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wchswift · 6 months ago

Note

hii!! i'm a big fan of your writingss!! they're all so amazinggg and the way you portray the emotions in the character is something i wish i could try :3

i saw your request is opened and i have this little idea: oldman logan tries to comfort his s/o (they're having a bad day at work and accidentally snaps at logan) IM SORRY IF THE IDEA IS LAME 😭

and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Pairing: old man logan x reader Summary: You had a hard day at work and when Logan tries to take care of you, you just snap at him. Content: established relationship, angst, yelling, comfort, fluff, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 1.2k notes: heyy, zayn!! tysm for your request and for your words, you are so sweet, I'm glad you like what I write!! The idea is not lame at all, I loved the idea and I hope it did justice to what you imagined <3 Happy new year 😊

The low rumble of the limo engine died as Logan cut the ignition. The evening had settled into an uneasy silence, thick and heavy, the kind that crept in after a long, thankless day. A fine sheen of dust clung to the once-sleek black of the car, mirroring the grit beneath Logan’s nails and the wear etched into his features. He sighed, staying inside the car for a moment, enjoying that he was finally home. That he was finally back with you.

The house door creaked open under his heavy hand. He didn’t call out. Years of instinct had taught him the value of silence, though tonight, it wasn’t just habit. He could feel it—like a pulse in the air—the black cloud hovering.

Inside, the light over the small kitchen buzzed faintly, illuminating a lone glass on the counter. You sat slumped on the couch, head in your hands, the uniform from the bar rumpled and stained with traces of a shift too long and customers too careless.

Logan lingered in the doorway, taking you in. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too lost in thoughts, in an internal battle. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and cleaning solution, the scent of dish soap clinging to your skin. You were clearly tired—bone-tired in the way that made you hollow, made you sharp without meaning to be.

He stepped inside, boots scuffing against the floor, and shrugged off his jacket. “Hey,” he murmured. “You eaten yet?”

You flinched at the sound of his voice, head still resting in your hands. You just shook your head, jaw tightening.

“Not hungry,” you muttered, tone clipped.

Logan frowned, setting his jacket down. “You should eat somethin’. Gotta keep your strength up after a shift like that.”

You exhaled sharply, pressing your palms against your temples. “Logan, please.”

He stilled, brows knitting. "What? Rough night?” Logan’s voice was gravel, softened by an edge of concern.

Your voice rose, the frustration spilling out before you could stop it. “Yes! And I don't need you lecturing me.” You broke off, dragging your hands down your face. “I just need you to stop for a minute.” Your words were a knife: sharp, unintended, but cutting all the same. “Can’t you just let me have a minute?”

The words hung in the air. Logan stood there, unmoving, the weight of the day and your tone sinking into his chest like stones in a deep well. He wasn’t a man of many words, nor one prone to anger over things like this. But it hurt—because it was you.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “Sure.”

The anger was quicksand now, sucking her down even as she clawed at the surface. You didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t mean to, but the day’s weight pressed against your chest, leaving no room for patience or kindness.

He set his keys down with a muted clink and walked to the kitchen. The scuff of his boots against the floor was the only sound as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Logan wasn’t good at this. Words failed him more often than not.

The guilt came rushing in, fast and unrelenting, as you watched him lean against the counter, his shoulders hunched under the weight of more than just your words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the stillness.

He cut you off with a small shake of his head, stepping closer. “Don’t. We’ve all got days, darlin’. You don’t gotta explain.”

But you did, because that’s who you were. You reached for his hand, calloused and scarred, your grip tight.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Logan crouched in front of you, his presence solid and grounding, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was rough but careful, like he was afraid of breaking something delicate.

“I get it,” he said simply. “The world’s got a way of piling on. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

Your hand brushed his arm, tentative but seeking connection. “Yeah, but you don't deserve it,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just—work was hell tonight. And I...I took it out on you.”

Logan shook his head, getting up and sitting beside you on the couch, pulling you into a loose embrace. His arms were rough but steady, grounding. “You’re allowed to be mad, darlin’. You’re allowed to break sometimes.”

You pressed your face into his chest, the scent of sweat and earth and faint tobacco grounding you. “I just hate feeling like this.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “I know the feelin’. But you don’t gotta carry it all by yourself. That’s what I’m here for, even if I ain’t great at it.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, your eyes searching his. “You’re better at it than you think.”

Logan sighed, kissing your head. “That’s what we do, yeah? You’re there when I’m all messed up, and I’m here when it’s you. That’s how it works.”

Your throat tightened, the simplicity of his words striking deeper than any grand gesture ever could. “I don’t deserve you.”

"Cut that out,” Logan muttered, his tone gravelly yet laced with an unexpected tenderness. His brow furrowed, the usual edge to his voice softening into something more vulnerable. “You deserve more than I can give. But this?” He gestured between you two. “This, I can do.”

