#“you were a wonderful experience.” “you were...everything.”

[a-compass-without-a-needle]

This is what happened after 3.1 isn't it?

[thetadispatcher]

The android nodded in agreement, at least there were humans that understood his methods and saw no problem with them. Even if Bishop was the first human he'd met that agreed with him, and his system had already calculated the likelihood of him meeting more to be slim, he could still appreciate that maybe one day he'd get to work with a human who wouldn't complain about his work ethics.

"If only I could get the humans, and androids, I work with to understand, although I see no possibility of that happening. Shame really, but such is life. Once you develop freewill, everything you do will be scrutinized differently, instead of them simply chalking it up to a machine being cold and unfeeling." Even if Gavin did occasionally question if the RK900 was truly deviant or just pretending. Something he'd never give the human a straight answer for, he felt it was a good chance for the detective to prove his skills, and just a good opportunity to mess with the man more.

John glanced at Bishop, raising his eyebrow slightly as he listened to the man talk about the fact there was a human version of him. "Hm... Well, even being human can't stop the military from getting their hands on me. Good to know, I had wondered that once." It had only been a brief thought, and not one he felt would ever be answered. But it seemed like anything was possible, so he'd have to take that into consideration when wondering things in the future.

"I can say Peter cares about me, although I sometimes suspect that's just due to me being the first deviant he actually got to experience. Another of Cyberlife's great plans, hide the units they lied about destroying with employees, and people they could trust to keep quiet about it. Catherine, his Cyberlife friend, made a pretty good argument for him being a good candidate for that activity. Didn't bother to warn him as they thought he already knew thanks to her, so he was a bit freaked out the day he came home from work and found me in his old apartment... I might've ruffed him up a bit more then necessary, but I wasn't prepared for him to start trying to fight me."

John couldn't blame Peter for reacting how he had to a stranger showing up in his home unannounced, and Peter didn't hold it against the android for defending himself against a clearly panicked human. But they did eventually get things worked out after he'd managed to restrain the young man, and prove to him he wasn't actually there to harm him.

"Oh, the talking corpse." Nines said calmly, ignoring Hugh giving him a shocked look at his choice of words. "I'm not shocked to hear he has a bond with another version of John, for having very different personalities they get along quite well. Although it seems things went down a more tragic path for them, if the smell of a roughly five month old corpse that been sitting on the ocean floor is any indicator." Hugh attempted to silence the RK900 by giving the unit a harsh shove to his shoulder and a very upset look.

Nines just gave him a bored look, as if he saw no problem with how blunt he was being about the odd man currently in the house. "I can provide further evidence, such as the black gel on his body. Any normal human would clean that from their skin, but he hasn't. So, that would lead one to believe it might be part of the reason why he's up and about." He glanced at John as the android wirelessly criticized him then shifted his focus to Bishop. "Am I correct?"

Kelvin didn't respond through the link as the damage he'd suffered made his attempts turn into a garbled mess of useless noise that overwhelmed whoever he was linked with, and he wasn't actually used to hearing the other speak through the link clearly since it was usually a dull buzz for him.

He perked up a bit upon being able to make out actual words through the low droning sound in his mind, to which he eagerly nodded as he understood what was being asked of him.

He allowed her access to his memories from the day he was damaged, the data was corrupted, but he felt there was enough still intact to be useful.

The memory file opened to the sound of a helicopter, briefly showing that to his left there was a vast ocean and his right there was another android in a similar outfit to his with an island visible out the window. The image of a human male on a laptop sat across from the other unit flashed before being distorted by the corruption, causing a lapse in time before the memories cleared.

Kelvin was back looking out the window at the water below before the window cracked, seconds later he was being tossed around the helicopter as it lost control. The helicopter came to a halt on the top of a cliff face, the landing jarring a door open causing the other android to fly from the aircraft and plummeting into the ocean below.

His system had been sending messages to Cyberlife and the company he was owned by, attempting to alert them of the situation, but his attempts were nothing but panicked jumbled words and code. Something that shouldn't have happened with a non-deviant android.

Kelvin was nearly flung out with the other unit, but had managed to grab hold of the seat. He struggled to pull himself up and back inside, the human reached to help him as he slipped, dangling from the very edge before he too fell into the water. The last sound he ever heard was the his own scream and the crashing of waves growing louder.

Kelvin's memory corrupted as he slammed into the water, shattering the inner mechanics of his ears, and severely damaging his brain as it was violently slammed against it's housing. Error messages flooded his HUD, obstructing his vision, somehow he managed to find his way out of the water as his system registered sand underneath him. The errors and agonizing pain overwhelmed his system, in response he desperately tried to send error reports as he didn't understand what was happening or the pain he was experiencing. Reports that were never received, continuously failing until the function shutdown entirely, leaving the android unable to contact anyone for help.

His memory continued after another time lapse, showing the human once again now looking the unit over, checking his visible damage and testing to make sure he was still functional enough to be useful.

The remaining intact sections of his memory were of the human giving him orders on a notepad that he happily completed without question. Kelvin seemed to believe the man was his friend as the human allowed him to stay inside the shelter he made, gave him tasks, and would scare off or attack the savage island natives Kelvin pointed out to him. The android took the actions as kindness, not that the man saw him as useful and therefoe had decided to keep him around.

Eventually the pair was rescued and returned to civilization, where the human seemed to have been given a choice regarding Kelvin as the company no longer wanted the android. The man glanced at the damaged unit and shook his head, Kelvin was then lead away by a pair of Cyberlife technicians, clearly not understanding what was happening. He kept looking back at the man, waiting for him to follow them. Moments before his system was deactivated did he understand what was going on, he glanced at the doors waiting for the man he'd believed was his friend to come save him before everything went black.

The next time he opened his eyes was to a very confused Peter staring down at him then looking at an equally perplexed Dan, his first thoughts were of him being hopeful that his human friend was coming to take him home. A hope the unit clearly still had, he seemed to believe the human was coming to get him, doing whatever tasks he could find well he waited for the man to arrive.

Sixty watched the two closely, tucking himself behind Strasky as he was still convinced the connection wouldn't end well.

"Oddly, he really doesn't yell, it's more of a calm type of rage. I think he just keeps his voice down 'cause of the more skittish units. He doesn't wanna start yellin' 'nd make 'em think he's gonna start beatin' on 'em, like their old owners did." He could understand why the human restrained himself from simply screaming, instead showing his anger in other ways as to not cause the traumatized units any unnecessary distress.

Ellis tucked the rag into the pocket of his Cyberlife issued coveralls, he had a feeling he'd be needing it again, so he felt it best to carry it on him so he wouldn't have to get up again.

"Yep, we get a warnin' if it's startin' to run low. Most units don't need to get it refilled that often, if ever. But ones like me, we're always gettin' somethin' in our eyes, so it's more of a monthly thing then a yearly. 'nd no, givin' us eye protection never seems to cross our owners minds." At least from the units he'd spoken with, it seemed the humans thought they didn't need to provide safety glasses to androids as their eyes were different from a humans.

"I always just thought it was my owner doin' all the brain dead crap, don't know if it makes me feel better learin' that isn't the case. Ugh, that man... He always felt the need to correct me on the stuff I was made to do, never made any sense to me, but I had to listen. I think he just liked feelin' superior to a machine, even if he was wrong 'nd the reason we were loosin' business... Which I, of course, was blamed for. I seemed to be his go-to when things when wrong, or when he decided to manifest issues." He rolled his eyes before he got back under the vehicle.

"Grade A idiot he was if ya ask me. I like it here a lot more, I can do things my way 'nd no one will try to tell me I'm wrong, or how somethin' I had nothin' to do with was my fault." He preferred his new life over his old one, and he had no desire to even see how his old owner was doing as he rather forget the man ever existed.

It was hard to say what the intention was there. Even Bishop's compliments sounded condescending.

"I can attest to the effectiveness of that method. There is no place for personal feelings while on duty."

Then one could be particularly wise and never stop working to avoid it completely. Bishop shuffled his cards as he waited on the androids. The question got no major reaction out of him other than the vague frown any attempt at asking him to disclose information got. He sat with his back straight, as expected from an agent of his caliber.

"Well, if you want to know about the human that looks like him," he pointed to John, "Claiming that I know him would be an overstatement. We met less than 48 hours ago. The brief conversations we had and all the flattering things I was told hardly make up for that. All I can tell you is that he was in the military and is of particular importance for Strasky."

And he was mostly neutral despite his interest in the skills of a fellow military men.

Willow showed a distinctively cautious approach as well as the link was established. While she had connected to unstable systems before, it was always best to feel around first, before risking to cause additional damage.

Though she was still confident she could handle this and even attempted talking back. "I would like to have a look at your memories. The others here believe it would help them understand you better if they knew how you were damaged. Additionally, I may be able to repair some of it as well."

Rook shrugged, "It isn't really what I'm aiming for with my streams, but I could steal some of those lines. It might throw them off enough to shut up whenever I stop playing to go back to Minecraft. I just can't be bothered and I don't want to scare my pets with random screams."

She made sure to keep her distance, knowing better than to get in the way while somebody was working.

"Yeah, I figured that was the case. Does that mean you've got to refill sometimes? Like wiper fluid or something like that."

[thatsmistertoyou]

maybe a hot take idk

look I know many people are upset about the pricing/fee situation of the TIT livestream (me included, I was pissed as hell that I got a large surprise fee), and I hope everything gets sorted out. I’m proud of the phandom for being loud and demanding fairness from the platform. you will not get shit past us.

I understand that. however, I completely disagree with some opinions I’ve seen (mainly on twitter but whatever) that charging for the stream at all is greedy, especially for people who have already paid to see the show. this is a weird take imo because this stream is supposed to be an opportunity for people who didn’t get to go to see it with an audience as a communal experience. but if you already spent money and don’t want to spend more, don’t!

and I don’t know anything about anything but based on the very little information dnp have provided about the cost of touring, I really don’t think they have the option to just do the stream for free. this is just my opinion, but based on how dan said he lost money touring WAD, i would not be surprised if the livestream paid for the rights he needed to release it for free on YouTube (and the extremely important rights to play All Star in the credits). just because he wrote and performed it doesn’t mean he owned it. it would not surprise me at all if the profits from the stream don’t go to dnp only.

and also, Things Cost Money, including livestreams. I think the platform has really showed their ass, but if we remove them from the equation for a second - everyone who put on TIT, including Dan and Phil, deserve to be compensated for their work. I don’t expect them to bleed money into this project forever just because it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m sure they’re doing just fine financially, but they are not and never have asked anyone to take food off their table to support them.

I actually find it really disheartening to see just how many people were like, legitimately, personally angry with dnp before they had even had a chance to respond to our concerns. I’ve been around long enough to remember when they announced TABINOF, there was an uproar about how they were sellouts because they were writing a book just like every other youtuber, making a shitty cashgrab when they had nothing to say. in the 2 days before we knew what the book would even be about, the Discourse had never been more annoying or mean spirited.

and it made me wonder, what are yall doing here if you assume the worst like that? have you just been waiting for the masks to slip? are you appalled that they participate in the heinous capitalistic act of selling their labor like everyone else? have your years of support not earned a little bit of grace when there’s a miscommunication?

