#jealousy and longing

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Misunderstandings | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

@preeyas-world my humble offering as per your request!

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, Happy Ending

The first time you noticed it, you told yourself it was nothing.

Sebastian had always been the kind of person people were drawn to—charming, quick-witted, impossible to ignore. He had friends beyond your shared circle, people he spent time with when you weren’t around. That was fine. Healthy, even. You weren’t the type to demand his attention every waking moment, nor did you want to be.

But then there was Lillian Thornton.

At first, it was small things. A glance across the Great Hall, a study session in the library. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sebastian was friendly, and Lillian was in your year—Slytherin, well-bred, elegant in the way you weren’t. She carried herself with effortless grace, always dressed in pristine, perfectly pressed robes, always speaking in that refined, poised tone that made people listen.

You had no reason to feel threatened.

But then it became more.

It started with the little things. The moments where he was late to meet you outside class because he had gotten caught up talking to her. The times he promised he’d help you with an essay but got sidetracked and never showed up. The way his eyes lingered on her when she spoke, as if he were truly listening, when lately, he barely seemed to hear you.

At first, you tried to be rational.

Sebastian was just being himself—helpful, charismatic. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You were overthinking.

So you brushed it off.

You ignored the slight sting when he laughed at something she said across the common room but barely reacted when you told him a story. You forced yourself to smile when he mentioned her in passing, pretended it didn’t bother you that her name kept slipping into conversations more and more. You reminded yourself that he was yours. That he loved you.

Sebastian was still affectionate. He still kissed you before class, still let his fingers skim over yours under the table at meals. He still called you love in that warm, effortless way.

But something had changed.

He was distracted.

It was in the way his attention drifted when you spoke, like he was only half-listening. In the way he was always one step behind—laughing at a joke a second too late, responding to questions with absentminded nods, forgetting things he never would have forgotten before.

You had tried to be rational. You had tried to trust him.

But doubt, once planted, was a treacherous thing.

The moment it all unraveled, you hadn’t even meant to find them.

It had been a long day. You had been tired, drained, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. All you had wanted was to grab a book from the library and go back to the common room. That was all.

But then you saw them.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, books spread between them, heads close together as they whispered. Lillian was laughing, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned in. And Sebastian—Sebastian was smiling.

Not the polite, casual smile he gave acquaintances. The real kind. The kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes, the kind he used to reserve for you.

And then she touched his arm.

It was subtle. Barely anything at all. Just a hand resting lightly on his sleeve, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric. But what shattered you was that he didn’t move away.

You felt something crack inside you.

It wasn’t anger that hit you first—it was nausea. A hollow, gut-wrenching feeling that made it hard to breathe.

Because this—this was the moment you had been dreading. The moment your worst fears solidified into something real.

Sebastian was slipping away from you, and he didn’t even notice.

So, without a sound, you turned and left.

By the time you made it outside, the lump in your throat had tightened into something unbearable. Your legs carried you on instinct, leading you away from the castle, away from the suffocating weight pressing down on your chest.

It wasn’t until you passed a group of Ravenclaws in the courtyard hat you realized you were crying.

You could feel it now, the hot, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. The way your breath hitched every time you tried to swallow down the ache in your throat. The Ravenclaws exchanged glances as you passed, murmuring in hushed voices. One of them—a younger girl, maybe a third-year—looked at you with wide, uncertain eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she should say something.

But you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper.

Nothing they said could hurt more than this.

The lake was ahead, the water stretching out into the dark horizon, reflecting the scattered stars above. It was quiet here, far from the hum of conversation and laughter that still lingered in the castle.

This had always been your place. Your safe haven.

You sank down onto the cool earth beneath your usual tree, curling in on yourself as the weight of it all crashed over you.

It should have been such a small thing. Just a smile. A simple moment between two people studying together. Something you wouldn’t have thought twice about a few months ago. Something that shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

Because it wasn’t just about the smiling.

It was every small thing, every moment, every hesitation, every inch of distance that had crept in between you and Sebastian over the last few months, piling up until you collapsed under the weight of them.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them as you stared out at the lake, watching the way the dark water rippled in the moonlight. The ache in your chest grew heavier with every thought that surfaced, memories stacking on top of each other, twisting into something painful.

Hadn’t things been different before? Hadn’t he been different before?

You tried to pinpoint the moment things had changed, but there wasn’t one moment—it was a slow unraveling, a series of little shifts so gradual you hadn’t noticed until now.

Like how you hadn’t been together as much lately. Not in the ways you used to be.

Sebastian had always been touchy—always slipping an arm around your shoulders, pressing absentminded kisses to the side of your head, tugging you into his lap when you were studying together in the Undercroft. he had never been able to keep his hands off of you when you were alone.

But now? Now he was too tired, too distracted, always promising later—but later never seemed to come.

And you had ignored it. You had convinced yourself it was just stress, that seventh year was demanding for both of you, that maybe you were reading too much into it. But now, as you sat by the lake, those thoughts turned into something worse.

What if it wasn’t stress at all? What if he had stopped touching you because he was touching her instead?

A shudder wracked through you, a bitter, sick feeling creeping into your stomach.

How many times had he been late to meet you for studying? For Hogsmeade trips? For dates he promised he wouldn’t forget? How many times had he made an excuse—something about Ominis, or a professor keeping him after class, or an essay he had forgotten about?

Was that all it had been? Or had he been sneaking off with her instead? Had he kissed her? Touched her? Had he pressed her against the walls of a hidden corridor, tangled his hands in her perfect curls the way he used to with you? Had he whispered the same things into her ear, the ones that used to send shivers down your spine?

The thought sent a sharp, breathless pain through your ribs, like something inside you had cracked clean through.

You had always trusted Sebastian.

Had loved him, wholly and completely, even when he made mistakes, even when he was reckless and impossible and difficult. You had always believed in him.

But now you weren’t so sure.

The thought alone made your chest cave in on itself. This was Sebastian. The boy who had sworn he’d do anything to keep you safe. The boy who used to hold you close as if he was afraid you’d disappear. The boy you loved. Trusted.

But that trust had cracks in it now, fragile and splintering under the weight of doubt.

You swallowed thickly, willing yourself to stop the spiral. To just breathe. But your thoughts wouldn’t let up, tearing through you like an open wound.

And then—

"There you are."

Sebastian’s voice cut through the quiet, and your entire body locked up. Your breath caught in your throat as you lifted your head, your heart lurching painfully.

He stood a few feet away, his brows drawn together in concern, his cloak slightly askew as if he’d rushed here. The dim glow of the moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his features—the sharpness of his jaw, the tension in his expression.

Sebastian took a step closer, breath slightly uneven. "I—uh—I ran into Samantha Dale. She said you looked upset, and then you weren’t in the common room, so—"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his expression shifting as his gaze landed on your face.

His whole body tensed.

"Shit—are you crying?"

The words came out rough, raw. Almost panicked. And before you could react, he was moving toward you, closing the distance between you with quick, determined strides.

"Hey, hey—what’s wrong? Talk to me, love." His voice softened as he reached for you, hands outstretched like he was about to gather you into his arms. "Come here—"

"Stay away."

Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it stopped him dead, his hands hovering in the space between you, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

You swallowed hard, shifting back against the tree, every inch of you suddenly aching with exhaustion. "Just… don’t touch me."

A flicker of hurt crossed his face, barely concealed beneath the confusion. His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to argue, but then he really looked at you. At the tear tracks staining your cheeks. The way you were curled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your legs like you were trying to keep yourself from unraveling completely.

Something in his expression shifted. Slowly, he lowered his hands. "Did… did I do something?"

You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "I don’t know, Sebastian." You met his gaze then, voice shaking. "Did you?"

His face paled slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You exhaled shakily, looking back at the lake. The reflection of the stars blurred in the water, their edges rippling as a cold breeze drifted through.

"I don’t want to do this right now," you murmured, voice strained.

Sebastian hesitated, and for a brief second, you thought he might listen, but then he stepped closer again. "No. I think we need to."

You closed your eyes, swallowing the fresh wave of emotion rising in your throat. And then, in a quiet, broken voice, you asked, "Are you in love with her?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than the weight on your chest.

Sebastian’s breath caught, his entire body going rigid. "What?"

You turned to look at him, your vision blurred with tears. "Lillian." You exhaled shakily. "Are you in love with her?"

Sebastian’s face twisted into something like horror. "What the hell are you talking about?"

You laughed then, a short, bitter sound. "I saw you with her in the library, Sebastian."

He blinked, caught completely off guard. "That’s what this is about? We were studying—"

"Oh, studying?" You cut him off, voice thick with hurt. "Is that what you were doing when she touched you? When you smiled at her like that?"

Sebastian’s mouth opened, then closed again.

His silence was enough.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away. "I should have known."

"No— Sebastian stepped forward quickly, desperation lacing his voice. "No, love, it’s not like that. It’s not—"

"Then what is it like, Sebastian?" You turned back to him, your voice breaking. "Because I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’ve been pulling away, why you don’t see me anymore, why I feel like I have to fight just to be something important to you."

Sebastian shook his head, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t—I don’t even know where this is coming from.”

You let out a breathless laugh, bitter and disbelieving. “You don’t know?”

His eyes flickered, hesitating. “We were just—”

“Studying, yeah, I heard you the first time.” You inhaled shakily. “That’s not the point, Sebastian. This isn’t just about what I saw tonight. This is about months of you pulling away.”

Sebastian opened his mouth, but you weren’t finished.

“At first, it was small things,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “You forgot my Quidditch match. No big deal, right? But then you started forgetting other things. Like our Hogsmeade plans. Like the fact that Thursdays are the one night I don’t study in the library. Like how I hate chamomile tea, and you’ve been handing me a cup of it every single morning without even thinking.”

Sebastian flinched, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to protest—but he didn’t.

“You used to see me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Now I feel like I have to fight just to be something important to you.”

Sebastian’s face twisted, his jaw clenching. “That’s not true.”

"Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

Sebastian flinched. "You're not! I—I love you."