"You give me everything I need," you practically whispered, the words coming out softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

Logan cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “C’mon. Let’s get you somethin’ to eat. Even if you don’t want it now, you’ll feel better with somethin’ in your stomach.”

You started to protest, but he raised an eyebrow, a look that was equal parts stern and amused. “Don’t argue. You’ll lose.”

You chuckled, letting him guide you toward the kitchen. “Fine. But only if you eat too.”

“Deal.” Logan opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. “Scrambled okay? Don’t expect a five-star meal.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched him move. His movements were deliberate, a mix of rough efficiency and surprising care.

As the eggs sizzled and the smell of toast filled the air, you felt the tension in your chest begin to ease. Logan’s presence, steady and unyielding, had a way of doing that.

When they finally sat down at the small table, the plates of simple food between them, Logan reached across to brush your hand with his fingers. It was a small gesture, fleeting but grounding.

“Tomorrow’ll be better,” he said, his voice low and sure.

You smiled, squeezing his hand before picking up your fork. “As long as you’re here... I'm sure it will be. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

The quiet between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was comforting. Enough to carry them through the night.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#old man logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett #old man logan x reader #logan wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst #hugh jackman #the wolverine #james logan howlett #request #logan howlett 🪽

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fangswbenefits · 2 years ago

Text

The Arrangement (1)

Summary: You managed to convince Astarion not to go through with the rite of profane ascension. He remains a vampire spawn, and you now offer your blood from time to time to help with his sanguine hunger until a solution is found. Even though you had both decided to stay as friends back in Moonrise Towers, lines begin to blur once more as other cravings come to the surface… and things with Astarion are seldom uncomplicated.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+. Endgame spoilers. Blood drinking. Mutual pining. Biting. S*xual tension. Mentions of past trauma.

Series masterlist . AO3

"He's upstairs."

You nodded curtly, but before you could turn in your heels and head to the wooden staircase, you felt a hand grip at your arm.

"He hasn't been paying his due," Bork, the Blushing Mermaid tavern's publican, said with a rise of his brows.

"Noble room again?"

"Yes."

As expected. Astarion would sooner be caught dead again than having to stay at a merchant or peasant room.

He adored all things lavish and that extended to his accommodations, naturally.

"I'll cover for it," you said, snatching your arm away. "How much?"

He bared his yellow teeth. "Thirty gold pieces."

You felt Shadowheart's burning gaze on you. She didn't approve of you cleaning after him. Especially since her protective instinct dragged her along with you every single time.

"Very well," you said through gritted teeth, rummaging through your pouch, and handing him the expected amount.

"Good," the older man said with a twirl of his kitchen knife. "If your pale friend does it again, he's done for."

Threats like this would usually warrant you to bare your dagger or cast a less friendly spell, but you couldn't afford to cause a scene.

Not in front of so many onlookers.

You felt Shadowheart briefly tense up by your side. "Do hurry up. I shall wait for you."

Nodding, you gave her an assuring nod before heading up the staircase.

The first floor was reserved for the highest paying customers, and it was heavily decorated and with candles spreading along the narrow corridor.

You paced quickly along the wooden floor, already knowing where to find him.

Room 7.

At this point, you were already over common pleasantries, so you skipped knocking at the door and just barged inside.

You heard a sleepy groan from the crimson bed placed at the centre of the luxurious room.

Astarion wasn't alone.

He was laying on top of the silk sheets, flipping through a book, seemingly undisturbed by your sudden appearance. Curiously enough, he was fully clothed, wearing a frill shirt and his regular trousers.

However, the woman next to him was very much fully naked, with only a blanket draping over her bare torso.

The sight made your stomach twist and turn.

"Hello, darling," he said casually as if you had just walked in on him picking flowers.

She peeked over her shoulder with a horrified look spreading across her pleasant face.

Of course she was extremely attractive.

She let out a shriek. "Do you mind?"

"No," you said dryly.

She immediately rolled out of bed, shooting a murderous glance your way, while scrambling to collect her belongings from the carpeted floor.

The door snapped shut behind her, and you were already pacing toward his bedside table once you spotted his coinpurse.

"Happy, are you? You scared her off, poor thing," he shook his head, feigning disapproval.

"You owe me."

You reached out to grab the thick pouch, but caught sight of the glint of a blade and the cool touch of metal being pressed gently against the back of your hand.

Typical.

"Ah-ah-ah..." he tutted with a click of his tongue. "Where are your manners?"

He seemed very serious all of a sudden, but you knew better. "I'll hex you."

"Faster than me piercing through your skin?" he asked, tapping the flat side of the blade playfully on your skin.

You really did consider hexing him for a split second just out of spite. "You overestimate your abilities."

"And you could have cursed me already, but are too lost in my dashing good looks."

Your jaw dropped in utter disbelief.

