirou and Zenitsu came back, but their quiet harmony was soon interrupted by Inosuke's incessant annoyed grunts and tsks. Nezuko peeked at him, noticing how he kept trying to scratch his back and flick his hair away with a restless hand. His hair had grown longer than he was used to, falling below his shoulders and grazing his bare skin. She knew Inosuke's senses were razor-sharp, and his hair must be bothering him.

"Need a trim?" she suggested, though she knew Inosuke usually relied on Tanjirou to tame his mane. After all, Tanjirou wasn't here, and it wouldn't take long. But Inosuke hesitated, his brow creased.

"Tanjirou said not to let you touch my hair," he said.

Nezuko's jaw dropped. "Why on earth not?!" she blurted, incredulity lacing her voice.

Inosuke scrunched his face, brows furrowing in concentration as if trying to unearth a forgotten memory. "Dunno," he finally admitted with a shrug. "Just remember him saying it, so I'm gonna wait for him." He switched gears, a smug grin replacing the confusion. "Besides, he's my number one underling, right? Cutting my hair is his duty!"

Nezuko usually found Inosuke's "underling" shtick hilarious. But this time, the humour died on her lips. Tanjirou trusted her with his hair, as did Zenitsu. Why would he tell Inosuke something so different? Was it a misunderstanding? Did Inosuke misinterpret his words? Or maybe Tanjirou just didn't want to bother her? That made no sense at all. Inosuke's mane was the easiest haircut of the bunch!

Pulling herself together, she said gently, "It's really simple and fast. Let me help you, or you'll be scratching all morning because of your hair. I always cut nii-chan 's and Zenitsu's hair. And you know how hard it is to keep Zenitsu's hairstyle in order."

Inosuke chewed his lip, unable to find a counterargument. He perched himself on a stool as Nezuko sat a mirror on the kitchen counter in front of him. But as she lifted his hair, her eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze landed on a curious constellation of marks, shaped like crescent moons or bruised circles, scattered across his nape. Some were a deep red or bruised purple, others pale pink or yellowish-brown alongside the deeper shades.

Had he gotten into a scuffle? But with who? Their days of demon slaying were long gone, where the only clashes he faced were lively spars with Tanjirou and Zenitsu during their training sessions, meant for staying fit rather than fighting. Curiosity gnawed at her as she examined his neck, her gaze then flicking to his bare torso. Why only on his neck? What a strange place for such injuries.

"What are these marks on your neck?" Nezuko asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

"Huh? What marks?" Inosuke turned around to face her, his brows knitting in confusion.

Nezuko held up the mirror in an angle so that the marks were visible to him.

"Oh!" He smacked his forehead, letting out a colourful curse he'd picked up from less polite company. It was something he did whenever he thought he had messed up big time, and Tanjirou always scolded him whenever he let loose the swear word in front of Nezuko. Not that she really cared. It’s not like her ears were made of porcelain and couldn’t handle a rude word.

"What is it?" Nezuko pressed, her curiosity bubbling.

"Uhh… Um… Erm…" He stammered, his cheeks and neck erupting in a flush that seemed to mirror the deepening of the reddish hue around the marks. His usual bravado crumbled, replaced by nervous fidgeting like a squirrel caught stealing nuts.

"Do they hurt? Can I see?", she asked, reaching out with a gentle hand. Some of the redder ones were slightly swollen, while the lighter ones lay smooth against his skin.

"Hands off!" Inosuke barked, leaping from the chair so fast Nezuko almost jumped herself.

Her shock must have been obvious because Inosuke's expression softened slightly, a trace of regret flashing across his features. "Uh... don't worry, it's nothing. Doesn't hurt at all," he placated her.

"How did you get them?" Nezuko persisted, her concern surpassing curiosity now.

"Dunno. Probably an insect bite," Inosuke mumbled, turning his head away to evade her gaze.

Nezuko couldn't help but notice the unease that seemed to emanate from him, a stark contrast to his usual frank demeanour. A lie, clumsy and transparent, written across his face. While Inosuke did not make a terrible lying face like Tanjirou, he rarely lied, and when he did, it was like watching a fish out of water, flailing helplessly. Why was Inosuke lying? He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, usually opting for blunt honesty over elaborate fibs. The rarity of his deception made Nezuko's brow furrow in worry. Was there more to this than met the eye?