I’m not saying approach everything like ‘they’ve never done anything wrong once in their whole lives and never will’, but the vitriol that seems to come out at minor fuck ups is alarming. some of yall do not like them and it shows. (I am looking directly at twitter dot com now)

I find that attitude really sad. after the TABINOF drama, I promised myself I’d never lose sleep over phandom nonsense again, so I’m going to bed, just had to get some thoughts out there. 💙

[monstersflashlight]

Werewolf boyfriend NSFW Alphabet

A/N: This is inspired by the wonderful @davinawritings, here’s her orc boyfriend alphabet, and I decided to do the werewolf one because I do love a good werewolf… (lil disclaimer: I haven’t run this thru the corrector bc I was in a rush, so sorry if something is incorrect!) Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Werewolf boyfriend loves to snuggle against you as his knot goes down, preferably over you until you feel like you are almost going to suffocate. He puts you on your side after a while, his big paws resting over your lower belly so he can feel the tip of his dick pressing there. Doesn’t matter how much you whine, he only chuckles and rubs your clit again and again until you are clenching over his knot with another orgasm. But when his knot finally goes down, he doesn’t clean your right away, pushing his come back inside of you again and again until you are coming again, too tired to move. Only then he takes his huge ass tongue and cleans you up, if he makes you come again… that’s just a perk for him. (Also loves to cuddle after everything, but by then you are fast asleep.)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

His favorite part of you are your hips, the perfect squeeziness for him to grab onto as he pounds you from behind. His favorite part of himself are his teeth, always ready to bite your neck to remind you who you belong to.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Werewolf boyfriend comes buckets, and wants to keep every little drop inside your tight cunt if he can. But he also loves to come every part of your body, leaving you dripping as he rubs his come onto your body so you never stop smelling like him. Bonus points if you let him come on your panties and put them back on around the house, knowing you are sticky with his come always makes him extra feral in bed… and you love that.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He likes to play fetch, but if you tell anybody he would deny it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

He fucked many before you, but no pussy was as tight as yours and no mouth made him want to fuck into their throats as yours do.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

He loves it doggy style, duh.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):

Werewolf boyfriend is the silliest monster. He loves being Goofy around you (pun intended bc dog, haha). He cracks jokes every chance he gets, always loving to make you laugh.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He’s hairy as fuck… and you love it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect):

He loves gifting you little things he finds in his runs. A rock shaped as a heart? He’s bringing it to you. A cute little flower that matches your dress? He would get it. Trying to bake a cake just because you were craving sweets? He’ll try… and fail.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He likes jerking off on you. He always thought he wouldn’t be like those possessive wolves that make their mates smell like come 24/7, but now that he’s with you he’s changed his mind. He comes on you every time he can, he obviously prefers to knot you until you are crying, but he also enjoys coming over your pussy and rubbing your clit with his come as lube.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Size kink, knotting, predator/prey, marking, watersports… You name it, he probably has it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He would fuck you anywhere, everywhere. He doesn’t matter if somebody can hear, if somebody can see, if he has a hard dick, he wants to stick it in you, and if he can’t… then you might need to find a secluded place as soon as possible.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He loves you so much that every little thing you do is a turn on. You are walking around the house cleaning? He would hug you from behind and rub one off against your ass. You are helping him cook? He would let the food burn because he has you bent over the counter as he eats you out messily.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs):

Seeing you even a little bit sad. If you watch a sad cat video, he would insist on you throwing the phone to the side and cuddling with you until you are warm and smell “correct”, aka happy, again.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He’s feral when it comes to eating your pussy, enjoying it a lot more than you expected, always wanting to lick you clean after fucking, waking you up with his huge tongue between your legs, pleasuring you in the shower… If he doesn’t eat you out at least a couple times a day, his day is not complete.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

He likes hard and fast, but when you are getting there, he likes to slow down, drag your orgasm out until you are begging, just to knot you and feel every single squeeze of your tight pussy around his knot.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Anywhere, anytime… If he can get his cock or tongue in you, he’s gonna. But he prefers when he has time, so he can knot you good and hard.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.):

They would do and try anything that you suggest trying. He’s a firm believer of trying everything at least once, and most times than not, he ends up liking it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?):

He can go for hours during the full moon, but on a normal day, he sticks to one knot in the morning and one at night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He loves to be pegged.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He likes to edge you until you are begging and messy, so he can slip his knot inside of you without stretching you out first.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He’s very loud, but he tries to muffle his sounds biting your neck. Doesn’t really work, but his whines and grunts always make you wetter, so it works for him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Werewolf boyfriend acts though around other wolves, but in reality he’s just a big softie who cries watching Disney movies.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

He has an average sized cock (for a werewolf), but a knot wider than others, making you stretch around him until it feels almost painful, but always gives you the strongest orgasms. His cock is dark at the base, and pinkish-reddish at the tip, getting shiny as soon as he gets hard, dripping copious amounts of precome.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Again: anytime, anywhere.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward):

He enjoys watching you sleep after (like a total creep).

A/N: Hi darlings, would you like for me to do this with some of my OCs? I think it would be really fun? Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in and who do you want for me to do first?

[roguishcat]

What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical)

Summary: Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: MNDI, 18+, NSFW, Humour, Romance, Angst, Smut, Smut with feels, Smut with some plot, Oral (Male receiving), Masturbation (female), Vaginal Fingering, Praise kink, They are bad at communicating, Inexperienced Reader, Astarion is bad at feelings

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader (You)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It's spring cleaning time, so let's get those WIPs done! 😊 This is my first finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning! Should have spent more time on this before posting, but my laptop is acting up again and I want to post the story whilst I can still use it (I hate writing/editing on my phone). Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Please tell me if you notice mistakes and typos! Hope you enjoy the story! ❤️❤️

You wanted to put him in your mouth. There. You said it. Well, admitted it to yourself silently in the dead of night whilst completely hidden under the blanket. Which was pretty much the same thing. Sort of.

You and Astarion had already done... it. The horizontal tango, that is. Twice even!

And you were very proud of how cool, smooth and put-together you were during those times. (Astarion immediately saw through your act, of course, but that was beside the point!)

Because no matter how inexperienced you were, you remembered both nights with hot cheeks and gentle warmth blooming to life in your chest every time you thought about the time you spent enjoying each other. Prior to meeting Astarion, you had no idea that bodies and tongues could even be used in such a manner. You read about it, of course. And being a voracious reader, especially when it came to certain literature, you had a general idea of what happened between consenting adults in the bedroom. And forests, beaches, caves, country houses, castle dungeons and so on.

But to actually experience it yourself! No matter how much you let your imagination run wild, to actually have someone, and a very handsome someone at that, outdo anything you imagined had been life-changing. You had a wonderful, toe-curling, lip-biting, earth-shattering, amazing time. And you really, really wanted to reciprocate.

And therein lay the problem.

The one and only time that you dared to go down on someone, you were told quite explicitly that you were completely shit at it. Absolutely talentless. Beyond terrible. And that put you off trying something like this with anyone ever again. Or so you thought.

Because when you looked at Astarion as he lay on top of you, making you tremble and shake with every movement of his hands on your skin, it made you wonder. Wonder how he would taste. You looked at Astarion and ached. Craved to hear him gasp and moan. Watch him unravel from the skill of your tongue and hands. Because surely if others could learn to do that to other person’s orifices then you… could probably manage to be okay at it.

The thought of your late-night musings becoming reality had your cheeks burning in seconds. You sighed and hit your head on the pillow, knowing that it was an awful, terrible idea.

Astarion was experienced, beautiful, and confident. You were not. Whatever it was that made him decide to be with you in the first place would surely be outweighed by the spectacular way you would screw this up.

You sighed again, this time a deep, long sound that almost emptied your lungs.

You wondered if you could just ask someone. You were sure that at least one of your companions could give you a pointer or two. But Astarion's pointy ears seemed to catch every bit of juicy gossip, every little whisper. He would know of the full extent of your inadequacy and promptly dump you.

No. You needed to keep your embarrassing secret to yourself.

And then you had a eureka moment. Because you realised that you didn't need to ask anyone at all! What you needed was to get Gale distracted enough for you to steal one of his books. Because you were more than certain that recently Gale had come into possession of a very filthy tome that he quickly squirreled away before anyone could notice. The tome that would be your salvation.

And with this comforting thought finally allowing you to relax, you soon found yourself in the arms of Morpheus, your sleep untroubled and filled with pleasant, if a little racy, dreams.

Astarion was... concerned. Yes, he wasn't worried exactly, though he was slowly edging towards that territory. And why? Well, because their level-headed leader started acting in a manner that one could politely refer to as eccentric.

This group was already full of weirdos, and you were pretty much the only one of the lot that one could call the voice of reason. Except lately you seemed to abandon all reason and instead chose to act like a woman gone mad as you made attempt after attempt to steal something from the wizard.

You were so bad at going about it in a discreet manner that it was almost amusing. Gale did not seem to notice, but Astarion knew that the cleric and the gith did, as did Karlach. He was sure that Shadowheart and Karlach had some kind of bet going on, although he did not care to find out exactly what the terms were.

Initially, he had a fleeting thought that you were trying to get into Gale's tent for amorous reasons. That you decided to take a new lover. Astarion tried not to examine the sick feeling that twisted his gut at the thought of you leaving his bedroll cold to frolic into another person's tent. Because there wasn't any sick feeling in the first place and even if there was, he could quite reasonably blame it on indigestion.

But then he realised that you tried to sneak into Gale's tent only when the wizard was otherwise occupied, usually right about the time he was preparing meals and seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was trying to make edible.

Either way, Astarion was confused, bewildered by why you doggedly chose to pursue something that the wizard had come to possess. Your tenacity and grim persistence would be amusing had it been anyone else that was acting batshit crazy. Alas, it was the one companion that Astarion bet on to stay sane throughout the whole ordeal. And that just wouldn’t do. Not that he cared, per se. But you being predictable would definitely make things easier in the long run. Astarion had a plan, after all, and he was sticking to the said plan no matter what.

A smile curved the elf's lips as you once again failed to infiltrate enemy territory and were forced to retreat rather hastily - and inelegantly - almost smashing into a nearby tree as you made your escape. That didn't go unnoticed by the cleric, who whispered something to Karlach, making the tiefling almost spit her drink out as she tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh.  

It was at that moment that Astarion decided that he would help your poor pitiful self to steal whatever it was that you wanted to get from the wizard's tent. Because it would probably take one or two more failed attempts for Gale to notice, and that would mean that you would abandon your plan, and Astarion would never find out what it was that was worth all this trouble. Not that he cared as such. But it could be some powerful artifact, or a tome filled with nefarious spells. And if he knew what it was, he was almost certain he could convince you to share.

Later that day, as you positioned yourself strategically just outside Gale's tent, Astarion strolled up to the wizard with an air of casual boredom. Gale was busy preparing supper, chopping away at some vegetables and whatever else they managed to scavenge. Astarion snorted his disapproval at the scents emitting from the cooking pot.

"Something on your mind?" Gale chose that moment to speak up.

"Hm? Oh, no. Pay no attention to me whatsoever. I'm just pondering a dilemma of mine, and I am afraid I might not come up with an answer."

"I see, well, may I be of assistance?"

Inclining his head ever so slightly, Astarion could see you slink towards the open flap of Gale's tent, taking a step back to be swallowed up by the darkness.

Astarion smirked.

“I am not certain that you can, wizard. You see, this issue of mine would need a mind that is truly voracious. A certain someone that can unravel the unravellable. Solve the unsolvable.”

“And are you insinuating that I am lacking in this department?”

“Oh, no! I would never insinuate anything.”

Astarion heard something crash, the sound followed by a serious of muffled curses and something that that to a keen ear would seem like you fell over and were now struggling to extricate yourself from something or another. This level of clumsiness was so you that Astarion felt something akin to fondness.