"That lovely mouth of yours could never compete with my agile fingers."

The insinuation wasn't even subtle, and it was enough to make your blood boil.

You scowled deeply at him, shoving his dagger out of the way. "Thirty gold pieces."

He slipped the blade under his pillow again with a devious grin.

"Bork was rather eager to have at you, so I just paid him. Maybe next time I won't intervene."

"And what would he do? Kill me again?"

Point taken.

A dangerous smile danced across his lips. "And here I thought you intended to start charging me for our arrangement."

You glared at him intensely, feeling momentarily outraged. "You're the one profiting off of it. Entirely."

"Hmm, debatable."

You narrowed your eyes. "If anything, you should be paying me, no?"

He snatched the coinpurse from your grasp, tugging it open before handing you a few gold pieces.

"Here you go, darling. Sixty gold pieces," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Buy yourself a new attire, while you're at it."

You glanced down the length of your body, arching a brow and straightening your shirt and trousers. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Astarion scoffed. "I don't even know where to begin, but do not fret. You could be wearing nothing but a rotting sack of potatoes, and I would still not be deterred from your neck."

You pressed your lips tightly together, and glanced at the gold pieces in your hand. "Your sweet-talking skills have been slightly below par as of late."

He chuckled, crossing his hands behind his head and against the meticulously wooden-carved headboard. "Yet here you are."

Not that you had much of a choice, really.

Halving the sum of money he had given you, you shoved the rest in your pocket while placing the other half on the table.

"Keep it."

"Don't be ridiculous," you groaned.

"Working on your flattery, I see?"

He was enjoying this far too much, and the more you talked back, the more you instigated him to continue.

"Why don't you just pay him when he asks for it?"

"Oh, darling…"

Here we go…

He was casually checking his hands, putting on his condescending demeanour. "Patience is a virtue he clearly lacks. If I'm to live eternally, I might as well teach these commoners some manners."

"Or you just adore getting on people's nerves," you said with a sly smile.

He grinned so wide, you caught a glimpse of his razor-sharp fangs peeking through. "You know me too well."

You used to think so.

Now, you weren't so sure.

Clearing your throat, you looked around the dimly lit room until your eyes settled on the large majestic bed. "She was really pretty."

"You sound surprised."

"Not at all. She does fit your type."

He laughed dramatically, further grinding your nerves. "I have a type?"

You gave him a look.

"You mean outrageously beautiful and undeniably entertaining?" he asked innocently. "Like you?"

Your heart jolted.

His method of seduction was deemed nigh pristine, and a few weeks ago, you would have maybe fallen hard for this level of charm.

But not anymore.

Well, for the most part…

"She was not outrageously beautiful."

He placed on hand at his chest, feigning hurt. "First you rob me, and now you question my taste in beauty. I'm not entirely sure my dead heart can take much more of this."

You huffed, crossing your arms before glancing out the window. The full moon lit up the street below, as the night began to draw out those who preferred to keep to the shadows.

And those who had no choice but to do so.

Like Astarion.

"I didn't do it."

His voice startled you and you stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He paused briefly. "I didn't do anything with her, if that's what you're thinking. There is an odd comfort in being surrounded by beauty, even if only to glare at, and nothing else."

Your heart clenched at how vulnerable he sounded all of a sudden. His pleasing face held an expression that you'd seen many times before…

Guilt.

The ripple effects of centuries of torture and abuse still slipped through the cracks of his usual pompous demeanour.

"Your personal matters are your own, Astarion. No need to justify yourself."

He stared at you in silence for a moment, and the urge to reach out to embrace him nearly took over.

Until his features began to twist into a light frown. "Don't look at me like that. I can't stand it."

"Like what?"

"That look. Pity. Spare me," he groaned with a roll of his eyes.

You weren't surprised in the slightest that he went into his defensive mode so rapidly.

He would fluctuate so often around you these days, that it gave you whiplash. Some days, he would let his guard down and allow you in, while others were plagued with him having a brick wall up around him if you happened to breathe in the wrong direction.

You had learned how to navigate through his tough exterior when the two of you traveled together, and as he opened more and more to you.

It all culminated when you offered your help against Cazador, and having him make the decision not to go through with the ritual that would doom so many souls – including his own — in the process.

He had thanked you for saving him from himself.

But nowadays, talking to him was like walking on eggshells while simultaneously dancing around his weathervane mood.

It was as if your relationship had somewhat soured over the past few weeks, and all the remnants of a solid friendship were now beginning to crack.

"You know, you don't have to be here," you said softly, trying to disperse the tension. "You are more than welcome to stay with us."

Astarion snickered darkly. "And having to endure that dullard? Please. I'd rather stake myself, darling."

You rolled your eyes and heaved a sigh at the targeted provocation.