"Really? Because you don’t look at me the way you used to." Your voice cracked, but you pushed through. "You used to—Merlin, Sebastian, you used to look at me like I was the only person in the room. And now?" You shook your head, eyes burning. "Now, I see that look when you’re with her."

Sebastian’s expression twisted in terror. "That’s not—"

You inhaled shakily, forcing yourself to keep going, even as it hurt. "You used to want me, Sebastian." The words felt raw, scraped straight from the depths of your chest. "And now, we hardly ever have sex anymore. We hardly touch anymore."

Sebastian looked like you had just ripped the air straight from his lungs. "That’s not—I do want you." His voice broke slightly at the end, panicked, desperate.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "Then why do you hesitate now?"

Sebastian’s hands clenched at his sides. "I don’t—"

"You do." Your breath hitched. "Every time we’re alone, every time I reach for you, you pull away just a little bit. I feel it." You let out a sharp breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eye. "And yet with her, you never pull away."

Sebastian went rigid, his dark eyes flashing with something sharp, something defensive.

"That’s not—"

"Don’t lie." Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down. "I see it. Everyone sees it. She touches you, and you let her. She leans in too close, and you don’t move away. She looks at you like you belong to her, and you—" Your throat tightened. "And you just let her."

Sebastian’s entire body went rigid.

You inhaled sharply, wiping at your eyes, even though the tears kept coming. "I trusted you, Sebastian." Your voice trembled, but you held his gaze. "I told myself over and over that I was imagining things. That I was being paranoid. That you loved me, and that was enough." You swallowed hard. "But love isn’t supposed to feel like this."

Sebastian’s face crumpled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I do love you."

"Then why does it feel like I have to compete for you?" You shook your head, voice breaking. "You used to tell me everything. Now I don’t even know where you are half the time. I used to be the person you looked for in a crowded room, and now—" A broken breath left your lips. "Now, I feel like a ghost to you."

Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, his face twisting into something like shock, like you had just reached inside his chest and torn something out with your bare hands.

"That’s not—" He stopped, his voice catching, and before you could stop him, he surged forward, hands cupping your face with a desperation that made your chest cave in on itself.

"You listen to me right now." His voice was rough, unsteady, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, catching on the remnants of your tears. "I have never stopped wanting you. Never."

You inhaled sharply, your hands coming up to grip his wrists, but you didn’t pull him away.

His breath was uneven, warm against your skin. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I—" He shut his eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily. "I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this. I swear to you, I didn’t."

Sebastian’s hands trembled against your skin, his breath uneven as he held your face between his palms. His dark eyes were frantic, pleading, like he could hold everything together if he just held on tightly enough.

Because this wasn’t like the petty fights you had before. This wasn’t something he could just charm his way out of with a teasing smirk and a stolen kiss. This was you, looking at him like you didn’t recognize him anymore.

You swallowed, hating how small your voice sounded. "Why are we even together when it's obvious you'd rather be with her?"

Sebastian was panicking.

You saw it in the way his lips parted like he was gasping for air, in the way his hands trembled as they held your face, in the wide, frantic look in his eyes like he was watching something he loved slip through his fingers. And thhen his knees buckled, and he fell.

Fell hard.

He was on the ground before you could react, his breath ragged, his shoulders shaking. "No—no, please, love, don’t say that." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "Don’t—don’t tell me this is it. You’re not—" His breath hitched, his grip on you tightening just slightly. "You’re not breaking up with me, are you?"

You exhaled shakily, overwhelmed, aching, your mind screaming at you to step away before this hurt even more. Sebastian didn’t let you.

"Please," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I am infinitely sorry for ever making you feel like I didn’t." His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body trembling. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. I swear to you, I will."

Your throat tightened, your hands hovering over his wrists. "Sebastian…"

His grip on you was desperate. "I should have told you sooner. I should have never let it get this far."

Your body went rigid. "Told me what sooner?"

Sebastian pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his own glassy with unshed tears. "God, love, it's... you’ve got it all wrong," he breathed, shaking his head. "I understand how it looked buut you have to believe me when I say—this isn’t what you think."

Your throat tightened. "Then explain to me what the hell this is, Sebastian. Because it looks pretty fucking clear to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, like he was bracing himself. Then—

"Lillian is in love with Anne."

The words hit you like a freight train. You blinked, staring at him, your mind struggling to process what he had just said. "What?"

Sebastian swallowed, nodding, his voice quieter now, but still urgent. "She’s in love with Anne. She has been for years. And Anne—" He took a shaky breath. "Anne… she likes women, too."

You stiffened.

Sebastian’s hands dropped from your face to your shoulders, his fingers tightening just slightly, grounding you. "You know what the world is like, love." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "You know how people see that, how dangerous it is for her."

Your chest tightened. "Sebastian—"

"Lillian wanted to know everything about Anne—what she liked, what made her smile, what made her laugh. She wanted to be sure before she risked everything by telling her." He let out a heavy breath. "I was helping her figure out how to do it. That’s all. That’s all it ever was and ever has been."

You stared at him, your mind reeling. Suddenly, every touch, every whispered conversation, every lingering glance between Sebastian and Lillian took on a completely different meaning.

She hadn’t been flirting with him, she had been leaning on him. The looks weren’t full of romantic affection—they were full of trust.

The physical closeness, the secret meetings, the time spent together—it wasn’t about Sebastian at all. It was about Anne.

Sebastian swallowed hard. "That’s why I spent so much time with her. That’s why we got close." He looked at you, pleading, begging you to believe him. "She... she makes me feel closer to Anne." His voice broke. "She reminds me of her."

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You had spent months drowning in doubt, in fear, in heartbreak—when all along, the truth had been something you never could have guessed.

Your fingers curled into his cloak, gripping the fabric tightly, trying to ground yourself.

"You're not fucking with me are you?"

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his dark eyes wide, desperate, full of something too raw to be anything but real.

"No," he said, shaking his head fervently. "God, no. I would never—I could never lie to you about this."

The sincerity in his voice, in his expression, in the way his hands clutched at your shoulders like he was terrified you might disappear—it was real.

But you were still trying to wrap your mind around it.

Lillian. Anne. Everything.

Your breath came shakily, the pieces clicking together, reassembling into something that was so painfully obvious now that you had the truth.

Anne, who had never shown much interest in the boys who flirted with her. Anne, who had always held herself at a slight distance in conversations about courtship. Anne, who had never once spoken about wanting a husband.

You had assumed it was grief. That losing her parents, losing her old life, had left her uninterested in romance. But this…

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the emotions rising in your throat.

Sebastian watched you, his entire body tense, waiting, his breath uneven. "I know—I know I should have told you." His voice was hoarse. "But Lillian didn’t want anyone to know. Anne definitely didn’t want anyone to know. She’s been scared, and—"

"I get it," you said softly, the words trembling on your tongue, uneven, but true.

And you did.

Of course, you wished he had told you. Wished he had trusted you enough to let you in, to explain instead of letting you drown in your own worst thoughts. But at the same time, you understood why he hadn't.

It wasn't his secret to tell. He had been protecting Anne. Protecting Lillian. But…

"But still," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I just… You let me believe I was losing you." Your voice cracked slightly. "For months, Sebastian. And this still doesn’t entirely explain why you've been so... so distant."

Sebastian flinched, his gaze dropping to the ground.

You exhaled shakily, the weight of it all pressing down on you. "Because even if Lillian wasn’t what I thought, you did pull away. You did stop looking at me the way you used to. You hesitated when I touched you. You forgot me." Your voice broke, and you swallowed down the thick lump rising in your throat. "And that has nothing to do with Lillian or Anne."

Sebastian inhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment before dragging his hands through his hair, visibly unraveling in front of you. His chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, like he was struggling to get the words out.

"I was scared."

You stiffened.

Sebastian let out a rough breath, shaking his head. "Not of you," he rushed to say. "Not of us. But of… of everything after this."

You blinked at him, not understanding. "After what?"

Sebastian exhaled, his jaw tightening. He looked away for a moment, then back at you. His voice was hoarse when he said, "After Hogwarts."

Your stomach twisted.

Sebastian swallowed thickly, his voice raw. "I don’t know what happens next," he admitted. "I don’t know where we go after this—what our lives look like when we leave this place. What if we… drift apart? What if life pulls us in different directions? What if—" He inhaled sharply, his fists clenching like he wanted to punch something. "What if I lose you?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Part of me thought… maybe if I distanced myself now, maybe if I stopped needing you so much, it wouldn’t hurt as badly if we had to say goodbye."

You stared at him, your heart twisting. "Sebastian—"

"I thought I was preparing myself," he murmured.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers twitching at your sides. "You know your logic doesn't make any sense right?"

Sebastian let out a breathless, broken laugh, his face crumpling. "I know."

"And you do realize that pushing me away just made everything worse?"

Sebastian swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah, love. I’m painfully aware."

Your chest ached. There was a part of you that still wanted to be angry, still wanted to hold on to the hurt he had caused, but looking at him now—really looking at him—you saw a boy who was just as lost as you had been. Afraid. Unsure. But never unloving.

You let out a slow, unsteady breath. "You can’t do that to me again."

Sebastian’s expression shattered further,

"I won’t," he whispered, his voice raw. "I swear I won’t. I love you more than anything. I'm so sorry."

Your throat tightened, your eyes burning.

Because you believed him.

Not because he was desperate, not because he was begging, but because the way he was looking at you now—like you were everything, like you were the air in his lungs, the only thing tethering him to the world—was the way he had always looked at you before all of this.

The way he should have been looking at you all along.

You exhaled sharply, your emotions still tangled, still raw, but your body had already made its decision before your mind had caught up.

You leaned forward, and Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body going rigid. And then, carefully, cautiously, you lifted your arms and wrapped them around his neck.

At first contact, Sebastian's arms slammed around you, pulling you against him with a desperation that knocked the breath from your lungs. His face buried into your shoulder, his body trembling against yours.

For the first time in months, it felt like home.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you." His voice cracked. "I love you so much, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

You swallowed hard, pressing your face into his neck. "Good," you whispered. "Because you’re going to have to."