"It... looks more like a bruise," Nezuko ventured, breaking the tense silence between them, determined to dig deeper into the matter without spooking Inosuke. Unfortunately, her attempt to solve the mystery only seemed to agitate him further.

"Uh, gotta go!" he blurted, bolting out of the house like a frightened boar. Nezuko stood there, scissors dangling uselessly, the unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air.

Left to herself, Nezuko had no option but to push Inosuke's odd behaviour to the back of her mind and concentrate on the lunch preparations; half the town's bellies now depended on her culinary skills.

The strange marks on Inosuke's neck had almost faded from her memory when Tanjirou returned, greeting her cheerfully.

"Welcome back!" Nezuko beamed at him over a gigantic pile of freshly rolled udon, a task she had just accomplished by hand all by herself.

Tanjirou acknowledged her with a wider grin and a wave before heading straight for the counter, where Nezuko's mirror and scissors lay.

"Just in time! How did you know I wanted to trim my hair?" he remarked cheerily, adjusting the mirror and grabbing the scissors.

Tanjirou grew out his hair and tied it up as a high ponytail, but it occasionally needed a trim to prevent it from getting too long and interfering with his work.

"Eh?" Nezuko thought, surprised. Of course, she hadn't expected Tanjirou's wish to trim his hair, and Inosuke's morning antics suddenly did a dramatic replay in her mind.

Nevertheless, she decided to put aside her worries for the moment. "Here, let me help you. I'm done with the udon; it just needs to rest."

"Sounds good!" Tanjirou chirped, settling happily into a chair and handing the scissors to her. "By the way, where's Inosuke?"

As Nezuko carefully snipped away at Tanjirou's locks, she related to him her observations of Inosuke's cryptic neck markings. But instead of his usual interest, Tanjirou's face performed an impressive disappearing act, turning the colour of a perfectly ripe tomato.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about those marks, would you?" Nezuko asked, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

“No, I don’t,” Tanjirou replied, a tad too quickly, his cheeks deepening a shade. An even more interesting expression followed, like a flustered cat trying to swallow a goldfish.

Alarm bells went off in Nezuko's head. Tanjirou’s expression screamed that he was lying. Besides, given his relationship with Inosuke, there was no way he hadn't noticed those marks, nor tried to find out what they were.

Tanjirou cleared his throat awkwardly. "Shouldn't we get back to work? We won't be able to open on time otherwise."

"Fine, I'm almost done. I'll just tie up your hair," Nezuko said, annoyed and worried by Tanjirou's obvious decision to keep information from her. As she gathered his hair and pulled his collar back to check for loose strands, her heart skipped a beat. Similar, mysterious marks bloomed on Tanjirou's neck, mirroring Inosuke's puzzling constellation.

"Not you too," she gasped, the brush in her hand clattering to the floor.

Tanjirou blinked, genuine confusion etching his features. "What is it, Nezuko?"

"You have the same strange welts as Inosuke on your neck! Come clean, what are they?"

The flush that had begun fading from his cheeks earlier returned with a vengeance.

"I... I do?” He stammered. “Uh, it must be as he said. They must be insect bites. That's it!" His voice wobbled a touch too high.

Nezuko held her tongue. Grabbing him by the collar and demanding the truth was tempting, but she knew her brother. He wouldn't lie without good reason. This secret needed a gentler touch, not brute force. Inosuke had slipped through her fingers, but Tanjirou, oh no, he wouldn't escape her questioning so easily.

She carefully tied up Tanjirou's hair, subtly steering the conversation towards his errand. His usual chatter returned, peppered with stories about the supplier's delightful new radishes and their generous discount.

"We can share the savings with our customers!" he beamed.

"That's great," Nezuko smiled as she put the finishing touches on his hair. "Nii-chan, you’ve got hair on your shirt. Mind if I give it a quick shake? It'll be terrible if the hair gets into the customer's food."

"Sure," Tanjirou said, removing his haori and unbuttoning his shirt without a second thought. Then, like a deer caught in the headlights, he froze. He quickly pulled the haori back over his chest but Nezuko had already seen what he'd tried to hide.