"Gale is not a dullard. He is quite inter-"

But he began to part his mouth into a forced yawn. "Boring already! See, this is what happens when you choose to surround yourself with such unstimulating company – it spreads, and you used to be so much fun," he finished with a dramatic pout.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sent him a death glare. "He's not the only one there."

There was a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes. "Oh, yes! How could I forget Shadowheart and her magnificent ability to bore me." He swung his feet off the bed, standing gracefully. "Or perhaps you mean Lae'zel? She's clearly in debt to whichever god bestows a sense of humour."

An added layer of defense: sarcasm.

No one wielded it quite like Astarion, which also proved to be a major inconvenience when trying to win an argument.

I'm also there, you wanted to say, but chose to remain silent.

Deep down, you detested how you still longed for his company. Even after so many weeks had gone by. Even when he seemed so averse to it outside of this… arrangement.

Your relationship had been reduced to nothing more than a transaction.

Once again.

Your blood for his hunger to be quenched even if only momentarily.

"Or are you referring to yourself?" he mused, pacing towards you while adjusting his shirt.

It was extremely infuriating that he could see through you so easily.

"Let's get this over with, then," you said, words stinging in your throat.

He offered a faint smile, as he came to stand before you. "I must say, our weekly encounters are nothing short of exciting," he brought his fingers to your jaw, tilting your head gently as his eyes roamed across your neck. "And I am positively famished."

You felt a gentle tug at the collar or your shirt, and glanced down to see him undoing the buttons with just one hand.

All those years of honing his dexterity were bound to come in handy at the most convenient of times, and Astarion would never shy away from displaying his expertise.

Your senses were suddenly hit with the faint scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy.

His scent.

The same that once brought you comfort through the toughest of times.

But now…

"Which side will it be this time?"

You swallowed hard, shuddering. "You decide."

He caressed your neck tenderly, tipping your head to the opposite side, half-hooded eyes roaming across your exposed skin.

"Ever so generous."

You huffed in annoyance. "Astarion."

He didn't need to be warned twice, and you soon felt his soft lips brush across your skin, as he searched for your steady pulse. The contact made you jolt slightly and he took your hands in his, placing them at his waist.

"Hold on, darling," he whispered, as his breath fanned your flushed skin, before darting out his agile tongue and enclosing his lips around the selected area.

You had let him feed on you many times before, but the flutter was ever present. It wasn't out of fear or concern that he might take it too far. He never did. But the knowledge that you were, once again, involved in something so intimate truly gnawed at your nerves.

As soon as you felt the initial sting, you balled your fists, gripping the fabric of his shirt tight, as you hissed in pain.

He held your jaw in between his fingers whilst his other hand was firmly pressed to the back of your head, making sure you were anchored in place.

Astarion moaned first – a muffled and deep sound that reverberated across his lips with each mouthful of blood he downed.

Your eyes dropped close all of a sudden and he pressed his body against yours, acting purely on the instinct driven by his bloodlust.

And just like all those times before, you began to feel it.

With each passing second, the all too familiar and ever-growing pressure in your lower abdomen became harder and harder to ignore.

He had once revealed how your blood worked like an aphrodisiac whenever he drank from you; how he couldn't keep his body from reacting to it, and, ultimately, to you. After all, you had been the first thinking creature he had ever fed on.

As such, you had grown accustomed to his erection being pressed firmly against you – a constant reminder of how easy it was for him to make you yearn for more.

Whatever pain you had left from the initial bite, had morphed into a very subtle wave of pleasure that spread from between your legs.

You cursed inwardly, tugging harder at his shirt.

You didn't wish for your body to be so… primal.

Even with blood being drained from you, and the act itself being considered so profane, it was still a much welcome moment of intimacy that you had come to embrace.

A soft roll of his hips lulled you into him like a moth to a flame. Your body struggled with fading from the blood loss as well with the increasing throb between your thighs.

At this point, you couldn't help but moan softly as he eased his grip on you until he had fully withdrawn his teeth from you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you had to blink twice to disperse the haziness blurring your vision.

Crimson red tainted his lips, and droplets of the warm liquid threatened to spill over. The sight of him revelling in your blood used to make your stomach turn, but now it had morphed into a habit.

But what truly caught your attention was how he looked faintly… displeased?

He lowered his head, crimson eyes locking in with yours.

"That was quick," you whispered, struggling to ease your throbbing clit, as his erection was still very much pressed against you.

But now he was frowning.

Suddenly, you felt experienced fingertips trailed across your lower abdomen, casually teasing the hem of your waistband.

You sucked in a breath, chills sprawling all over your body, as he began to trace down your thigh, just where your dagger was resting.

"What are you–"

He pressed a long finger to his blood-stained lips and you swallowed, his eyes darkening. "We have company."

Before you could process his words, you felt your dagger being yanked swiftly from its sheath. With a languid shift of his feet, you watched as he threw the sharp blade across the room.

