#don's plum | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naffeclipse · 2 days

Text

Summer Coat

Hare!Reader x Fox!Sun and Moon

Commission Info

I'm delighted to share this fic that @pure-plum was so darling to commission me for! Finally some Of Fox Maws action with Hare Y/N being a flustered mess and the fox boys being just so sweet to admire them in their new summer coat!

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

In a muddy plain of cottongrass, you graze. The tips of your fingers brush over slender, grass-like leaves, emerald and lush in the afternoon light. The seed heads are white, fluffy, and spherical, almost like hare tails but you try to not think of the comparison to your own.

The warmth of the day lies on your fur. Midsummer is upon you and you have changed with the subtle rise of heat in the land of your home. Watching your step, you miss a mud puddle while weaving through the low valley meadow. You pluck a few of the leaves and stuff them into your mouth, chewing slowly. When you brush past the seed heads, they sway and bob in the air, and your fur is rustled by a gentle, sweet breeze.

Pressing on your tiptoes, you scan the meadow and low hills in the distance. You find no hungry eyes watching you. Twisting your long ears, you listen and wait. Not a sound save for the whispering cottongrass.

Kneeling in the tall grass, you carefully avoid more muck that longs to suck at your feet and stain your fur. Though it better matches your new coat. After a few weeks of hiding in your form, a shallow den, you have emerged with hunger and cravings. The painfully boring and slow process of shedding your thick winter coat of white and emerging with a shining new fur of deep brown is well worth the sleek lightness you now don.

Constantly, you watch for steel teeth hiding along the ground. Your leg healed from the crushing bite of such a cruel device late in the winter, and you were tended gently by two fox men. Your heart beats quickly in memory of how they help you. It’s strange being at their mercy and yet not suffering for it.

When it rains, your healed bone will ache, and you’ll trace the scar left between the fibers of your fur, but you can run as fast as you ever have. The fox men ensured you could still flee.

Softly sighing, you grasp another handful of cottongrass. You haven’t seen them since you began your molt, but by then you were roaming by yourself upon a fresh leg and newly acquired mobility.

You’re surprised they haven’t hunted you down yet, considering how much they told you they’ve been trying to get closer to you—

One of your ears prick on a noise. A step. A quiet padding of a foot on soft ground.

You twist, straightening to stare over the fluffy tops of the grassy meadow. It sways. Your eyes sweep over the area. Any movement, any hint of something that doesn’t belong where you do, must be close. Your nose twitches but scents in the air are carried away by the summer breeze. Your tiny heart thunders. Your muscles coil, ready to spring you across the valley at the slightest sign of another.

Low in the meadow close beside you, the grass waves and reveals a darker shape. A shadow, prowling low. Its fur is silvery blue. Frozen water flows into your veins as you hold yourself like ice. So, so very still, you hold your breath.

The predator might miss you. If you don’t move, don’t run, you might escape.

But in the corner of your vision, another shadow stirs, and fangs glint. Golden brown and grinning with a maw full of teeth, the predator prowls closer. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“There you are,” a hungry voice purrs.

You leap up and bolt. Fear surges into your veins as your feet kick up mud and whip through the seed heads. Before you can clear a boggy bank dividing the grass, a fox leaps upon you.

You cry out a small sound of fright when arms encircle your waist and pull you to the ground. He twirls you over the leafy strands covering the moist earth, his fur dark and blue like metal.

In your adrenaline-fueled panic, you catch red eyes holding you—like Moon’s—but instinct takes over when the predator growls softly, “Where are you going, flower?”

You twist out of his grasp when his hands open in the slightest, and scramble out from under him in the opposite direction. Bounding away, the stretch of muscle in your legs pushes you faster. A flick of a thick, golden brown tail sweeps the grass a few inches away from you. Pivoting, you try to jump past the reaching hands, but they snatch you by the upper arms.

A gasp rips from your throat before you writhe. Kicking and struggling to find purchase with your claws in the attacker’s arms, you cry out a high-pitched scream before a hand finds your cheek and cradles your face.

“It’s us, snowbell, just us,” the voice says, still hungry, but gentle in his want.

You at last stop. The pounding pulse in your long ears is still thunderous, overtaking you, but you fall still long enough to flick a glance to the fox who holds you captive. Yellow and red swirls intercut the golden brown of the fur on his chest. A glimpse of eyes, blue and sweet, hold yours before gingerly kneeling and sitting you down before him.

“Sun?” you breathe the name while your lungs heave. Your ears twist, catching the sound of grass parting before you snap your head back to find Moon quietly settling on your other side. His grin is wide and toothy as he regards you. “Moon?”

They look so different.

“Yes, velvet.” Moon lifts a hand, his claws sharp and dangerous, to rub the velvet of your ears. His caresses find your sensitivity. You immediately endure a shiver falling down your spine but you hold yourself rigid, holding back how weak he makes you at a touch. “Did we frighten you?”

His chest holds the same blue and silver markings, intercut with a now dark gunmetal blue coat.

It dawns upon you until you flush with embarrassment.

“We only meant to surprise you and perhaps play a little,” Sun says sweetly but his cheeky grin is anything but remorseful. “It’s been so long since we chased you.”

Your eyes widen as your heart resumes a swift tempo. Sun’s fluffy tail sweeps behind you, brushing against your ‘bunny’ tail as the two foxes so often call it. You shift but stay sitting, your back straight as you regard the two predators to your right and left.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you at last confess. You stare at Sun’s golden brown fur washing away his brilliant white coat and turn back to Moon to wonder how swiftly his pale fur molted away.

Sun’s smile splits to reveal sharp, white teeth. “It’s summer, honeysuckle. We change too.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. He leans forward and brushes his whiskers against your neck until you almost hike up your shoulder to protect yourself from the tender touch. Sun’s eyes shine with pleasure. You feel smaller than before.

“Look at you,” Moon murmurs. His soft voice surprises you before his hand descends. His fingers trace your cheek, so less fluffy than it was in winter, but no less soft underneath his touch. You hold very still, afraid a mewl might escape you as he admires you.

Your eyelids flutter as you collect yourself. Does he mean to say that you look more appetizing or simply less vulnerable to being spotted by predators in the summer melt?

Moon shifts to better face you and drapes his tail over your lap. You lift your hands, fingers curling over the soft warmth of his fluff covering you in his summer color. A heat bleeds into your cheeks.

“It’s not as pretty as my white coat,” you stammer.

“I don’t think so.” Sun presses close to your side. His mouth softly presses to your sleek, dark brown shoulder and you freeze under the slick touch of his fangs. The softest nudge from his head jostles you. “You look lovely, always.”

Your middle heats up while you endure his piercing, blue gaze.

“I must agree,” Moon leans in closer until you turn to fall into the red colors of his eyes. His muzzle touches your cheek. You struggle to not twist and escape the overwhelming intensity of his full attention. “No matter your coat, you are beautiful.”

Your lips part but not a sound comes out. Instead, you scrunch in on yourself and wonder if it’s not too late to slip out of their grasp, but it is futile. They already have you in their clutches.

“You foxes lie too well,” you decide instead, and shrink upon yourself for daring to say so.

“Oh, yes, we do, but we have never lied to you, velvet.” Moon’s chuckle is low and gravelly. His eyes flash as his hand rests on your hip.

“We adore you too much to do such a thing,” Sun promises but it’s laced with a lick of his tongue over his teeth. He sets a hand on your side and slowly rubs up and down, tracing your ribs and falling to your waist. “We simply had to find you today to admire you. You were hiding from us for so long! We were worried.”

You are struck by their combined efforts to unmake you with their hands and the soft nips of their mouths. Moon noses your cheek and you screw your eyes shut. Sun helps himself to the curve of your neck, nuzzling deeper against you while you fight with all your might to contain the vicious squeaks and whimpers that long to leap from you.

They would enjoy that, wouldn’t they? The foxes have been dining on you slowly. They nibble and lick until there is nothing left of you to eat save for your bones, and even then, you’re certain they would crack you open just to eat your marrow.

“Please, you’re going to make me melt,” you gasp underneath their invasion.

“No, no, snowbell,” Sun chides. He stops his nibbling on your shoulder to hold your gaze. “We’re not done enjoying you and your pretty new coat yet.”

“Sun,” you whine softly.

Moon quickly overtakes you with a lick of his pink tongue against your cheek. Your lips part as warmth spills over your body. You tremble underneath his affection.

“Look at you, velvet. You look good enough to eat,” he rolls a laugh from underneath his rasp. You stiffen with a squeak. His eyes flash with hunger, “I think I’ll have one little bite.”

“No,” you plead. “Moon, please.”

“Hm? Flower, did you say something?” he grins. His canines flash. His jaws loom over you as you whimper.

Then Sun growls softly. You jump in the slightest, your voice caught in your throat.

“You have to share with me, brother,” Sun brushes your cheek with his muzzle. His golden brown fur is so bright against yours. “I need a taste of our little hare too.”

You’re close to dissolving. Even now as they crowd you, overwhelming you with their mouths at your every edge and hands stroking over your body, their claws card through your fur. The foxes pet your legs and back and leave their impressions on your silky soft fur. The caresses of their sharp fingertips sink into you and you start to mewl.

You held back for so long, despite everything. You are so small and pliable in their hands, and there’s no telling whether they find you delicious and want to scarf you down or simply want to love you until you deliquesce into a shimmery, muddy puddle.

“How precious,” Sun praises you, and you squirm even more as he gently nips your ear. “Even your noises are beautiful.”

“What lovely, sweet sounds,” Moon agrees. His eyes hold you while he draws his fingers down your side and traces your hip. “Perhaps we should savor you more.”

Your heart races. Nearly bursting underneath the foxes’ maw, you scramble for a way to save yourself. You are a being of prey and you must survive, even if it’s the affection of two predators.

“Your fur,” you say, stopping Moon dead from where he was opening his jaws to nibble on your jawline. “It’s handsome.”

He stares as you swallow all your fear and how flustered they made you to reach out and softly stroke Moon’s shoulder. Your claws are meant for digging and cutting plants, not for attacking a meal, but they glide softly over the smooth, satin-like blue sliver of Moon’s summer coat.

He falls still, his jaw now open but slacked. His red eyes roam over your touch as if finding it otherworldly.

“And mine, honeysuckle?” Sun yips, his eyes wide and eager. “What do you think of mine?”

Your pulse races but you turn to face Sun’s yearning expression and slowly lift your other hand, calming your shaking just enough to slide your fingers down his chest. Your fingers brush through his red and yellow swirls as well as his golden brown coat. Sun’s wide eyes follow your touch in pleased disbelief.

“Yours is striking,” you whisper. “Very attractive.”

You are just bold enough to fawn over them, and you might dare say that you’ve stunned them for a moment. Sun and Moon exchange looks, brows lifted in surprise and yet content, happy.

Moon’s tail slips over your ankle and rests there for a moment. You find Sun’s fluffy tail curly over your other side as they lean over you, their attention softening at the turn of events you so desperately spun.

“You don’t lie,” Moon muses.

“I’m not good at it,” you admit, “but why would I lie about how handsome you two are?”

Sun makes a soft sound, almost a squee of delight.

“What else do you think, snowbell?” he asks, leaning down as he tilts his head. His sharp triangular ears flick. “You can keep touching us. It’s alright. Don’t be shy.”

You blush again, but slowly, you find yourself leaning forward to reach both of them. At your slightest nudge, they obey your command to move in front of you so you might better trail your touch down their arms and turn over their large hands. Their palms are sleek and smooth. Moon’s claws twist as if to resist scratching your wrist. Sun is restless, his tail tip whipping softly against your side as he keeps his palm open for you.

“You’re so big,” you say under your breath; a thought that escapes you but now leaves you burning in the face.

Sun’s and Moon’s eyes alight as they both bark and laugh.

“You’re so small,” Moon reaches out to touch your jawline.

“And lovely,” Sun adds with a cheeky grin before he gently strokes your arm. “Perhaps you want a taste of us too? If you have such a desire.”

His question is almost shy, uncertain, and so strange for the two of them who delight in scooping you up for themselves, but the foxes’ eyes flick over your face in search of your answer.

You hold very still under such a thought. Your heartbeat begins to slow within your chest as slowly, you decide while a fluttering takes over your middle.

You lean closer on your knees to reach up and press your nose to the corner of Sun’s maw. His fur is soft and he smells of fresh wood. He holds perfectly still but his tail wriggles against you, giving him away.

A low growl starts beside you but you are unflinching when you take your kiss and face Moon. Before his lips can part, you find the edge of his muzzle and lay your mouth into him. A scent of silvery evergreens fills you before you draw away.

You bow your head slightly to hide your blush, eyes averted at what you just did. Your ears twist at the softest breaths of the foxes. Large hands take your own, and two muzzles catch you on both cheekbones.

You squeak, much to their growling delight.

#naff's writing commissions #of fox maws #fox!sun #fox!moon #hare!reader #this was a delight to write and i hope you all love it as much as i do <3 #naff writing

227 notes · View notes

wonwussy · 1 year

Text

By Line

pairing; ceo!wonwoo x reporter!afab reader

genre; enemies to lovers, smut, dramatic af, angst

notes/warnings; TOXIC BEHAVIOR, drugs, alcohol, food, dirty talk, sex in a public place, fingering (f receiving), death mention (?), and y’know sex

word count; 5.3k

this is for @svthub’s garden collab

You couldn’t believe it is going to end like this. Your years on Earth, coming to a close, because you were thirsty. You are an idiot.

It wasn’t entirely your fault, however. It is his fault too. He’s the one that poisoned you, instead of being a decent human being. Just because you accepted a glass of water, does not mean you consented to dying. Wonwoo is a terrible person, and you did walk straight into his trap.

As you struggle to keep your eyes open, the world in front of you going blurry, you can’t help but think back to what led to you being here. How hungry you were for the facts, for the story. It was going to be your big break into journalism, and you would finally be able to carve your own island out in the field.

You had followed Wonwoo for weeks, making notes of his comings and goings. Who he was meeting with. What he even had for breakfast (he usually nibbled on some kind of muffin while walking to his office building, a coffee in his other hand). You were trying to follow the money, and you were so close to exposing him.

Little did you know that he had been watching you too. Which is how he ended up inviting you to dinner at his penthouse, saying he would give you an interview of a lifetime. He made, as a one Don Corleone had said, an offer you couldn’t refuse.

“What di- did you give me?” you mumble, your head drooping slightly.