Gale was about to turn his head when Astarion said, “I would not insinuate anything that I could state outright.”

That did it. Because Gale could take needling and teasing when it came to anything except his intellectual prowess.

“I’ll have you know that back at Blackstaff Academy I was often consulted on all matters of things! And often my council was the only one worth listening to! Now, tell me exactly what is troubling you. I am more than certain that I will solve whatever issue this is.”

Astarion saw you emerge with something hidden under your shirt. He didn't know why you bothered, it was more than obvious that it was a book of some sort. Though perhaps you were hoping to conceal the cover. Astarion's nostrils flared.

You were excited, embarrassed and a little aroused. An interesting combination to have to some light reading. 

��Astarion? Are you listening?”

Ah, the wizard was still talking. How he loved listening to the sound of his own voice! Honestly, some could really benefit from working on their people skills.

“You know, perhaps being in the presence of such intelligence was enough. I just thought of what to do. No advice needed.”

Gale blinked.

“I see. I’m glad that you are no longer troubled.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. We are all a little troubled around here. Anyway, must dash.”

And with that Astarion was gone in a flurry of silk and smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Making his way out of camp, he pursued his target with predatory skill. It wasn’t like you were making it difficult to find you. A broken branch here, a piece of fabric snagged on a twig there. Astarion soon found himself on the riverbank, you not noticing his approach as you were deeply engrossed in your reading.     

"Hm.. Where is the part about.. Aha! Here we go. 'His throbbing member brushed against her skirts'. No, I must have skipped too far ahead."

Astarion bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. This is what you were after all this time? Stealing a dirty, scandalous novel? Surely he provided you with enough entertainment for you not to require that type of books? Who knew you were such a deviant underneath that prim and proper facade? How absolutely wonderful.

"Yes! Finally! 'She took him into her shaking hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his pulsing shaft, her eyes asking the question her lips could not form.'"

Your eyes shone with a victorious if somewhat maniacal glint, there was a leaf in your hair, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you read the next passage with feverish intensity. 

Perhaps it was time to make himself known. Astarion stepped on a tree branch, putting some force into it to make it snap. 

You squeaked and whipped your head around to look at him, eyes comically round and large, cheeks flushed and rosy. And it was at this moment that you lost your grip on the book, making it slip out of your fingers. You tried grabbing it but it was too late. Whatever escapades the Duke and the debutante got up to were lost to you, swallowed up hungrily by the river. 

"Well, I suppose now we will never know if he sheathed his sword to the hilt. Though perhaps it was more of a dagger?"

Astarion did not expect a pathetic little sob to be your reply.

"Darling?"

He crouched beside you, thumb wiping a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for you," you whispered, making a point not to look at him.

"Dearest, this is not the first novel of that sort that I've read and I am sure that it won't be the last."

"No- I- I wasn't talking about the book. I was trying to use it as a guide, of sorts."

"Well, I'm not sure if taking one too many bumps to your lovely head affected your memory, but we've already had sex. Twice, in fact."

"Yes,” you wiped your face with a swift, jerky movement, “but I wanted to do something. And I wanted to do it well."

Astarion chuckled as he realised what you were talking about. He had his suspicions when he had his wicked way with you, seeing the way you'd eye that particular part of his anatomy before quickly looking away. The elf lowered himself gracefully onto the ground and sat beside you, pulling you towards himself and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"You've never-"

"Once. It wasn’t good. I mean I-I wasn’t very good," you admitted with a wince.

Astarion knew that he had to tread very, very carefully. It was glaringly obvious that you were inexperienced when it came to sex, even if you tried to act confident when you slept together. When he had stepped out from behind the tree the night when he bedded you for the first time, you walked towards him like a newborn doe, legs unsteady, hands shaking, a bright blush on your cheeks. You were excited and nervous in equal measures, and that made him both irritated and intruiged.

Therefore, Astarion chose not to tease you but took a deep breath, swallowed whatever witty comment was on his tongue, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your temple.

Bringing his lips to your ear, Astarion spoke in a low tone, "Darling, make of it what you will, but a student is only as good as their teacher."

Hearing your heartbeat speed up, Astarion smirked. You turned so you were looking straight at him.

Fingers clasping your chin, he pulled you up enough to brush cool lips against your own, tongue flicking out to wet soft flesh.

"Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Then be a good girl for me and follow my instructions.”

Having spotted a rock with a deep indent that would allow one to take a seat somewhat comfortably, Astarion rose and moved towards it, motioning you to follow.

“On your knees, my sweet,” he purred, undoing the laces of his trousers as he took his place. Looking up, Astarion’s eyes widened as he found that you were completely bare from the waist up, your exposed breasts level with his crotch.

"Feeling a little warm?" He cleared his throat.

"No. This is plan B."

"I need you to explain your thinking there."

"Well, if you don’t enjoy my mouth, these might come in handy."

After all, you've read enough fiction over the years to know how one can make use of this particular part of your anatomy.

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I see."

Astarion felt himself grow harder still and willed his rebellious cock to cool it. He was supposed to be the one doing the seducing. Not the one who was most certainly a virgin mere weeks ago. Except suddenly you seemed to turn the tables on him and he, the suave and experienced rogue that bedded thousands, wanted you to touch him. The fact that he did not feel the usual wave of self-loathing and disgust was odd yet very welcome.

Your hands brushed against the skin of his thighs, so warm and gentle. So unlike the touch he was used to. Astarion looked into your eyes and felt himself relax at seeing the genuine excitement you were trying to be less obvious about.

It was sweet. You were sweet. You wouldn’t hurt him, or force him, of belittle him. And knowing with the utmost certainty that you'd stop if he asked you to made Astarion put his hand on top of yours. His cool hand gripping yours gently, Astarion delighted in the way you swallowed nervously when he slowly guided your hands up.

"Start gently. No teeth."

"Wasn’t going to use them."

"Don't try to take it all in at once."

"Don’t think I can anyway."

"And darling?" Astarion said, noticing the intense resolve on your face. "Please don't overthink this."

"Okay," you nodded.

And then you put your tongue on him and licked a long, wet trail, giving the tip an experimental suck. Astarion's brain promptly short-circuited. The second suck was a touch more insistent, Astarion making a strangled sound that was most definitely not a whine. Emboldened by his reactions, you took more of him in, moving your mouth up and down the shaft, trying to establish a pace.

Astarion's eyes slammed shut and he bit his bottom lip. He had forgotten how good this could feel. Hells, he could not for the (un)life of him remember the last time someone offered to pleasure him in such a way. His experiences of sex, at least from what he could remember, were all about giving at best. At worst? Well...

Astarion scowled, willing himself to stay in the present, focusing on the licks and sucks, and your hand stroking the base. The sensitive head pulsed from the attention. Astarion groaned when he felt your fingers wrap around the base, stroking back and forth along the section where your mouth couldn’t reach. His eyes rolled upwards, his hips moving involuntarily to meet your mouth.

And then his dick hit the back of your throat, making you gag. It was then that Astarion remembered that he was meant to be instructing and you, in your eagerness, had to be guided enough not to hurt yourself. Perhaps your attention had to be otherwise occupied.

"Darling," Astarion purred, pushing you back gently, making his cock slide out of your mouth with a wet sound. "There is something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Sure, I'd do anything to you."

"You mean for me?"

You shrugged, making him bark a surprised laugh. Oh, you were fun! Perhaps not always on purpose, but still. Much more fun than most, at least in his experience.

"I'd like you to take the rest of your clothes off and touch yourself."

At your dubious look, he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'd enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself whilst you pleasure me."

"Um..."

"Good girl."

You obeyed, undoing the ties with shaking fingers and taking your clothes off, nervous yet giddy with excitement. Looking up, you saw Astarion watching you intently, a lazy half smile on his face.

He thought he was all that, did he? Well, you read enough naughty novels that you purchased from Sharess' - hood on, not making eye contact and trying to get out there as fast as possible - to have plenty of theoretical knowledge about how these things got done! And sure, perhaps you didn’t have lovers before Astarion. But you had years to explore your body well enough to know what got you going.

Astarion watched as you placed your hand on your breast and then trailed your fingers down, the descent slow and teasing. As a rule, Astarion didn’t enjoy seeing others pleasure themselves. He enjoyed feeling what little power he had over people, enjoyed how they would grovel and writhe just so he'd grant them a moment of bliss, enjoyed seeing them say and do whatever it was that he wanted because please, please, please.

Sex was a tool. Sex was a weapon. Sex was a way to get what he wanted. And he would damn well use all the tricks in his arsenal to have you where he wanted you.

Except a peculiar thing happened. He actually wanted you. Which was becoming more apparent by the second as your fingers pushed your underwear aside to bare yourself enough for Astarion to be getting quite a show.

He could see, smell and all but taste the way your body reacted to touch and to being watched. It made his fangs itch. And then you threw your head back, baring your neck ever so deliciously as you let out a wanton moan. His body jerked towards you, and it took all his willpower not to sink his teeth into inviting flesh.

No, he'd always ask before biting.

"Darling, may I?" Astarion said in a guttural voice he barely recognised.

Your 'yes' came out as an almost plosive sound that was half breathed and half forced out. He sighed appreciatively, so close to getting what he craved. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in, nose trailing along your neck, tongue lapping at the twin marks that would most definitely become permanent. The thought had his hips thrusting forward, cock hard and leaking.

Not wasting another moment, Astarion sank his fangs into your neck, pulling you towards him. He could feel your approaching orgasm, taste your pleasure, making it his own.

"Astarion," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut, the hand not working you into a frensy rising to brush back soft curls. Your feather-light touch on his ears made him groan as he drank, a trail of blood escaping and trickling down between your bodies.

"Astarion I-" the rest was swallowed by his mouth as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste your blood and then felt his fingers join yours before dipping into you and-oh.

Strong, and sure, and experienced, his fingers had you panting and gasping into his mouth. He moved and you tried to grind against him, but steady hands kept you in place. Your orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not relenting as you rode his fingers.

You two broke apart and Astarion grinned. Yes, judging by your glazed eyes and swollen lips, his plan was working as brilliantly as he hoped.

"Was this fun, my sweet?" He let your head fall onto his shoulder, watching your chest rise and fall as your breath escaped you in wheezing puffs.

"Very," you nodded and licked your lips, trying to steady yourself. "And now it's your turn."

Astarion blinked.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I mean, unless you didn’t like it."

Astarion found that for the first time in his life he was unsure what to say. Because he didn’t actually expect you to continue. Because he was absolutely certain that you just wanted to play with his cock for a while before chasing your own release.

"I did like it," he admitted, looking away in a manner that could be described as uncharacteristically shy, "but you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted. "I wanted to for a long time. If you allow it, that is," you murmured into the elf’s ear, sending a delicious shudder through him.

Your earnest expression had Astarion considering it. That and the fact your parted, moist lips looked wickedly inviting. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, applying gentle pressure as you gave it a few slow teasing strokes.

"You up for it, lover?" You teased.

"Hah! That’s terrible. Don’t do puns, dear.”

“Because you’d much rather I do you?”

“You know that terrible jokes account for one in two murders?”

“Is that a real statistic?”

“It might as well be.”

Looking at you, Astarion felt a wave of something that another, better emotionally equipped being, would call fondness. And then he felt a wave of something that he recognised all too well. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the way your hand moved over his hardness. And then he felt warm heat of your mouth and your appreciative sigh as you were finally given free rein, getting to do whatever you wanted to him as Astarion submitted to your ministrations.  