Just as it cut through the air, the large wooden door began to swing open and Shadowheart came into view.

The dagger landed dangerously close to her head, the tip carving into the wood and wobbling faintly.

She frowned slightly. "You missed."

He darted out his tongue to collect droplets of blood. "Did I?"

She looked positively unimpressed by such a display of skill, even one that could have easily maimed her.

But he had deliberately missed.

Of course he had.

You caught a glimpse of Astarion's reddened ears – the ultimate proof that he had recently fed, and one that, somehow, sent a shiver down your spine.

The bloodless effect was also beginning to take a hold of your body, as dizziness spread more and more.

Snapping out of your transfixed gaze, you hurriedly brought the handkerchief in your pocket to apply some pressure to your bleeding wound.

"Stealth was never your forte, darling," Astarion mused, visibly annoyed. "You're about as subtle as a pack of gnolls."

A teasing smile parted her lips. "You have such a way with words."

He grinned deviously. "It's called being eloquent, dear Shadowheart. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"I was taught to converse with others without constantly resorting to sarcasm," she mused, hurling your dagger back at him. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

As expected, he caught it in between his fingers with little to no effort, twirling it easily with the expertise that only centuries of practice could provide.

He clicked his tongue. "No wonder you're so tedious. But… eavesdropping? My, my… how unbecoming of you, darling."

A flash of surprise crossed her face. "I - I was doing no such thing! I merely decided to make sure everything was all right." Her face softened as she turned to you, her usual caring nature surfacing. "Do you need any healing?"

You smiled warmly at her, patting the pouch at your hip. "No need, thank you. Brought the scroll of Lesser Restoration you gave me."

Astarion scoffed.

Shadowheart ignored him. "I ought to go. Gale needs my assistance with some letters he's received from Waterdeep," she said, straightening up to her default stoic pose. "I trust you're quite done here."

You nodded, clearing your throat.

"What, you're not joining us for a nibble?" Astarion pouted dramatically.

"Over my dead body."

He looked as amused as ever. "That can certainly be arranged. Though I prefer fresh blood… right from the source."

Her features hardened once more and you decided to intervene. "Will you stop it? You're like a cat with its claws out."

Astarion snapped his head at you. "Excuse me? Claws?"

"Would it kill you - well, again - not to be so damn abrasive all the time?"

He groaned sheepishly. "She interrupted my feeding. It can be quite hard to resist the urge to behead her."

Shadowheart's gaze dropped to his lower half with the slightest uptick of one corner of her mouth. "By the looks of it, Astarion, you have other hardships to concern yourself with."

A rush of heat spread across your face as you followed her line of sight and were met by the very prominent outline of his erection strained against his trousers.

He turned around, mumbling curses under his breath to adjust himself, and Shadowheart looked at you with a triumphant smile.

It wasn't an easy feat to silence Astarion, yet she had achieved it so gracefully.

"I'll see you later, I suppose," she mused and you nodded. "It was rather entertaining seeing you again, Astarion."

He threw her an infuriating glance over his shoulder.

By the time she had closed the door behind her, you were already taking the scroll into your hands and whispering the incantation, as the paper scroll began to disintegrate itself.

A wave of warmth spread through your hands, before engulfing your body in it. Strength and heightened senses gradually returned to you as the lasting effects of him feeding on you dispersed.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted him glaring at you with a visible sulk.

"I'll come back next week."

"Leaving already?" He asked, fake heartbreak twisting his features and voice. "Was wondering if you could, perhaps, give me a hand."

He handed you your dagger, which you promptly slid back inside its sheath.

Your eyes then widened at his not so subtle suggestion.

Uncertainty boiled deep within you, and you had to muster your will to keep yourself from immediately leaving.

Astarion's healing path had been one he had decided to tread alone. The relationship he had with sex had been the reason you two had decided to be as friends and nothing more. You had fallen hard for him – or his deceit – but you figured what he truly needed was a friend and not a lover.

And so you left your infatuation for him behind.

It was better off this way.

But now… watching him fall back to his usual charming advances made you somewhat wary. Was he back to forcing himself to seek intimacy with his body, because he still couldn't do it effectively in any other way? Was he simply feeling more at ease?

You met his sultry gaze and cleared your throat. "Well, I'm sure you can ask that outrageously beautiful woman to help you out, if that is what you truly seek."

That seemed to have caught him by surprise, and he cocked his head. "What?"

"She seemed positively distraught for having to leave your company so early," you said, dragging the handkerchief down your neck to wipe off the trail of blood.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, darling?"

"Delusion does not suit you, darling."

He took a few steps towards you until you could see the crimson of his eyes flicker as they studied your face.

Your stomach turned.

The proximity made you feel vulnerable and you immediately felt naked under his burning gaze.

Astarion had over two centuries of practice when it came to reading others. It wasn't an easy feat to deceive him, and you were no exception.