Wonwoo simply chuckles, clearly amused with how you’re fighting what he slipped you. “Don’t worry about it. It’s painless. It’s just like going to sleep,” he assures you, before taking a small sip of his wine.

Well, he isn’t wrong about that. It does feel like you want to sleep. Just drift off and not have to worry about anything again. It would be easy. Painless, like he said. Your eyes start to flutter close, but you shake your head and snap them open as wide as you can. “No. I’m no— call the police,” you say weakly, slapping the table to find your phone.

You hear him chuckle as he reaches for your phone and slides it towards him, watching you with interest. “Hm. You’re adorable when you’re stubborn.”

“Shuddup. ‘M not.” You frown at him and blink wearily, his figure turning into a faceless blob. “My phone,” you whine as you start to slump over the table.

Wonwoo finishes his wine and sighs, leaning back in his chair as he picks up your phone. “Cute lock screen. Is that your cat?” he asks, though he’s not expecting an answer from you.

You let out a whine as fear overtakes you, your eyes finally shutting. “You’ll never getwaythis…”

The last thing you remember before the darkness overtook you was hearing Wonwoo laugh at your utterances. “Whatever you say, ace.”

———————————————————————

Funny. You didn’t think you could dream when you were dead. It wasn’t exactly sugar plums, but visions drifted in and out of your mind. Your parents, friends, Henry (you prayed someone would take care of him when you are gone, the gremlin of a cat) were all present… memories, maybe? Was this what they meant when they said that your life would flash before your eyes?

You can feel warmth on your face, which only confuses you even more. It’s bright, even through your eyelids. Was it the bright light that greets you in death? No one ever says it’s warm. It’s comforting. You can’t help but smile at the feel of it, and snuggle further down into the sheets.

Wait.

You wiggle your fingers, and they move. You sit up in the bed and blink your eyes open, heart pounding as you take in the fact that you’re still alive. Alive and in an unfamiliar room. You aren’t sure if you should be overjoyed or scared. Instead, you let out a yelp as you try to scramble out of the bed.

Where the hell are you? What happened last night? Every possibility and scenario races through your head as you get tangled in the sheets and fall out of the bed to the floor with a loud thump. You groan as you roll on to your back, trying not to cry as you hear a knock on the door.

“Are you decent?” a gruff voice asks through the door.

You pause at the question and glance down at yourself, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize you are, in fact, fully clothed. You scowl as you slowly push yourself to your feet and cautiously step towards the door, folding your arms over your chest. “What the fuck did you do to me?” you demand in a harsh whisper, not wanting to open the door quite yet.

You hear him laugh from the hallway, clearly amused with you. “Nothing. Well… I carried you to the bed after you passed out from the sleeping pills that were in your water… but other than that, nothing. I promise.”

Anger rolls through you at his words, and you yank the door open to find him leaning against the door frame with a nonchalant look on his face. “You did WHAT?!” You aren’t sure you heard him right, you couldn’t have.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at you and runs a hand through his cropped hair. “You looked like you were in some desperate need of sleep, so I helped. You’re welcome.” He pauses as his eyebrows shoot up at your angry, yet confused, expression. “You didn’t actually think I poisoned you, did you?” he asks, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your blood is boiling at the look on his face, his stupid face with his stupid glasses. But he wasn’t wrong. You did think he poisoned you, but it wasn’t like he didn’t give you a reason not to believe it. And, you guess in a way he did actually do it. “What do you call slipping me sleeping pills in my water? A sweetener?” you nearly yell at him.

“No. I call it a helping hand. I’m a businessman, not a murderer, ace. Killing people isn’t a good look for my company,” he teases as he stands up straight.

You take a step back, your hand still gripping the doorknob tightly as you glance him up and down. You couldn’t deny that he looked good in his oversized white t-shirt and gray sweats, at home casual seemed to suit him more than business casual. Has his shoulders always been so… wide? You meet his eyes and huff when you see the satisfied look in his eyes, scowling at him again. “Well, does your “helping hand” mean keeping me hostage? Or am I free to go?”

Wonwoo steps back and gestures to let you pass him, watching as you stalk into the hallway. “Your things are by the front door. I can call a driver to take you home, if you want,” he offers. He waits for a reply and shrugs when you don’t give one, tucking his hands into his sweatpants. “Though, if you leave now, you won’t get your interview.”

You stop at his words, a small struggle brewing inside you. Leave, and you can rid yourself of this monster and this whole ordeal. But then you won’t get what you’ve been after all these weeks. The truth. Straight from the man (and you use that term very loosely in this case) himself. The temptation is too great.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. Fuck him. You’re not going to play into his hand so easily.

“Complete and unadulterated truth? Everything?”

“Everything.”

Fuck. You slowly turn to face him with a heavy sigh, knowing he has you. So much for not so easily. “Fine. But no open containers from you.”

He grins at you as he walks past, tapping your chin lightly. “You have a bit of dried drool right there,” he comments as he makes his way back out to the living room.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s not too long until you’re both seated in his home office, him behind his desk with a mug of coffee while you sit in a plush armchair on the opposite side (no drink for you, for obvious reasons). Your voice recorder is on and sitting on his desktop, and a pen is poised in your hand as you stare at him. You narrow your eyes as you study him, his own eyes dropped to his phone as he typed out a text. “Are you busy or…”

He hums in acknowledgment and takes a sip of his coffee, not looking up as he finishes his typing. “Sorry. Urgent business.” He finally sets his phone down and directs his attention towards you, offering you a small smile. “Okay. Go ahead, ace. Ask away.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, tapping your pen against your pad of paper. “Right. Mind telling me what the urgent business was?” you ask, nodding to his phone.

“When you run a multi-million dollar corporation, everything is urgent business,” he jokes. “Right now, we’re in the middle of trying to acquire some land in Denmark. Trying to set up a regional office there, so we can run our European operations a little more smoothly,” he explains. “So far, it’s been a lot of back and forth. If you know anything about Denmark business or land law, you’d be a great asset right about now.”

You shake your head as you scribble some notes down, not bothering to look up as you ask your next question. “Don’t you have lawyers to sort out all that? Or are they around to just make it all look legal?”

Wonwoo quirks an eyebrow up at your question, tapping his fingers against the side of his mug. “We do have lawyers, but not every lawyer is an expert in every law.” He pauses as he sips his coffee, studying you as he does so. “And I always make sure everything I do regarding my business is legal.”

You scoff in disbelief, your eyes catching his as you look back up. “I doubt that. A company as big as yours can’t always do legitimate business,” you mutter. “And I find it ver—“

“Now hold on,” he interrupts, sitting up and leaning forward in his chair. “Is that why you’re so interested in me? You think I’m some kind of criminal?” He, of course, knows what you think, but he wants you to say it out loud. He never would have asked you to meet for dinner if he didn’t know. That, and he definitely had enough of you following him.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but you square your shoulders off as you sit straighter. “Yes. I think you’ve had some illegal business dealings, or you know about it within your company and are covering it up,” you answer, your fingers nervously fidgeting with your pen. “I believe you’ve cheated for your success, and you and your company need to be exposed.”

He can’t help but grin at your words, though he manages to hold back his laughter. It is a ridiculous accusation, of course. Hearing it out loud just made it seem even more so. “So, you thought following me around was going to reveal this big giant scandal?” He pauses as he chuckles lowly, leaning back in his chair. “Ace, you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble, and just asked me straight out in the beginning,” he tells you.

You narrow your eyes at him as he speaks, holding back a scoff. “Would you have told me the truth?”

“Yes. I have no reason to lie to you.”

You study him for a moment, trying to find any scrap of deceit. It’s frustrating that you can’t find one. Either he is an expert liar, or he’s telling the truth. Maybe you’re just shit at reading people, which would make you a pretty shitty reporter. “And I have no reason to believe you,” you finally say, dropping your gaze back down to your notepad.

A tense silence falls between the two of you, and it seems to stretch for hours. Though, it is less than thirty seconds before Wonwoo speaks again. “Look, this relationship isn’t going to work if there’s no… trust betwe—“

“Trust?!” you nearly screech at him. “Trust was tossed out the fucking window when you drugged me! So, I don’t think trust is ever going to be something I have in you.”

Wonwoo frowns at your words and stands to his feet. “I think trust was gone the minute you started suspecting me and following me around the city,” he pointed out, leaning forward over the desk with his palms flat on the wood.

Another silence as you let his words roll around in your head. He wasn’t wrong. You never actually trusted him, but there was no chance of it now, that much is certain.

He sighs and stands up straight again, pulling his glasses off. “I know I shouldn’t have drugged you,” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That was wrong, and honestly, reckless of me. I am sorry.”

You blink in surprise at his words and the sincerity in his voice. That’s not what you are expecting. An apology.

“But you need to learn when to take a break and get some rest. You’ve been stuck to me like a goddamn shadow, trying to find anything I’ve done wrong. Which, fine, but you’re like a dog with a bone. You won’t let go until you’re satisfied,” he continues with a half amused look. “It’s kind of cute. Your tenacity. I admire it.”

Your cheeks warm as he speaks, and you shake your head. You didn’t want to admit he was right, that you did need a break, but you knew you had to get this story. You clear your throat as your gaze drops to your notepad, scrunching your nose. “My mother calls it stubbornness. It caused her many headaches during my childhood.”

Wonwoo smiles as you speak, studying you carefully. He notices a softness to your edge when you speak about your mom, and can’t help but be a little endeared by it. He reaches for his phone again and unlocks it, muttering under his breath as he scrolls through it.

You look back up at him, confused, and watch him as he mumbles. “What are you doing? More important business?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Next Sunday. You’re coming with me to a garden party one of my business partners is hosting. Maybe it’ll give you some insight to what it is I am doing at my business,” he tells you as he looks back at you with raised brows.

You scoff at him and shake your head again. “You expect me to listen to you and just go with you to this party? You don’t even ask, you demand me to? What if I have plans? I can’t just drop what I’m doing and jump at your commands,” you reply with annoyance. Of course, your only plans that day are to nap with Henry and stuff your face with waffles, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that Sundays are your bra and pant free days.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you, tilting his head to the side as he questions you. “Do you have other plans? I just figured you’d end up following me around anyway, you might as well have an invite to the party.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times as no words come to you, before you scoff again as you shake your head. “Fine. I’ll go. Not because you demand it, but because I can use it for my story,” you relent, doing your best to ignore the look of victory on his face.

—————————————————————

You draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, smoothing your hands down the side of your thighs nervously. You are standing outside the entrance to the botanical gardens, where you are supposed to meet Wonwoo for the work party he invited you to, and you suddenly want to turn around and run back home.

You nod once and are about to turn around, when a hand comes to rest lightly on your lower back. You jump slightly at the sudden presence, turning your head to see Wonwoo looking at you with a small smile. “Shit, you’re like a cat sneaking up like that. I should get you a bell,” you mutter, looking back at the gardens.

He chuckles and lets his hand drop, studying your profile. “Hm. I think I’m the one who should get you one, with how you follow me around. I think a collar would look good on you,” he teases, your skin instantly on fire at his words. “So, are you ready to rub elbows with some powerful people?”

You clear your throat, hoping to hide any effect his words had on you, and you straighten your blazer. “No, but I don’t really have a choice if I want this story.” You let out another long sigh and shake your head. “I feel severely underdressed, and this is my best pantsuit.”

Wonwoo steps back to look you over, tilting his head to the side. “You look great. Green is your color. You only need a collar to complete the look,” he jokes, before he steps off towards the entrance. “Come on. All the good hors d'oeuvres are going to be gone if we keep standing out here.”

You watch as he steps up to the security, your mind reeling from the mental whiplash. He really is an insufferable man. Insufferable and incredibly sexy in his light blue suit. It fit him perfectly, and hugged him in all the right places. Seriously, has he always been that broad?! You scrunch your nose at your own thoughts and silently curse yourself and the man you follow into the party.

-*-*-*-*-

Bored. You are actually bored. You did not think it was possible, but here you are, champagne glass in one hand and a tiny cucumber sandwich in the other, bored of listening to all the business talk. Not a single person had let anything juicy slip. No shady deals, no illicit affairs, not even someone discussing a traffic ticket. You sigh and tip back the rest of your mimosa, before shoving the sandwich into your mouth. Well, at least you got free snacks and drinks out of it.

You chew slowly as you turn around, freezing when you see Wonwoo staring at you with an amused look on his face, though he is nodding at the person he is talking with. He reaches up and pokes his cheek, before turning his full attention to his companion.

You mirror his actions and poke your own cheek, your eyes going wide at how puffy it is. You must look like a hamster with food shoved into its cheeks, the way you feel the sandwich there. You finish chewing and swallow, looking around and hoping no one else noticed your uncouth actions.

Though you don’t see anyone paying attention to you, you decide that it is better to dismiss yourself from the party. It seems like as good a time as any to do a little exploring of the gardens. Maybe it’ll give you a chance to leave completely unnoticed.

“Trying to escape so soon?”

Wonwoo’s sudden presence once again startles you, and you jump a little as your heart nearly shoots out of your chest. “Fucking hell! Seriously. Make a noise or something,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

He can’t help but laugh at your reaction, his hand resting against the small of your back as you both start walking away from the crowd. “I did. I said something.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the effect his touch is having on you. How you wish it is more than his hand on you. “Before you sneak up on someone.” You pause as you glance at him quickly, only to find him looking back at you. “Anyway, I’m not— okay, yeah, I am trying to escape. You didn’t tell me how boring this would be,” you relent with a sigh.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle and shrugged one shoulder, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, the daytime parties are usually pretty lame. Now, dinner parties and cocktail hours? That’s where all the excitement is,” he jokes, following you as you turn down a side path.

You snort and shake your head, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You’ll have to invite me to one of those. Maybe I’ll actually get something to write about.” You pause your walk as you read a sign about the foliage, sighing quietly. “You really do everything above board, huh?”

He looks over at you, studying your profile carefully, and nods once. “I told you. Now, do we toe the line with how things get done? Sometimes. I like to push and be aggressive with some things, but I never do anything illegal. Questionable, maybe, but always legal.” He adjusts his glasses and shrugs again. “Losing my business isn’t worth it.”

You bite your lip, feeling ashamed of having suspected him of anything nefarious. Aside from drugging you with sleeping pills, that is. You don’t say anything as you take a right towards another section of the gardens, leaving him to follow after you once again. Your thoughts are swirling in your head, and suddenly his presence is making it hard to think straight. Or maybe it was the three or four mimosas you had.