"Nii-chan! Those marks…!"

His denial sputtered out. "It's nothing!"

"What do you mean it's nothing? You’ve got so many of them! All over your chest and even on your stomach!"

“It’s nothing… really!” he mumbled, looking almost on the brink of tears as he clutched his haori around him protectively.

Nezuko examined his face. The signs of lying were obvious, but she couldn’t read his mind. She couldn't figure out why he insisted on lying. But she was certain it must be to cover something significant. Something dreadful. Tanjirou was always over-protective, and shielded her from matters which he deemed too “complex”, like she was too immature or weak to handle it. The thought prickled her like a stray bamboo splinter.

"Tell me what it is!"

"I don't know, maybe I tripped and injured myself and I don’t remember it. But it’s nothing, really!"

Nezuko narrowed her eyes at him. Then she tightened her fist over his haori, determined to uncover the truth.

Moments later, after a wild chase resembling a desperate cat and mouse game, Tanjirou lay sprawled face-down on the floor, his shirt riding up slightly and revealing more marks on his back to Nezuko’s horror. As he flailed his limbs fruitlessly, Nezuko sat firmly on him, determined to extract an answer from him, ignoring his panicked pleas echoing through the room.

"Nezuko-chan!"

"Let me see!"

"No! Please stop it!"

"I'll stop if you let me see!"

"Nezuko-chan!"

Amidst the commotion, a familiar voice sliced through Nezuko's persistent demands. Only one person in the house addressed her with that endearment.

She paused, mid-struggle, and looked up to see Zenitsu's stunned face, his wary stance betraying his nervousness. In that moment, Nezuko was keenly aware of how she must look – like a crazed, furious woman – and quickly scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her ruffled clothes in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Tanjirou swiftly scrambled aside, hastily buttoning up his shirt and muttering under his breath “thank goodness”.

"Uh... Nezuko-chan, what's going on?" Zenitsu asked, his face marked with a mix of concern and confusion.

"Nii-chan has these weird marks all over his back, his neck and torso, and who knows where else! He won't tell me what they are, and he won't let me see them either!" Nezuko cried, her voice quivering with worry.

"Really?" Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou, seeking confirmation.

Tanjirou, now on his feet with his shirt fully buttoned up, nodded reluctantly. "I... yes... but as I said, it's nothing."

"How can it be nothing?" Nezuko retorted, her eyes wide. “No one just gets red and pink marks all over for no reason! Don't you agree?" Nezuko implored, turning to Zenitsu for support.

"Yeah," Zenitsu agreed, eager to show solidarity with Nezuko. He approached Tanjirou, his expression grave. "Even if you don't want to let Nezuko-chan see them, you can show them to me. Don't make her worry."

At that moment, a cacophony of door slamming and stomping announced Inosuke's imminent return.

"Oh, Inosuke has the same marks too!” Nezuko exclaimed, pointing at him as he barreled in like a rouge boar. “On his neck. Inosuke, show them to Zenitsu."

Inosuke skidded to a halt. "What? Are you still harping on that?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"Huh? Is it contagious?" Zenitsu instinctively recoiled from Tanjirou.

"Who knows. Better keep your distance, scaredy-cat," Inosuke snarked.

Unfazed, Nezuko marched over to Inosuke and, with a swift movement, lifted his hair, revealing the telltale bruises. "See, Zenitsu!"

“Hey!” Inosuke squawked and tried to escape, but Zenitsu seized him by the arms to make him stay still.

Ignoring Inosuke’s thrashing and cursing, Nezuko and Zenitsu took a closer look at Inosuke's marks. Nezuko still had no further clue, but she observed that Zenitsu’s expression had changed from one of confusion, to concern, to a deep frown. Casting a sharp glare at Tanjirou, who returned it with an instantly sheepish look, Zenitsu snorted in annoyance. He let go of Inosuke, who darted behind Tanjirou and clung to his haori sleeve.

"So, that's the story, huh?" Zenitsu drawled, rolling his eyes.

Nezuko, all business, stepped between him and Tanjirou, blocking Tanjirou's pleading gaze. "What story? Tell me now, Zenitsu!" Her hand tightened on his arm in urgency. He winced in pain and she loosened her grip, apologising.