Sebastian let out a shaky laugh, relief flooding through him, his arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let go.

And this time, you knew he wouldn’t.

[morganbritton132]

Steve and Argyle hang out alone together for the first time because all their friends are busy. The next day when they separately talk about the night to their friends, everybody thinks they fucked.

To be clear, they didn’t.

They watched a bad movie, ate pizza with weird toppings, got high, and then fell asleep listening to music in Steve’s room. That’s all.

But when Robin asks about how the night went, Steve is just like, “Oh, yeah. Argyle is great. Love that guy. He’s insane in bed though. It’s crazy.”

And he’s like specifically talking about the one time he woke up during the night and saw Argyle asleep in the most uncomfortable position Steve has ever seen. He fully looked like a corpse at the bottom of a staircase.

He doesn’t explain that that’s what he’s talking about because a customer comes into the store and Robin is too shocked to ask, so now she thinks they’re hooking up. She tells Nancy about it.

Argyle does not help the miscommunication at all because when Jonathan cracks a joke about Steve being the worst, he says ‘nah.’ He thinks Steve is pretty epic in the bedroom (sleeping) because he can ‘rock the bed’ (by snoring). Then goes on about Steve’s morning breath.

Jonathan does not know why this pisses him off so much. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly why he’s annoyed by it.

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[kristoffs-lullaby]

Jealousy, Jealousy

[skunkes]

reunion

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[rainscenes]

9-1-1 7.05, “You Don’t Know Me”

[goddisposez]

POV you’re francis crozier getting rescued from the failed arctic expedition only to enter a nuclear love triangle with two men named james

[reineyday]

every time i get on the revalink train, i end up thinking about the way revali says, "feel free to thank me now," and when link doesnt reply and the golden motes start to take link away for teleportation, he says, "or... never mind, just go." and he tells him to go way softer than his usual pompous tone. turns his back so he doesn't have to watch link leave as he says link's job isn't finished and then, "the princess," and revali PAUSES before he continues, "has been waiting an awful long time."

like, here is a haughty bird who got sooooo riled up bc he felt like link never acknowledged him, and then even after giving link the gift of his gale, revali doesn't get the thanks he wants, and instead of needling link about it like he might when they were all still alive and together, he just says never mind.

never mind, you never replied to me anyways (no matter how much i showed off or showed you up).

never mind, there are more important things to do (save the castle like you saved vah medoh--to avenge me?--and succeed where i failed).

never mind, the princess is waiting (and you were always too busy following after her to acknowledge me).

never mind, i'm already dead anyways. (what can i even do about any of this now?)

just go.

(you're already leaving. like always, she's already taking you.)

and then he reminds link of the princess in such a pointed manner that it's so easy to read into it. the princess... has been kept waiting--the princess is who you've always waited on, the princess is who we all died for, the princess might still be alive where i'm not. the princess tried her best, is still trying her best, and you have to go and meet her there because we cannot, and that has always been bigger than any feelings i might have ever held, any feelings i wanted to draw from you, any accolades i might have lauded or spurned, any reaction i might have gotten.

it's been 100 years, i can wait a little longer to help you (both of you) finish the job before going. guess i was wrong about... how lucky he would be.

revali's dead and he's still thinking about how much he thinks about link and feels the need to admit to himself (and to medoh) that he was wrong like aaahhhHHH i rotate his cutscenes over and over in my head like rotisserie chicken (lol).

[hedwig221b]

I've got the random sterek idea for a short fic that got me like this and I fear you WILL get a May fic after all...

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

k i just imagine Anne being super jealous of mc taking her place in the slytherin tro especially if is a slytherin. only for that to disappear once she catches mc and sebastian kissing

Green with Envy

hello anon!!! I hope this is what you were looking for <3333 enjoy~!

Words: ~2,500

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Slytherin MC, Jealous Anne Sallow, Seventh Year

Anne Sallow sat in the Slytherin common room, her gaze fixed on the emerald flames flickering in the ornate fireplace. The familiar green hues cast shadows across the room, but they didn’t bring her the comfort they once had. Hogwarts felt the same in so many ways—the cool dungeon air, the low murmur of voices, the occasional burst of laughter echoing off the stone walls—but Anne felt like an outsider looking in.

It had been two months since her return, long enough for the novelty of seeing her back to wear off for most of her classmates. The whispered concerns about her health had faded into polite smiles and casual greetings. But Anne couldn’t shake the feeling that while Hogwarts had stayed the same, the people she cared about most had moved on.

Anne's eyes drifted across the room, landing on you. You sat at one of the long, dark wood tables in the library, a quill spinning idly between your fingers as you leaned over a parchment covered in notes. Your brows were furrowed in concentration, but the corner of your mouth twitched as Sebastian spoke beside you. His chair was turned at an angle, his body leaning casually toward yours. He didn’t even bother pretending to study, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

You laughed softly at something he said, the sound light and genuine, and Anne felt her chest tighten. That laugh, the one that used to belong to her and Sebastian during late-night chats in the common room or quiet afternoons by the lake, now seemed to belong to you.

She hated the way it made her feel.

The hushed murmur of voices reached her ears. She wasn’t trying to listen, but it was impossible not to overhear.

“Come on,” Sebastian said, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “You don’t really need that book right now. We could just finish this tomorrow.”

“You mean you could finish this tomorrow,” you replied, your tone exasperated but laced with amusement. “Some of us actually want to pass our exams, you know.”

“Since when have you ever been in danger of failing?” Sebastian quipped, leaning a little closer. “You’re practically the top of the class. One night off won’t kill you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things. You’re a terrible influence.”

“A terrible influence?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I like to think I’m inspiring.”

Anne’s jaw tightened. Her brother used to laugh like that with her. Used to lean in close and feign offense with that same smirk, his words a mix of teasing and warmth that only a sibling or a best friend could fully understand. But now, all of that energy was directed toward you.

She turned her attention back to the fire, clenching her fists in her lap. She hated feeling this way—jealous, petty, insecure—but it gnawed at her all the same. You weren’t even trying to take her place; you weren’t cruel or dismissive of her. In fact, you’d gone out of your way to include her since she’d returned.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You were the one including her, as if you were the one who belonged in the trio. As if she needed an invitation to be part of the group she’d helped shape since childhood, the group made of her own twin brother and her oldest friend.

“Anne.”

She looked up to see Ominis approaching, his wand held lightly in his hand. His gaze was as unreadable as ever, but there was a softness in his tone that told her he’d noticed her brooding.

“Mind some company?” he asked, inclining his head slightly toward the empty seat beside her.

“Not at all,” she replied, forcing a smile.

Ominis sat gracefully, his movements fluid and precise. He tilted his head toward the table where you and Sebastian were sitting, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Sebastian’s trying convince her into another harebrained scheme, I assume.”

Anne scoffed, though it lacked her usual bite. “Of course he has. I don’t know why anyone listens to him.”

“You used to,” Ominis pointed out, a touch of amusement in his voice.

She sighed, leaning back against the plush green cushions of the sofa. “Yeah, well, I used to be a lot of things.”

Ominis didn’t respond immediately. He simply sat beside her, his presence steady and grounding. It was one of the things Anne had always appreciated about him—his ability to fill silences without making them uncomfortable.

“They’re really thick as thieves, aren’t they?” Anne said, her tone light but carrying an unmistakable edge. She gestured vaguely toward you and Sebastian at the table.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, the smirk fading as he considered her words. “They're certainly close,” he replied evenly. “Sebastian trusts her, and she’s proven herself more than capable.”

Anne hummed, feigning indifference as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose it’s good he has someone else to rope into his antics. I’d hate to think he was bothering you as much as he used to.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching upward again. “Oh, he still bothers me plenty. But she has a way of keeping him… grounded. It’s quite impressive, really.”

Anne’s jaw tightened, but she forced a casual shrug. “If you say so. I’d think someone who’s ‘grounded’ wouldn’t be so quick to follow Sebastian into trouble. She doesn’t seem to think much before acting.”

Ominis let out a soft chuckle, unperturbed. “On the contrary, I’d say she thinks quite a bit. She just has an uncommon knack for making bold decisions when it counts.” He turned his head slightly in her direction, his expression neutral but his tone carrying a gentle warning. “Not unlike someone else I know.”

Anne bristled, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m just saying, she’s a bit much sometimes, isn’t she? Always trying to take charge, always… there.”

There was a flicker of something in Ominis’s expression—mild disappointment, perhaps, though he hid it quickly. “She’s been a good friend to both of us, Anne,” he said, his voice calm and even. “And to Sebastian, especially. I’m sure you can appreciate how important that is to him, considering everything he’s been through.”

Anne’s stomach churned at the reminder, guilt mixing with her irritation. She bit her lip, looking away. “Well, it’s nice to know someone’s looking out for him,” she muttered.

Ominis didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to sense the underlying bitterness in her words but chose not to press further. Instead, he shifted slightly in his seat, tilting his head as if listening to the crackling of the fire.

“If she's taught me one thing, it's that it's usually advantageous to assume the best of people,” he said finally, his tone measured. “Even when it feels like they’ve taken something from us. You should've seen the way I bit her head off when Sebastian first showed her the Undercroft. Now she's one of my closest friends.”

Anne’s gaze snapped to him, her frustration bubbling over. “I’m not saying she’s taken anything from me,” she said sharply, though her words rang hollow even to her own ears.

“Of course not,” Ominis said smoothly, inclining his head. His expression didn’t change, but there was a knowing edge to his voice that made Anne feel exposed.

She stood abruptly, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ve got homework to do,” she said curtly, avoiding his gaze.

Ominis raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop her. “As you wish,” he said simply, his voice maddeningly calm.

Anne stormed out of the common room, her footsteps echoing in the quiet dungeon corridors. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as a swirl of emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Guilt, anger, jealousy—they all churned in her chest, leaving her feeling like a stranger in her own skin.

She didn’t know where she was going, but one thing was certain: she needed space. From Ominis, from Sebastian, from you.