“I was the first in my family to graduate from college, you know. My parents either didn’t want to do college, or they couldn’t afford it, but they made sure I went,” he says after a moment. “I started this business from the ground up, worked my ass off. I took out loans, nearly went bankrupt. Hell, I lived with my parents for longer than I wanted just to save anything I could.”

You furrow your brow as you come to a stop in front of a small white building, large windows on either side of a stained glass door. You knew he had started the business, but you didn’t know everything he had gone through. Now you feel like a total asshole. “So, no mob connections, huh?” you crack half-heartedly as you push open the door.

He scoffs as he follows you inside, shaking his head at you. “No, sorry to disappoint.” He blinks as he looks around, looking slightly confused. “Where are we?”

You shrug as you look around, your eyes finding a plaque on the wall. You cross over to read it, groaning quietly. “This is where they house the most poisonous plants. Says here, ‘among them are oleander, nightshade, mistletoe, and foxglove’. Huh. I don’t think I knew mistletoe was poisonous.”

Wonwoo can’t help but laugh as he wanders over to a cluster of two foot tall stalks with an assortment of colored flowers. “These are poisonous?” He crouches down to read the small sign staked into the ground in front of them, raising his eyebrows. “Foxglove. They look too pretty to be deadly.”

You swallow as he speaks, licking your lips as your eyes move over him. “Could say the same thing about you,” you mutter under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing!” You clear your throat as he stands, turning away from him towards a padded bench at the center of the building. You sit and smooth your hands over your thighs, doing your best to ignore the amused look on Wonwoo’s face.

He stands and moves to sit next to you, sitting with his body angled towards you. “You still think I’m deadly?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and scooch back from him a tiny bit. Space is necessary between you two. “You did drug me the other night. So, yeah. And you’re wrong, about not doing anything illegal. That seems like a pretty illegal thing to do,” you point out, raising your eyebrows at him.

He grimaces and lets his head drop in shame. “That really wasn’t my finest moment. Good intentions carried out in a horrendous way.” He pauses as he looks back up at you, apology written all over his face. “I really shouldn’t have done it. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough. And honestly, I don’t ever expect you to forgive me for it. I wish I would have made a better impression on you,” he finishes, his voice quiet as he reaches up to brush hair from your forehead.

You draw in a slow breath as his fingertips brush your hairline, your skin feeling as if it were on fire. “I wish you did too,” you reply in a near whisper.

He leans in as he rests his palm against your jaw, studying you carefully. “Will you let me try to make it up to you? I know I never could fully, but I could give it my best shot,” he says softly, his thumb ghosting across your bottom lip.

“You can do your best.”

And with that, his lips meet yours. His hand keeps a hold of your jaw as his lips move over yours, allowing you to deepen it if you wish, even if he wants to. He shifts slightly so he can move closer to you, relieved that you don’t move away again.

Your heart is crashing within your chest as you kiss, and you reach up to rest a hand on his wrist. You want more, and you are surprised at yourself for nearly craving it. You furrow your brow as you allow yourself to deepen the kiss, brushing your tongue across his lips. Your other hand finds its way to the side of his neck, holding him to you as his tongue tangles with yours.

The kiss only lasts for seconds, though it feels like minutes. You finally break away and are breathing heavily, eyes closed as you rest your forehead against his. “Well… um… that’s a good start… I guess,” you breathe.

He scoffs at your words, though amused, and pulls you to him again. This time, the kiss is more intense, as if he’s trying to prove something to you. You suppose, in a way, he is. How sorry he is. How he’s innocent of anything you think him of. How much he actually wants you.

You start to lay back as you two continue to kiss, wrapping an arm around his shoulders so you can keep him close to you. You’re grateful when he moves with you, hovering over you on the bench. You don’t even care if you're in the middle of poisonous plants, or that you’re even in a public area. You just want him, and it’s clear he wants you too.

He finally separates from your mouth, only to trail his lips down your face and to your neck. “You look so fucking sexy in this suit. No shirt under the blazer,” he mumbles against your skin, before dragging his tongue down between your breasts. “I was praying for the slightest peek this whole time.”

You can’t help the whine that escapes you as he speaks and kisses you, your back arching into his touch. “No one was going to get one. I made sure of it,” you joke with a half laugh.

“I’ll have to get a good look later then.” He lifts his head to look up at you, a cat-like smirk pulled across his lips. “Right now, I am trying to do my best,” he adds teasingly.

You don’t get a chance to reply before he lifts himself up a little, his fingers finding the buttons to your pants quickly. Your eyes go wide as you watch him quickly undo them, though you don’t try to stop him. “Jeon Wonwoo, do you mean to fuck me in front of the foxglove and mistletoe?” you hiss.

He shrugs as he tugs your pants down to your ankles, pulling your underwear with them. He stands and quickly does the same with his own pants and briefs. “I mean to fuck you in front of the foxglove and mistletoe,” he says as he lays back down over you again, his hand finding your pussy.

A moan falls from your mouth as his fingers slowly tease your clit, and you know he can feel the wetness pooling between your legs. You never had someone get you this wet this fast, and you certainly weren’t complaining. You spread your legs as much as you can, with your pants literally around your ankles, as he slips a finger inside you.

“I can’t wait until I can really get to know you. Make sure I explore everything about you,” he whispers into your ear, his thumb circling your clit slowly. “When we’re not surrounded by plants that could actually kill you.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his words, though your mind is too hazy to fully comprehend what he is saying. Before you can say anything in response, his finger leaves you so he can wrap his hand around himself. You lick your lips as he lines himself up, your eyes finding him as he teases you with his tip. “If you don’t stop that, I will push you into a plant,” you threaten, though you know there’s no way it’d ever happen.

He chuckles and slowly pushes himself into you, causing you to gasp in pleasure. “You feel better than I imagine, ace. So fucking good,” he moans as feels you clench around him.

You move your hips against him, hoping it would get him to move. You fist his jacket in your hands as his cock hits your spot just right, whining as you match his thrusts. You hold him to you tightly, biting on his collar to keep from being too loud. The last thing you want is for someone to find you two, and ruin a good thing.

He speeds up his thrusts, panting into your neck as you match his pace. The urgency to finish doesn’t diminish the pleasure for either of you, nor does the threat of being caught. Wonwoo would swear that it is actually making you more excited, even if you don’t realize it.

It’s not too long before you can feel the coil tighten in you, and you find his lips with yours once again. This time, the kiss is messier, more desperate, and needy. You need him, as much as he needs you. Both of you chasing your high in the middle of some greenhouse, sweating through the fabric of your suit jackets.

You can feel the tip of his cock drag across your g-spot, bringing you closer and closer. You clench down as he thrusts into you hard, hitting you deeper, and it sends you spiraling. You keep your lips locked with his, tongues tangled together as your orgasm hits you in waves.

He helps you ride it out, which only brings him to his own climax. He finally pulls back from you, nearly gasping for breath as he spills into you. His quiet groans fill your ears as he slows his movements, before he finally stops and holds himself above you on his elbows.

You are breathing hard as you look up at him, reaching up to wipe the sweat off his forehead with a laugh. “Well, you might be on the right track,” you tease softly.

He grins at your words, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose. “Good.” He pauses as he glances around, before resting his forehead against yours. “We should get out of here, before both of us are literally caught with our pants down,” he whispers.

You hum in agreement and smile. “Yeah. And now I’m going to have to find another story.”

Wonwoo lifts his head and smiles down at you, tipping his head to the side as he studies you for a moment. “You really think I’m pretty?”

#svthub #svthub.collab #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo angst #seventeen angst #wonwoo fic #seventeen fic #svt smut #svt angst #svt fic

1K notes · View notes

will80sbyers · 2 months

Note

Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

#stranger things #ask #st4 #st4 movies

69 notes · View notes

zaptrapp · 3 months

Text

Imagine The Bad Batch members angry at eachother or just in the mood to get on their bro’s last nerve and to reprimand the mischievous brother they start calling them the most absurd names…

Hunter

Hunnie, Hun, Huntie (he hates cute diminutives of his name, to be called cute and soft).

Miracle Blade serie 3, Skull Head (by Wrecker).

Pursuer (by Tech, don’t need to explain any further).

Hunta’ (by Echo, regs or anyone that has a death wish)

Sensodyne (like the toothpaste yes) since he has enhanced senses.

Half Pint/ Shot Glass (since he’s shorter than his bros)

Tech

TECHNOLOGY!! (by anyone who’s angry at him, mostly by his mom Hunter)

Specs/Specky (works the same as goggles)

Droid (derogatory, by Crosshair)

Don Giovanni, Mr. Steal Your Gf (by Wrecker since he had that thing with Phee going on).

Loudspeaker (by Echo)

Crosshair

Reticle, Collimator or Bullseye (mostly by Tech, he thinks it’s funny and should be his actual first name).

Toothpick Destroyer (by Wrecker)

Moaning Myrtle, Grumpy Grandfather (by Hunter)

Gray goose, Silver fox

Dried Plum

Wrecker

Food processor (by Tech)

Bottomless Pit (by anyone that has seen him eat)

Mr Boombastic

One Man Army (by Hunter)

Weights Belt, Triangle man, Meat Ball (by Crosshair)

Echo

Reverberation (by Tech… yes).

“FIVES! Oh, sorry…” (exclusively by Rex in a fit of anger for accident, like a grandma exchanging nephew’s names 20 times before getting yours right)

Mom (by Omega)

Kitchen Robot (that one time when Hunter tried to make “ends meet” by selling him as a droid).

That one serious reg (by Crosshair since I’ve never heard him call Echo… Echo. I don’t think he knows he has a name).

Omega (but they don’t get angry with her)

My daughter, kiddo, (by Hunter)

Tiny bundle of joy (by Tech)

Sweetness, cutiepie, bunny (by Wrecker)

Little birdie (by Crosshair YES HE CALLS HER THAT)

Peanut, Tuppence (by Echo)

SNOOPER! (by everyone)

#tbb #the bad batch #the bad batch headcanons #headcanons #tbb Hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars #the clone wars #clones #sw #tcw #captain rex

92 notes · View notes

lavenderfluorite14 · 5 months

Text

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 2: Gift

Summary: Tav gave Astarion a gift. Astarion tries to pay her back.

Chapter Rating: 18+, ❤️‍🔥 Blood drinking, Grinding, Frottage, Making Out, Hurt/Comfort, Angstarion, Astarion Character Study and everything that entails, PTSD, Descriptive Explorations of Emotional and Sexual Trauma Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 1.

The morning dawned pink and rosy, the sun a bloody jewel in the sky. Tav would be waking up soon and Astarion was putting the finishing touches on his apology. He would be concerned, tender. He would be apologetic but not obsequious, and this would never happen again. Unless Tav wanted it to.

Would she want it to? She had certainly been willing, in the beginning at least. But how would she feel the morning after? Astarion wasn’t used to mornings after. And he had been…rougher with her than he had intended. Shame flooded through him when he remembered how he had lost himself in her like a wild beast. But she had felt so good. Astarion didn’t know if he had ever felt this good before.

He felt happy. That was the word, happy. He must have felt happy once, a lifetime ago. But dwelling on ghosts he could no longer remember and who hadn’t bothered to remember him never led anywhere.

He fully understood now why Cazador had deprived them of good blood. Seven full, strong vampire spawn could find a way to overpower a cruel master. But seven malnourished, pathetic slaves were too busy trying to survive the day to plot a coup. Astarion despised how Cazador could cloak his sadism in calculated logic. He could bash Cazador’s skull in.

Tav stumbled out of her tent, clearly still delirious. She had donned her leather jerkin as usual, but she had also conspicuously wound a strip of cloth around her throat and tucked it into her collar, wrapping her neck snugly in the fabric. Blearily, she scanned the camp until she saw him lounging by his tent. Astarion steeled himself.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” He said lowly, so the others wouldn’t hear.

“A bit woozy, but I’ll be ok,” she said sheepishly.

“It’ll pass,” he hoped.

“How do you feel?” Tav asked.

“I feel wonderful,” he preened. “And now you get to reap the benefits of a fully fed vampire.”

“This is true,” she said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you fight today.”

“I’ll have to put on a show for you. Now that I can fight with all my weapons.” He shot her a fanged grin. Tav laughed, a sound he realized that he was beginning to like.

“Good thing I have a front row seat, then,” she said. Tav began shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “Astarion. I know you’ve been hesitant to talk about yourself so far but we really should discuss this, ah, turn of events.” Astarion nodded stiffly. “I suppose I owe you an explanation or two."

He described the difference between a vampire and a vampire spawn and how you can become one. Tav stiffened at the implication: had he been a true vampire, last night could have gone a lot differently.

“But I thought that sunlight killed vampires?” She asked.

“Oh, it does. I should be cinders in this light. I shouldn’t be able to do a lot of things, honestly.” He went through the list: standing in the sun, entering homes uninvited, crossing running water. “As for any other quirks, well,” he chuckled, “we can figure those out in time.” He was looking forward to it. Maybe the tadpole had bestowed other latent powers.

“Well, if I can help, just ask. We are in this together.” Tav gave him a bright, warm, reassuring smile.

“Oh, you are such a sweetheart,” he deflected. Of course she would say something like that.

“Tav, what’s that around your neck?” Shadowheart called towards them. Tav’s hand flitted towards her neck instinctively, her eyes darting to Astarion. He didn’t move. He wanted to see what she would do.

“I’m just a little cold today so I found a scarf,” she said. She was covering for him. She was really covering for him. Astarion’s stomach dropped. Usually Tav was better at this.

“Tchk. We heard your carousing last night,” Lae’Zel spoke.

“Is that blood?” Wyll pointed towards the scarf, where a small patch of crimson was blooming across the fabric. Astarion licked his fangs.

“Darlings, I’m afraid I have something rather small I’ve neglected to tell you.”

“Astarion,” Tav turned towards him but he anchored his hand on the small of her back reassuringly. If he now had Tav's support then this was his best opportunity to tell them.

“It’s all right, my dear. They were going to find out eventually.” He squashed the doubt inside him into a hard little ball and cleared his throat. “I am a vampire,” Astarion announced. There was a brief moment where no one spoke.

“So be it. But if I wake with so much as a drop of blood at my throat, I will end you,” Lae’Zel growled. Duly noted.