He knew that he wouldn’t last long. Not with your blood coursing through him and the warmth from your mouth seeping into his flesh and electrifying his nerves. He tried not to arch his back, seeking more friction, more of you, just more of it all. Because- hells!

You chose that moment to palm his balls, rolling them teasingly as Astarion fought with himself not to thrust and roll his hips. His breath caught in his throat and he released a needy, half-chocked sound as you slowed to trace a lazy path up the spit-sleeked hardness, sending already sensitive nerves into overdrive.

“Darling, I won’t last long,” Astarion whimpered.

Your hum of appreciation just about sent him over the edge.

And then you went faster, as if getting greedier by the minute. Astarion’s words came out as whimpering pleas that did not make sense to his own ears. He gasped and whimpered as his pleasure built.

Whimpers turned into groans and those turned into silence as his mouth opened, deadly fangs flashing,  as your other hand ventured further to find that spot and pressed into it with each movement. His orgasm swelled and broke, Astarion not even having the chance to ask where you’d want him to cum. You tried to swallow, but were rather unprepared, almost chocking then pulling back enough to let what you couldn’t manage trail down your hand and his body.

Astarion took greedy gulps of air that he didn’t need, eyes still closed, feeling boneless and lazy, and not wanting to move. He could feel you shift and next you started wiping him clean with a soft cloth, movements slow and careful. This wasn’t the first time you cared for him in such a way, but he still didn’t expect you to want to do something like that, not really sure how to react. And so Astarion chose to just stay silent and enjoy it while it lasted. Because for one reason or another, he was certain that whatever this was would not last.

“Did- Did I do well?”

He chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? Or perhaps you’d like me to sing praises and commend you on your skill like they would in those novels you like, hm?”

One ruby eye cracked open and Astarion gave you a slow, languid smile.

“If you were in my novel, you’d definitely be more gallant,” you huffed.

“Apologies. I’ll try better next time.”

“Next time? You mean I get to do it again?”

“Can’t imagine why you are the one excited about it, but yes. You get to do it again.”

Your victorious, brilliant smile had him looking away, the tips of his ears tinged pink. He felt conflicted about the attention, confused as to why you’d feel so obviously happy at him being satisfied.

Astarion did not like not being able to figure people out. Not being able to predict what one would do, not knowing what came next had the elf stiffening involuntarily.

Red eyes watched you intently as you put your smallclothes on. The vampire was eerily still as you stumbled about, suddenly bashful and trying to cover yourself up as quickly as possible as you threw furtive looks in his direction. Then he took a breath, as if suddenly remembering that some would deem it a necessity and willed his body to obey him. Lips curving, a smile plastered on his face, Astarion rose in a smooth, elegant movement, still completely bare and seemingly not bothered by being nude out in the open.

A finger under your chin, he turned your head and pecked your lips.

“Thank you, darling. I had a simply marvellous time. How good of you to treat me so.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of melting into a pile of feminine goo, as one should have done when being in the proximity of a gorgeous creature, you frowned and nodded.

“Yes. I’m glad. But I think I have to go.”

“Really? Have to?”

“No. I want to go.”

Astarion let his hand drop and watched you retreat with surprising haste, confused about what had just happened. It felt as if he had crossed some unspoken line, but he was unsure when and where he did so. Astarion dressed quickly, with jerky movements, tugging his shirt on angrily. Anger came naturally. Anger was easier. He did not know who he was angry at – you or himself – but somehow it made him feel better. Taking a different path to the one you chose to make your retreat, Astarion ran. Hunting something down and tearing into its throat with his fangs. Watching it thrust about as he bled it dry. He needed to at least sate his hunger if he couldn’t settle his mind.

Evening came and went with neither you nor Astarion uttering a word to each other. The next day was much the same. You communicated through others, but never directly.

On day six, you approached Astarion. He was reading, casually reclining against a tree, the wind playing with his curls and making them dance so beautifully that you almost missed a step and had to quickly catch yourself. Falling forward and kissing the ground would definitely put you in a state not conducive to having any conversation at all.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to just go for it. There was very little you could do to make the situation worse.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out.

"Beg pardon?" Astarion looked up with a cold expression on his handsome face.

Not a good start, but you decided to soldier on.

"I want to apologise."

"Do you know what you are apologising for?" Astarion closed his book and set it aside without breaking eye contact.

"I'm not sure exactly. I don't know what I did that day by the river, to make you look at me with such disgust-"

Astarion made a noise at the back of his throat which could be interpreted in many ways, and you took it as confirmation of your worst fears.

"And I don't know how to fix it! And maybe a simple apology isn't enough, but I couldn’t come up with anything better."

You had thought of how this conversation could go at length, tossing and turning late into the night. You had hoped to sound less pathetic, less needy. But perhaps being honest was the best way to go about it.

"I envy your easy confidence, you know. I never had that. Not once in my life. And it's not about my looks. I just don’t feel like I have the guts to talk about my wants. And I've never felt that I even wanted to… until you. And I'm not asking you to understand or to accept it. But I can't bear you to look at me that way again, like you can't wait to get away from me. So, I want to apologise. But I need you to tell me what happened,” you swallowed nervously, “please."

There was an awkward pause, a moment where Astarion didn't know what to do, what to say when faced with such sincerity and raw emotion. How would he even begin to explain what happened when he had spent centuries trying to avoid thinking about it for his personal sanity?

"I can't,” he began carefully, brows furrowed, fingers twitching. “At least I'm not sure if I can. But,” he paused, word coming out breath-heavy, “that, whatever that was, had nothing to do with you."

"Oh.” You looked away, whatever courage you summoned earlier used up at this point. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

Astarion rose in one swift movement. You were a breath away from each other, and yet not touching.

"I meant what I said that day. I did enjoy it. Being with you feels... like something else. Something new."

Untarnished, unspoilt.

"But it did bring up some less than pleasant memories."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop apologising, infuriating woman?" Astarion demanded sharply.

"I'm so-"

Astarion knew only one effective way of silencing you, so he pressed his lips firmly against yours, one hand finding itself in your hair, the other on the swell of your hip. You felt a tingle dance up your spine when Astarion coaxed your lips to open, his tongue slipping in to tangle with yours. You moaned into the kiss, the tension and worries of the past six days melting away until you felt like you were floating.

Remembering that you did, in fact, need to breathe, Astarion broke the kiss.

"No more apologies," Astarion admonished you gently. "Especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You nodded silently and quiet enveloped you both, Astarion looking at you with warm intensity as you ran your fingers through his soft, silver curls.

"And now, my dear," Astarion decided to finally ask you the question that has been on his mind for the past six days, "I believe we are overdue for a discussion of a different type. Because I simply can't go on another moment without knowing where you learned of plan B."

And this was when you told Astarion about your most prized possession - the library in the basement of your home with enough tomes to sink a ship. Astarion had never been more eager to get back to the Gate.

He simply had to survive long enough to see this. And then have you read to him from each one. Preferably naked.

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[seongwars]

strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged. 

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help? 

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. 

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. 

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before. 

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered. 

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something. 

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there. 

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out. 

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite. 

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod. 

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. 

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud. 

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough. 

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.  

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all. 

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup. 

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected. 

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip. 

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits. 

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to. 

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him. 

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white. 

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm. 

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly. 

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh. 

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.” 

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him. 

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger. 

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head. 

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged. 

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. 

And that set her off. 

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged. 

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild. 

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter. 

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier. 

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always. 

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you. 

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you. 

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement. 

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out. 

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you. 

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest. 

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car. 

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week. 

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it. 

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.  

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone. 

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.  

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender. 

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.” 

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly. 

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming. 

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

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[girl-lostconnection]

I'm so sorry you have to deal with people being so demanding, and I hope that they actually listen to your post and stop, cause it's just really rude in general.

On the other hand, I, for some reason, keep thinking about your story of reader dying and the 141 grieving and how, for me personally, when it comes to one of my loved ones, no matter how much time passes, I just can't stop thinking about them, craving their love, the way that they loved, and how you can see the similarities in others but it isn't quite right, it still doesn't feel the same, and you're just never left satisfied when you want their love again and no one else can do that, because it's not them. You're still loved, yes, but it's not the same.

Idk. I just was thinking about that and was wondering if that's what they might feel. They still have each other and love each other, but I wonder if there are times when they want or feel like they need it to be like reader's way to feel better on some days, where little things that upset them were originally made better by something reader did, but now that they're gone they're just left with that feeling to simmer.

You know one of the things I had to learn while dealing with grief — it doesn’t become smaller. You just get bigger, you get more experiences the older you get and all of that grief is still there. But grief is just what is left of your love for the person who is no longer there.

I think for them it would manifest differently but I can definitely see Johnny trying his best to keep going because he knows he has three more partners and they have to keep going and they have to keep living. Because Reader wouldn’t be happy with them just ending it all, because there is so much more time left, so many things they haven’t done. I think for him it would be one of the things that would eventually result in early retirement. He already lost a quarter of his heart when he lost Reader, he doesn’t want it happening again. And as much as he loves being demolitions expert, he knows there is a different type of life out there. One that can give him and his partners stability and safety.

I think Johnny would be the person that despite it all still sometimes talks about Reader like they are still there. He mentions references to movies and music and books, he draws them in his sketchbooks, he mentions that “this is the dessert they always wanted to try”. With time it turns into a warm kind of nostalgia, the love that he carries with him, his grief manifesting in trying to compensate for everything Reader wouldn’t experience by living through it himself. And by living on. When his time comes he hopes to see Reader again and say “see? I did well, didnae i? It was a good life. A long life, like you wanted. Bet you are proud of me”

Like i mentioned before Kyle took it in one of the worst hits, he’d keep holding onto Reader’s clothes and mementos as long as he can. He googles obsessively brands of clothes, he finds exactly the same articles because even if these get ruined or good forbid someone throws them out — he will know what to order. It won’t be the same, but he could pretend that it is. He already pretends that he’s alright, he already pretends that the hoodies he’s wearing with Reader’s name and rank are just part of his standard uniform.

I feel like Kyle is a person who has never experienced a loss this big before. He never lost someone who was this close, someone who’s still in his head, someone whose voice he keeps hearing when he talks to himself. Kyle likes to imagine that Reader never passes on. That they are still there, maybe noncorporeal, maybe he can’t see them, but at this point he’d settle for anything.

I think Kyle was never one for religion but whenever he passes church he’d get in to light a candle and say a quick not even a prayer but sort of a wish. Like that’s the only way he can chat with you, like something holy could really pass his “I’m okay, love, I’m eating well. Last mission was shite, but you know how it is. You no longer come to me when i dream. Are you upset, baby? I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time, i know you don’t like me getting injured. Just please, come back. I can’t sleep well without you.”

Simon would probably have the hardest times adjusting to the absence of Reader, because he takes the longest time to accept their death. He tries so hard to pull away from the moment where he would need to actually process the notion that it finds him itself and hits him with the force of minivan.

There is aching that he can’t relief, there is itch he can scratch — there is a person who he could tell any of his jokes and who’d not just joke in return but laugh at it and this person is gone. They are not coming back, he can’t even find them somewhere to watch out of the shadows, he can’t stalk them.

Losing people like that is always the hardest because with living people you at least can call/text/send a letter with a carrier pigeon. You can come back and open old wounds, you can pick up the fight, you can look them in the eyes and get some closure. Simon is not getting any. He fights every step of the way, he drags his feet. He’s easily agitated, he feels like hitting his head on the wall every time something stabs him from inside reminding that you are gone.