As she ascended the stairs, the cool dungeon air gave way to the warmer, lighter scent of the upper levels. Her footsteps echoed sharply in the quiet corridors, her mind spinning with frustration. She wanted to scream, to vent, to do something to burn off the swirling emotions that refused to settle.

By the time she reached the library, she’d only grown more irritated.

She stormed inside, the dim light of the chandeliers overhead glinting off the rows of polished tables and endless shelves of books.

Her heart was pounding, her breaths sharp and shallow.

She beelined for the farthest corner of the library, past the noisier central tables where younger students worked in hushed tones, past the study group huddled over Arithmancy charts, and deeper still into the secluded, darker aisles. Here, only the faint glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the towering shelves, casting long shadows that flickered like ghosts.

Finally, she dropped into a stiff wooden chair, her bag thumping to the floor beside her. She yanked it open, pawing through the contents with rising frustration, only to confirm what she already suspected—she’d brought nothing useful. No notes, no homework, not even a novel to distract herself.

Grinding her teeth, Anne snatched a book from the nearest shelf without even glancing at the title. Its faded spine creaked in protest as she flung it open and stared at the text. The Ancient Runes of Central Europe. The densely packed lines of incomprehensible script blurred before her eyes.

She wasn’t here to study, not really.

Anne flipped a page with more force than necessary, her jaw tight. Why does he even let her boss him around like that? He’d never have let me—

She stopped herself, exhaling a shaky breath. The bitterness was bubbling up again, unbidden and unwelcome, but she couldn’t suppress it. She told herself she was angry at you, at your presumptuousness, but the truth was harder to admit.

She was angry at herself. Angry for letting things fall apart, for coming back and realizing she didn’t know where she fit anymore.

The faint sound of voices jolted her from her spiraling thoughts. At first, they were distant, muffled murmurs—but they grew louder, clearer, until they were unmistakable.

Sebastian’s voice.

And yours.

Anne’s pulse quickened as her body went rigid. Her gaze darted toward the aisle entrance, and her heart sank when she saw the two of you walking toward her secluded corner. Panic shot through her. She couldn’t let you see her like this, couldn’t let you or Sebastian catch her brooding in the dark like some bitter outcast.

Quickly, she drew her wand and cast a silent Disillusionment Charm. The air around her shimmered like heat rising off pavement, and then she vanished from sight, blending into the shadows. She barely had time to still her breathing before the two of you entered the space.

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice tinged with mock exasperation. “If you don’t let me find this book, I swear—”

“Swear what?” Sebastian interrupted, his tone playful. “Hex me? In a library? You wouldn’t dare.”

Your laugh echoed softly, light and genuine, and Anne’s stomach twisted. She watched as you crossed to a nearby shelf, scanning the spines for whatever book you were after. Sebastian followed close behind, his steps leisurely, his posture so casual it bordered on smug.

“I’m serious,” you said, your back to him. “I'm here to find that bloody book."

“Oh, come on,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping into a coaxing tone. “Surely it can wait a minute. Or five.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait until I’ve found The Advanced Applications of Charms?”

Sebastian grinned, stepping closer. “Well, for starters, you’re looking in the wrong section.”

Anne watched as he reached over your shoulder, his hand brushing against yours as he plucked a book from the shelf. His fingers lingered on the spine as he handed it to you, his smirk softening into something wolfish.

You rolled your eyes but took the book. “Thanks. Now let's find a table so I can work."

“Or,” he said, stepping even closer, “I could just keep distracting you.”

You shook your head, though your lips curved upward despite yourself.

The air shifted between you, the teasing edge giving way to something heavier, more intimate. Anne’s breath caught as she watched Sebastian’s hand rise to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Sebastian,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of warning, but it lacked conviction.

He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t say a word.

Sebastian closed the distance. His lips brushed yours gently at first, testing, and then he pressed more firmly, his hand sliding to your waist. Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer as the book you’d been holding slipped from your grasp, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

Oh.

Anne felt her stomach twist, but this time, it wasn’t jealousy or anger. It was guilt, sharp and undeniable, crashing over her in waves. All this time, she’d been stewing in resentment, convincing herself that you were encroaching on something that was hers. But the truth was painfully clear now: you hadn’t taken anything.

Sebastian’s laughter, his attention, his loyalty—they hadn’t shifted away from her because of you. They’d shifted because things had changed, because he had changed. And whatever this was between you, it wasn’t a threat to her place in his life, her place as his sister. It was something separate, something he hadn’t had the courage to tell her about yet.

For the first time in months, the tight knot in Anne’s chest began to loosen. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her Disillusionment Charm still holding as she watched the two of you break apart. You were both smiling softly, your foreheads touching for a moment as Sebastian murmured something she couldn’t quite hear.

Anne blinked back the unexpected sting of tears. She wasn’t upset anymore, not really. If anything, she felt relief. Relief that Sebastian had someone who clearly made him so happy. Relief that her fears of being replaced were unfounded.

Still, as the guilt ebbed, a flicker of her old self returned. A sly grin tugged at her lips as she leaned back against the bookshelf, silently observing as you nudged Sebastian’s shoulder and whispered something about “actually letting you work now.”

Anne bit back a laugh, the weight of her emotions giving way to something lighter, something closer to joy. Oh, she was going to have so much fun with this.

Her brother—her proud, occasionally insufferable, love-struck brother—hadn’t even mentioned this little development to her. And while part of her knew she should let him come to her in his own time, another part—larger, mischievous, and undeniably Sallow—was already crafting a plan.

She could already picture it. The knowing smirks. The casually dropped comments. The exaggerated shock when she “discovered” their secret in public.

Sebastian wouldn’t know what hit him.

[certaindreamwitchreader]

Headcannon Dancer Alastor

In life, Alastor was an incredible dancer, and in death, that has not changed. While he has his preference for the dances of his time, we have to remember that some were scandalous for that time.

In life, I can see an Alastor knowing and dancing the Waltz, Jazz, Tango, Foxtrot and the Charleston. And if he died around 1933-1935, it is quite possible that he already knew something about the Swing and the Jitterbug. Alastor would definitely seek to learn them in Hell.

As time goes by, I think a dance must catch Alastor's attention so that he seeks to learn it. And once Vox realized that if he danced he could spend more time with Al, he did everything to get him interested in the dances he knew and in learning the ones Al danced.

In current times in hell, at the Hotel, The one who can dance no matter what style you play is Alastor, to the surprise of everyone except Husk and Niffy. And no, Angel, stop trying to get Alastor drunk just because you want to be able to watch him dance to the latest songs. (Alastor danced Gossip once while not sober and now has new admirers, unwanted job offers and more complications which involves Lucifer hosting royal dance parties again)

[ink-stainedkiss]

On Campus: The Prize of Affection

MDNI - Explicit Content Ahead

Pairing: Geto x Reader x Gojo + fwb!Sukuna x Reader

These two were practically the stereotype for coming of age movie jock’s. Complete disdain grew in your chest as you watched them stroll down the lecture hall stairs. They dapped up their friends loudly, tossing sultry smiles toward the audience, and-ew did someone just squeal? Whoever they were, their ego’s shined too bright for you’re liking. Consider yourself uninterested.

Synopsis: Two of the biggest names across the campus, sadly, have recognized you from one of your shared classes. Though you wanted to stay away from their radar, they seem to always be lingering near you. You had caught both of their attentions without even meaning to and it seems neither of them were going to let up their antics. Will you eventually fall for them? Or will their acts of affection ultimately be futile?

*Updated Regularly* A/N:

Contents: Mdni ⚠︎, SLOW BURN, fluff + angst + smut, alcohol, frat parties, attempts of spiking, harassment, some violence, jealousy, pining, flirting, MULTI ENDS, happy ending.

In later chapters: PiV, oral (m! & f! receiving), fingering, handjobs,dry humping

Lecture 1

Uninterested Luck Would Have It Doubtful Intentions

Lecture 2

Study Sesh? The Charmer Invintation (Pt.1)

Lecture 3

Invintaion (Pt.2) Just a Friend

Lecture 4

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 5

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 6

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 7

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 8

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 9

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 10

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 11

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Lecture 12

Your Professor Hasn’t Loaded the Assignment…

Comment/message me to be added to the On Campus:Taglist. I will respond with “🤎” once you are added

[starry-bi-sky]

Okay so this is almost a direct copy-paste of my earlier reblog but only the Xin Yuan parts, because its long enough to be its own post and i want to share it! It deserves it's own post <3 typical starry stuff to write a 2k word long reblog, unfortunately.

I say almost because I went through to proof read and ended up adding more stuff.

I've been cooking on this idea for the last two days since I saw the Xin Mo!Shen Yuan post but??? I can't find anything on Xin Mo's backstory or how it came to be -- which means that's free fucking plot right there baby. That's a sandbox and im making LIFE SIZED CASTLES. I'm so excited.

The idea of Shen Yuan transmigrating centuries before the events of PIDW as Xin Mo -- but when he wakes up, he's not the sword. He wakes up in the body of a young boy named Xin Yuan. Now it makes sense for this boy to be a demon, but the drama, the intrigue, the spice of Xin Yuan being a human child.

SY wakes up as a boy below the age of ten, and the System tells him where he is, and SY is excited to meet his favorite protagonist -- only to gradually realize that he's like, a thousand years or so before the events of the novel. The rant he gives the system is legendary.

Bc what's the point of getting dropped into PIDW if he's never going to meet his favorite character??? This is a scam! BUT he settles into his new life, he's like, some orphan street rat or some other tragic airplane-esq backstory.

The system gives Shen Yuan his first mandatory quest: become a righteous cultivator. Which was like, kinda his plan/hopes anyways, except! There's like?? No official cultivator sects anywhere? The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect hasn't even been established yet, and there are pockets of cultivators running around, maybe some groups or schools popping up and then sinking back down, but nothing's really taken root!

If he asks someone how to become a cultivator, there's no straight answer. No "oh you can go to X to do that". He's pissed! How can he become a cultivator if there aren't any schools around to teach him? Deus ex machina, that's how.