“I trust him,” Tav interjected. “He won’t hurt us. He has had ample opportunity to do so and has instead become a strong ally.” The group paused again, sharing a glance among themselves. Gale broke the silence.

“Well, I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me sooner. I’m a pretty open-minded man, actually. But just a word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful.” What a shame.

“Vamps don’t scare me. No sense judging someone for who they are.” Karlach piped up. “’Cept devils, obviously.” He knew he liked Karlach.

“So long as there are no innocents, I am fine.” Wyll said. “And so long as you keep your fangs to yourself.” Wyll would probably be too sweet, anyway.

“A vampire?” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I suppose I can live with that. We’re already monsters in the making, what’s one more. Now come here, Tav. We can’t have you leaving camp looking like that.” Shadowheart led Tav away, her healing magic already surrounding them in a soft blue glow.

But once Tav was out of earshot, the others closed ranks. “I meant it when I said no innocents, Astarion. And if you hurt Tav, you will have to answer to all of us.” Wyll said.

“Is the Blade of Frontiers already rushing to the damsel’s rescue?” Astarion scoffed. “I didn’t do anything to Tav that she didn’t sweetly ask for.”

“I don’t care what happens in your tent. But if you can’t control your bloodlust then I will control it for you,” Lae’Zel rasped, her words a heavy threat.

“Now that I no longer need to hide and we all have an understanding, we will have a perfect accord.” Astarion sniffed. “I am here in the spirit of teamwork and understanding-”

“You say all the right things Astarion, but I don’t think you mean the right things.” Gale accused. Astarion glared back, uncowed. “But either way, Tav trusts you and I will respect that decision. Just promise us there’s no more secrets.”

“I have already told you everything you need to know about me,” Astarion smiled thinly. Gale sighed disapprovingly. “Very well. I suppose I can live with that.” The group dispersed uneasily, leaving Astarion alone to finish donning his armor. Astarion released a shuddering sigh, relief flooding through him. That had gone much better than he had expected. But although they weren’t going to kill him, he had been right: his companions would never actually accept a vampire. And rightfully so, he thought bitterly.

Shadowheart had been able to close her wounds and heal her neck, but she hadn’t been able to cure Tav’s dizziness. Apparently she knew the perfect spell, but wasn’t strong enough to cast it yet. Of course.

Tav had been keeping up so far, but she wasn’t acting quite like herself. Before she had been quick with a joke and a laugh, but today she was lagging behind. She lacked her usual air of conviction when she spoke. Yet although his eye lingered on her worryingly, Astarion couldn’t bring himself to regret last night’s unexpected tryst.

She had been incredible. Delectable, even. He had known conceptually that such pleasure was possible, he’d imagined it often, but he had never physically experienced anything like that before. And now its source slept 20 feet away, snug in its own bedroll. Would she let him taste her again? Tav had been understanding and supportive of him so far, but one could never be sure.

The thought of never having Tav again made him feel cold. He could content himself with less, he had done so for centuries. He’d keep himself warm with the memory of her. And her support had theoretically opened up a veritable buffet of other dining options for him. Surely someone else would be just as delicious. He didn’t need Tav.

His eye lingered on her as they moved deeper into the Emerald Grove. Tav really was beautiful, in her own way. Cazador had demanded that they bring him only the beautiful and the strong to dine on. It was said that beauty and strength made the blood richer to the taste. Astarion could recall several times when Cazador had rejected his victims for whatever fickle reason he could concoct. He had still drained them of course, but Astarion had been punished hideously each time.

“Are your standards truly so low? You think this is beautiful, you think this is worthy of me ?”

He wouldn’t reject Tav, Astarion thought. Cazador would have been delighted if Astarion had brought her home. His gut squirmed.

The druids were awful, tedious creatures. These petty squabbles had nothing to do with him and Astarion didn’t see the point in sticking his neck out for Tieflings who would be dead in a week anyway. Especially now that he could choose whether he stuck his neck out or not. But Tav cared. So they were off to find this Halsin character. Astarion rolled his eyes.

Tav needed to rest earlier than usual today. While they were resting, Astarion wandered down to the small, sandy coastline bordering the grove and plopped down onto a rock, slouching gracefully. He just needed a quiet moment to himself. But something clinked when he sat down. Astarion craned his neck to investigate and caught a flash of gold hidden beneath the rock. Carefully, he slipped his hand underneath the rock, fishing for the trinket. He extracted it delicately, holding it up to the light. It was an amulet, carved in the Oakfather’s likeness. As Astarion turned it over, he realized that it had been imbued with a spell, Lesser Restoration, which would cure the wearer from disease, poison, paralysis, or blindness. Astarion swiftly pocketed the treasure, hoping that no one had seen him. Finders keepers.

He returned to find his companions laughing. Wyll was in the middle of regaling them with some heroic exploit of his while Tav spasmed with laughter, her body curling in on itself. Karlach, who Astarion noticed was wearing new leather armor, egged him on. No doubt the armor had been bought by Tav with the gold they had all scavenged, which seemed unfair. Why should Karlach get fine new leathers while he was dressed in rags? He had mended his doublet countless times over the years, but it was still falling apart at the seams. They probably couldn’t tell, he thought bitterly. Astarion had taken enormous pains to hide his threadbare appearance and would be mortified if anyone saw through his embroidered facade, but it still stung that no one did. “Get over here, Fangs!” Karlach called. “You’ve GOT to hear this. Wyll, tell it again.”

“So there I was, surrounded on all sides-“ It was surprisingly a pretty funny story. Wyll had lived a full, interesting life in such a short amount of time. His ragged scars only accentuated his dashing charm and handsome face. Somehow Wyll could make a stone eye twinkle with warmth and sincerity. Despite his own alleged beauty, Astarion knew he could never compete with that. And Tav looked at him with such open fondness and admiration. He ran his thumb over the amulet in his pocket, soothed by the sharp edges.

When Wyll finished his tale, obviously victorious, Astarion said “Yes, well. I’m glad our Blade could sharpen himself on such a useful whetstone.” His words were nice enough, but his tone was sour and ambiguous. Wyll gave him a slight nod, as if he didn’t know what to make of Astarion’s almost compliment.

“Alright everyone, let’s keep moving. We can keep swapping stories while we walk.” Wonderful. He could regale them with all the inventive ways Cazador had enjoyed hurting him over the years.

Tav retired early that night. They had defeated the false paladins, but only just. Astarion had been at the top of his game: his movements were more graceful, his thrusts stronger and more precise. But Tav had fought badly. She had crumpled underneath the swing of a Divine Smite, which had hit her straight in the chest. Astarion had yanked her back up to her feet as fast as he could, but Tav never fully recovered after that. It was Wyll who dealt the killing blow, sending those charlatans back to the hells.

Tav limped all the way back to camp. Karlach had offered her arm, which Tav had taken, but once they arrived at camp Tav quickly disappeared into her tent. Tav had given him so much today, too much. He could never truly repay her, but maybe he could give her a present of his own. One that would keep her in peak condition should they dally again. He could feed on beasts for a time, but if he had the option there was no contest about what he’d choose. She’d been willing last night. Perhaps with the right persuasion, and the right protective amulet, she would be again. Astarion pulled the Amulet of Silvanus out of his pack and slipped it back into his pocket.

He strode as casually as he could to Tav’s tent and gave the canvas a few soft taps by way of greeting. “Come in,” came Tav’s groggy, exhausted voice. Astarion slipped silently inside.

“Darling, today was positively marvelous,” he began. Tav was curled up in her bedroll, already falling asleep. Tav rolled over to face him and Astarion laid down beside her, close enough to tease but not close enough to touch. “I’m glad it was good for one of us,” Tav said, rubbing the premature sleep from her eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

“This is the best I have felt in a long time.” Astarion regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. They were too true. “You gave me a wonderful gift today. I think it’s only fair that I give you a gift of your own.” He produced the amulet with a quick flick of his wrist. “It’s imbued with a spell that will make you feel so much better,” he purred. “May I?” Tav nodded. “Then sit up for me, my Sweet,” Astarion ordered softly.

As Tav sat up, Astarion gently maneuvered them so that he was sitting behind her, pulling her against his lap. He brushed aside her hair carefully, baring her neck to him. Despite Shadowheart’s healing, he could still see the faint imprint his fangs had left on her skin. He suppressed a possessive shudder. He settled the amulet gently against her throat, trailing his fingers along her collar bones, then her shoulders, then her neck, where he clasped the chain into place. Tav touched the amulet tentatively, using it as a conduit for the Weave. A soft blue light surrounded them and Tav felt her body surge with energy again.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You are more than welcome,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

“About you biting me,” Tav began.

“I hope this is a satisfactory apology,” Astarion countered. “What more could you possibly want.” His hands drifted down to her waist. “Unless?”

“You can bite me again, if you want,” she said, arching her neck. “If we talk about it first.” Astarion buried his face in her hair.

“I suppose that is a deeply reasonable compromise,” he murmured. “But I promise, no more bites in the night. I will wait very patiently until you invite me to dine with you.” He allowed his hand to slide across her abdomen.

“Will you dine with me tonight?” She asked.

Astarion audibly sighed. “I don’t know, darling. You just got your strength back. You should really rest.”

“I feel so much better, really,” Tav said. She gently clasped his hand in hers, slowly entwining their fingers. “Please, Astarion.” His fangs ached.

“Oh alright,” he said, sliding her backwards so that she sat fully in his lap. Astarion pressed his mouth against her ear. “But only because you beg so prettily,” he said lowly. Tav whimpered softly, but remained still. Then he bit her, hard and deep.

Tav was even more delicious the second time. She was rich and full-bodied, like the wine he must have loved in life. Now that he was merely ravenous and no longer on the brink of starvation, Astarion took smooth, consistent pulls from her, running his tongue over her throat after each bite. Tav melted against him, clutching his hand tightly. He wanted this to feel good for her. He wanted to be able to do this again.

“Astarion,” Tav moaned. He sucked harder against her neck, trying to bruise. She gasped and writhed against him, seeking out friction. Astarion finally allowed himself an experimental thrust, dragging his hard length along her backside. Tav gasped, delighted. They found a crude rhythm, instinctively grinding themselves against each other. Soon the tent was filled with the heady musk of arousal, the metallic tang of blood, Tav’s breathy gasps, and Astarion’s low, guttural groans of pleasure.

All too soon Tav’s heart began to stutter. It was a small murmur that interrupted her previously steady heartbeat. The dark animal inside of him told him to ignore it, to keep drinking until he was completely full. Astarion pulled away, swiping his tongue one last time over her, licking up any stray droplets he had missed. Once he was finished, Tav turned in his lap to face him, winding her arms around his neck.

For a moment they were both still. Tav’s eyes shone with lust and adoration, her breath coming in soft pants. Astarion’s neglected cock pulsed beneath her and he fought the urge to thrust up against her. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this warm, this desperate to be touched. He stared at her, trying to memorize every detail of her wanton expression. Tav pressed her lips against his hungrily and he opened his mouth to her with a soft moan. Tav’s tongue gently lapped at his own, sensuously licking up the remnants of her lifeblood. Astarion reluctantly broke the intoxicating kiss.

“I think it’s time you went to sleep, my dear,” Astarion said. Tav drew back, stung.

“Oh, um, alright.” She quickly slid off his lap and Astarion stood up, too quickly to be nonchalant. “Was that too-“

“Don’t worry, darling. You were perfect,” he said, brushing off non-existent dirt. “But you almost died today. And I need you in tip-top shape tomorrow.” Tav flushed with embarrassment, but nodded. “You are right,” she slowly agreed.

“I always am,” Astarion said. He moved to go, but turned back once he reached the exit to her tent. “Sweet dreams, pet. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left before she could respond.

Of course there would be a condition. Tav wouldn’t let him drink her blood for free. It was him. He was the price. She would let him drink from her, perhaps nightly, so long as he slid into her bed each time. On some level this felt inevitable. He had always known that he would end up here, tangled in the most powerful party member’s sheets. The tadpole had changed many things but it hadn’t changed what he fundamentally was.

She wanted him. He wanted her. This was a good thing, he’d been actively aiming for this. So what was the harm? His old master had forced him to spread his legs for rotten scraps. His new one would have him on his back in exchange for a feast. This was a good thing!

But Astarion didn’t want a master. He wanted to be free. He wanted….he didn’t know what he wanted. If this was the price then he didn’t think he could pay it after all. Don’t be an idiot, his inner voice mocked. This is the way the world works. Blood for blood. Do you want to go back to Cazador? Then suck it up. This is our one in a million chance to be free and I will not see you fuck it up because, what? The pretty girl wants to kiss you and it makes you feel weird? Would you rather be tortured to within an inch of your pathetic life?

And yet another voice inside of him insisted that this was not fair. Tav had been kind to him. He had fallen on her in the middle of the night and she had fed him. She had defended him publicly to the rest of their company. She had stopped when he had wanted to stop.

Because she wants to fuck you, you imbecile.

He’d talk to her tomorrow and clearly iron out the details of this little arrangement. It was better, actually, if he left her wanting more for a while. He didn’t want her growing bored with him. So long as she didn’t eject him from the group, he could live with anything Tav threw at him. He had survived Cazador. He would survive Tav.

Author's Note:

Astarion is going to have a lot of complicated and contradictory feelings about Tav until more trust is built. This will take time, but I promise we will get there.

Chapter 3: Kiss

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #the night shift #a taste of plums

94 notes · View notes

strugglingwriterwattpad · 1 month

Text

chocolate flowers sneak peek

Chapter one – a hatful of dreams

As the sun struggled to break through the fog, a chilly morning greeted the passengers of a 1940s trawler boat. The rhythmic sound of ocean waves and the distant tolling of a ship's bell filled the air. Emerging from the thick mist, the boat approached the new city's dock, its passengers eagerly awaiting their arrival. Amidst the scene, a peculiar figure stood out - donning a vibrant green waistcoat and a scarf bursting with colours. With curly brown hair and eyes that matched the waistcoat’s hues, this enigmatic individual climbed the mast, their presence illuminated by the sun's rays piercing through the fog and ship smoke.

“After seven years of life upon the ocean, It is time to bid the seven seas farewell. And the city I’ve pinned seven years of hopes on Lies just over the horizon. I can hear the harbour bell!” Emerging from the icy mist, a magnificent ancient metropolis caught his eye. A grin spread across his face, for he knew that his days as a sailor were numbered and his new life as a proud shopkeeper was about to begin. “Land ahoy!!”