“You will tell me, won’t you?” she pressed, her fists balled at her sides.

"Yes, of course! You're my girlfriend, I would never dream of not telling you," Zenitsu gulped, while Nezuko noticed Tanjirou looking dejected from the corner of her eye.

"So, what is it?" she nagged.

"It's probably love bugs," Zenitsu said.

"Huh?"

"There are two love bugs here, and they're very big."

"Love bugs?" Nezuko echoed, unable to shake the feeling that Zenitsu's tone carried unnecessary sarcasm.

"Yeah, it's a kind of creature that sucks on the skin and makes it bruise."

"I've never heard of it. So, is it really an insect bite? Wouldn't they bite exposed skin? Why are the marks hidden?"

“Love bugs, fascinating creatures with city origins," Zenitsu stated. He stole a quick glance at Inosuke and Tanjirou before adding, "They're not just passionate," he said, emphasising the word "passionate" with a flourish that made Nezuko raise an eyebrow, "They're considerate too, targeting only hidden areas. This particular bug, it seems, knew Inosuke's aversion to shirts like it lives among us and studies his habits."

Nezuko saw Tanjirou visibly relax, even as Zenitsu shot him a smug smirk. Their shared response and Zenitsu’s odd choice of words only fueled her confusion.

"Do you have any?" she asked, eyes narrowed like a wary cat.

"Of course not!" Zenitsu sputtered, a touch too defensively. "Why would I?"

Her lips pursed in disbelief. “Then why only Inosuke, and nii-chan? And nii-chan has so many!"

“Maybe it's like how some blood types are more attractive to mosquitoes? The bug that attacked Tanjirou must be particularly voracious, and unstoppable. Like a wild boar.” Zenitsu offered, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Nezuko, despite the absurdity of it all, felt a pang of worry. “Will they be ok? Are the bites serious? Will they go away?”

“Of course they'll go away. Don't get yourself worked up over nothing,” Zenitsu's voice dropped the sarcastic lilt and took on a soothing sincerity.

Nezuko relaxed slightly, worry replaced by a nagging suspicion. But before she could press further, Zenitsu switched topics entirely.

"Only half an hour left until opening. Is everything ready?" he quipped, surveying their messier-than-usual surroundings, where half-prepared ingredients lay neglected and furniture were knocked out of place from the chase earlier.

Nezuko groaned. "I haven't even…"

As they dove back to work, she couldn't help but overhear Zenitsu's harsh whispering at Tanjirou and Inosuke: "You two owe me big time."

Nezuko may have temporarily dropped the matter, but that didn't mean she trusted the boys entirely. Sure, she lacked their extraordinary senses of smell, hearing, or touch, but she had something that trumped them all - a woman's intuition.

Despite her ignorance about city biodiversity and her desperation to believe Zenitsu, a jagged doubt gnawed at her. His story felt half-baked, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

Despite countless life-threatening battles fought alongside them, a nagging feeling persisted for Nezuko: she'd never truly be "one of the boys." Tanjirou's protectiveness, born of his brotherly love, was understandable, but even Zenitsu mirrored it, and Inosuke, influenced by their dynamic, followed suit. Their treatment, while well-meaning, was patronising, made her feel infantilised.

This rankled especially coming from Tanjirou. He, who pushed his limits recklessly, neglecting his own well-being while fussing over others. Had he gotten himself into trouble again? Perhaps helping a neighbour exterminate pests without proper gear, his usual selflessness leading to his own harm. And Inosuke, despite his unwavering loyalty, couldn't be counted on for restraint or common sense.

Blackmailing Zenitsu with a month-long silent treatment crossed her mind, but it felt beneath her. No, she'd unearth the truth herself, pry it from their lips on her own terms.

Armed with resolve, Nezuko spent the week grilling Inosuke and Tanjirou. Daily interrogations about the marks, punctuated by persistent pleas to visit a doctor, met stubborn refusals. With their eatery attracting a constant flow of customers and the importance of hygiene in the food business, surely it was only responsible to address the presence of those love bugs, if they did indeed exist?