"We traveled together for so long and I can safely say I never took you for a liar – perhaps too soft-hearted for my liking, but not a liar."

"I did not lie," you shot back, lifting your chin in defiance. "I can offer you my friendship and even my blood, but I'm not so sure about anything else."

He heaved a deep sigh.

"I just fed on you and the bloodlust can be quite… overwhelming," he confessed. "I usually take care of it myself, but you did taste absolutely exquisite tonight, what can I say?"

That caught you off guard.

"What do you mean? Take care of…" your voice trailed off as realization hit you.

Oh.

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Don't act so surprised. You can feel it whenever I'm feeding, can't you?" He took another step back and only came to a halt once your back was pressed against the carved-wood wall. "There is only so much I can withstand with your delicious blood coursing through my body, darling."

You swallowed hard.

He was being particularly firm on his advances tonight. You were used to his occasional flirtatious remarks whenever he fed on you ever since the arrangement took place. However, this was bringing things to a whole new level.

One that you hadn't expected you'd reach ever again with him.

Somehow, you managed to find your voice. "Maybe you should stop feeding on me, then?"

A weightless taunt, obviously.

Crimson eyes darted all over your face as if studying you. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, before the corner of his mouth curled into an intriguing smile.

He had seen immediately right through it.

"If that is what you wish, then so be it," he said in a rather dismissive tone, but still towering over you.

You arched a brow. "That's it?"

"Darling, as immortal as I am, I do not beg," he continued, now tracing around the fresh bite marks on your skin with uncharacteristic tenderness. "I will surely find other exquisite necks to sink my teeth into."

His words carried a hint of a threat, which unsettled you.

"That was not the arrangement, Astarion," you said with a scowl. "It's either wild animals or my blood."

His fingertips paused at your pulse point, and you were certain he could feel the throbbing increasing rapidly. "How possessive of you, my dear," he mused playfully. "Although, I am quite sure you are aware that many do carry fantasies with vampires."

You pressed your lips together in a silent reply.

A man as attractive as Astarion was bound to allure all sorts of attention. When passing through Moonrise Towers, the drow Araj had tried to have him bite her in exchange for a rather powerful potion, but you had assured him that you did not demand anything against his will.

The memory still left a sour taste in your mouth.

But he did have a point.

Vampires could be regarded as a taste of the forbidden, and he could certainly deliver it.

"That was not the arrangement," you repeated through gritted teeth, deciding to ignore his previous remark.

His eyes narrowed dangerously in an instant.

"'The arrangement'," he mocked, inching near and pinning you frozen against the wall with the weight of his burning stare. "Does dear Wyll know that I haven't been exclusively feeding on wild animals? Because that was the arrangement, darling," his face drew closer and his cool breath fanned your skin.

Upon becoming Duke of Baldur's Gate, Wyll had agreed to allow Astarion to reside within its walls, but not without assuring he posed no danger to others.

But then you decided to volunteer in aiding him until a solution to his vampiric condition could be found. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long to find something useful.

Your research had led to a couple of enchanted items, but those were rare to come by. A wish spell seemed to be the easiest way, but even as a sorcerer and with Gale's help, it would be extremely challenging.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "He does. He knows blood from thinking creatures sates you more effectively, so he allows it for the time being."

He scoffed, dropping his hand from your neck. "How very thoughtful of him, indeed."

"This is what friends do."

He sneered at you. "Friends do not hand out ultimatums. Care to revive my memory?" His lips almost brushed against yours and you didn't dare take a breath. "I am to wag my tail like an obedient pup as I wait for a solution to this minor inconvenience, all the while enclosed in a golden cage."

Impatience gripped your nerves ferociously. "These things take time, Astarion."

"Oh, my darling… I have all the time in the world, but you only have a limited supply of blood," he whispered softly and you could almost taste his taunting words.

He drew back slightly, his glare so intense you felt yours waver and drop, catching a glimpse of his sharp canines. "We are actively looking for a solution. Gale is also making some progress-"

He pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I am faulting you," he said, his face suddenly softening, as he caressed your lower lip. "If anything, you are the only reason I was ever able to kill Cazador."

He was being sincere, and that was what made your heart drop to your stomach.

"You have my eternal gratitude."

You shuddered under his touch, feeling your breath quicke, as his other hand trailed down your neck until it was resting just above your left breasts and beating heart.

He was too good at this…

Unfairly so.

"Wyll ought to allocate more of his resources into aiding me, don't you think? After all, you are the one at risk here," he continued. "I know he cares not for me, but I could have ascended and bent Baldur's Gate to my will… if not for your intervention."

"I'm not at risk," you said with a roll of your eyes. "And if you drink more than what you need, then you know the consequences."

His eyes dropped to your cleavage as he began to caress the flushed skin. With each deep breath you took, you pushed more of your breasts into him, further igniting the heat between your legs.