He comes up with a joke and yeah, of course he can tell it to anyone out of 141, but he wants to tell it to Reader. He wants to tell it to them specifically because they’d have a funny response which they’d choke out of themselves by laughing so hard he actually starts laughing. He misses it. He misses them. He misses their smell, the feel of them, the way he could talk to them and they would just get him so well like no one else would. He doesn’t just lose a partner when Reader dies — he loses a friend.

Price is…Price is complicated. He’s one to bottle it all up and throw it so deep down it may never come up other in his subconscious habits. He makes tea for five people and not four, he shops for five, he still buys the snacks Reader liked, he starts planning celebration for their birthday just on the back of his mind until he catches himself doing it and just forces it all down deeper.

Price would be a high functioning alcoholic in his grief, but still an alcoholic. He drinks a little more than he should, he forces down a drink he’d previously wouldn’t because he knows his limits. But it burns and it numbs and for a few hours he can breathe again. Alcohol allows himself to loosen a lid on everything he feels, it puts safe distance between his feeling and him and he actually allows himself to process some of them.

He cries, he ruins his office, he punches through the wall, he routinely throws up. Once he gets so drunk he actually starts having hallucinations, intoxication so severe he almost chokes on his own vomit. Soap finds him just in time to get him help. After this he gets out on suicide watch for 72 hours and the team would start actually guard him in shifts.

Price still drinks but now next to him there is always someone who also remembers his limits and doesn’t let him overstep them. John hates it at times. He hates himself much more though. He hates Reader sometimes too, because that’s not fair that they are gone. Because look what a fucking mess he is, love, bloody disgrace to drink himself under the fucking table.

Price has the fastest adjustment to Reader staying deceased but at the same time he can’t fully process his grief. Part of him is scared that he will drive himself mad if he does, another part just doesn’t want to. It’s stubborn and unhealthy but so what. He’s a captain, he lost soldiers before, he’s gonna deal with it this way.

But i think he’s also the second person who retires straight after Soap because he finds a new almost obsessively-desperate purpose in keeping his boys alive and well. He may be a fucked up man but his boys already lost one of their own, he doesn’t want to drag them through his death as well

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, part 28

Damian walked into the dinning room, the rest of the family had already gathered and were enjoying breakfast.

Damian: Good morning everyone...

Bruce: Morning Damian.

Damian (almost crying): I- I must apologize for falling asleep last night during our mission... It was very unprofessional of me, I ensure all of you it will never happen again.

Every looked at each other.

Dick: Hey, bud, don't worry about it, we've all fallen asleep during patrol and missions before, don't beat your self up about it.

Damian: You have...?

Jason: Yeah, I've lost count of how my times dad has had to carry me home.

Tim: Damian, you did most of the intel for the mission, you deserved to rest.

Damian: But a mission was not the place for it...

Steph: Damian, it's ok, the mission went well, we stopped Mr. Freeze's operation.

Cass (signing): Besides, you're still a kid, you might be skilled and capable, but that doesn't change the fact that you're only 12, you need your rest.

Duke: And think about it, we all joined the family business when we were older than you and we've fallen asleep, if anything that says more about us than you.

Damian (laughing): I guess.

Damian sat down at the table and began eating.

Damian: Who carried me home?

Danny: I did.

Damian: Sorry for ruining your fun.

Danny: Meh, don't worry about it.

Alfred: You mustn't be so critical of yourself Damian, even your father has fallen asleep during JL missions.

Everyone slowly turned to look at Alfred with looks of absolute shook, except Bruce who looked at his surrogate father with a look of absolute betrayal.

Alfred (looking at everyone looking at him): Have I never told any of you this story?

The Kids: No!

Bruce (sighed): This happened a few months before I adopted Dick... so about 11 years ago. I was on a mission with Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, the Flash, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter. We were doing a stakeout trying to catch Lex Luthor as he moved some illegal genetic experiments from one of his bases to another. However the days leading up to that had been a little crazy in Gotham, and I hadn't gotten enough sleep, and that night was a nice one, so I ended up dozing off...

Alfred: A few minutes after 1am I heard a knock at the door, I opened it only to see Clark holding your father's unconscious body in his arms. I nearly had a heart attack and a half before Clark assured me that Bruce was only asleep. I had him take your father to his room and just leave him in the bed, Batman suit and all, but I did remove the cowl. I offered Clark a room for the night, but he opted to sleep in an armchair next to Bruce's bed.

Bruce: When I woke up in the morning I was so confused as to how I ended up in my room. I honestly thought that I was so tired that I just forgot everything that happened during the stakeout after a certain point... until I saw Clark in suit, sleeping the armchair next to my bed. Bruce started turning red. It was at that point that I realized I had fallen asleep during the mission in front of all the others, and that Clark had flown me home. I got up and woke that stupid Kryptonian up. He asked me if I was alright, and I told him I was.

Alfred: After that we all had breakfast together-

Bruce: Despite both Clark and I insisting Clark go home to his apartment.

Alfred (serious): Your friend did you a favor bringing you home, and then spent the whole night by your bedside, he was going to stay for breakfast whether you or him liked it or not.

Bruce: Anyways... I could not look Clark in the eyes for months... I was so embarrassed...

Across the table all the kids were trying their hardest not to laugh but were all starting to crack.

Bruce (smiling): Yes, yes, it's a funny story... and honestly one of the many reasons I see Clark as my best friend. Bruce stopped realizing what he said. Please no one tell him I said that.

Everyone stared at Bruce and also slightly behind him.

Bruce: He's behind me isn't he... Everyone slowly nodded. Bruce slowly turned around see his Clark looking down at him smiling. Morning Clark...

Clark picked up Bruce from his chair and hugged him, gently levitating both of them a few inches off the ground.

Clark: Morning bestie!

Bruce: Put me down!

Clark (put Bruce down): Sorry, but you finally admitted it! I'm your best friend!

Bruce: Don't you already have a best friend?

Clark: Jimmy is Clark's best friend, Batman is Superman's best friend. But it doesn't matter right now, you admitted I'm your best friend.

Bruce: I- Of course you are you dumb alien, you else would it be? Oliver Queen?

Alfred (laughing): Good morning Clark, would you like joining us for breakfast?

Clark: Thank you for the offer Alfred, but I have an early day at the Daily Planet, and don't have time to enjoy your cooking.

Bruce (a tad embarrassed): Well we won't want you to be late for work. Bruce slowly started to push Clark out of the dinning room when he stopped. Wait a minute... were you eavesdropping on my family having breakfast?

Clark (looked at everyone at everyone with a guilty look on his face): Well if we're all being honest... my family and I use our super-hearing to listen to your family, like others might watch a messy sitcom.

After saying that Clark received several different reactions from the bats, some looked outright offended, other had expressions that said "that makes sense," others looked at him with respect.

Bruce (now all red from embarrassment): Get Out Of My House!

Clark: Ok, ok I'll leave. Clark started to leave before stopping. Why is it so dark in here? Turn on a light.

And just like that, without asking, or giving any warning, Clark committed the cardinal sin of turning on The Big Light. Everyone snaped their heads towards Clark and hissed.

Clark (quickly turned off the light and now fearing for his life): I'll just leave now... Clark quickly flew out of the manor.

Bruce (returning to his chair): Can we please finish our breakfast without recounting anymore embarrassing stories from my past?

Everyone laughed, but agreed, and continued enjoying their breakfast.

(Master Post)

[marie-swriting]

New Beginnings - Emily Prentiss

Masterlist

Summary : Emily discovers Andrew Mendoza, her boyfriend, wants to propose and as she thinks back to what you told her when you broke up years ago, she realises why she's so reluctant at the idea of marrying a man.

Warnings : set between s15 and s16, comphet, struggling with sexuality, lesbian Emily Prentiss, reader is queer but no label is used, mention of Emily's abortion and catholic guilt about it and her sexuality, angst, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 2.7k

French version

Song inspiration : Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan

Emily blankly stares at the ceiling, her brain working fast and slow at the same time. She thinks back on her life, more specifically her relationships and the more she thinks about it, the more she notices a similarity in all of them.

Andrew Mendoza’s arm wraps itself around her waist, interrupting her train of thoughts. Emily’s body stiffens while she turns her head and looks at his sleeping face. She can’t believe she didn’t do anything to stop herself from getting into this situation. Feeling like she’s suffocating, Emily gets out of Andrew’s grip and goes to the bathroom without making any sound. The door closed, Emily drinks some water and then wets her face before putting her hands on both sides of the sink and looking at her reflection in the mirror. While she’s gazing at herself, Emily reminisces about the discovery she did earlier in the day.

As she was searching for one of her sweaters, she went through the entire closet where she found a ring in a red box hidden among her boyfriend’s socks. Emily panicked the second she saw the jewel, all at once she put it back in its place. Since then, she can’t stop thinking about what this ring means; Andrew plans on proposing to her nonetheless. When? She doesn’t know, she can’t stay in this relationship. Her head in her hands, she’s looking for a way to announce the awful news to Andrew. While she thinks about what she could say, a sentence and a voice she hadn’t thought about for a few decades make their way to her mind: “if you stay in denial, you’ll find yourself in a relationship you won’t want and one night, you’ll wake up in panic, wondering why you were so adamant on being someone you’re not.” You had said this to her when you were both fifteen.

You and Emily had become friends as soon as she first arrived in your school in Rome. You were inseparable and you shared your deepest secrets; one of them being you were questioning your sexuality which brought you closer. For the first time in your life, you felt understood. At first, it was platonic. From time to time, you were talking about how you were feeling, your interrogations and depending on the day, you’d reassure one another.

However, one night when Emily had invited you over, your relationship shifted. You kissed, your first kiss with someone from the same gender. At first, it was just to try, to be sure you liked girls, then, after a few more tries, you confessed to Emily your kisses meant a lot to you. Consequently, you had accepted to discover this new side of your relationship. There wasn’t a label on it, though you would kiss whenever you could, get jealous and do everything together. You were just experimenting. Yet, you were more in it than Emily. You wanted more, but she was always reluctant. Understanding perfectly your best friend, you hadn’t insisted on being official even if you would have wanted to. You were just two best friends who kissed. For you, it was reason enough to not meet other people, for Emily, it was really not the same.

One day, while you were going to school, you found her kissing John Cooley, a friend you had in common. Your heart had shattered into a billion pieces for the first time in your life. Sure, you were still discovering who you were, nevertheless you weren’t expecting her to kiss someone else, let alone a guy. Looking at her from afar, you had seen her smile, though you knew she was faking it. You were so hurt you ignored Emily for a whole week. Noticing your change, Emily took you aside during break, away from all the ears.

“What’s wrong? Why are you avoiding me?” Emily asked you.

“When were you gonna tell me about you and John?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied, looking away.

“Sure, you don’t,” you laughed humorless. “I saw you kissing him last week. I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“We never agreed on being together.”

“Because you never wanted to label it! And I’m not mad at you for that, I just didn’t think you’d kiss other people. I knew I should have put an end to this a long time ago,” you sighed, your heart beating loudly in your chest. “So, is he your boyfriend?”

“If you absolutely want to know, yes, he is. Besides, me and you, it was more to experience things. It was never love.”

“Wow, I can’t believe it. Let’s see how it lasts between you two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re wasting your time with him,” you replied, taking a step forward. “We both know you don’t like guys.”

“I can like boys and girls!”

“Sure you can, but you said it yourself several times, you’re not sure you love guys and you feel like you’re searching for their validation. I think that says a lot.”