Exasperated, Nezuko took matters into her own hands. Pest control arrived, much to the boys' chagrin. The inspector, armed with a huge array of paraphernalia, scoured every nook and cranny of their premises. He even apprehended Kuro-chan, their resident cat, subjecting him to a flea inspection met with hisses and outraged swats, claws thankfully blunted by the inspector's protective garb. Finally, he declared that even without his intervention, both their eatery and resident home were spotless, insect-free.

Nezuko, dumbfounded, erupted in an uncharacteristic argument.

"Love bugs," she insisted, voice sharp as a butcher's knife. "Show him the marks on your neck, Inosuke!"

"No way I'm sticking out my neck to some dude!" Inosuke roared.

Tanjirou swiftly paid the inspector and escorted him out of the house, and the boys watched him leave, relief etched on their faces. But Nezuko, eyes burning with suspicion, promised this wouldn't be the end. The mystery wasn’t resolved yet, but she was one step closer to unravelling it.

Nezuko's stomach churned with each sunrise, the bitter taste of deception lingering on her tongue. Had she, Kamado Nezuko, been outwitted? She felt a pang of regret for questioning the expertise of the inspector, arguing with him instead of seizing the opportunity to ask him more about those mysterious love bugs. It hadn’t been easy to get the appointment with him in the first place, and all her attempts to reconnect were now met by the weary drone of his assistant who knew nothing of the creatures.

The key to the mystery, she concluded, resided in Inosuke and Tanjirou's guarded silence. Unlike her stoic brother, Inosuke, impulsive and easily swayed, seemed the weaker link. He became her target. She felt guilty about taking advantage of his weakness, but this was all stemming from a place of concern. Whenever they were alone, Nezuko would pepper him with questions, her voice a relentless sparrow's chirp. Promises of extra tempura, dangled like glittering bait, were met with grunts and frustrated scowls.

"Shut up! You nagging hag!" Inosuke finally exploded one day, his frustration spilling over.

Nezuko flinched. Inosuke's brusqueness was one thing, but "hag"? The sting of the insult pricked her eyes, hot tears threatening to spill. Maybe he had picked it up from those rough kids in the alley, just a casual barb. Or he’d learnt it from Yushirou-san, who considered most women who weren’t Tamayo-san as hags. Regardless, it landed like a punch to the gut.

Zenitsu, his keen hearing picking up her distress, materialised beside her. Inosuke, wide-eyed panic replacing his anger, stammered apologies as Zenitsu put a comforting arm around Nezuko and ushered her to sit down.

"Wait till Tanjirou hears you made her cry!" Zenitsu hissed at Inosuke, his tone and glare venomous. Turning to Nezuko, he softened, his eyes filled with concern.

"Nezuko-chan, you're an angel, not a hag. The most beautiful, kindest angel ever! Don't listen to that boar-brained baboon!"

"Don't say that about Inosuke," Nezuko hiccupped, wiping her tears with Zenitsu’s handkerchief.

Inosuke, uncharacteristically subdued, shuffled closer. "L-listen," he stammered, "I know you're worried, and you're mad, because you care. I didn't mean… I’m really s-s-sorry… and I’m not saying this because of Tanjirou. I just… I hate seeing you sad. So please, don't cry anymore."

Nezuko saw the flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, a rare glimpse beneath his bluster. She knew he meant it, even if his words stumbled. Despite this consolation, the desperation for truth continued to fuel her frustration.

“So just tell me the truth!” she cried, her voice cracking. "Why won't any of you tell me?"

Zenitsu and Inosuke exchanged furtive glances and hand gestures, a silent conversation playing out before Nezuko's eyes. They were excluding her, again, treating her like a child who couldn't handle the truth.

"Ahem!" Nezuko cleared her throat, demanding their attention.

"Nezuko-chan," Zenitsu began, his voice laced with evasion, "they're grown men. They’ve been through a lot, and they can handle themselves." Nezuko noted that Zenitsu’s response was non-committal, his earlier lie abandoned.

"I know they've been through a lot. Haven’t we all? And that’s exactly why I worry they don't know their limits! Zenitsu, do you think I'm a nag too?" Nezuko snapped, her frustration boiling over.

Zenitsu wilted and fell silent. Nezuko knew pushing him wouldn't help. He wouldn’t betray his friends. Sure, he was whiny sometimes, but loyal to the core, a rock she could depend on. That's why she chose him, wasn't it?