"Promises, promises… unfortunately for you, darling, your words don't match your body."

Fuck you. "You're impossible."

He slowly dipped his head until his lips grazed yours. "You would stake me?"

Never.

"I would."

He chuckled. "You would stake me as I sink my teeth into your darling neck and feast on your divine blood?"

No. "Yes."

But his smile only widened as amusement settled on his face. "I can't think of a better way to part this world for good."

Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, and he rolled his hips into you, earning a soft gasp.

You half-expected him to finally take your lips, but he tilted his head instead to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And your body nearly imploded as old sensations resurfaced.

Fuck.

"You're so sweet…" he whispered with a sigh, as he began to graze along your jaw, taking your hands in his and planting them on his waist. "So warm… the gods above could never do you justice." He continued in between light kisses with his hips matching the pace.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you lost track of how eagerly your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing impatiently against the waistband of his trousers.

Astarion groaned softly, helping you with the inconvenient lacing at the front. "And here I thought I was the starving one."

He always talked way too much and had a natural talent for doing so at the least opportune time.

"Can you shut up for once?"

"Gladly," he said as he quickly took your lips in his, muffling your groan of protest.

Reason told you to halt everything once. That you were taking things too fast, and that there was no need to indulge in such depravities.

But you had missed this.

You missed having him so close that he completely overtook your senses.

The kiss turned rougher and his tongue soon found yours. Instinct guided you as you succumbed to the vicious grip of desire, and you pressed yourself further into him.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you already were and how intensely your swollen clit was pulsing. Your body was already readying itself for him to be buried inside you, and you shuddered at the prospect of it.

Your tongue darted into his mouth and your eagerness had it glide across one of his sharp fangs, and you felt a sting of pain as you accidentally drew blood.

"Fuck," you grumbled, breaking the kiss at once.

The familiar taste of metal began to pool in your mouth, and you felt gentle fingers grip your jaw tight, as he titled your head back.

"I would apologise, but it was your own doing," he said with a smile, hunger in his eyes. "So let's not allow it to go to waste, hm?"

And then he pressed his lips against yours, immediately parting them with his experienced tongue, in search of the warm liquid he so badly craved.

The cut wasn't deep or wide enough to cause much to spill, but it was certainly enough for him to let out a beautiful moan of delight, as he lapped at your blood.

Your hands gripped the front of his trousers, the lacing now undone and offering you the opportunity to feel him, and he was kissing you so ardently, that your mind was completely clouded by all of him.

Testing the waters, you caressed his cock through the fabric.

He immediately parted from you to let out a delicious hiss, as he rolled his hips into the palm of your hand.

Astarion was incredibly hard, but just as you were about to slide it inside to grip him, he caught your wrist and held it firmly in place.

And everything halted all at once.

Your eyes found his, and he seemed… distant.

Concern washed over you. "Astarion?"

He was frozen, eyes fixed on the floor.

As he eased his grip on you, it became apparent that he wasn't listening to you.

Fuck.

You brought one hand to grip his shoulder. "Astarion…"

He shook his head lightly. "Give me a moment, darling."

The way the last word drawled out of his lips, made your heart clench violently. It was so instinctive for him, that you doubted he even realised he had uttered it.

You stood still, unsure of what to do to help.

The two of you remained silent for a few moments. You kept your hold on his shoulder, gently caressing it in an attempt to bring him some comfort.

Then you felt rage swirl in you.

Cazador had warped him in such a way and for so long, that the ramifications of his abuse on Astarion seeped so deep and gripped him so tight, causing you to feel nothing but anger.

You took a deep breath, and carefully placed your hands on either side of his face, slowly guiding him to meet your eyes.

He looked broken.

"I apologise."

You caressed his cool skin with your thumbs, shaking your head. "There is nothing to apologise for. Ever. Do you hear me?"

He tilted his head until his forehead touched yours. "I really wanted this."

Even though the two of you had grown apart over the past few weeks as he had distanced himself, you couldn't think of anyone else who had such a hold on you.

With one hand drifting along his soft curls, you pulled him further into a hug, which he promptly embraced, lacing his hands behind your back.

This was your Astarion.

The one who made it so easy to love and care for him.

"Sometimes what we want is not what we need."

His cheek was pressed to the side of your head and you heard a faint chuckle. "So poetic. I reckon Volo has competition."

"Your mind goes to Volo when holding me? Is there something you wish to tell me, Astarion?" you teased lightly.

He patted your back twice before letting go.

"Guilty as charged," he mused, slipping back into his usual antics.

He crossed the room, tying the laces of his trousers before plopping himself on the bed with a stretch of his arms.

"I'm sure you're exhausted. Maybe you should go back to that dullard friend of yours," he said with a sly grin.