With a firm grip on the rope, Willy descended to the icy deck, while his fellow sailors readied the boat for docking. Navigating through the bustling engine room, he collected his worn-out plum-coloured tailcoat and weathered wooden suitcase. “Got a tattered overcoat and battered suitcase! Got a pair of leaky boots upon my feet. Got to drag myself up by my one good bootlace! Gotta work my rotten socks off if I wanna make ends meet!” With a daring leap, he landed on a supply crate just as it was lifted from the ship's hold. The crate soared high above the dock, swaying gracefully in the air. “I've poured everything I've got into my chocolate. Now it's time to show the world my recipes.” The brunette received a small bag of coins from the captain, the metal creating a clanging sound as it landed in his icy, pale hand. “good luck Willy!” he hollered waving off Willy with a supportive grin. “I’ve got twelve silver sovereigns in my pocket. And a hatful of dreams!”

Willy gracefully leapt off the crate and onto the back of a truck as it passed by, embarking on his exciting journey into the city of his dreams. The landscape he passed was blanketed in a thick layer of ice and slush, a messy combination of cobblestone debris and melting snow. With a burst of energy, the ghostly boy jumped down from the vehicle, his hands gripping a frozen lamp post adorned with tattered flyers and posters. With a graceful twirl, Willy descended the gleaming metal pole and found himself in the awe-inspiring town square. “There’s a famous restaurant on every street here. There's Brandino's and the Bar Parisienne”

The bustling square was adorned with a majestic cathedral, its towering presence casting a shadow over the surrounding area. The harmonious melodies of the choir echoed through the air, filling the square with a symphony of enchanting notes, reminiscent of the sweet songs of songbirds. In the centre of the square, a frozen fountain stood still, its waters suspended in time, a testament to the frigid weather that had gripped the city. On the opposite side, a grand dome building beckoned him with its grandeur, a destination he knew he would eventually reach. However, he couldn't resist the allure of exploration that lingered in the air, enticing him to wander through the square a little longer before embarking on his intended journey.

“Restaurant map, sir?” A cheerful attendant at a cosy booth offered a map of restaurants to the gentleman in a brown top hat, who graciously thanked him with a silver coin. “thank you!”

“Got a little map to tell me where to eat here...” As Willy unravelled his map, he suddenly spotted someone right by his side. To his surprise, it was a shoeshine boy, and the brunette had unknowingly placed his foot on the boy's box. The boy, with a mischievous grin, demanded a sovereign while wiggling his fingers, as if he had just completed a remarkable shine on the chocolate maker’s boot.

“Had a dozen silver sovereigns, now I'm somehow down to ten!”

With excitement in his eyes, Willy made his way towards a vibrant produce stall. As he reached out, his hands embraced an astonishingly enormous pumpkin, bursting with both delectable taste and vibrant hues. “Want the finest produce? This is where they stock it!” Willy narrowly avoided being hit by a streetcar that honked loudly, causing him to drop the pumpkin in shock. “That's three sovereigns, mate” The pumpkin splattered all over his boots, undoing all the work the boy had just completed moments before. “Though the prices are suspiciously extreme!”

“You break my pumpkin; you pay for it.”

“I've got five, six, seven-“

The dreamer strolled past the shops on the street, but his attention was immediately drawn to a charming green cottage-style shop. His eyes widened as he watched a woman inside, working cheerfully in her colourful attire, leaving Willy breathless with admiration. The vibrant hues of her clothing perfectly complemented the lush greenery that adorned her store, resembling ornaments on a festive Christmas tree. She was wearing an off-white blouse with puff sleeves that peeked through her green corduroy pinafore. The seams of the dress were decorated with different flower embroidery similar to his own waistcoat patterns. Her hands, covered in gardening gloves instead of winter ones, bore the marks of soil on each finger, a testament to her love for nurturing plants. The woman appeared to be around his age, her skin plump and her eyes sparkling like shiny coins. She captivated the poor adventurer with her beauty, snapping him out of his trance as she waved goodbye to a customer and the shop door chimed closed.

As he counted his coins, the chocolatier spotted the Shoeshine Boy cleaning his boots once again and reluctantly handed over yet another sovereign. At least the pumpkin was off his boot this time. “...six silver sovereigns in my pocket And a hatful of dreams”

#fanfiction #fanfic #xreader #timothée chalamet x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #charlie and the chocolate factory #timothée chalamet #wonka movie #sneak peek

32 notes · View notes

tatterings · 2 months

Text

Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 11 - A Fertile Flower of Hope

AO3 LINK HERE

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Explicit for the full work, this chapter is E for everyone.

Tags/warnings: Mention of sexual slavery.

Word count: 8,000 (this chapter)

Header art by @solmesia.

Work below the cut as well!

As the door opened, a slender hand thrust into the room, accompanied soon after by a loud thunk onto the floor below - Astarion's drowcraft armor. The door opened wider, creaking on its iron hinges, permitting the entrance of Jaheira. She was an imposing force, a hero of Baldur’s Gate, and though Astarion was not one for hero worship (besides, perhaps, Drizzt Do’Urden), her sheer presence oozed ‘respect me’; even when she barged in rooms essentially unannounced.

The vampire slipped from Halsin’s arms and turned to face the High Harper, taking a moment to compose the sheepish expression he would hate for her to see. Though Jaheira was no young woman anymore, her vision was as sharp as a panther’s prowling on a hunt. When Astarion met her eyes, Jahiera's expression was mixed. Her silver eyebrow arched in suspicion but also playfulness, and her wrinkled hands were perched on her hips.

"When you both caused a scene a bit ago, this popped out of thin air, right onto the war table. I suppose it is yours?" She said in her thick accent, gesturing with a wave towards the armor. "Plenty of poisons and daggers. Astarion, you may be a man after my own heart," she said, chuckling to herself.

"That would indeed be mine," Astarion said, crossing his arms with a huff, feigning dissatisfaction in the high Harper's approval of his well-stocked weaponry he kept close at hand. "But rather rude of you to insist was our fault for causing the scene."

Jaheira merely smirked and shrugged, "It is all the same. Regardless, you may resume your…activities" her words trailed off as she waved her hand and waggled her fingers in their direction, before turning on her heel and closing the door. Astarion turned to face Halsin, the tips of his ears flushed, and both the men laughed quietly to themselves over the silliness of the intrusion, the shattering of the tension which had their nerves tied in knots after their run-in with Raphael.

Astarion huffed a sigh and picked up the armor gingerly to don it. He patted about his bracers and the chest piece, verifying all his hidden daggers were still there. Gods bless the Drow for making armor with so many wonderful hiding spots for knives and poisons and other handy little accouterments that never failed to give him the upper hand in battle. He felt better with his armor on. No one needed to see the carvings on his back, to perceive him laid bare, exposed. To know about any poems or curses, or how he wanted to feel the wide, hot press of Halsin's hand across his back.

He cleared his throat softly, looking up at the druid, whose expression was one so full of... something. Tenderness perhaps? Curiosity? Either way, the soft way that he gazed at Astarion was almost unsettling.

"Well. Shall we.. get on with it? Do whatever needs to be done to help the boy?" Astarion asked, tilting his head as he spoke, studying the large man beside him. No need to dwell on the outburst nor Raphael nor infernal carvings. There was work to be done, and bastards to hurt. He was in a vindictive mood, feeling as though he had been flayed by the cambion for the world to see.

Halsin nodded somberly, and opened the door, gesturing to Astarion to go forward first. Astarion appreciated that the druid rarely questioned him when he wanted to move on to another topic.

***

The day had been full already, between Raphael’s appearance and his brief respite in Halsin’s’s arms, and yet it was only mid-afternoon. But mid-afternoon in these cursed lands was just as dark as a starless midnight. The Selunite priestess Isobel had provided a blessing to them earlier, barring the need to carry a moon lantern or torches to navigate the endless shadows. Still, Astarion wished he'd brought one all the same. Not that he was unnerved by the dark, since darkened alleyways and dimly lit taverns were his only companions for 200 years. And this magical darkness, though it was much heavier than a moonless night, opaque and unseeable, even with his darkvision - wasn't as unnerving as the concept of Halsin truly comprehending, perceiving those scars that lay underneath the circular keloid-scarring on his back.

They were close to where Halsin had last seen flowers in the shadow lands, and although the curse seemed lighter here somehow, shadows still lurked in the edges of the vision. Different shadows lurked in the periphery of Astarion's mind. His mind replayed on a loop the memories of Halsin’s tenderness and care in their… intimacy - Astarion hesitated to call it lovemaking - and the druid’s protectiveness when he had been stripped bare by Raphael. Both times was as though Halsin had held a torch to the scarred, dark insides of Astarion. While it had brought him warmth and comfort at the time, recalling the inescapable vulnerability of the moments they shared made his muscles tense and his stomach coil tightly. Astarion longed for a torch for the simple fact that he would prefer something to hold and grip onto, without cutting crescent moons into the palms of his hands as he clenched them into fists.

Halsin now was fully aware of all his scars, now that he had seen the physical ones. The ever-observant druid had already detected, as if he could smell them, the deeper and arguably more inescapable ones in his mind that he himself hated to acknowledge. It nagged at the back of Astarion's mind, lingering like a headache that throbbed despite all the herbs and potions one could take. Would Halsin still want him, once his own problems are resolved, and the scars of the shadows are lifted from this land and the druid’s deliciously strong-beating heart? Would he still want to deal with Astarion's scars - no, his wounds, for they still hurt him on a level far beyond his skin - after completing his 100-year quest to cleanse the shadows?

Astarion was skeptical that the answer could possibly even be "yes". If it was, Halsin was the most noble of the biggest fools. The vampire was lost deep within his thoughts when the sound of a child's laughter ripped him from the fog of emotions. Although, as Astarion heard it again echoing in the distance, he realized it was almost like a child's laughter. It had something deeper in it, a mixture of the sharp grating of steel on steel and the wail of a rabbit being crushed by a predator’s jaws. But it was still a laugh, and it seemed to echo around them. Only after swiveling on his heel, dagger in hand to survey his surroundings did he notice a small tiefling boy, whose head popped up over the windowsill inside a decrepit house.

Astarion hadn't even noticed the house, so lost he had been in his thoughts, his eyes cast low watching the ground beneath him. But the dilapidated house was rather large for the area, despite falling apart. The only life, if it was truly alive, was the boy peeking out at them from the paneless window. The vampire drew up beside Halsin, who had frozen in his tracks, and nudged the druid slightly.

Halsin had seen the blonde-haired boy long before Astarion had. He was staring at him, his thick bushy brows furrowed deeply as if in discernment. His lips were pursed, the lines on either side of his mouth etched deeply with concern.

"That’s him. Like an echo of Thaniel, remolded by the curse," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. “We need him, if we’re to put a stop to all of this." His words were under his breath, unintelligible by the boy, who emerged from the doorway of the ruined shack.

Astarion couldn’t hide his shock, his scrunched nose and narrowed eyes once he got a better look at the boy. Though still a child, he had been twisted by the curse, from the tips of his curling horns to the blackened and gnarled claws at his toes. It was so tragic that Astarion nearly laughed. A child. A picture of innocence. There was no justice in this world, truly.

"Thaniel?" Astarion asked, looking mostly at Halsin, but jerking his head of silver curls towards the boy. He slipped the dagger back into his drowcraft bracer. Sadly, not all problems can be cured through stabbing, he was learning.

"My name is Oliver. Not Thaniel," pouted the boy, crossing his arms and stamping one foot. Either dust or shadow spiraled into the air with the motion - Astarion wasn't sure which. It unnerved him, as the motes swirled around the boy’s body.

"Okay, Oliver," said Halsin, crouching as he stepped closer, his palms low to the ground and open - as someone would approach a fearful dog in an alleyway. "I am Halsin. I'm a friend of Thaniel's, and I think Thaniel was your friend too. Would you like to see him again? Play with him again?" Astarion's ears perked up at the slight crack to Halsin's voice as he questioned the boy. His soft, warm voice had an uneasy edge to it. An undercurrent of pleading, begging, that was so unusual for the typically stoic druid.

The boy growled and balled his little hands into fists at his side, shadows swirling behind him. Astarion eyed him down the bridge of his nose as he looked on. Could spirits be manifest by his very will alone?

“No!," Oliver shouted, stamping his foot into the ashes again, "Why should I go back to him? He abandoned me! But here... I’ve made a family, and I can play all the time! Just leave me alone." His words were a jumble, so fast in his squeaky voice, echoed by a deep monstrous growl that seemed to come from the shadows behind him.

"What a temper this little brat has," Astarion muttered to himself, sneering at the child. He was dirty, looked full of mange, and frankly too far gone to help. He was thankful Halsin didn't hear him - or didn't act like he did, anyway, and that Halsin knew how to handle delicate situations and people with smokepowder bombs for hearts. The boy paid Astarion no mind, and glared daggers at the druid who inched ever closer. Halsin had drawn so very close to the boy, within an arm's length. He kneeled and leaned onto one knee to remain at eye-level with the child.

"Oliver, nobody is making you leave. This is your home. But it is dark, empty… lonely," Halsin's voice dropped an octave lower at the last word, and if Astarion wasn't mistaken, nearly seemed to break with emotion. The druid cleared his throat, and continued. "I know your pain, I truly do. Thaniel is my friend also. I played with him, and he was ripped away from me, same as for you."

The boy seemed intent on Halsin's words, his eyes' eerie glow flickering with emotion. It was a stark contrast against his pale skin as the boy’s face contorted in multiple different ways over the next few moments. He seemed hurt, then confused, if the vampire were any judge of body language, and the cloud of thick tension settled between them all seemed to lighten. Astarion was agog at how Halsin knew exactly what to say in what moment. It was inarguably impressive. The boy remained silent, watching Halsin like the cornered dog, unsure if the hand reaching out towards it would feed it or beat it. "But you need not be alone any longer," Halsin said, continuing with the same tender tone, a soft smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, "You need not invent friends. Thaniel is back, and is real. He is waiting for you."

Astarion stood silently, watching the boy. Waiting for his decision. He heard sniffles and little whimpers coming from the boy before Oliver finally peered up at Halsin, his glowing eyes brimmed with tears… and the faintest of smiles on his face.

"Fine, I’ll do it. it might be nice to be with him again," Oliver said, still with a hint of a pout. But now, his words lacked the echoed edge of the shadows. In fact, the whole boy lacked shadows overall, and had begun to glow a soft golden-green. And had also begun to levitate. His ruby eyes darted between the boy and Halsin, unsure of what to make of the scene, until Oliver disappeared in a dazzle of gold.