Nezuko had doubted Tanjirou's willingness to broach the subject unprompted, but during that evening's dinner, he surprised her. With a serious tone cutting through the usual dinner chatter, Tanjirou addressed Nezuko directly. "I heard what happened, and I'm sorry that Inosuke upset you, but you have to stop what you're doing, Nezuko. You're making Inosuke uneasy."

Nezuko's initial surprise morphed into controlled disbelief. "Uneasy?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper above a stunned gasp. "The ones making me uneasy are you two! I'm worried! Why won't you just tell me the truth?" she pressed, her eyes boring into his.

Tanjirou's expression shifted, the earlier concern replaced by a profound regret that tugged at Nezuko's heart. "I'm so sorry I caused you worry, Nezuko," he confessed, his voice heavy with remorse. “But trust me. It's really nothing to worry about.”

Tanjirou’s face was re-adorned with his characteristic lying expression as he dished up the old story. “It's as Zenitsu said, they're love bugs, and they're not harmful.”

Nezuko cast a glance at Zenitsu. Guilt flickered across his features as he avoided Nezuko's gaze, as though he regretted ever mentioning the story.

That's a lie," Nezuko declared, her voice firm and unwavering. The accusation hung heavy in the air, challenging Tanjirou's fabricated reality. He opened his mouth, ready to stammer another excuse, but before he could utter a word, Inosuke interrupted, setting down his rice bowl with a determined thud.

"I’m telling her the truth."

Tanjirou stuttered in disbelief, "W-what...? But we agreed..."

Inosuke pressed on, disregarding Tanjirou's protests. "Hiding like this, dodging her questions... It's just so dumb. You're always teaching me to treat others with kindness. Isn't it selfish to lie and get her all worked up and upset?" His words prompted a stunned silence from Tanjirou.

Nezuko's heart raced with anticipation. Finally, she was on the brink of uncovering the truth. How serious was it? How bad was it? Her mind raced with conflicting emotions, torn between the satisfaction of getting them to open up and the fear of what she might discover.

Inosuke blurted, "It was me, okay? Got a little carried away with the kisses, left some marks. He kissed me back, fair's fair. But blame me if you want." He puffed out his chest.

Tanjirou choked on his own saliva, his face turning beetroot red. "Nezuko, it's not… well, kinda, but please, don't blame him! It's my fault—"

Nezuko blinked, jaw slack. Love bites, not love bugs? The revelation struck her like a slapstick punchline, leaving her momentarily stunned by its absurdity. Why go through elaborate charades for something so simple? Surely, this wasn't another lie?

Memories flickered, accusingly bright: Zenitsu's mocking tone during the "love bug" charade, the odd location of the marks... Tanjirou, with his insistence on propriety, might very well kiss Inosuke's neck if he thought the marks would remain hidden beneath his hair. And Inosuke, with his boisterous and unabashed affection for Tanjirou... Zenitsu's comparison of the “love bug” to a voracious and unstoppable wild boar suddenly made perfect sense, painting a picture of Inosuke that she couldn't unsee.

As the pieces clicked into place, a blush crept up her cheeks, burning like a brand. How could she have missed it? It wasn't like she was clueless. Novels, whispered stories from friends, even Zenitsu's not-so-subtle hints... her mind simply refused to make the connection.

But worse, a gnawing realisation dawned – her own overreaction. Calling in pest control, her relentless questioning, chasing Tanjirou around the kitchen trying to take his shirt off, even shoving Inosuke's marks in Zenitsu's face... all for something so intimate, so intensely personal. No wonder Inosuke snapped. She buried her burning face in her hands, trying to extinguish the heat.

Yet, why shroud it in secrecy, push her to such frantic measures for the truth? A simple explanation at the beginning might have brought a blush, but likely nothing more. Why bother dropping hints but spin this elaborate yarn of nonexistent bugs, a story she, in her desperate wish to trust, readily swallowed? Did they truly see her as so sheltered – naive, innocent, a child to be amused? Was this a prank? Did they laugh at her behind her back while she fretted and lost sleep?