“You don’t know how I feel. You’re not in my head,” Emily retorted, defensive.

“True, though I know you well enough. You can try to convince yourself all you want, it’s not gonna change who you are. But you know what? It’s not my problem. You took me for a fool for too long, I’m done, so go ahead, be with him,” you stated, tearing up. “Keep kissing him, go kiss other guys even, if it can make you feel better but if you stay in denial, you’ll find yourself in a relationship you won’t want and one night, you’ll wake up in panic, wondering why you were so adamant on being someone you’re not. And even if I don’t wish you an unfulfilling relationship, I will tell you ‘I told you so’. You’ll see. You can deny all you want, but we know the truth, so good luck, Emily.”

On those words, you walked away, leaving Emily alone with her denial, yet also her heartache. She might have been too proud to admit it, but losing you hurt her a lot purely and simply because she hadn’t just lost a best friend.

The following morning, Emily is exhausted. She only slept two hours as her dark circles under her eyes prove it. At the crack of dawn, Emily leaves the apartment she shares with Mendoza, leaving him alone, and goes to a café near the BAU headquarters. She orders a black coffee, hoping it’ll keep her awake. Her order ready, Emily is about to walk out from the place when a familiar face catches her attention. She does a double take, staring at the person sitting at a table away from her and once she’s sure she’s not mistaken, she walks towards them. At the table, Emily says your name out loud, making you look up. A surprise expression takes place on your face, realising who is in front of you.

“Emily Prentiss! What a surprise!” you exclaim with a big smile. “How long has it been? You know what, don’t tell me, I don’t want to feel old. I already struggle hiding my gray hair.”

“We're the same on this,” she laughs. “I didn’t know you were in D.C..”

“I moved here three months ago. What about you? You’ve been here for a long time? What do you do?”

“I moved about twenty years ago. I’m working for the FBI, at the Behavioral Analysis Unit, more specifically.”

“Wow, that’s something! It doesn’t surprise me, you’ve always been so intelligent,” you genuinely say and Emily’s cheeks start to heat up.

“What about you? Are you an English teacher, like you wanted?”

“Yes, I am. I work in a high school not too far from here. There’s a good team and the students are majorly nice.”

“That’s great. Sorry, one second,” Emily replies when her phone rings. She takes it and checks her notification. “I gotta go, duty calls, but I’m so happy I saw you. If you’re up for it, we could meet again? To make up for the lost time.”

“I’d love that,” you state before writing your number on a piece of paper. “Call me when you’re free.”

“I will. See you, then.”

“See you,” you say, waving at her.

Emily leaves the café, beaming in a way she didn’t expect to today. On the way to the BAU, Emily reminisces about your relationship and the cute moments, whether they’re from after or before your first kiss. However, the happy feeling stops once she remembers your last fight. She’s always regretted the way things ended between you two. She wishes she could have fixed things when you were still going to the same high school, however she wasn’t brave enough to do so. Now that she’s found you again, maybe it’s time to make amends? She doesn’t know if you’ll accept her apology but she has hope. After all, you didn’t push her away when she came to talk. And if you still hold a grudge, Emily will do everything to change that. She wants to make things better between you two, like she should have.

The following weeks, Emily spends them as much as she can at work - which isn’t complicated - so she can avoid Andrew. She knows she has to break up with him, nevertheless she doesn’t know how to do it. Though she can’t wait too long, Andrew might propose shortly; she has to end the relationship before it’s too late. Consequently, Emily decides it’s time to stop running away from the problem. She comes home earlier than expected as she thinks about what to say. The second she walks through the door, she finds Andrew sitting on the couch. She was hoping she’d have more time. Emily puts her bag down, next to the front door and walks towards him; she sits down beside him, though she keeps a small distance. Right away, Andrew notices something is wrong, Emily didn’t greet him with a kiss to say hello. Uncomfortable, Emily wets her lips before speaking.

“I found the ring,” she confesses, point blank. “It was an accident, I was looking for my sweater and I found it.”

“Oh, and judging by your face, you’re not excited about it,” Andrew says, embarrassed. 

“I spent most of my life hiding who I am and it’s time to stop. It’s better to stop now before our relationship passes this milestone,” Emily announces softly. “You’re a good man and you deserve better, a woman who will genuinely love you.”

“At least, you did it before I got down on one knee,” he nervously laughs. “I get it, Emily.”

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Emily and Andrew stay silent for a few seconds, the tension being heavy. Emily doesn’t know what to do to make the situation less difficult. Andrew ends up clearing his throat and standing up.

“I’m going to spend the night at a friend’s, I need to be alone if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Andrew quickly packs a bag before getting out of the apartment. Hearing the door closing, Emily sighs in relief. Not being with Andrew anymore is like a weight being lifted off her shoulders, a weight she didn’t know was crushing her. Of course, she feels bad about breaking Andrew’s heart but it was the right thing to do and this feeling of being relieved is the proof of it. Emily can finally be free to be who she is. From now on, she won’t hide herself, she makes that promise to herself.

You end up meeting Emily two months later. Cases kept her occupied while final exams did the same to you. She told you to meet at a bar halfway between your two apartments. You arrived first so you settle down at a table and check your phone, waiting for her. Emily comes ten minutes later. As soon as she’s in front of you, you notice her hair is now gray. You find her even more beautiful.

“You changed your hair. I love it,” you remark with joy.

“Yeah, I was tired of dying it so I decided to accept my gray hair,” she says, nervously running a hand through it.

“You did the right thing. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Before you begin to talk, a waiter comes to take your order then leaves. Once you’re alone, Emily tells you about when she moved to D.C. and you tell her about how you ended in the same city when the waiter comes back with your two glasses of red wine. The conversation flows naturally, as if you had never stopped talking, as if Emily hadn’t broken your heart years ago.

At one point, the infamous question about relationships comes. You simply answer by saying you’re single. You quickly talk about your last lover before asking her the same question.

“I noticed you don’t have a ring on your finger so either you’re like me and you haven’t found the perfect match or you divorced recently,” you suggest and Emily takes a large sip of her wine, trying to hide her uneasiness. 

“Well, I could have been engaged but I broke up two months ago,” she starts before clearing her throat. “I wasn’t in love with… him. You were right from the beginning. Come on, you can say ‘I told you so,’ I know you’ve been waiting for this since we were fifteen,” Emily adds and your heart tightens a little in your chest. 

“I’m not gonna lie, my fifteen-year-old self would have said it with a big smile on her face, but I won’t. It pains me to know you struggled so much with your sexuality,” you say, putting your hand on her wrist for a second.

“I wasn’t as brave as you when it comes to this.”

“I was only brave because you were with me. After our…,” you begin, looking for the right word, “fight, I took a step back. I could only talk about this with you so once we stopped talking, I struggled again. I had to wait until my third year of university to fully accept myself.”

“You were still quicker than me.”

“I was, yeah. I guess your faith didn’t help either,” you say, drinking.

“You have no idea. Especially when you get pregnant as a teenager and the priest tells you you can’t go back to church if you get an abortion. If he had this opinion about abortion, I don’t want to imagine what he thought about homosexuality,” Emily informs, casually, making you frown.

“I didn’t know you had an abortion.”

“It was after our fight. Only John and Matthew knew. The fact is, in the end, it was hard. Fortunately, I’ve accepted that I'm a lesbian. Better late than never like we say.”

“True.”

“You know, I’m really sorry for the way it ended between us. You were there for me and I only pushed you away and hurt you,” Emily says before taking a deep breath. “You were my first love and I ruined everything when you were nothing but patient with me, at least until I pushed it too far. Losing you is my biggest regret.”

Hearing Emily’s apology warms your heart. You moved on years ago though you’d be lying if you said hearing those words didn’t heal something in you.

“You were my first love, too, and because of this, I was mad for years,” you admit. “It’s true what they say about your first queer breakup, it hurts like hell. But growing up, I understood why you acted the way you did so I stopped being mad.”

“It doesn’t mean I should have done what I did. I knew I’d hurt you by dating John and maybe that's what I wanted,” she says, her eyebrows knitting together. “Hurting you so you’d leave me and I could reject who I was a bit longer.”

“You’re not in denial anymore and I’m not mad so let’s move on.”

“Does that mean you’d accept me being in your life again?” Emily asks, nervous.

“I came tonight, didn’t I?” you rhetorically answer. “Of course, I want you in my life again. I missed you, Emily,” you confess, raising your glass.

Emily does the same and you clink your glasses before drinking to new beginnings. You smile to each other, glad to finally have left the past behind you. You don’t know what the future holds for both of you, whether it’s platonic or romantic again, it doesn’t matter, as long as you don’t lose each other once more, that’s all that matters.

Masterlist

[gffa]

People shouldn't be too hard on Mon!

I absolutely love and is grateful of Freed's understanding and appreciation of the Jedi, apparent in the book, apparent in the interview he'd given for the book:

"For me, the excitement of the time period here, is that I tend to think of 'Star Wars' as a setting with plenty of room for grey area stories and moral ambiguity, but there are very clear lines of good and evil as well. There's no version of 'Star Wars' in which you look at the Emperor and go, 'Well, maybe he had some good ideas.' No, the Emperor is evil. And the Jedi and Luke at their best are good. Everything else exists somewhere in there. This is a period where the remains true but no one really knows that the Emperor is evil.

"As far as the public is concerned, this guy just won the worst war in living memory. The Clone Wars were this horrendous affair and Palpatine has put an end to it. Yes, he's declared himself Emperor but he's not the embodiment of all evil. There's not even a Death Star out there. On the absolute good side, the Jedi have sort of been tarnished in recent years. War scrapes away at the shining morality of any organization."

I think Freed really understands what Lucas meant when he said "The Jedi have been corrupted by this war."

...but I still don't hold it against Mon cause she's going through hell and she spoilerspoilerspoilerspoiler in the later half of the book. I think she's fascinating, wonderful, equally valid character with equally valid viewpoints as Bail within context of their own worlds and experiences in this novel.

The editor of the book said it best:

Bail – knows the truth about Palpatine, the Empire, and the fall of the Jedi. Caught between his commitment to truth and justice at any cost, and the duty he has to the daughter he’s been entrusted to protect.

Mon Mothma – a master politician, who believes – like so many – that opposing Palpatine is part of the regular game of politics. She doesn’t yet realize, Palpatine stood up from the game board years ago, and she’s playing against shadows.

Mon and Bail are allies, but not really friends (at this time). Padme was their link, and now, she’s gone. Where does that leave them?