Out of sheer luck, SY manages to help save a rogue cultivator, and promptly gets adopted by said rogue cultivator, who gives SY the name 'Xin Yuan'. He is ecstatic. And you know what? It's actually pretty fun!

He's getting to travel the world of PIDW in its early stages, and gets to see the building blocks for the eventual main story. He's discovering all this local flora and fauna that are foreign to his old world and unmentioned in the book, and he's learning cultivation! Granted, its unsafe, newly(ish) discovered cultivation, but it counts!

Wistfully, he thinks about perhaps he'll do something grand and get his name carved into legend. Something that would eventually help the protagonist later down the line in his quest for revenge.

The system remains silent to his thoughts.

But Xin Yuan doesn't take much stock in that daydream anyways. It's nothing more than fantasy to him; wish-fulfillment. He does discover however, that he is positively brimming with spiritual energy. Overwhelmingly so.

It's both a blessing and a curse, as it puts a strain on his meridians if he's not careful, and leaves him prone to qi deviations for the exact same reasons. He already has a heart demon or two from a few traumatic experiences in the past.

(bc hey! angst a day keeps the writer sadism at bay, and all that)

I'll say he's about... eight when he gets picked up by the rogue cultivator, who I'm calling Lin Kai bc he deserves a name. They travel around PIDW up until Xin Yuan is twelve, where he goes through a traumatic experience that results in a heart demon.

It's after that that Lin Kai decides to put a stop to his wandering, and find a place to settle down to raise Xin Yuan in. Coincidentally! They settle down in a nice mountain region that's thriving with spiritual energy. The mountains at the time were called something different, but they will be eventually known as the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect

Coincidentally, the mountain Lin Kai and Xin Yuan end up on is Qing Jing Peak. XY does not realize that the mountain he's on is Qing Jing. The System does not tell him. But he likes it there, more than he was expecting. And as much as he's traveled around, he really does enjoy being in one place.

He has a tendency to go down the mountain and help the village setting up down there, and when he's a teenager he starts venturing out more and more.

Xin Yuan forgets sometimes that he's in a novel, especially after settling down on Qing Jing peak. The system becomes remarkably quiet since there's no quests for him to do and not a ton of opportunities to get B-Points. He cultivates with Lin Kai, helps tend to the garden they're growing, goes down to the village to play with the other kids.

There's one boy he's best friends with, a boy whose not all that good with words, named Liu Zhihao. He's got potential for cultivation though, so Xin Yuan drags him up the mountain when he can so that Liu Zhihao can sit in on lessons with Lin Kai. He drags him all over the forest at the foot of the mountain to go look at bugs and animals.

(One time, when they're fourteen and Liu Zhihao has been learning cultivation for a few years now, Xin Yuan drags him out of bed late one night to go look at the stars. Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao about ascension -- something that still feels like a far off dream to many in this time -- that night, while they're sitting on the wet grass.)

("We should ascend together." Xin Yuan tells Liu Zhihao, jade eyes gleaming. Never let it be said that Xin Yuan doesn't love deeply, no matter what kind of love it is. He was always so lonely as Shen Yuan, Liu Zhihao is his best friend. "We'll become immortals, and then we won't ascend until the other is able to.")

(Liu Zhihao stares at him silently, his face unreadable. Then, quietly, he asks; "Promise?")

("Promise.")

When he starts adventuring outwards, further away from the mountain and the village, Liu Zhihao sticks to him like rice. Not that Xin Yuan's complaining, that's his best friend after all, and Liu Zhihao has become a formidable cultivator. He deserves to show off his skills.

He starts making something of a name for himself by the time he's, like, 18 -- although that name is in its baby steps, along with Liu Zhihao. They're slowly growing renown.

Perhaps XY uses his knowledge of PIDW and cultivation in general to help make advancements in the cultivation field. Although the system prevents him from sharing too much, it doesn't mean he can't practice it himself. Perhaps he's one of the first cultivators to develop a golden core. One of the first known immortal cultivators. One of the first to have a spirit sword.

(Although I don't know the logistics of any of this since my knowledge on xanxia/cultivation stuff in general is all still pretty new and google wasn't all that helpful lol.)

Either way, its my excuse to eventually make Xin Yuan come across as ethereal to other people. Peerless beauty SY for the win. Hs wifebeam is too strong, Xin Yuan has a line of suitors following after him and he's completely unaware of it. The rest of history is not.

Demon realm stuff has been stirring up since Xin Yuan was a kid, but at the time it was rare and in the beginning stages. Its been steadily ramping up and the system is sending him on more and more treacherous quests -- some of them mandatory, some optional. SY doesn't often take the optional ones unless it comes with a sufficient B-point reward.

for all intents and purposes though, he's a wandering rogue cultivator with Liu Zhihao, going from place to place to either help a town or village, or to discover more creatures or artifacts (although there aren't that many). Just all around living his life. He participates in a few major quest lines that are sure to get him mentioned in legend, even if it's a background character way.

(Unbeknownst to him, rather than being a side character in these legends, he's named directly. You can't become one of the first immortal cultivators and NOT get name dropped for clout.)

He has a spirit sword named Shā Mó, (杀 shā - to kill/weaken/counteract/reduce) (魔 mó - evil spirit, demon, possession). He routinely goes back to QJP to see Lin Kai, or to rest when traveling has worn down on him and he wants nothing more than to sleep somewhere he knows he'll be safe in. It becomes more frequent as Xin Yuan becomes more famous. Liu Zhihao often comes with him.

it all comes to a head though when the rifts between the demonic realm and the human realm become too great, and the balance between both realms becomes unstable. A demonic emperor's influence, wanting to merge the two realms so he could conquer both to satiate his own greed.

Typical evil king stuff. This comes to a climatic head in a great battle between every cultivator available and the demon emperor's army. Xin Yuan was one of the many who helped lead the charge.

In the end, it was Xin Yuan who ends up defeating the demonic emperor, but the rift that the emperor used to cross between worlds is destabilizing as well. Except instead of trying to close, it's getting bigger and bigger, threatening to swallow the heavens and earth and demonic realm whole.

You know how Yue Qingyuan's soul is bonded to his sword due to a qi deviation? Let's take it a step further >:)

Xin Yuan uses himself and Shā Mó to close the rift. However, it takes all of his spiritual energy to do so, as well as him filtering the demonic qi into his body to redirect it back to the demon realm.

In the end, Xin Yuan and his beloved sword Shā Mó fuse. Xin Yuan's soul becomes trapped in the sword. His physical body is unable to handle the immense amount of power it takes to close the rift, and is destroyed. He is immortalized in legend by his grieving cultivators.

(Liu Zhihao ends up ascending alone. He ascends with the hope that one day he'll see Xin Yuan again, even if it's in the face of someone else. Lin Kai does not ascend, too weighed down by the grief of losing his son.)

Xin Yuan, now Xin Mo, falls into a stasis. He's very confused and disorientated when he regains 'consciousness'. The system has been silent for most of his life, only popping up to give him mandatory quests, hints, points, or to answer any questions.

But once he wakes up, it cheerfully pops up again, congratulating him on completing the origin story of Xin Mo. SY freaks the fuck out. he'd shake the system screen if he could, but he doesn't have arms. or legs. or eyes for that matter.

He can sense his surroundings, but its all like imprints to him. He can sense the energies, but he can't see anything. It's all very disorientating and horrifying after years of being human. Like a sensory deprivation chamber.

The closing of the rift and the cycling demonic qi tainted both Sha Mo and Xin Yuan irreparably, and it did some kind of damage that resulted in SY needing to feed in order to use the spiritual powers. Kinda like how Xuan Su uses YQY's life force for it's spiritual energy, but instead of feeding on his own lifeforce, Xin Mo feeds on others.

The rest is history. Xin Mo is originally tied to the story of Xin Yuan -- believed to be all that remained of the man after he sacrificed himself to keep the realms separate. It's believed that the force of the realms closing permanently infused Sha Mo with demonic energy, turning it into Xin Mo.

But, like many stories do when faced against the tide of time, things get lost; chipped off; changed. Xin Mo is steadily separated from Xin Yuan, especially once it becomes clear how parasitic the sword really is, until they are all but separate entities themselves and the origin of Xin Mo's creation all but forgotten.

The years blur together when Xin Mo is not being wielded, and at first Xin Yuan was agonized by the fact that he stole the lives of all his wielders. He knows it's only a novel, but his decades spent in this life have softened him, and he's grown attached to the world around him.

But time erodes the mind like water erodes stone, and he becomes numb to it, then eventually anticipating of it. He forces himself to remember what he knows of PIDW's plot, and kinda fixates back on his old obsession on Luo Binghe. But while PIDW stays in his mind, his memories as Xin Yuan fall to the wayside.

Not forgotten, per se, but... tucked away. The system prevents him from forgetting fully.

Xin Mo isn't fully a demonic sword either i think, but instead harbors an ugly cocktail of both spiritual and demonic qi. Special circumstances and all that. Everyone just assumes he's a fully demonic sword because that's usually at the forefront, his spiritual qi weakened from the initial fusion and from years of not being fed spiritual qi. It's part of the reason his wielders always end up destroyed by him, other than the whole, yk, 'overwhelming qi' thing.

Nobody would recognize Xin Mo's human form as Xin Yuan other than some truly ancient demons. Of which Meng Mo might. But even that's iffy because there's a lack of surviving paintings of Xin Yuan, but also because of XM's demonic appearance and supposed lack of connection to XY.

Xin Mo has never spoken to his wielders before, not in the same way he does Luo Binghe. He tells Luo Binghe this, and he also tells Luo Binghe down the line that he is both spiritual and demonic -- something he also never told his wielders because there was no point to it.

okay okay i've got to end it here because its already gotten ridiculously long -- of which im both apologetic and unapologetic for -- but i DO think the Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan meeting (and reveal) would be fucking hilarious. Especially if SY has learned how to pop between sword form and human form by then -- although i guess it doesnt matter either way because SQH's reaction is still the same.