When Halsin turned to face Astarion, his smile was so bright, that the pale elf felt his expression alone might radiate enough joy to banish the shadow curse. The vampire tried to compose his face, to twist it from an expression of being completely perplexed, into one more neutral. Either way, Halsin didn't seem to notice; he was too busy nearly launching himself at Astarion. Both his large hands gripped onto the vampire's arms, gripping them firmly, giving them a little squeeze. Astarion couldn't help but grin back at the druid, whose smile was, quite frankly, contagious.

His grin was interrupted by the press of Halsin’s lips against his, and the pull of his body to Halsin’s bulk. Astarion kissed back tentatively, a bit confused but pleased nonetheless to be a recipient of Halsin’s affection despite the druid being so preoccupied by Thaniel and this boy recently. After a few exchanged breaths and gentle nibbles to Halsin’s lower lip, the druid pulled away and beamed down at Astarion.

"It's done at last," Halsin said, his voice ebullient with joy, "Soon the land will be unshrouded. With the oak father’s blessing, the shadow curse may soon be no more. Come, let us check on Thaniel and see how he fares."

Astarion was pulled into another bear hug, his face pressed to the cool leather of Halsin’s armor. He couldn't nod or shake his head in agreement or disapproval, with how tight of a hug Halsin had pulled him into. He was thankful that the thick muscle of the druid's chest and his armor obscured his lopsided grin.

******

Halsin was disappointed, but not surprised, that restoring Oliver and Thaniel together did not result in an immediate end to the Shadowcurse. Rarely in nature were things so easy to rectify; balance was something that was not easily attained, nor easily broken, nor easily restored.

As Thaniel had stirred, he had described to Halsin and the rest of the party how an anchor still held the shadows in place. Most of their excitement had faded when he revealed that the anchor itself was Ketheric Thorm. Nothing good comes easily, indeed, Halsin thought to himself bitterly. Even getting honey requires the risk of a few bee stings.

Still, he couldn't help but argue with the insistence of their group - starting with Karlach, echoed by Wyll and Gale, and later agreed to by Lae'zel and Shadowheart, that they should take the evening to celebrate Thaniel's recovery and the opportunity that is so tantalizingly close. Astarion, always one for luxury, had also immediately echoed the sentiment of deserving of a little treat.

Halsin couldn't disappoint the party with his nagging concerns; in the realm of shadows and fight against evil, every little victory should indeed be appreciated and celebrated. He'd offered to speak to Jaheira to get the Last Light Inn properly prepared for the celebration, and had left prior to any of the other adventurers. It was only a half-lie, because it would be prudent to inform the Harpers and others to expect their ragtag crew of adventurers. Being the bearer of good news was also always welcome, and he was sure that the Harpers would appreciate having a morale boost. But mostly, Halsin suspected that Jaheira could provide aid for some additional tasks he wanted to complete; he would also need solitude to do so.

***** Halsin's head jerked towards the entrance of the Inn as he heard jubilant chatter echo from outside. Karlach had arrived, he presumed, and was proven correct when she rushed into the inn with a cry of "Cold ale for all!", arm linked with Shadowheart. She had her tail wrapped around the wrist of a sheepish, blushing Wyll behind her. Lae'zel followed the three with an expression less severe and uninterested than typical. After her strode in Gale with his typical good-natured cheer, waving to Jaheira and the others. Astarion took up the rear, ending the party's entrance with less boisterousness and more subtlety. The adventurers had gotten the camp tidied up before joining Halsin; after several rounds of ale at the Inn, and a likely hangover, they wouldn't want to deal with it later, that was for certain.

Halsin had plenty of time for both of his side-tasks before nestling into the corner of the inn that appeared much like a library. One of his side-tasks had included acquiring a book regarding infernal pacts. Jaheira and her Harpers were clever and studious, and an old dusty book on just that topic was available for the druid to borrow. He hadn't intended to make a fuss of looking into the topic, but the choice was taken from him as soon as he felt Astarion lean over the armchair in which he had settled. The vampire's cool breath lingered on his cheek, and Halsin tilted his head gently to press his forehead against Astarion’s jaw. A slender finger came down on the tome and slowly slid across the lines as, Halsin assumed, Astarion read over his shoulder.

A scoff from the vampire ruffled his stray hairs, making them fall into his face. "Halsin, you’re not reading that on my behalf are you, darling?" Astarion said, nearly spitting his words as he’d shot upright after skimming only a few sentences. He placed his hand on his hip and sauntered over to sit in the unoccupied armchair beside Halsin, separated only by a tiny round table on which he placed a glass of wine. He arched an eyebrow at the druid, studying him down his nose.

Halsin shot him a crooked grin, shrugging his broad shoulders at the question. "No matter how long I live, I will always strive to remain a keen pupil. Only a fool would think he could absorb all knowledge of the world. There is always more, infinitely complex," he spoke with his hands, gesturing towards both the book and Astarion for his next words. "Additionally, it behooves us to prepare for the challenges ahead. Both yours and Wyll’s… Infernal dealings are one subject of which I have not studied deeply,” he admitted with another shrug. He had spent too much time trying to rectify his mistakes with the Shadowcurse to fuss with fiends in the hells below.

And he currently wanted to spend his time on a more worthwhile pursuit - chatting to Astarion. Halsin's fingers slid up the edge of the book and folded the page in half to mark his place. His hand jerked away as a small droplet of red wine landed on the page.

Astarion had sputtered in his wine cup and tried not to choke. Halsin's head tilted to the side as he watched the vampire's vexed expression. Though Astarion didn't need to breathe, this was the second time Halsin had somehow made him choke on his wine.

"Halsin, what in the hells are you doing?!" Astarion gasped, his voice shrill in shock. One slender hand was pulled to his chest, as though he were on the verge of heartbreak. "I was going to let it slip that you're insisting on doing research on my behalf, but I cannot abide by you defiling a book!" He clicked his tongue in disappointment, and reached towards the tome in Halsin's hands. The druid snapped the book shut and set it beside him on the armchair, chuckling to himself about Astarion's dismay for dog eared literature.

"Ahh a purist, are you Astarion?" he said, winking at the vampire, whose face flushed with a tinge much like the color of the wine he sipped again, glaring at Halsin over the rim of his cup. The druid just grinned wider, his crows feet deepening, and continued. "I must admit, books that show no shelf-wear are visually appealing, and the smell of new books is intoxicating…but do tomes bearing visible markings not intrigue you more than those unmarred by use?"

Astarion lowered his wine glass a bit, narrowing his eyes to study the druid, and seemed unsure of what Halsin was trying to get at. Or, Halsin figured, perhaps still offended by the dog eared page. "But think of it, Astarion, a dog-eared book means it has been well loved. What information did it share to their reader that was so valuable? What is the story contained within, and even is the story of the book itself? Just as a person's skin bears sun spots and scars, books marked by their readers have fascinating stories to tell,” Halsin explain.

Astarion had perched on the edge of his seat, leaning heavily on the armrest with his chin in his hand. He had sat quietly during his monologue, one silver eyebrow arched up to his coiffed curls. He had even taken another sip of wine to keep his sharp tongue busy on something other than a retort, Halsin assumed. The beautiful elf was always quick with a witty remark; his intellect was something Halsin greatly admired. The vampire set his wine glass back down and brushed at his trousers, flicking away at imperceptible dust that Halsin didn't see at all.

"Well," Astarion started, his words heavy with his unmistakable pouty tone, "you always have a wise response to excuse your habits." Astarion crossed his arms, tapping his fingertips on his biceps, watching carefully as Halsin picked the book up and opened it back to the page. "Still, I knew you had plenty of faults, Halsin," he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, "your stubbornness. Your bleeding heart. But mutilating the books?”

The shadow of a grin crossed Astarion's face; his words were heavier with tease than the threat of a tantrum. It was endearing, and it made Halsin's heart soar to see some playful banter come from the vampire, who just recently had been so distraught after the run-in with Raphael.

Halsin ached to make the playfulness last. He licked his finger agonizingly slowly, and flicked the book to the next page, dog-earing that page as well. He grinned wickedly and watched the vampire from the corner of his eye - blood was rising to his face, but clearly not out of anger. This side of Astarion - the baffled, caught-off-guard side - was delightful, and Halsin enjoyed finding it. The sound of his calloused finger on the book’s rough parchment was accompanied by an overly dramatic harrumph from the pale elf.

"Well, did you find anything out, at least, in your tome-torture?” Astarion said, with very little venom, but his eyes glittering with curiosity. He brought his wine to his lips again and drained the glass.

It was Halsin's turn to sigh, and he snapped the book shut again, laying it flat on his lap. "Very little, unfortunately," he admitted, angling his broad body to face Astarion better. He shook his head, his auburn braids falling in front of his shoulders, whispering across his collarbone. He noticed how Astarion's eyes constantly shifted, exploring his body, his surroundings. They darted back up as Halsin continued to speak. "I wish there were more information on the topic, but devils aren’t in the habit of bestowing insight into their trickery."

Astarion scoffed again, and waved his hand as if dismissing the idea. "Of course not," he said, his eyes rolling once before settling back on Halsin's face. The vampire, too, had angled his body in the armchair and had leaned forward on the armrest, his hands dangling over the small table between them. One hand fidgeted with the empty wine glass, a long nail clicking as it flicked back and forth over the rim. The vampire had many nervous tics, small things he did when deep in thought, or when anxious. This particular moment seemed to be full more of anxiety than his own mulling, but Halsin didn't feel it appropriate to disturb Astarion's thoughts. The vampire finally spoke again, after a moment of silence which hung heavy between them.

"I appreciate you. Looking into this, I mean," Astarion said quietly, raising his eyes to Halsin's and peering at him through pale eyelashes. "It's a cruel irony, you know. Having been given my freedom by a parasite, given hope that it might not turn me into a monster… and then to learn that my mas-... Cazador might have etched something even more nefarious into my very body. And the only way to learn more about it is to work with a literal devil." His voice was soft, low, and almost seemed to break at times. It lacked any of his ebullience or drama that he so liked to sprinkle into his speech.

Halsin sat patiently, nodding while listening, studying Astarion's expression. It pained him to see how pained Astarion was as he described his exhilaration of freedom that so soon fell to agony, then hope, then complete uncertainty. And how his former master still haunted him. Halsin frowned, his lips pursing tightly together. Of course Cazador plagued the vampire’s mind. It had only been a handful of tendays since he had broken free from his imprisonment. Halsin swallowed at the thought, choking down his own anger at the inhumane cruelty of slavery which Astarion, and many others, have had to bear.

“Though it is distasteful to deal with fiends…finding out more is an opportunity that you must pursue," Halsin replied, his kind hazel-green eyes meeting Astarion's. He reached out, slowly, and curled his hand under the vampire's, encircling it and rubbing his thumb softly over the top of Astarion's hand. He cleared his throat, steeling himself for a level of vulnerability and honesty that he had not shared with anyone in over a century. “I too have had the unfortunate experience of being at the mercy of someone else.”

'Unfortunate experience' was a misnomer, Halsin knew deep down, because merely recalling his imprisonment made his stomach lurch. And yet he had told himself it was a youthful misadventure for decades upon decades to avoid deeper reflection. Until discovering so many parallels between his past and Astarion's. His thick brows knit together as he pondered on how to explain the whole escapade. Lost in his thoughts, he was unable to see how Astarion's eyes had widened, his brows raised. Unable to realize that the pale elf's cool grip on his palm suddenly tightened, fingertips pressing firmly on his hand.

Halsin nodded a few times as he allowed himself to creep into the deep recesses of his memory. He hardly noticed how he had inhaled and held his breath to steel himself against the memories themselves until he began to speak.

"I was a foolhardy young druid at the time, intent on seeing the beauty of the Underdark's otherworldly fauna and subterranean glow for myself. The botanical illustrations truly did not do them justice, I’ll admit,” he smiled softly at Astarion, recalling one of the only positives about the journey. He cleared his throat to push down the lump he felt forming there. “In my explorations, I had wandered too close to one of the larger Drow cities and…" his voice trailed off, but his mouth was slightly open as he looked for the best way to phrase the predicament he was in for years. "I found myself in the position somewhere between a guest, a prisoner, and a consort of a noble drow house for a time. The house matron took an interest in me and the patron also. They saw me as a…novelty."

Astarion's eyes narrowed at Halsin's expression and words. "Rarely do the drow have guests, darling. Do you care to explain further?" His words were minced, as sharp as the daggers he hid in his drow-crafted armor. The air between the two was palpably heavy, as Astarion seemed to pick apart Halsin’s words with surgeon-like precision, digging deeper into the meaning behind them.

The druid's throat bobbed as he swallowed, thinking of how to phrase it most carefully. It had been a trying time, for him, as a youngster. Once in which he feared for his very life. It was perhaps the most dangerous and unpredictable few years he'd ever experienced, and yet, he realized, he'd been shoving it to the back of his mind and classifying himself as a 'guest'. He realized how his jaw had begun to ache, so intense was his frown.

"I was chained in their bedchamber for nigh on three years," Halsin explained, his eyes darting away from Astarion's briefly, before meeting again for his next words. "During that time, I did what was necessary to survive." The vampire's eyes widened, his porcelain brow cracking as his expression twisted into something like pity, if Halsin had to place the emotion. He nodded to himself as he recalled the memories, the sights of his time trapped in the stalagmite prison of the drow matron.

"The preserved skins of surface elves hang on the walls of noble Menzoberranzan homes for display as trophies. I did not intend to add a bear skin to their collection," Halsin said, shrugging as if the weight of the memories was on his shoulders, as if they did not burden him. He liked to think they did not; they didn't affect his current day-to-day existence, so the experience must not have been too bad, he had told himself for over a century. Certainly they did not haunt him as severely as the shadow curse.

"So you were a slave," Astarion said, his expression unchanged, "used for their perverse pleasures." The pale elf sat so rigidly he could have been made of stone. With how cool his hand was, Halsin could have believed he was indeed carved out of alabaster.