Her introspective turmoil shattered with Zenitsu's exclamation, "Well, it’s just as I said, nothing to worry about! Let’s get back to dinner! I'm starving, and Nezuko-chan's cooking is legendary!" He beamed at her, a nervous smile, aware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, but making a valiant, if clumsy, attempt to dispel it.

Nezuko rose to her feet, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No love bugs, huh? Anxious days, sleepless nights, and calling in pest control, all for a silly prank! You played me for a fool!" she shot a piercing glare at Zenitsu.

Zenitsu squeaked, his voice high-pitched like a frightened mouse. "No! It wasn't a prank! We just... didn't know what to tell you!"

Nezuko spun on her heel, face stormy with hurt and anger. Without a word, she stormed out of the kitchen, the clatter of the slammed door echoing her frustration. Tanjirou's helpless apologies hung heavy in the air, drowned out by the shrill echoes of Zenitsu's panicked cries.

"What was I thinking, getting involved?" Zenitsu wailed. "If she stays mad at me because of you, I'll never forgive you!"

Tanjirou caught hold of her arm, Zenitsu and Inosuke trailing awkwardly behind. "Nezuko, wait!,” he pleaded, voice filled with desperation. “Please, listen to me! It's all my fault, this mess. Don't blame Zenitsu and Inosuke for anything, I beg you!"

Nezuko stopped abruptly, her back rigid and shoulders tense. She didn't turn around, but her voice, when it came, crackled with barely suppressed frustration. "What exactly are you babbling about, nii-chan? What are you apologising for?"

Tanjirou took a deep, shaky breath. "It's... that matter between me and Inosuke. It caused everyone trouble, and made Zenitsu tell a ridiculous lie to cover for me..." He stammered, his face flushing crimson with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment.

Nezuko finally spun around, her brows furrowed in a deep frown. "Nii-chan," she said, "that makes no sense at all! Why are you taking the blame for that? What trouble are you talking about? Why do you think you need to apologise?"

Tanjirou's gaze flickered away from hers, his voice filled with doubt and insecurity. "Do you think... maybe it was inappropriate? What we did?" he mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

Nezuko shook her head in exasperation. "No! It's just... I wish you had told me the truth from the beginning, nii-chan. You made me feel like a child. But I'm not a little girl anymore. I already know about you and Inosuke. So what you did is natural, and honestly, I'm happy for you," she said, her voice softening with sincerity.

Tanjirou's shoulders slumped, his gaze falling to the ground. "I messed up, Nezuko. I should have been honest from the start. Seeing you so worried… it hurt. I never thought you'd be so relentless in your search for the truth. Not that I thought it wasn’t your place to know. But you're… well, younger. And…a girl." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "It felt strange burdening you with something like this."

Nezuko stepped closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "First of all, I'm 18 now, nii-chan. Not exactly a child anymore. Second, remember what we are? We're family, and you can tell me anything. We share everything, joys and sorrows, as a team since always. Don't underestimate me, or hide things from me. I'm stronger than you think, and I can handle more than you give me credit for." Her gaze met his, filled with unwavering determination and a touch of playful defiance.

Tanjirou finally looked up, meeting her gaze with eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of awe. "Nezuko, I never would underestimate you," he said sincerely. "I know what you've endured, the strength you possess. But you'll always be my little sister, no matter how grown-up you get. I'll remember this, though, what you said."

Nezuko's smile reached her eyes, warmth radiating from her gaze. They fell into each other's arms, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Inosuke's boisterous whoop echoed through the room, a joyful punctuation to the quiet tension as he wrapped his arms around them both. Zenitsu joined the huddle, his trembling fading with each shared heartbeat.

The morning sun bathed the house in a warm glow as Inosuke dashed into the kitchen, his sights set firmly on the rice pot. Tanjirou followed behind him, a knitted scarf wrapped curiously around his neck, a strange sight for the summer heat.

Zenitsu eyed him with concern. “Isn't that a bit warm, Tanjirou?"

Tanjirou offered a noncommittal shrug. "It’s cosy."

Nezuko scrutinised him with a hint of worry in her eyes. "Feeling under the weather, nii-chan? Did you catch a chill?"

"Of course not, Nezuko! I'm perfectly fine," Tanjirou assured her, a hint of pink blossoming on his cheeks under her watchful eyes.