And that reaction is internally screaming and going "hey what the FUCK?? WHY DOES XIN MO HAVE A HUMAN FORM??? WHAT IS THIS??? SYSTEM??? EXPLAIN???"

meanwhile from his place on the sword hilt xin mo is squinting at Shang Qinghua in bewilderment and going "aren't you supposed to be dead" but doesn't pay too much mind to it because its not like its going to change anything.

...up until he catches shang qinghua going "WTF" silently from his little corner while all eyes are off him. One moment SQH is standing beside his king, and the next he's been tackled to the ground by one wild-eyed, human-shaped Xin Mo.

everyone, including SQH, thinks Xin Mo is going to kill him. It is a surprise to everyone when he does not, and instead dissolves into deranged, uncontrollable laughter after spitting out some phrase in some ancient tongue and watching SQH's eyes grow wide in recognition.

[kasagia]

I love you... I am sorry IV

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!witch! reader Summary: Aleksander spends more time with Alina, playing with your heart. Luckily, an old friend returns to your side. Will he help you get over your Sasha and finally put yourself first? Or maybe you'll find that you're not dodging a bullet, you're just losing the love of your life. Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 5 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Any longer you stare at her like that and you'll burn holes in the back of her skull." Ulla comments as you sit in the tavern a bit apart from the rest of the group. And you look. At Aleksander and Alina's.

You shake your head and look away from them, digging into the beer in your hands. Ulla was right. You were pathetic, giving him exactly what he wanted – attention – when he was flirting with Alina just to spite you. Son of a bitch.

"I have no idea what you're on about." You mumble at her, the bitterness in your voice so obvious you grimace into your beer.

"About that donkey head, aka my stupid brother and his annoying Sunny Queen. I know you love that stubborn bastard, but the way you look at him and her, you're giving him exactly what he wants. Your jealousy. Just ignore him and go have fun with someone. Preferably a guy. That'll piss him off more."

You roll your eyes at her brilliant plan to get back at Aleksander. Sometimes you really wonder if you didn't make a mistake in raising her. She was such a teenage drama queen at times. Just like her brother.

"I doubt that adding another guy to this mess will help me in any way. Besides, he's right. We haven't been together for what… an age? I think it's time to move on."

"What?!" Ulla shouts at you, drawing the attention of the people around your table. And not only them.

You ignore the quick glance that Aleksander throws your way and try to speak as quietly as you can so he doesn't understand anything of your little conversation.

"What you just heard. I stayed where he left me for too long."

Ulla stares at you with wide eyes, blinking several times.

"But… but you can't… you love each other and… but…" You place your hand on hers and give her a sad smile.

"The thing is… sometimes love is not enough. You have to meet the other person halfway. Understand them, accept their flaws and be with them… we probably lacked that." You shrug and take a sip of your beer, trying your best to keep the tears from welling up in your eyes.

It would be better this way. After all, Luke and the other witches were after you. It'll only be a matter of time before they get you... or when you get them.

“Stupid boy.” Baghra comments as she sits down next to you. You raise an eyebrow at her unexpected company, noticing Ulla tense up next to you out of the corner of your eye. “I told you he wasn’t worth the effort.”

"Since when on earth are you interested in my personal life? Or anyone else's except yours?" You mock her as you sip your beer and try to ignore the way Aleksander delicately tugs at a strand of his Sol Koroleva's hair.

You feel like throwing up. And it's not from the amount of beer you've had. Maybe you need a little more to get drunk. This is probably the best way to spend tonight.

"When you make stupid decisions. Which means always." You roll your eyes at her and glance around the bar, trying to ignore the monologue she's giving you.

Keeping your gaze from wandering to the Darklina, as Ulla affectionately called it, is getting harder with each passing second.

You might want to gouge your eyes out.

But then, you notice the fire in the inn's fireplace flashing with different colours. Curious, you look closer until you see a hand in the fire. You frown, finishing the rest of your beer and watching as the hand waves at you, encouraging you to come over. You come up with some stupid excuse and get up from the table, heading towards the inn's exit.

The cold wind hits your skin, a clear reminder that you should have brought a coat with you. Especially when you're on the border with Fjerda in the dead of winter. You rub your arms together and mutter some kind of warming spell when suddenly, a thick coat is draped over you... a reindeer coat. With tiny crystals sewn into the leather.

You only knew one person who would voluntarily wear something like that.

"Mijomir?" You ask in shock and turn around to find yourself in the arms of your old friend.

"So obvious?" He asks with that trademark smirk of his. You jump into his arms with a squeal and wrap him in a tight hug.

"I've been looking for you for a decade, you idiot! Where have you been? We last saw each other at the port in Western Ravka."

"A little here, a little there. Kerch is a very interesting land. I'm sure you'd like it. For the record, I'm still mad at you for not coming with me, but I understand. Your boyfriend and all. But… I heard Luke's after you."

"Yeah… minor inconvenience."

"Luke or your man?"

"Both." You answer quickly, not wanting to delve into the subject. “Actually… I don’t have a man. He... he is not my man.” You mumble it more to yourself than to him.

The words are like a bitter goo on your tongue, a poison you must taste… or a terrible medicine that will heal you. Anyway... saying it out loud confirms what had been happening this week. Alina and Aleksander's closeness... your distance from each other. Maybe you were never meant to be together. Maybe you weren't the one he saw at the heart of creating the world. So why did it feel so right while it lasted?

Mijomir frowns at your confession but doesn't comment or question it. A true friend. One of the very few. If there was anyone you could trust with your life, other than Ulla and Aleks… other than Ulla, it was him. And only him.

"Anyway… I figured you could use some help. Either killing Luke or pretending you were dead. Although from what I gather, you managed to pull off the latter. You scared the living daylights out of me, by the way. I thought you were actually dead until I found that damn communication stone."

"Sorry, drastic measures and all that. Besides, I haven't heard from you in 10 years."

"I was busy. I thought I was…" He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "We don't have much luck with significant others, do we?"

"Hell no. But I'm guessing most witches don't." You nod, agreeing with him on that one point.

You open your mouth to ask him exactly what he was doing during that time, but just then fate decides to put another witch in your path. This time, a worse one.

You don't even know the redhead who attacks you. She simply throws ropes at you and uses her magic to bind you with them. But before she can leap at you with a golden dagger, Mijomir is there to save the day and push her away from you. Clumsily enough that the woman cuts your right cheek.

You hiss as you feel blood drip down your skin but quickly recover. You shrug off your heavy cloak and use an old trick taught to you by the older witches in your coven. The woman begins to choke on her own blood, which unfortunately has the same effect on you.

Blood pours from your eyeballs as you work your dark magic, tearing apart every cell in her, causing her heart to stop as you strip away every tiny tissue of her muscle and nerves to her heart.

Meanwhile, Mijomir kills another witch who came to the aid of the first one. You catch your breath in quick gasps, exhausted from using so much power. Mijomir quickly shoves the bodies into a ditch and sets them on fire, controlling the flame so it's not big enough to attract anyone's attention.

“Are you okay?” He asks, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the fire. You nod, looking around the alley. "Don't worry; these are less-travelled areas. Although I think you know that when you stop here. What are you even doing here? You should be far away from here, either planning to assassinate Luke or to escape and start a new identity and life."

"I… I'm not exactly alone." You mumble, staring at the small fire.

5th attack this week. And it was only Wednesday. I think you're going for a record this week. And I guess the news of your death wasn't convincing enough in the witch world.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N!" You shiver at the sound of Aleksander's voice behind you. You turn to see him, Baghra, Ulla, and Ivan heading your way. You sigh, realising that you're in for another long evening of explaining what happened.

You frown as Mijomir suddenly slumps on his knees to the ground, shivering in pain as he puts his hand on his heart. Luckily, you connect the dots quickly.

"No! Leave him alone, Ivan! He's a friend!" You shout at him and kneel next to the wizard.

Ivan thankfully listens to you for once, you doubt it was out of respect for you. More like your furious look or Aleksander's nod as he dismisses his shadows.

Anyway, when Mijomir can finally stand properly on two legs and is not in danger of being attacked by your little company, he is recognised.

"It can't be…" Ulla mutters, taking a step towards you and looking at him.

"Ulen'ka?" Your friend mumbles, squinting at her as if trying to connect the face of the child he knew with the face of the adult woman now standing before him.

"Uncle Mijo!" She screams and rushes to hug him. He can barely stand on his two legs.

Luckily, you support him, keeping your hand on his back and making sure Ulla doesn't jump on him and throw the two of them into the ditch where the witches' bodies were still burning.

"Uncle? I don't exactly remember you being part of the family." Aleksander speaks up, drawing your gaze.

You ignore the way your heart beats a little too fast, pleading with the saints who still listen to your pleas for Ivan not to sense this, and you give him a distant, cold look.

"He's my family, so don't be surprised that he's the same for Ulla."

"I thought you had no family." He notices, jabbing you in the sweet spot with a pin, using the knowledge of your past to hurt you intentionally. Son of a bitch. A real one.

"Well, I have Ulla and him. I guess that counts."

You mask your winning smirk, turning your head towards Ulla and Mijomir at the perfect moment, ensuring you do not notice the spark of pain in Aleksander's dark eyes as you exclude him from your 'family'. Serves him right. Although you doubt you would think so if you saw the true effect it had on him.

No… you end up putting him first.

"Let's go inside. Fedyor will patch you up." Aleksander says, nodding at your bloody cheek and the streaks of blood under your eyes.

"Ah, that. Don't move, Y/N." Mijomir says and walks over to you. He cups both of your cheeks in his hands and presses his lips to your forehead. You feel the magic swirl between you as he helps you heal without the little science of Grisha, just his magical essence.

After a while you feel much better; your head isn't spinning as much as before, and you feel more energetic after Mijomir lent you some of his magic so you could replenish your supplies.

He doesn't give you a chance to check Aleksander's expression. He grabs your hand and simply drags you into the inn, mumbling something about the bloody winter and how he won't be rubbing you with healing oils if you catch a cold.

Ulla will later describe to you in full detail how furious her brother was watching this interaction between you two.