"I… cannot argue against that. For two centuries I've thought of it rarely, whether that was intentional or not," Halsin said, his lips thinning in another frown. "I feared for my life and, lacking freedom, I was indeed enslaved to my masters." His voice was softer at the end, lighter, as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

The pale elf's expression softened, his brows knitting upwards in what Halsin assumed was curiosity. "However did you manage to escape Menzoberranzan? Let alone find your way from the Underdark?" Astarion asked, his voice lacking its usual teasing or sarcastic tone. He seemed genuinely intrigued, leaning towards Halsin further. He seemed enraptured by Halsin's story, unaware of how his nails pressed into Halsin's large hand. The druid didn't mind, and gently squeezed back.

"Patience, mostly. Biding my time. My moment eventually came, when some rivals of my hosts sought to unseat them. In the midst of the fighting was pure chaos, and in that moment I took my chance," Halsin looked at Astarion, his expression more severe and serious than the vampire's, for once. "I never looked back until I breathed fresh air again…and I never learned what became of my masters." His large shoulders lifted and dropped again.

Astarion hadn't seen his shrug most likely, as the vampire's eyes were downcast, darting back and forth, as though he were formulating a conversation in his head. Or perhaps simply deep in thought. Either way, Halsin sat patiently waiting for his reply. No need to rush. Nor was there awkward silence, as the background noise of clinking glasses and happy chatter filled the inn - at least most of it, save for their quieter corner. Karlach had made a bet and was armwrestling someone, Halsin overheard. As well as the unmistakable voice of Gale, so generously sharing his endless knowledge and stories. Finally, Astarion raised his head to look at Halsin.

"You had family, though. And no one.. ever came to look for you?" Astarion asked. Halsin was surprised by the humanity in his tone, his concern. He sighed softly and offered a weak half-grin for the vampire.

"The Underdark is a vast network of caverns, so it would have been almost impossible to track me. And exceedingly dangerous," he explained. It had hurt, though, the years he was down there, knowing that no one was likely coming to his rescue. The pain resurged slightly, causing Halsin's stomach to flip and his skin to become hot. He shifted in his armchair uncomfortably. "This was also well before the Grove became my family. I've long had the tendency to roam and travel, instead of settling down. So as far as anyone knew…I was simply traveling."

Astarion shook his head, as if in disbelief, his beautiful brow wrinkled in dissatisfaction. "A pity," he said, squeezing Halsin's hand before pulling his own free of the druid's grasp. "But I am glad that you escaped. And to have met you." Halsin's heart leapt at the admittance, at the slight tinge of Astarion's ears and cheeks turning red, before the vampire realized what he had said, that he had let his mask slip.

"I certainly would hate having missed the opportunity to try bear blood," Astarion said, his voice full of that false mirth. His high pitched giggle filled their little nook off the main part of the inn. He winked at the druid. Halsin chuckled to himself and grinned, shaking his head slightly. He wouldn't push the matter further; Astarion's deflection queued the end of the conversation.

Or that topic, at least.

**************

Astarion was still stunned at Halsin's revelation of his sexual slavery; and appreciative that the druid knew when to keep quiet and leave him to his pensive moods. He struggled with the idea of Halsin under the thrall of anyone, let alone a diminutive Drow matron. As soon as Halsin shared his experience, Astarion's mind had run amok, conjuring the image of the large druid bound and tethered against his will… it made a knot tangle in his stomach. Astarion disliked both the knot and the fact that it had formed so quickly. Loathed how quickly his mind could so easily launch into a thousand scenarios of bound hands, sharp knives, and blood-stained floors. He hadn't realized he'd been staring into the distance for quite some time until Halsin spoke his name, and he had to blink rapidly to get his vision to refocus.

"Astarion, are you alright?" Halsin asked, tapping his forearm lightly with his thick fingers, resting his heavy hand on Astarion's delicate wrist.

As though by instinct, Astarion's other hand flipped in the air, as if batting away Halsin's concerns. "Of course, darling. Just the wine you know," he lied. Wine tasted of vinegar to him, and largely left him unaffected by intoxicating effects. "Although everyone else is rather…exuberant."

Karlach was a doll, but gods could she be loud. Lae'zel of course, besides her blasted sword sharpening, wasn't obnoxious. Gale being endlessly verbose coincided with Wyll's chatterbox nature. Only Shadowheart knew when to keep her mouth shut, besides Halsin. The inn was full to bursting with songs and laughter.

It was rather annoying, and made brooding even more difficult. Yes, of course, they'd rescued the boy, there was hope for a cure of the tadpole… for the others, at least. Astarion's jaw clenched thinking of what could happen if the tadpole was removed. Would Cazador so quickly take power back over him? He had to get answers about those wretched scars before that could happen.

His thoughts were interrupted - again - by Halsin, this time by a gentle squeeze. "Would you like to go somewhere quieter, Astarion?" Halsin asked, his voice as gentle and reassuring as it had always been.

Ah, quieter, of course, Astarion thought to himself.

Halsin's expression darkened slightly and he shook his head. "Seduction is not my intention this evening, Astarion. Truly, I thought that you might appreciate someplace different to rest for the evening other than a camp bedroll."

Astarion hadn't realized his expression had changed enough for Halsin to notice. The vampire tried to reset his face to neutral; that mask of seduction melted like snow from sun-warmed stone. Old habits, dying hard, etcetera etcetera. He would like to have some place to repose in peace, though he enjoyed wanton parties as much as any good deviant. Still, some place better than his threadbare blanket - not to mention sharing more time with Halsin, was an opportunity Astarion couldn't pass.

He nodded and stood, stretching his arms overhead as he unfolded himself from the armchair. Halsin offered his arm Astarion's way, and nodded his head toward the room to which they'd retreated after Raphael's literal dressing-down.

"Such a gentleman," Astarion purred as he slipped his hand into the crook of Halsin's arm. He couldn't resist gripping the druid's thick forearm muscle in a squeeze before relaxing his hand. Halsin's body heat, his strength… the memory of how he had been at Astarion’s request - no, the command - and so obediently followed the vampire’s lead to their mutual ecstasy… it sent a shiver down Astarion's spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise.

Halsin seemed not to notice as he waved a 'goodnight' to the rest of their companions, leading Astarion to the room he must have reserved when he had come earlier to Last Light, prior to anyone else's arrival. Though it was the same one they'd been in just a bit earlier, Astarion felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. Perhaps that truly was the case; he had been in distress the first time they'd been here after all, and sight-seeing hadn't been his priority. He raised his chin, surveying the room with curiosity and pleasure. Two clicks behind him signaled that Halsin had closed and locked the door.

"Well now, this is more like it! It’s quite a fine guest suite after all, even in the middle of a wasteland," Astarion chirped, loosening his hand's tether to Halsin and roaming about the room. He appreciated the thick fur and hide rugs that cushioned his footsteps as he took measure of his surroundings. His fingertips danced on fine antique wooden furniture - possibly as old as he was - that was clean and aged with a nice finish. A sideboard was laden heavily with candles, all lit and making the room smell faintly of honey. The side tables of the room also had candles, as well as a carafe of water and two goblets. The bed seemed plush enough, with pillows both decorative and functional at its head.

Astarion chose to settle himself at the head of the bed, kicking his boots off onto the floor, and shrugging off his armor. "So darling, what possessed you to reserve this room, hmm, if not for more of what we enjoyed the other night?" he asked, one slender eyebrow arched. Atop the copious pillows, Astarion reclined in the easy manner he had practiced over centuries.

Halsin's genial chuckle brought warmth to Astarion's cold chest as he settled beside the vampire, slipping off his own sandals and sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I've no ulterior motives, Astarion, and have been fully transparent with you," he said, his tone and grin as affable as always. "I thought it may be a fitting way to show my appreciation for you, and all you've done for me. For Thaniel. For the good of this land and the nature within it." He leaned forward and placed his large palm on Astarion's thigh, and raised one of the pale elf’s hands to his lips. Halsin pressed a gentle kiss atop his fingers, then settled his hand back down.

A shiver ran down his back again, and Astarion wiggled his shoulders further into the goose down pillows to will it away. "That's… very kind of you, Halsin," Astarion offered, brows rising in surprise, a slight flush growing at his cheeks. "It is rather nice to lie on an actual bed instead of the ground. I'd dare say we deserve a bit of comfort after all of our efforts."

The crow's feet at Halsin's eyes crinkled with his grin. "I thought you might. Comfort doesn't come naturally for me," he said, his voice a bit lower, softer. His hand traced along the surface of the soft linen quilt below him. "I am restless, and roaming. Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen. I live for the wilderness." A large shrug of his shoulders blocked the candlelight from his side of the bed, then revealed it again, outlining the druid in an orangey golden halo.

Astarion couldn't resist snickering and rolling his eyes. "Oh I'm well aware darling; if you had it your way, we'd be lying naked in a field somewhere, gazing at the stars." He gestured with his hand at the ceiling, though he could only keep his eyes on the druid. How handsome he was, how striking. How full of delicious depth. His soft nature despite his inner beast. His wrinkles from age and experience. His hand on Astarion's thigh, calloused from hard work. He indeed was not made for creature comforts.

Halsin grinned and inclined his head towards Astarion, leaning in close and peering at the vampire through his dark eyelashes. "You read my mind, Astarion. But I thought of an adequate compromise for each of our comforts," he explained. Astarion's head tilted as he studied Halsin's face. "Could you humor me, dearheart, and close your eyes?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Do you have some sort of lewd trick coming my way?"

"Not at all, Astarion. Just a surprise, on my honor." He squeezed the vampire's thigh softly and rose to stand beside the bed.

Astarion harrumphed and crossed his arms, wiggling further onto the pillows and crossing his long slender legs. "If you insist," he drawled, tapping his fingertips on his arms. "I do hate surprises. But I suppose I can grant that much at least." He closed his eyes and the fine linens, the candlelight, the large druid, all disappeared behind his eyelids. His sensitive hearing picked up the soft padding of Halsin's feet along the floorboards and rugs.

For once, Astarion didn't want to break the silence with his own voice, for that would prevent him from picking up hints of what the surprise was based on the small sounds of Halsin's movements. The sound of blowing; he was snuffing the candles. The click of the lock on the door. And, oddly, the soft hum of a spell of some sort being cast. It was almost painful, the ache to open his eyes and see what on earth the druid was doing. His curiosity was never sated; and yet, he ached just as badly to please Halsin by humoring his desire for this surprise, whatever it was.

He heard Halsin pacing back towards him, the soft exhale of breaths as he slid onto the bed beside Astarion. He felt the larger elf's arm slide behind his lower back, Halsin’s warm hand wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, pressing him to his side. Astarion flushed again, wriggling slightly to nestle into the crook of Halsin's arm.

"Well? Are you quite finished?" Astarion asked, his patience wearing thin, but his curiosity growing.

He felt a soundless chuckle rumble in Halsin's chest. "Thank you for your trust, dearheart," he said. Astarion noticed he didn't mention patience. "You may open your eyes now."

As soon as Astarion opened his eyes, his mouth dropped open as well. How had he not noticed? Had he been too preoccupied with the allure of an actual bed to bother to look at the ceiling? Or was it that Halsin had used some sort of druid magic to mask their presence? Astarion wasn't sure, nor could his thoughts linger on the confusion he felt as his eyes roamed the ceiling, his fangs glinting in the reflected light from above.

All along the ceiling glimmered hundreds of tiny stars; each no bigger than a gold piece. They shone like gold, too, just as the sun glinted upon coins cast into a water fountain in a Baldurian street square. They twinkled and pulsed with magic, creating a dazzling starscape above him. It mirrored beautifully the stars in the night sky that he hadn't seen in the entire time they'd been in the Shadowcursed lands.

His mouth was dry from hanging open; Astarion licked his lips and swallowed, his hand crawling towards Halsin, grasping his tunic in wonder. He felt Halsin's warm hand lay atop his, a soothing weight grounding him despite feeling as though his head swam in the stars above. Halsin had to have prepared this when he came to the Inn earlier. And also planned the candles, the timing… the minor cantrip of 'daylight' that he must have cast on each individual star. Astarion squinted, his night vision finally adjusted to the dimmer light. Each star appeared to be wooden; they had been whittled. By hand - by Halsin.

“What…what is all this for, Halsin?" Astarion asked, his eyes fixed on the wonders above, "How long did it take you to carve…?" He felt himself being pulled closer to Halsin, their torsos pressed together, Halsin's strong arms encircling him, sending goosepimples all down his body and a warmth in his chest and belly.

He couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips as he felt the press of Halsin’s soft lips against his forehead, and how they were curled into a smile. "I've been working on it for quite some time… despite only mentioning it recently," Halsin said, his contentment warm and solid, radiating from his deep voice. "Even if we cannot admire the night sky in these lands…I wanted to lie with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

Astarion felt as though his heart had started beating, with how fiercely his chest tightened as he realized that though he had never even considered it, he wanted that too. He wriggled his body against Halsin's, aching to be closer. "This… is nice," he said. And he meant it.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #halstarion #bg3 astarion #halsin x astarion #astarion x halsin #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #halsin/astarion #bloodbear #blood and honey #bloodhoney #oakblood #ursaminor #ursa minor

52 notes · View notes

prime-adeptus · 8 months

Text

LOST AND FOUND – ZHONGLI X READER

The lost star finds its place in the cosmos once more.

CONTENT.⠀Gender-neutral reader. Zhongli is referred to with they/them pronouns. Not canon compliant, light angst and hurt/comfort, reunions, god & devoted follower, religious themes, somewhat ambiguous relationships, introspective. 1,6k words

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

The life you’ve chosen for yourself after centuries of activity is one of solitude.

For hundreds of years, you’ve travelled around Teyvat, witnessed the joys and hubris of humankind, and returned home to document endless pages of history. The people of Liyue once worshipped you as a god; offerings would be made at your shrine in abundance, and those lucky enough would get to see your splendour in person. You were loved and respected, loved enough to be made into art and poetry admired by thousands.

But as years go by, some parts of history go forgotten and decay with time, including you.

The shrine at the front of your temple has become unkempt, covered in vines and overgrown moss. The lampposts on either side of the broken cobblestone steps have become weathered, splintered and on the verge of crumbling. A traveller would believe this is nothing more than an abandoned temple, just an example of ancient architecture one could paint a beautiful picture of and sell. You’ve grown protective of your temple since you found refuge in it from a terrible storm when you were but a youngling. Perhaps you’re more attached to it for the sentimental value than you are for anything else, but it’s your home, and you’ll stay here until the end of your days whenever that may be.