Nezuko tilted her head, her voice firm but gentle. "Remember what we discussed yesterday, nii-chan? No more secrets."

Tanjirou hesitated, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "Alright, you got me," he conceded with a sheepish grin. Gingerly, he peeled back the woolly fabric, revealing a scattering of reddish crescents etched across his neck. Then he quickly wound it back, blushing furiously.

Nezuko felt a mixture of amusement and embarrassment flood her cheeks. "Seems you and Inosuke have been busy," she giggled.

Zenitsu gaped, his jaw dropping in mock horror. "Whoa there, hold your horses, lovebirds! Nezuko-chan may not mind it, but at least show some restraint!"

Inosuke scoffed, swallowing a mouthful of rice with a gulp. "Jealous, are you? You and I could have a contest, see who gives the most love bites! Bet I win, you wimp!" He pointed a triumphant finger at Zenitsu.

Tanjirou shot him a withering glare, his blush deepening to a fiery crimson. "That's a terrible idea, Inosuke!" he snapped, his voice tight with protectiveness. "Think about who Zenitsu's supposed to... well... you know..." He stammered, flustered. "Do you honestly think that's appropriate?!"

Inosuke blinked, confused. Then realisation dawned on him, accompanied by a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "Uh... right. Maybe not such a good idea then."

Zenitsu, having caught on much faster, protested, "What is that supposed to mean?!" His gaze darted to Nezuko, a mix of excitement and nervousness sparking in his eyes. "He's right, we should get busy too, and win the contest, hm?"

Nezuko blinked, surprised by his sudden suggestion. "Win the contest?"

Zenitsu, his voice tinged with anxious nervousness, continued, "Well, we are a couple too, aren't we? If they can get all lovey-dovey, so can we!"

Tanjirou's eyes widened in alarm. "Don't even think about it, Zenitsu!"

"Double standards much, Tanjirou?" he countered indignantly, his face now a vibrant crimson.

Nezuko intervened, her voice filled with playful authority. "Zenitsu's right. Remember, I'm not a child. I'm capable of making my own decisions about such things."

Tanjirou's face fell. "Oh, right... sorry about that," he mumbled. "Guess we'll just, uh, give you some privacy then."

"So the contest is on then?" Inosuke quipped, oblivious to the tension. Catching Tanjirou's scathing glare, he quickly shovelled more rice into his mouth.

Zenitsu's eyes lit up like fireworks, tiny pink hearts seemingly shimmering around him. "Really?! Now?!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with childlike excitement.

Nezuko stifled a laugh at his theatrics. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Zenitsu," she warned, wagging a finger at him with mock sternness. "I never said I’d agree to it.”

Zenitsu's smile plummeted like a fallen star. "What?! But why?!"

A sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I haven't gotten even with you for your lie. Let's just say you're lucky I'm even speaking to you."

Zenitsu turned to Tanjirou with a dramatic pout. "This is all your fault, Tanjiroooou!"

Tanjirou, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, tried to hide a small, satisfied grin. He mirrored Inosuke and shovelled rice into his mouth with gusto.

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: Finally finished this fic, and let me tell you, the relief is real! Three months without writing had definitely created some inertia. It didn't help that doubts kept creeping in, whispering questions like "Is this premise too lame", "will anyone care about Nezuko's POV?". But the plot bunny gnawed persistently, and I'm glad I didn't abandon it. The story took some unexpected turns, deviating from my initial outline in ways I'm truly happy with. I discovered a newfound appreciation for crafting a sassy Nezuko who just wants to prove that she can hold her own. I remember one of the biggest complaints about this series was Nezuko being sidelined at the end, so I kind of wanted to put her in the spotlight for a bit. Hope you enjoyed my interpretation of her! But the most challenging part wasn't crafting the story – it was finding the numerous ways to describe blushing and embarrassment! So much blushing going on! I should have named this fic fifty shades of blushing. Maybe we can make a drinking game out of this eh? Take a swig each time someone blushes or stammers or makes a weird face lol This was a short fic but incredibly rewarding to write. I had fun exploring Nezuko’s interactions and relationships with the other characters, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you in the next adventure! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my fic, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly write for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

21 notes · View notes