You feel that Mijomir will help you with this exactly as a true friend would... or maybe even someone more.

"I don't want to leave you alone with her…" Aleksander grumbles, feeling guilty as he packs to leave.

You sigh, walking over to him. You take out the black linen shirt he wanted to take and leave it on your small bed. You hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent, tracing gentle, soothing circles on his back.

"I know, honey… But you said yourself that this is a good opportunity for us. Quick earnings, low risk of being discovered. And we need this money. Ulla is growing faster and faster; Baghra hasn't shown up in years… And you know perfectly well that my little witcher tricks and money creation are quite limited for now. You have to go."

He mumbles something into your hair and plants a long, tender kiss on the top of your head.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? And that you'll be safe without me?"

"Aleksander, it's only two weeks." You notice, pulling away to get a better look at him before he will leave.

Damn, you were lucky. He was all yours. Only yours.

"A lot may happen in those two weeks... just promise me you will wait here for me." You snort in amusement, as if you were going to move anywhere else until he comes back for the two of you.

His serious expression, however, suggests he's not in the same playful mood as you. You smile and cup his slightly bearded cheek in your hand.

"I will. I'm not going anywhere until you come back here again. Consider this a vacation from me and Ulla." You add playfully and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

You gasp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist, pressing you against the wooden wall of your little cabin in the woods and stealing a breath-taking kiss.

One of his hands wraps gently around your neck, the other cupping your cheek, lifting your head higher as his tongue makes its way into your mouth.

He devours you.

He takes everything you have from you, and all you can do is moan into his mouth, tightening your grip on him, pulling him closer to you desperately, melting into the feeling of having him so close to you, almost as close as he should ever be.

Your lips chase after his as he pulls away, but he doesn't let you kiss him again. Instead, he trails along the column of your neck, leaving soft bites and kisses, marking you for his absence, as if he hadn't done enough the night before, as if you weren't still sore from a long evening and morning of goodbyes.

As if you would ever let anyone have you the way he had you.

"I could spend all eternity with you and still not have enough of you." He mumbles against your skin, pressing one last kiss to your jaw and resting his forehead against yours, inhaling your scent, revelling in his final moments of closeness with you.

"Silver tongue…"

"As always. Just look at another man in my absence and you'll see what else I'm capable of."

"And jealous… you look damn handsome when you're jealous, Mr Morozova." You can't help but tease him, sending him a mischievous smirk as you ruffle his hair.

"Only about you, future Mrs Morozova."

"A bold statement from a man who didn't even give me a ring."

"Bold assumption that this man will let you go and have other options."

And maybe other women would have been scared of that, taken it as a big red flag, and packed their bags and run away long ago. But you loved that he was almost as madly in love with you as you were with him.

"Did he leave?" Mojomir asks, knocking on your door a few minutes after Aleksander leaves. You nod and open the door wider for him. "Woman, I feel like I'm in some kind of occupation. Or a secret cult. Or both. Are you sure you want this one? He keeps you locked away in the middle of the forest, away from the world, and makes you babysit his sister, as sweet as she is." He whispers, not wanting to wake Ulla from her afternoon nap.

"It's not like that… He loves me. And I love him. We just have each other, and that's it. Besides, I doubt the world would welcome a witch like me and a Grisha like him so willingly. I'm happy here."

You defend Aleksander, unpacking all the supplies Mijomir brought you from his last expedition. A few herbs that can't be obtained anywhere in Ravka, crystals, a new cauldron for your collection, and two new potion books.

"Does he even know what you're going to do? How much are you willing to sacrifice for him?" He asks you, taking one of the chairs. You sigh, putting the new things back in their places with your other witchy things.

"It's my choice. He has nothing to do with it. Anyway, if I told him, he'd try to stop me."

"That's what I was hoping for. This is crazy, Y/N. No one has ever attempted to create something this strong. Maybe only Ilya Morozova himself."

You smile to yourself at the irony of it. He was right. No one but Aleksander's grandfather would have dared to do something so crazy. You regret that he is dead, that you can't meet him, and talk about what you are going to do out of love for his grandson and granddaughter.

But it didn't discourage you. Or scare you. After all, you were supposed to be Morozova. You were supposed to create great things yourself.

"Only lunatics are worth something."

"I'll carve that on your tombstone. And mine, when that boyfriend of yours finds out I had a hand in this and helped you get killed."

"I think he'd sooner kill you just to come here and talk to me. You don't have to do anything more."

"Poor consolation. But seriously, watch out for him."

"He's a good man… despite what others may think."

Mijomir mumbles something under his breath about a psychopath with a heart of gold who kills innocent friends, but you don't have a chance to comment on it. Ulla, awake, runs to her step-uncle, peppering him with questions about his travels and adventures from the doorstep. You prepare dinner, listening to everything Mijomir exposed himself to, making little remarks about his safety from time to time.

You felt a little bit downhearted without Aleksander... but at least you had other family members to take care of.

After a long day of explaining to everyone the reason for Mijomir's presence, you almost thank the saints that you can finally rest.

You lie in the tavern's dingy bed, tossing and turning. Your restless mind effectively prevents you from falling asleep in these already questionable conditions. You sigh and get out of bed. You put on your coat and step out onto the small balcony that was somehow held up by the tavern's rotten wooden planks.

Your thoughts, of course, are none other than Alexander. As they always have been for centuries. You sigh and close your eyes, remembering the way he's looked at Alina these past few weeks. And even though you should have been over it, even though you should have walked away with dignity ages ago, let go of this losing battle with his pride; you just... couldn't.

He was the love of your life. He had told you a thousand times that you were the love of his life. And yet now, after so many centuries, after so much gossiping, after so many years together, after so many plans for a future together, so many promises that felt almost sacred... it felt more like a loss of your life.

It hurt all the more knowing that you would love him no matter what he did. Even if it was to hurt you. Sick, really. How could anyone love someone to such an extent? You suspected it was because of your immortality. Maybe if you had fewer years to waste sighing over him, it would be easier to forget him.

"Can't sleep?" You shiver as his voice booms from behind you. He pursues you like a plague, yet he won't even touch you with a three-foot pole. Ridiculous.

"I don't need sleep." You mumble without turning to face him, still leaning against the wooden railings. You wonder how much longer they can hold your weight before they break.

"Probably." He snorts mockingly and walks over to you. He leans against the railing, wincing as he hears the crunch of wood. "This is going to collapse soon."

"Probably." You nod apathetically, looking at the streets in front of you, not giving him a second glance. “Maybe you should go inside.”

"Who was he to you?" He growls, either unable to stop himself or biting his tongue too late.

"Who? Mijomir?" You ask, giving him a quick glance. “A friend. He would come over sometimes to help me with my witch stuff. Ulla loved playing with him.”

"Only a friend?"

This innocent question asked in the most nonchalant way he could muster makes you lose your composure. You snort in disbelief, finally giving him your gaze, only to see hurt and anger in his irises. He was acting like a 5-year-old who had a toy taken away that he didn't play with anyway but decided to be dramatic about it.

"You've got the nerve of a donkey turd to ask me that. Besides, I don't have to answer you. We're not together." You snap at him, ready to go back to your room and leave the balcony you share with him, but clearly today he's made it a point to annoy the living hell out of you.

"True. We are not together. And yet you are irritated by the sight of Alina and me." You stop at the door, clenching your fist at his irritating, cocky tone. Little son of a bitch. Scum.

"What can I say? You're not my favourite people. I actually only tolerate Ulla. And Mijomir." You engage in a verbal spar with him, even though the rational part of you is screaming to get out of there. You turn around and fold your arms, taking a step towards him. "But I see that today the roulette of your multiple personalities has drawn the version of you that wants to cling to our past." He snorts mockingly at your mockery and takes a step toward you, undeterred by the fury with which your eyes burn into his face.

"I think you're upset for a completely different reason." He replies confidently, as if he had any right to point out how he makes you feel.

"What do you want?" You sigh, tired of this game between you.

You had a coven of witches coveting your head, a war with Fjerda, and all of that combined with your ex's moods made you slowly prepare to explode. Preferably at him.

"Tomorrow we have our first serious battle with Fjerda. Alina has gathered the men." He explains it to you as if you were not a participant in any conversations about strategy for this particular battle.

"I know. And?" You ask impatiently, raising an eyebrow at him. He sighs and shifts his gaze from you to the streetlights.

"Look after yourself." He mumbles through clenched teeth as if someone had forced him to utter that small request. For a moment you stand there, frozen in shock, before you burst out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief.

"I don't have to. I have Mijomir."

"Y/N..." He growls, grabbing your elbow the moment you turn to go back to your room. You close your eyes and swallow as he spins you around, holding both of your forearms in his tight grip. "I am serious."

"Me too. You should go to Alina." You reply, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to maintain that unfazed attitude.

But he knows you better than that. One look in your eyes, the slight tremor in your voice as you say her name, and he knows everything he needs.

"Jealous?" You snort mockingly at his question. His raised eyebrow and mischievous smirk quickly fall under your indifferent and nonchalant attitude.

"I have no right to."

"But you are, don't you?" You frown as he continues to push the subject.

Even if you were... what would it change? Absolutely nothing. He's burnt himself too many times to put his hand in the same fire a second time. And you... you were probably too bruised to fight for him anymore.

"What game are you playing right now? What do you want to prove?"

You stare at each other for a long moment as he ponders the answer he was supposed to give you. Because what exactly did he want from you? Why did he follow you here? Why did he go out on that damn balcony after you without a second thought? Why did he tell Ivan to keep an eye on you? He knew. But it would be too pathetic to admit it.

"You were with me just to create this necklace, weren't you?" He watches you closely, asking you this question, a question that has hung unspoken between you ever since he found out what exactly the glass heart on your chest was supposed to do.

He watches with stoic calm as your eyes widen in shock at his question as you hold your breath for a moment, processing exactly what he's just said to you. And the moment you pull away from him, when tears briefly fill your eyes, quickly giving way to anger and frustration, he knows that the answer wasn't going to be quite what his logical, rational side was expecting.