For Mon and Bail especially, the secrets Bail holds that he cannot reveal leaves a gulf between them. And what does it mean when they find themselves at odds with each other, over truths they cannot speak?

prev anon) I'm talking about their different mindsets and experiences and viewpoints born from those and I'm not excusing Mon's... *spoilers* anyway I hope you enjoy the rest of the book! It's so nice seeing an author like Freed, who usually writes non-force side of sw, handling the jedi with such warmth, understanding and awareness

This was such a reassuring message to get, thank you! I've been avoiding spoilers for the book as best I can, but I'm only a quarter of the way through it and I was wondering how the various themes were going to go, but Freed's interview quotes and your comments have made me glad that I'm picking up what this book is putting down, because that's exactly how I've been reading it. (And why I'm hoping to encourage more people to read it--though, I will give a warning that this book can be uncomfortably prescient about current events in a way that I wouldn't say Alexander Freed Is A Witch, but that can be very hard to read about if you're not in the headspace to deal with a lot of reflections of the dumpster fire we're currently in.) As for Mon, I hope nobody comes down on her for this, because as much as I scream, cry, throw up, etc., over Bail's scenes, in general I lean a bit more towards Mon's way of doing things, because I think her approach is her answer to the question, "But what can actually be truly achieved?" That she is looking at an incredibly shitty situation with only shitty options and asking herself what can she actually get done, what does she have a snowball's chance in hell of success with? And she knows clearing the Jedi's name at this point in time is not on the table, not when there are a million other things that might actually do tangible good for the galaxy. And I don't disagree with that! I love the Jedi more than anyone, but clearing their name isn't more important that, say, trying to stop the Wookiees from being classified as a non-sentient species! Clearing their name isn't important enough to blow all your political capital and having nothing to show for it when there are people who you can help, with a chance that will actually succeed! Bail's idealism isn't stupid, he's incredible and the galaxy needs a shining light like him, it's necessary for the bigger hope for the future, we can't make it through the dark times without bright, shining hope. So even when they don't always think positively of each other, I never get the sense that Bail and Mon don't understand that the other is doing what they think is best. They just disagree on what that is. And it makes sense! Bail knew and was friends with the Jedi! He knows the truth about Palpatine and how important all that Force shit is to what's going on here! Mon is operating with the idea that this is a political battle--and she's not entirely wrong, she's necessary to the recovery of the galaxy, too, just as Luke is necessary to save the day, so too is Leia, and I sort of see that reflected in Bail and Mon's approaches--one is focusing on the mystical and one is focusing on the political and I think both are important here. So, I have nothing but hearts for Mon Mothma and what she's trying to do for the galaxy.

And I don't see them as antagonists here, I see them as two people who look at each other with the understanding that there is deep love and compassion for people in the other, that they want this other person on their side not just for political alliances but because they care, and maybe they want to scream in frustration that the other person can't see what they see, but I don't feel for a second that this is going to end with them anything other than them as friends. Their scene in Rogue One implies she knows about Bail knowing a living Jedi, if not directly knowing about Obi-Wan Kenobi, which isn't something he would tell just anyone. I'm hoping for the same with Saw, there's going to be conflict about their approaches, and I love that that's clearly a theme/why these three characters were chosen as the pillars of this book, that each of them are shown to have their reasons why and that each of them serve a purpose. I scream/cry/throw up more about the Jedi because that's the most fun for me, but I am enthralled with Mon's chapters just as much, the political tightrope she's on, and I would encourage people to read for those aspects just as much as I would encourage them for crying about the Jedi. ANYWAY, EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS BOOK FOR YOURSELF, I'm having fun with the snippets I'm posting, but the book is so much more than those things! It's one of the best SW for rounding out the characters and filling in the transitions between the movies and TV shows, but in a way that keeps the tension and emotional gut-punches despite that we know where it's going. ALSO, MON MOTHMA AND BAIL ORGANA ARE THE BEST, I'M WILLING TO FIGHT THE INTERNET OVER THIS

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Plsss another part of the librarian x vi fic !!! It was so sweet !! Maybe how reader reacts when vi is released?!? anyways ur writing is so beautiful so even if u don’t do a second part thank u for just writing that first one, it was AMAZING

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨. (𝐕𝐈)

warnings: fem reader who works at stillwater's library, former prisoner vi, angst (and comfort of course), making out but mostly tame.

a/n: this may suck i'm going through a bit of writer's block. trying to write this to help push through it so i hope it's still good!!

part one link here

You didn't know what Vi was released for, only that she won't be coming back. Overcrowding is the usual suspect, of course. An influx of criminals since the Jinx riots means there are cells that need filled. Vi's behavior saw a steady improvement. You can't be surprised that she was released.

Still, you think about her. Many times have you sat behind your desk and wondered what she has been up to. You try not to miss her because you want to be happy that she is outside of the suffocating walls of Stillwater, but it's hard when your natural instinct is to look up with hopeful eyes anytime the library door opens. It's never Vi that walks through.

She didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. Only a matter of seconds, and she was back in Zaun. You're left in confliction, and the days pass without a word from her. Is it so selfish to want her to reach out? Or maybe it's you who should be seeking her out. You're not sure anymore. The whole situation feels like a pressing headache.

Each day you work in Stillwater feels unique. Many office jobs are predictable: you sit down on a chair with wheels and type away. You organize papers or make copies when your boss asks so of you. Everything is predictable and organized. The days are same, and you imagine that they blur into one big timespan of a career. You can't exactly say the same for Stillwater on any occasion.

Sometimes, there are times when you seriously wish you could put your two weeks notice in. The time a prisoner threw a hardcover book at you was one of those times. Other times, you are reminded of why you signed up for the job in the first place. You get that feeling of motivation to keep on.

Today has been the former.

You finally walk through the streets of Piltover post-shift, your body ready for sleep, but your mind elsewhere. You think about Vi in these mundane moments when there are no other thoughts to fill the void. The tall buildings surrounding you feel almost suffocating, and you find yourself subconsciously take a left turn, crossing the bridge that binds the two contrasting cities.

You've always thought about the differences between Zaun and Piltover. When you were younger and impressionable, you were constantly warned about the undercity as if it was the boogeyman or bloody mary. It was something out of sight, out of mind. You were never given any reason or initiative to experience the horrors of poverty.

Now, you see it surrounding you. You see children in the streets in town clothing, weary mothers and the occasional father trailing behind them. You hear the violence like a ringing in your ear. You hear catcalls, some of them even towards yourself. As you take in the undercity with wide eyes, you pick up your pace. The alleyways are often empty, but you wonder if anything could be lurking within them. It's too dark to see anything but what luminates the streets and buildings, not the hidden passages that seem to overwhelm you even more.

Suddenly, your body is yanked into one. You open your mouth to scream, but the sound is muffled as you feel a warm hand cover it. You can't see exactly who it is in the darkness, but the voice sends a familiar warmth throughout your body.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Vi asks you, obvious annoyance in her tone. Something like worry or another indescribable emotion is hidden underneath the attitude, though.

You pull her hand away from your mouth, gasping for breath. "You scared me, jesus!"

"That doesn't answer my question." She presses. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be down here? Especially with a target on your back."

"I've been wondering about you, okay? You haven't reached out, and I didn't even get to say goodbye!" You wrap your arms around her body in a tight, desperate hug. The embrace you expected her to return was met with a stiffness, but she didn't pull away.

"I didn't think you'd want me to." Her voice isn't as soft and sweet as you remember it to be. It makes you pull back.

"What? What do you mean?" When your questions are met with silence, you cup Vi's face. "What is going on? Did I do something wrong?"

Vi scoffs at that, but the bitterness in the expression isn't towards you. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's me."

"Vi, what do you mean? You didn't do anything." You try to search her face for answers. Your eyes trace over the sharpness in her jaw that seems to be even more carved from before, and you notice the emptiness in her cheekbones. You used to be worried for her in prison, and now you can't help but wonder why she isn't eating as much as she can now that she is free to do so.

"You don't understand what I mean. You really think we could ever work? You're a Piltie chick, and I'm just another piece of undercity trash. I'm not going to be anything more than that. You shouldn't be here with me." Vi tells you, voice wavering through she tries to say it all firmly. It's clear that the feelings that were there back in the library, the ones that turned into countless stolen kisses and promises of care are failing to be repressed.

You don't let her, though. You pull her in closer. She doesn't protest, even as you hate the tense feeling that settles deep within her due to her own insecurities. All you want is to wash away the rigid Vi, and replace her with the softness that you know still exists. The real Vi.

"Look at me." You softly say. Vi meets your eyes for the first time in a while. "I don't care about some stupid social dynamic. I just want you. I don't fucking care if I have to bring you back up to Piltover with me. I don't care if I have to stay down here with you! I just want to be with you. Don't leave my side again. Please, Vi." The desperation is there, and you don't try to hold back. You feel tears form in your eyes.

You don't get a verbal answer. You don't get much of any answer at first, as Vi stares back at you with wide eyes that remind you of just a few weeks ago, when everything seemed much more simple. Within the walls of the prison, things might've been difficult, but the feelings came easy. You just had to remind her of what it was like to feel them with you.

But the answer is exactly what you've been needing. Vi presses you against the alleyway and kisses you with all of her pent-up longing. Her lips are chapped, but it doesn't matter. She is real, and you feel her warmth travel to your body. Her tongue parts your lips in an act of desperation. She needs to make sure this isn't a dream. She needs to feel your tongue against hers and to know that you aren't just another drunken hallucination. The kisses lasts forever, and you feel each other everywhere. Her hands cups your face before trailing down your body and landing on your hips. Yours find the back of her neck and your fingers part through her hair, tugging at it when she presses against you in the right ways.

Eventually, Vi pulls away for air. She doesn't leave you in that alleyway, though. You feel her breath on your lips and her hands holding you close. Her embrace is tight and reassuring: she isn't letting you go this time. She isn't pushing you away, not after she has spent so long yearning to feel you again.

TAGLIST: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz, @daughterofthemoons-stuff. want to be on my taglist? click here!

[blouisparadise]

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of February. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Just Wanna Be Loved By You | Not Rated | 1,901 words

Louis is too tired to be tough and Harry tries to love him through his struggles. A Defenceless AU.

2) Darling, I Will Give Up Everything | Explicit | 1,903 words

Louis' had a terrible day at uni, but thankfully he can always fall into Harry's arms and be taken care of.

3) Dear Harry, | Not Rated | 1,945 words

The one where Louis writes a letter to the Alpha that he one day dreams of meeting.

4) The Eagle Has Landed | Not Rated | 3,311 words

Louis comes back from the Superbowl and Harry exacts his revenge for Louis' night with Zayn in LA

5) Early Mornings | Explicit | 3,428 words

“You’re everything to me, you know that?” Harry whispered, his forehead resting against Louis’ as he looked into those familiar blue eyes. “I know,” Louis whispered back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

6) Skulls And Crossbones | General Audiences | 3,467 words

“Thanks for the tea, mate… but uh, why did the steam turn into a skull and crossbones when you stirred it?”

7) Truth Or Dare | Mature | 4,296 words

"See that guy over there?” Louis shifted slightly in her seat, directing her gaze toward the table across from her. “The one in the wool vest?” Camila nodded at the blue-eyed girl's question. "Go make his day, Lou; he looks like he wants company.” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s cute. Just look at him; he looks so adorable with his plaid vest and coffee.” .... "I've never done this, I don't want to ruin it" Louis leaned on his chest. "You're not going to ruin it, just let yourself go" She kissed him again tenderly and Harry ended up nodding softly.

8) Are There Still Beautiful Things? | Explicit | 5,473 words

Louis brings Harry to a secluded meadow for one last night of happiness before they both go to war.

9) Fuck Me Til I Feel Better | Explicit | 6,904 words

Louis is stressed, tired and anxious and he just wants his Hazza!

10) The Devil in Disguise | Explicit | 8,276 words

At a lavish masquerade ball, Harry and Louis, once inseparable bandmates of One Direction, find themselves unknowingly drawn back to one another after years of silence since the band’s split. Hidden behind elaborate masks, they exchange furtive glances from across the room, each wondering if the other can see past the disguise. As the night unfolds, their quiet game of cat and mouse leads them to a secluded spot, where the truth of their identities—and the years of separation—are finally laid bare, sparking a reunion neither of them saw coming.

11) Not Quite As Planned.... | Not Rated | 9,105 words

The plan was for them to make gingerbread houses with the gingerbread Harry had made. But things don’t end up going quite to plan….