The plum blossom trees are in full bloom, adding colour to what would otherwise be a dull and faded environment. Some of its petals have fallen to the grass and the river, languidly drifting by with the motions of the wind and the water. Cranes and deer have also found their homes in the surrounding forests. They’re the only company you get these days, but even so, you don’t see them quite often. Perhaps it’s yourself and the air around you that scares them off. With a quiet sigh, you don your hooded cloak (more for warmth than for a disguise, you think bitterly) and make your way down the steps, heading toward the festivities of Liyue Harbour.

The hustle and bustle of the city never fails to bring a smile to your face. Nostalgia crashes over you in waves, sinking into your bones down to their marrows as you reminisce about the days of the past. You’d walk a few steps behind your god, weapon tightly clutched in your hand as they effortlessly fit in with the people like a puzzle piece. A guard dog was what you were in your previous life, and in this one, you are nothing more than a forgotten memory. Duty no longer makes itself necessary in your being; you find yourself lost and aimless more than anything else.

Still, you breathe and you live.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more disconnected than you do now walking among the joyful crowd. The bright lanterns and colourful ornaments decorating the stalls and pillars should fill you with at least a semblance of excitement, but instead, you find yourself shrouded in gloom. You’re not sure what they’re celebrating tonight — the Lantern Rite has already passed, so you assume it might be a new holiday you’re unaware of. You hear the harmonious sound of the strings, the hypnotic winds of the flute surrounding you in its warmth. It reminds you of your youth when you’d dance and smile hand-in-hand with a loved one, radiating happiness and innocence in the air. You wonder if you could ever find yourself in that state of bliss again even if you’ve been withering away like a flower without rain.

After what feels like a tumultuous journey, you finally make it to the docks where the festivities don’t reach. It’s cold and quiet, not that different from your home, but from here you feel less isolated. There’s a small sense of comfort from knowing that people are living their lives if you’d just turn around and go back to where the merriment takes place. Up in the mountains, all you have is the home mother nature granted you—it’s all you could ever ask for, but it’s not much if the only one who gets to see and stay is you. When you look in the sky, you find the moon and her companions of stars shimmering and shining bright in the dark. You’d recognise a constellation or two if you gaze long enough, and maybe if fate sees fit, it’ll send a shooting star that you can wish upon.

The lull into peace doesn’t last long, for a sudden shift in the air sends a shiver running down your spine. You can almost feel your heart in your throat as it races and threatens to break free from its cage. Something you haven’t felt in a long time thrums in your veins: a combination of fear, devotion, intense love, and everything in between, one that’s only felt when you’re in the presence ofyour god, the only one you’d go to hell and back for.

(And you have, because they reward your loyalty with their praise and protection, their acknowledgement. Back in their prime, you’d battle side-by-side with the yaksha following suit. Your god smiling at your victory is the biggest honour you could ever receive.)

Someone calls your name. Not the aliases you used to go by, not the titles you once had, but the name of a promise you made a very long time ago—the name that only they would know.

Memories spanning centuries come rushing back to you then, seeking shelter in the back of your mind and begging you to remember. To remember watching Liyue be built from the ground up, immortalising their legacy for the years to come. To remember the feeling of their calloused hands caressing your skin with the gentleness that someone so bloodthirsty shouldn’t have. To remember the pride in their tone as they spoke of you to the other archons and adepti.

They call your name again. When you come to, Rex Lapis stands before you with a small smile on their features — a sight you never realised you missed so terribly. You scramble to your feet, ready to kneel the same way you used to do with them, but they stop you with a hand on your shoulder. They sit down beside you on the edge of the pier, a soft huff leaving their lips. It seems as though they’re just as relieved to see you as you are to see them.

(They know you, they remember you, and that alone nearly brings you to tears.)

Rex Lapis looks different from what you remember. The black and gold markings on their arms, the horns hidden in their hair, and the scales adorning their skin are long gone; they’ve chosen to appear as human this time, wearing an ornate coat on top of a suit fitting their frame perfectly. Yet at the same time, they haven’t changed at all. They’re still the very same being you swore your life to. You part your lips to speak, but seeing them again after such a long time has rendered you speechless.

“You’re still so serious after all this time.” Their words are tinged with mirth as they speak to you. A wave of self-consciousness rises over you at how weak you must seem to them now. “It’s been many years since I last saw you.”

You swallow your nervousness down. There’s no use fretting over things anymore—you’ve lived long enough to know what matters and what doesn’t. Still, you can’t quite process the fact that they’re here in the flesh and talking to you.

“You remember,” you whisper. You hate how much it feels like you’re about to cry. “You remember me.”

“I do.”

“It’s been so long.”

“That it has.” Their amber gaze meets your own. You’ll always find yourself lost in them, you think briefly. Their eyes are fierce, sharp and commanding; they don’t need to lift a finger to get you to kneel for them. You’ll obey until the end of time. “But we’ve spent much of our lifetime and shared many of our memories together. You are not someone I’d dare to forget.”

You wonder if they’re aware of the effect they have on you. If they know how weak and vulnerable they have you with just one sentence—you are not someone I’d dare to forget. You think you want to pledge yourself to them once more, make another lifelong promise, but what else can you give them aside from your company and strength? There is no longer a need to fight. There is no more blood to spill. You are no longer a god and there is no need to act like one.

Maybe the reason for your devotion to them goes beyond an adeptus following their archon. It goes beyond the need to protect. Maybe it’s for something you never thought you’d ever feel: love. Pure and unconditional love, stronger than any force to ever exist, all for your beloved god.

“It’s an honour to be here with you again, Rex Lapis.”

“Zhongli,” they correct.

You repeat it, and you like the way it rolls off your tongue, so you say it again. Zhongli. It suits them. It’s a name you’d say with nothing else but affection and respect. It’s a name that will burrow itself in your system, making it all you’ll ever know every time you think of love.

Their gloved hand rests on top of yours. It’s warm and it fits perfectly like it’s where it’s meant to be. Zhongli smiles at you and the gesture feels unfamiliar, but you find yourself returning it. Tonight you may return home alone, but for the first time in what feels like an eternity, your life doesn’t feel so dull anymore.

(In the sky, the stars inch closer to the moon.)

#bitchcraftinc #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #vvv self-indulgent #selfship coded too sorry LOL #all

68 notes · View notes

wintermelonbear · 4 months

Text

Just Another Picture to Burn

Summary: Just a cute little friendship between Jon, Damian, and Marinette. Can be read platonically or with some romantic inclination. Just two friends who want the best for each other and will celebrate each other’s milestones

Sidenote: I haven’t written anything in years, but dragged my butt to write this for the MGI civil war so proceed with caution.

Sharp green eyes open up to the world moments before the buzz of a phone alarm signals the need to get up. Out of an abundance of caution stemming from his tumultuous upbringing the young teen scans the room for any signs of an intruder, most days this is a fruitless endeavor, but Damian could never find himself to drop this habit. He notes an envelope on his desk and reaches for the compressed bo staff under his pillow. As he approached the desk the only sound that could be heard was the light creak of the manor’s floorboards and low mumblings coming from the kitchen. A sigh of relief breaks this silence as Damian recognizes the gentle script sprawled across the front of the pale pink envelope spelling out “To Dami”.

Cautiously he flips the envelope checking for signs of tampering. While the sentiment is nice, the choice to send a handwritten letter rather than a text was out of left field from his companion. He notes with a slight grin that she had used the wax seal he gifted her after the defeat of Hawkmoth. Sliding a batarang out from the underside of his desk he slices open the top of the envelope to reveal a piece of thick cardstock. At this Damian’s brow moves into a sharp arch, what could have been so important, yet so minimal that she had to portal over to his place in the middle of the night. Pulling out a piece of pristine white paper, he reads, "You, me & Jon. 7 pm CET. I already checked with your dad, so no excuses. Love, Mari”

Picking up his phone –the latest from Wayne Tech– he taps out a message to his top contact, “Spotted Menace”. A bright blue message populates the screen reading out, “An invite? To what exactly?” For emphasis, he adds in a raised eyebrow emoji then after some contemplation adds in a thinking emoji. Following that text, he quickly snaps a picture of the note to Marinette to confirm he received her letter before preparing for the day.

Before leaving his room he picks up the envelope again, this time to admire her handiwork instead of ascertaining its threat level. Turning to the back of the envelope his chest puffs out a bit as he dons a victorious smile he takes in his handiwork. She had used the wax seal stamp he had gifted her on her 16th birthday. He hand-carved the image of a ladybug resting on a branch of plum blossoms, to signify her new beginning as a hero by choice and not by necessity after the defeat of Hawkmoth.

As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat of his sleek sedan he mused that 12-year-old Damian would be utterly baffled by the person he is today –apart from being the stronger member of the new generation of heroes, that has always been a given (Somewhere Jon is rolling his eyes). Honestly, when Damian first met Marinette he found her pathetic. She was just a worthless little girl who was gifted powers beyond her capability to wield, and he never hid his disdain for her. Thus, to young pre-teen Marinette the youngest Robin was just a massive dickhead who had no feelings apart from his superiority complex. He was an embodiment of torment; the worst parts of Felix and Chloe combined. Not to say that Damian is perfect now, but at the time he lacked the perspective he gained from his travels to and return from Lazarus Island. Now he has spent more time learning from others’ experiences, has gone through his first heartbreak after Flatline decided that time spent with him was distracting her from her personal goals, and all of that has taught him to care and have some level of empathy. He may not be like Marinette and Jon, ready to do what is right solely because they blindly believe in the goodness of others, but he understands that even if he may not find value in someone, that does not mean their life is worthless.

The first time Robin acknowledged that despite Ladybug’s lack of technical combat skills, she had plenty of other skills that other heroes would be envious of, Nightwing attempted to give him a “bear hug” and Superboy nearly fell from the sky. What Robin to this day doesn’t know about that night is that his comm was connected to Ladybug’s and the reason she fell off the roof was not the attacker’s sharp jab to her ribs, but rather the shock of Robin giving her any form of praise. From then on Marinette decided maybe Robin was capable of growing a heart, and while it may have started as one-sided conversations with her rambling on about herself and basic topics of conversation – how’s the weather in the Gotham? It’s been warm in Paris! Did you see the new Mecha Strike game launch? What’s your favorite dessert? – eventually, Damian started warming up to her.

By the time the youngest Wayne snaps out of his reverie, the bell has rung signaling the dismissal of his second-period and the start of the school’s 20-minute break. Fishing through his pockets, and quickly unlocking his phone he finds several missed messages from Marinette, Jon, and their group chat “Talk Shit Get Hit”. After skimming through their private messages, Damian bites the bullet and opens up “Talk Shit Get Hit” to begin tackling the growing number of messages. Scrolling to the top of the chain of unread messages he sends Jon spamming the chat with unintelligible keyboard smashes followed by “MARI HOW DID YOU GET US OUT OF LIZZIE-SITTING DUTIES???”, Damian swears that the capslock on Jon’s keyboards must be worn down with his overusage. He reacts to the message with a set of eye emojis because there are very few people Diana trusts with her fussy toddler and he knows for a fact that she’s in the midst of an investigation into a rapidly expanding crime syndicate. As he scrolls further he is dismayed to find out Marinette cashed in this free day in exchange for a date night babysitting gig in addition to normal babysitting duties. Damian loves Lizzie like a younger sister and of course, wants her to be in the care of someone befitting of her status. Still, he has been yelled at one too many times for taking her on patrol with him, and sometimes bringing a 3-foot-tall sidekick with a tutu (courtesy of Marinette) kills his intimidation factor. Once he makes it past a wall of crying emojis and gifs of betrayal from Jon, the chat goes back to its normal contents, filled with reels shared between Jon and Mari, and complaints about their teachers. Jon eventually asks Marinette what she has planned for tonight that is worth the extra babysitting duties, but Marinette declines to answer and instead tells him to be patient.

After school Damian carefully considers his outfit but sticks with his classic black turtleneck and a pair of khakis, Marinette will call him boring but what does she know? She used to have a crush on a guy who exclusively wore a striped shirt with an open button-up and bright orange Converses. Once they became comfortable with one another Marinette made it VERY well-known that while she wished his civilian wear had more diversity and color, she found his original Robin suit to be a “crime against fashion and most people’s eyeballs”. Stating that only traffic lights would appreciate sharing a color palette with him. Damian argued that it’s tradition, while Marinette replied with “It’s fugly and you know it. Y o u! ditched the design in the first place”. Rolling his eyes, he heads to the window and yells out “Jon! I am ready!” and with a flash of blue and red Jon shows up at his window clad in a red hoodie and blue jeans. The Super family really needs to consider their civilian “disguises”.

Swooping Damian up into his arm Jon bolts out the window and into the sky towards Paris until they reach a familiar flowered rooftop. After two taps to the trap door beneath them, the door abruptly gave way and Damian was met with a loud POP and confetti raining down onto him. Quickly Marinette busted out the door cake in hand and in unison started singing with Jon. While it was not a rare occurrence for Marinette to provide them with sweets at her residence, what was on the cake was the strange part. It was a picture of one of his earlier Robin outfits? One that after many earfuls from Marinette knew to be her least favorite, why would she put it on a cake??

“Happy outfit death to you! Happy outfit death to you! You no longer look like a traffic light! Happy outfit death to you!” Out of seemingly thin air, Marinette pulled out a lighter and lit the top layer on fire revealing a picture of his new outfit underneath. “You do not know how relieved I am that I do not have to be with someone whose color palette matches a kindergarten classroom rug, and not a cute one”.

Damian with a puzzled expression questions her, “Is this something to be celebrated? Besides that I changed outfits months ago”. Marinette looked at him mouth agape. “Close your mouth you will catch flies at this rate”.

Almost as if rehearsed Jon and Marinette reply in unison “What are you my maman/ma”?

After clearing her throat Marinette went to explain, “There are plenty of things to celebrate for your outfit change! You’re finding out the type of Robin you’re going to be, and I personally believe that is a worthy cause for celebration. Besides, after Monarch’s downfall, I was really struggling to figure out what to do myself. My whole world felt like it splintered into pieces, but you and Jon were there to help me figure things out when the consequences of my actions™ struck. I want you to feel empowered too, even if you don’t need it the same way I did”. With a smile Marinette brought out some forks, “Now let’s dig in”! If it made him uncomfortable how quickly his friends stabbed his frosting face with their forks, he didn’t let it show.

#maribat #marinette x damian #damian dominance #mgi civil war 2024 #daminette #prompt: color palette

50 notes · View notes