"No. I loved you. I loved you, Aleksander. I fucking loved you with all my stupid heart. From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you, and from the moment I really knew you, I knew I had lost my heart to some guy who was too mysterious to tell me his damn name. And I should have known better; I should have walked away at the first sign of trouble, but damn it, I LOVED YOU. That's why I created this necklace. To never leave you alone, to always be with you, to help you bear the eternity that awaited you. But you can't seem to get it into your thick skull, so what does it matter? Too many years have passed to continue digging into it. You won't trust me anymore, and I won't forgive you for choosing to believe I was against you from the very beginning of us for so long, so... so maybe we should finally let this go."

"Let this go? Do you really want to let this go? Just like that?"

"I am dead to you either way. Am I not, Aleksander?" You ask with your head held high, even though your voice cracks slightly at the end.

He's astonished. He instinctively moves closer, extending his hand in an attempt to grasp your arm. However, you deftly retreat, evading his touch before his fingertips can even touch your skin. The sight of your tears sends a pain through him as intense as the merzost itself has never caused.

"How can you expect... you were the love of my life..." He stutters through his words, too afraid to open up to both you and himself and too petrified to let you go forever.

"And you were the loss of mine, Sasha." You whisper, letting a few tears roll down your cheeks before you aggressively wipe them away with the sleeve of your shirt. The glass heart of your necklace clinks against the metal buttons.

This destroys him completely. He stands frozen in place, watching as you take off that damn immortality necklace and place it on the railing that looks like it's about to collapse in any second.

"Here… do with it what you want." You reply in resignation as he is frozen in pure panic, only able to hear the pounding of his own heart as it accelerates by several hundred miles a minute.

"Y/N..." He mumbles, reaching for you one last time, but can only manage to graze the fabric of your shirt with his fingertip as you run as fast as you can back to your room. "Y/N!" He calls after you as you slam the door shut, nearly ripping the already questionably constructed frame off its hinges.

He takes the necklace in a flash and clutches it securely in his hand, having a small heart attack as a silver pendant almost falls off the railing from the power of which you shut the door.

You wanted to get rid of that damn necklace and him… but all you did was prove to him what you had just said so loudly.

You didn't want immortality just for yourself.

You wanted it for him. So he wouldn't be alone.

And now that Alina was there and you thought he was with her…

No… you couldn't just do it… without it you'll die, if not of old age then from those who hunted you… and he couldn't… Ulla will kill him.

"Trouble in paradise?" His mother asks, leaning against the door frame and watching him carefully.

He takes one deep calming breath, shoving his shaking, empty hand into his pocket so as not to show her the unstable, trembling emotional mess he currently was.

"For centuries, thanks for noticing, mother." He growls back at her with clenched teeth, staring at the necklace in his hand. His blood. In this heart. He had thought for a long time that it was meant to symbolise your power over his heart. In fact, it was a symbol of his power over yours.

How funny it is that in the moments when he feels the most powerless, his mother is always there with him...

"Are you just going to let her go?"

The irony is that the same woman who pushed him away from you is now questioning your idea of ​​leaving him. Even dares to talk him out of the mere idea of allowing it… or maybe that was his mother's way to make him completely disgusted with you. Although… in all these years, has he ever really had a resentment for you that outweighed his… his love for you?

"You wanted this. Weren't you the one who told me she created that necklace behind my back? Weren't you the one who rubbed it in my face with pleasure that I had let a witch who wanted to use my immortality for her own gain? That it was never about me, but about the power I have? Didn't you do the same with Alina?" He throws accusations at her furiously, as if a moment ago he did not have tears of helplessness and despair in his eyes.

"I was right about Alina. You wanted to use her, you can't convince me otherwise. The saints know that all you really loved was that witch girl and your sister."

Aleksander just shakes his head and heads inside his room, knowing that arguing with her is a lost cause. He sits on the bed, the necklace still in his tight grip as he wonders what the hell he's supposed to do now.

"You were right. I made a mistake with Y/N. But how was I supposed to know she did it for you?"

"And how was I supposed to trust her when you spent your whole life teaching me to rely only on myself, mother?" He asks mockingly, lifting his gaze to her, surprised that she had gone to the trouble of following him and continuing his tirade.

"Don't put the blame on me. The pride that prevents you from telling her you were wrong is something you earned entirely by yourself." She continues to mock him, to which he just rolls his eyes. Her demeanour changes though, becoming a tad… awkward as she avoids looking at him. "I… I may have been wrong in a few matters. But I know one thing for sure. Pride, Aleksander, does not go hand in hand with love."

"Another lesson?" He mumbles, raising an eyebrow at her.

She doesn't grace him with an answer, though. She leaves his room, leaving him alone with his thoughts, the shadows moving around him, and the necklace still safe in his hand.

And Aleksander is faced with one dark truth that he has been running away from for so many years, centuries even.

He had wasted so much time with you, believing the worst, clinging to his mother's suspicions of you, and then, when some sense returned to him, he had clung to his pride. Because admitting that he had ruined your lives… who had condemned your love to loss and failure would have been too devastating for him.

For a long time he had thought that the Sun Summoner would be his guide, his equal, would show him the way, would stay with him, and would fight for their people together. Would fight for him. Would give him light in his darkness. But the truth was, he already had his equal. You. And he had lost you.

No. He won't let you go.

He jumps out of his bed and walks out of his room, storming into yours. He almost breaks the door down with his strength, and if he weren't so desperate, he'd wonder why it's open, but all he can think about is getting you back.

Damn his pride. Without you, none of this mattered anyway; nothing worked out for him the way it should. And although he couldn't live with you, living without you seemed a much crueller, more torturous process than admitting that he needed you desperately, painfully, in a crazy way that took away his rational thought.

"I love you, Y/N. I'm sorry, I…" His confession dies on his tongue when he sees only an empty room. An empty room with a broken window and signs of a fight in it.

His apology catches in his throat, ash on his tongue as he realises exactly what happened while he was in the next room, oblivious, when he should have been in your bed with you, holding you safe in his arms, killing whoever came after you.

A cold chill runs through him, his shadows churning within him, ready to be released, to create another Fold, like when they first took you from him. Thankfully, he is much older and has much more self-control. He does not want to destroy any clues.

"IVAN!" He's yelling at the entire tavern, not caring who he wakes up. In fact, he wants to wake everyone up and immediately go on a search, chasing you. "IVAN!"

He places your necklace around his neck, his own heart racing with fear. You were defenceless. Mortal. Vulnerable to ordinary blades and bullets.

"Moi soverenyi, what..." Ivan’s question dies on his lips as he runs into the room, his kefta barely fastened. Heartrender swallows hard. “She’s gone.”

"Collect our people. We're coming for her. Spread the word. Everyone who believes in the Starless One must show up."

"What's going on?" Alina enters the room, tying her robe. He can see Nikolai and Ulla right behind her, but he's too preoccupied to answer her.

He walks deeper into the room, analysing every inch of the floor covered in blood and blade scratches. And then he finds. A small figurine of a wolf's head. A Drüskelle.

If they had her, word would spread quickly to the Sabbath who hunted her.

"You can't disappear and look for her now! We have more important things to do! We have a war to win!" Alina protests, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him to stand up from the floor and look at her.

He's faster than she can process. He grabs her by the throat and pins her to the wall. Alina gasps, barely able to say a word, let alone take a proper breath. He casts his shadows, seeing Nikolai reach for his gun out of the corner of his eye. Saints praise Ivan; he'll quickly overpower the little Tsar.

"Sasha, stop!" Aleksander hears Ulla's weak protest, but all he can do is stare at Alina with pure hatred.

For a moment, he thinks of a similar situation between them in his grandfather's workshop. The difference is that then he did care a little about the Sun Summoner, but now he doesn't feel that sentiment anymore.

But after the diminutive form of his name uttered by Ulla seeps into his brain, all he can remember are your words.

You were the love of my life...

And you were the loss of mine, Sasha.

"If I don't find her, I'll make sure you have nothing to fight for. There'll be no Fjerda, no Ravka, no Shu, nothing. I'll leave nothing that my shadows won't turn into one big fold. Do you understand now how important she is, moya tsarista?" He growls, using his most intimidating tone. Shadows gather around him uncontrollably, his hand around Alina's neck shaking as he struggles to retain any remaining control.

You were the loss of mine, Sasha.

He watches with satisfaction as she just nods, barely able to do anything. He lets go of her, letting her fall to the floor, coughing, holding her neck as she gasps for air.

"You are mad... completely mad." Alina is panting on the floor, trying to pull herself together after his attack at her. But he doesn't see her. He only sees your tearful eyes.

You were the loss of my life, Sasha.

"Don't blame me, my Sol Koroleva. Love makes me crazy." He scoffs mockingly and turns to Ulla, who has been watching this with panic and slight disappointment. "Go get that wizard of hers. Maybe he'll be useful." Aleksander replies, unfazed by her gaze. He will be whatever monster he has to to get you back.

He was the Black General. A Darkling. He would kill anyone who dared to touch what was his.

His sister nods and runs out of the room, leaving him with a furious Alina, an unconscious Nikolai, and Ivan, who is the only one who seems unfazed by the whole situation. May the saints bless him.

"We'll find her." His heartrender assures him, at which he just nods.

He has to find you. He sees no other option.

The glass heart now hanging around his neck had evaporated a hole right through him. This is the last time he lets you take off that damn necklace.

Suddenly he doesn't care at all that it was created without his consent. What an irony…

All he thinks about is your last words to him.

Do with it what you want.

He will. He will put it right where it belongs. On your neck.

Or he'll kill everything around him trying to do so.

Did I have fun writing the end of the chapter? Yes. I'm curious what you think about Mijomir and what your attitudes are towards the next chapter. I'm also wondering how long this series will be, what else you want to see, etc., so if you have any special requests, feel free to write! (I love all my anonymous people, so do not be more shy than me! 😊😘)

Any comments/messages/hearts are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much!!! If you want to, let me know what you think 🥰🖤🖤

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Crazed Fruit (Kô Nakahira, 1956)