12) Where You Lead, I Will Follow (Part 1) | Explicit |2,301 words

Louis and Harry are best friends. One night after a great show, he admits his feelings for one of his friends, his male friend. He knows his crush has experience and asks Harry for his help on what to expect.

13) Too Young | Explicit | 18,193 words

Accidentally bonded as 8 and 10 year olds, Louis starts resenting Harry once they were old enough for him to realize what had been taken away from him and now they're roommates who fuck out of obligation.

14) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 22,795 words

Louis has a hopeless crush on his best friend’s dad but his crush may not be as hopeless as he thought.

15) With All My Heart | Not Rated | 34,339 words

Popular omega Louis receives a present each day from a secret admirer. Throw in some humor, jealousy, calculus, a masquerade ball, Mario Kart, snowball fight, mixed CDs, a cute dog, oh, and a cute nerdy shy alpha, who just might be the biggest surprise of all.

16) Rogue Omega | Mature | 38,791 words

Louis is a rogue on the run from his birth pack, who want to kill him because he's a male omega. He ends up in the Styles pack's territory, trying to get away from his hunters. But it's too late--the alphas surround the exhausted omega and attack him. The last thing he sees, before he passes out, is a huge black wolf with green eyes. What a sight to die to.

17) Loving You's The Antidote | Explicit | 60,450 words

Louis is a struggling musician who can barely pay his rent, Harry is a successful art curator with a rich family. Louis ends up as Harry's fake boyfriend for a weekend and they have to share a bed.

18) I Believe In Magic | Explicit | 115,276 words

Harry is the Crown Prince and the future king of Camelot. His sworn duty is to protect his kingdom from outside threats, especially from the dangers of magic. Louis is his best friend and, technically, his servant. And he has a secret.

19) You Belong To Me | Explicit | 125,621 words

Where Louis is sent to prison for the first time. He is set up with Harry who is willing to help him to get through his sentence. But his help doesn't come without a price tag.

20) Yours, Mine, & Ours | Explicit | 126,630 words

A ten year reunion puts ex-boyfriends, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, in the same room together for the first time in ten years. Louis' desperate to avoid the man who left him sobbing outside a dive-bar in the middle of London. It's going swimmingly until an accidental submission to the reunion's slideshow highlights the existence of the son, Leo, that Harry never knew about. Harry's determined to stake a permanent claim in Louis' life as their child's father. Louis knows Harry's temporary, and refuses to allow him to break their son's heart too. The past bubbles up in uncomfortable ways, and choices need to be made. Will Harry and Louis be able to put everything aside in the best interest of their son? Or will everything fall apart just like it did all those years ago?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[narrator-girlart]

"you had wonderful experience"

"You were everything"

She's just being a little playful with Anya.

Probably as a humanoid she doesn't speak too much at all, unlike her normal self which loves to talk a lot.

[charliedawn]

I was wondering how the Hannibal family would react to the fact that they met their childhood friend, a reader? Maybe they used to be in love with her? Or were you just good friends?

Hannibal Lecter Sr.

Hannibal Sr. would greet you with perfect composure—but if you look closely, you might see his fingers tighten just slightly. You were once part of his formative years, and nostalgia is a powerful thing. But he wouldn’t let you see it. Besides, Hannibal Sr. had a terrible childhood and wouldn’t necessarily be happy reviving the memories.

"Ah…Y/N. What a surprise. Tell me, did you seek me out…or was this fate ?"

If you were childhood sweethearts, even in the innocent way, Hannibal Sr. would never have forgotten you. He’d remember everything—the way you laughed, the stories you shared, the little habits you had. Seeing you again ? It would make him remember things from his past he really would have liked to keep buried forever.

"You were always so…dear to me. I wonder, have you changed ? Or are you still the same fascinating creature I once knew ?"

Expect intense eye contact, lingering touches on your shoulder, and a deeply unhealthy interest in what you’ve been doing all these years without him. But since he is advanced in years, I would assume you are too and made a life for yourself. He would like to learn about your family and what you did during all these years. And maybe if you’re lucky…you would catch a glimpse of the nice young boy you used to play with as a child…

Hannibal Lecter Jr.

Hannibal Jr. would act like he’s completely unbothered—calm, charming, unshaken. But the moment he sees you, his mind would be racing. How ? When ? So many questions but all inconsequential next to the old feelings coming back to haunt him. Hannibal Sr. had told him you had died long ago…Obviously, he had been lied to.

"Y/N. What an unexpected reunion. You look…well."

If you were close as children, he would find it fascinating how much you’ve changed—or how much you’ve stayed the same. And if there was ever even a hint of romance between you ? He would remember every detail.

"Do you recall the last time we saw each other ? I do. Quite vividly, in fact."

Unlike his father, Hannibal Jr. would appreciate the memories of a time where things seemed so simple. He remembered when it was only the two of you at school and how excited you both were to be learning new things. If you moved on and had a life (kids, husband/wife or just new experiences) he would smile and nod politely. He would be glad you had what you always wanted…

Hannibal Jr. *takes your hand and kisses the knuckles/shakes it* : "…I have missed you, old friend. It was nice seeing you again."

Morgan Hannibal

Morgan would be completely thrown off guard at first. Let’s not forget that he was adopted quite late within the Hannibal family and he used to be abused by his old boss. He really didn’t like the man he was—weak and frustrated. But, he would hide his insecurities behind a smirk.

"Well, well. Look what the past dragged in."

If you were childhood friends, he’d be genuinely happy to see you. But if there were any romantic feelings back then ? He would be in denial. Firstly because you know who he used to be and no way would you love him and secondly, because he knows his family and would try to protect you.

"I barely recognised you. No, really—I thought you were someone else for a second. Guess I didn’t expect to see you again."

But the moment you start reminiscing ? Oh, that cocky mask would slip so fast…

"You still remember that ? Hah…yes, I guess I do too. I was a…very different man back then."

If you ever had feelings for each other ? He would smile at the past where he thought anything could be possible. And if you moved on ? He would feel sad of course but…also relieved that you managed to have a good life without him.

Kevin Hannibal

Kevin’s reaction would be immediate and emotional. He wouldn’t even try to hide it—he’d just stare at you in shock, his mouth opening slightly before he lets out an incredulous laugh.

"Holy shit. Y/N ?!"

He’d walk up to you, still blinking in disbelief, and then—without even thinking—pull you into a tight hug.

"Damn…I thought I’d never see you again."

If you were childhood best friends, Kevin would be overwhelmed by emotions. He’d immediately start talking about the old days, asking if you remember this or that, laughing as old memories flood back.

But if you were his first love ? Oh, now it gets complicated.

"Do you ever think about back then ? About us ?" Unlike his brothers, Kevin wouldn’t play games—if he still had feelings, he’d let them slip through before he could stop himself. But if you moved on ? He would respect it. Besides, he is technically still a wanted criminal so…Yeah. Not the right time for relationships.

Peter Hannibal

Peter would be stunned. Completely speechless for a few seconds, just staring at you with wide, teary eyes. And then—he’d immediately get emotional.

"Y/N ! Oh my God, it’s really you !" He’d rush forward and grab your hands, squeezing them tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. "I missed you—I missed you so much ! I thought about you all the time ! You—you still remember me, right ?"

If you were just childhood friends ? He’d be overjoyed to see you again, rambling about how he always wondered what happened to you. But if you were his first crush ? He’s absolutely melt and hold you tight.

"I—uh—I used to…I mean, I kind of—um, never mind !"

Peter is not good at hiding his emotions, so if he ever had feelings for you ? You’re gonna know.

[makingspiritualityreal]

The Sun is the positive inheritance from our family line. It is the natural, inborn glow, our effortless legacy and instinctive shine.

For example, someone with a very strong Sun placement can go into the same business as their father, or they inherit a well functioning family business and their father can be a positive authority in their life.

Saturn is the opposite of the Sun. It is the area of your life, where you need to correct things by doing them differently than what you were given, but in a proper way. As a result, Saturn becomes a constructive, realistic critic.

The reason why Saturn is an enemy to the Sun is that you don’t want criticism to obstruct your natural glow and shadow your self expression. You don’t want to have to correct your natural legacy, so you can function. The other issue is, with such an aspect you lack positive role models, as the authority figures in your life did not perform the area of a given house placement correctly. So you need to figure everything out yourself, from scratch, do a lot of psychological digging and make sure you don’t attach to anything incorrect. It becomes your soul’s mission to clear your family karma and it is not a joyous one, and it hampers your spontaneity and delays your natural self expression, as it needs to be researched first to be performed correctly.

To give you an example, I have Saturn in the 4th aspecting my 1st house Sun. Technically, this is not its strongest aspect, and I’ve seen that aspect play out way worse in case of a conjunction or an opposition. Yet, since it’s the only aspect my Sun receives it still impacted my life.

I’m a tall woman, and I always had a naturally strong, glowing physique. I always joke that if I was raised in the USA, I would be the white Beyoncé. However, I was raised with my elderly family members from Poland (although I wasn’t born there) and until my Saturn return, I was bombarded with criticism relative to my natural strength and radiance. Poland has a more patriarchal culture than other western countries. It is now changing very rapidly, but it has been tough on me growing up. My body and my natural buoyancy was always criticized, and people tried to squeeze me into the traditional, diminutive standard of femininity, that is not only outdated but completely contradictory to who I naturally am. As a result, I didn’t get any opportunities to develop my self expression and charisma on a physical level and I wonder if I ever will. Consecutive traumas from other areas of my life and years of unfair shaming from both male and female figures have taken a toll on me. I can’t say I regret it, because I would have never discovered my spiritual gifts without it, and after all someone has to fix things and challenge the status quo, and I’m delighted that my very presence does so, yet it has brought me a lot of pain and made it hard for me to fully find my place in life. I can only feel the difference now, after I got married and have experienced feeling unconditionally validated and desired in my body through marriage. I still know I did not fully bloom into what is possible and I look forward to it.

With tighter Saturn aspects, this process is delayed even further, even into one’s 40s.

To continue with my example, I dress in an alternative way, with a lot of boho elements. Any tall woman with a larger shoe size knows how hard it is to find anything good for yourself. Completing a basic wardrobe that would fit both my taste and my body, complementing myself through that instead of feeling like I should change who I am took me years. For instance, I am gonna be 33 this year and I have just recently completed getting a decent swimsuit collection that I actually enjoy. So with that Saturn aspecting the 1st house of physical body, it took me over 30 years to find decent swimwear.

This was a lot of personal experience exposure, but I hope the level of detail will help you relate to your own experience, relative to your house placement, especially for those with Saturn aspects.

[morning-fragility]

[SPOILERS for uhohbestie's TAMN, BIG SPOILERS, spoilers. There, I've warned you (if the stream of spoilery rbs wasn't enough) ]

I finally finished reading TAMN!! 🎉🕺🎉🕺

Around the time I started it, I saw this post and thought it would be fun to document a bit of my journey as well (it was, indeed, very fun, and now I wish I'd been doing this during the first read or watch of everything I've ever enjoyed)

So... 380k of gasps, tears, "awww"-s and giggles, huh? Sheeeeesh!

It's been heavy, it's been fun, it's been spicy, and it made me think about a lot of things and reflect on the ways I myself act around the people I love. I don't know what else to say, really, it's been such a wonderful experience!! :)

A million thanks to Lock and Key @uhohbestie for brightening my evenings and weekends for almost a month (I genuinely have no idea how people were managing to wait a full week for every chapter, I had to take a break for a couple of days once and it ate on me every hour). You guys are incredible, and are setting some true friendship goals!! <3