His words hit you hard and your face dropped. "I can stay a little longer…"

He picked up the book next to him, examining the cover. "Whatever for? I'm perfectly fine, darling."

Now, this was not your Astarion.

Cold. Distant. Impenetrable.

The one who pushed you away whenever you attempted to bridge the gap that had come in between you two.

He focused his attention on the book in his hands and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Very well."

You composed yourself, and headed to the door, not even bothering to exchange another look.

"Thank you for the meal, and for… well, you know."

You nodded, feeling the overwhelming urge to just leave. "See you next week, then."

He didn't reply.

You rushed out of the room, feeling the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes, and you tried to convince yourself it was better off this way.

That he needed time and space.

That he didn't need you.

By the time you crossed the crowded lounge of the tavern, you crossed paths with that woman again.

She locked eyes with you, a faint smile curving her lips, as she rose to her feet from her chair, probably heading back to him.

She truly was a sight to behold, no doubt.

But what tore your heart was realising that, even after everything you'd been through with Astarion, he still favoured her company over yours.

Next chapter

Masterlist . Series masterlist. AO3

#astarion smut #astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x mc

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hollandbuildersco · 2 months ago

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Kitchen Remodel vs Kitchen Nightmares? Let's Cook Up Something Beautiful! 🔪✨

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#kitchen #kitchen renovation #kitchen remodeling #kitchen design #orlando

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lirotation · 7 months ago

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What do you think Astarion and your oc would do for the holidays from traditions to gifts?

In my HC right now, My CP is traveling to find a cure.

_______

Life on the road was never easy, but winter's harsh conditions made travel nearly impossible. They rented a small house on the edge of a town to wait out the season.

Days blurred together as they remained mostly in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, cherishing rare moments of uninterrupted intimacy.

Amaara, when the mood struck her, would weave delicate illusions to create seasonal decorations. Occasionally, she weaved playful roleplay scenarios, much to Astarion’s bemused delight.

On Winter Solstice, Amaara, raised in the traditions of the Elven court, insisted on observing the holiday. It was a sacred day of meditation and introspection—a time to reflect on the year and one’s place in the world.

Astarion, predictably, found the idea “mind-numbingly dull.”

“You’re wasting a perfectly good holiday,” he argued. “Embrace your human heritage. Feasts, indulgence, wine flowing like rivers—that’s the way to do it.”

The problem, of course, was that neither of them could cook and none of the stores were open. Their solution? A daring raid on the wealthiest household, from the ladder to the greenhouse. They successfully secured off-season vegetables, premium cured meats, fine cheese, and a bottle of exquisite wine.

In their small kitchen, he set to work with a knife, slicing everything with meticulous precision. By the time he was finished, Amaara was seated at the table.

“Can't believe I went stealing on Winter Solstice.” she murmured, raising an amused brow.

“I prefer to call it ‘reappropriating,’” Astarion replied with a dramatic flourish, pouring himself a glass of wine.

The fondue pot bubbled gently in the center of the table, filling the room with the rich, savory aroma of melted cheese. Astarion savored his wine as Amaara dipped slices of meat and vegetables into the pot, each bite bringing a contented smile to her face.

Later, she presented him with a custom-crafted cravat of blood-red silk, adorned with an intricate golden pin. The enchantment she’d imbued within it would keep him warm, no matter how harsh the winter cold.

Astarion, in turn, gifted her a finely crafted utility belt designed to hold more health potions—a necessity given how often she seemed to get hurt on their travels. As she explored its compartments, her fingers brushed against a folded parchment tucked away in one of the pouches. Unfolding it, she discovered a handwritten love letter penned in Elvish. His cursive was elegant, each stroke deliberate, showing the care he had put into his words.

They went to bed and she gave him his fill. For the rest of the night, they stayed entwined, the storm raging outside their sanctuary. In their quiet, private world, the holiday was celebrated with warmth and the comfort of simply being together.

#my answers #Astarion is such a bad influence LOL #astarion #bg3 fanart #tavstarion #illustration #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion fanfiction

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lifestyleblogeruk · 2 years ago

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The Beauty and Benefits of Bespoke Kitchens: Why Customization Matters

In the world of kitchen design, the concept of one-size-fits-all is rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Homeowners today are looking for unique and personalized spaces that cater to their individual tastes, lifestyle, and functional needs. This growing demand has led to the rise of bespoke kitchens, where customization is the key to creating a truly exceptional kitchen space. In this blog, we will explore the beauty and numerous benefits of bespoke kitchens, and understand why customization matters more than ever.

1. Personalized Design: At the heart of bespoke kitchens lies the concept of personalized design. Unlike generic off-the-shelf kitchen options, bespoke kitchens are tailor-made to suit your specific preferences. From the layout to the materials used, every aspect of the kitchen can be customized to reflect your unique style. Whether you have a love for classic elegance, a penchant for modern minimalism, or a desire for a cozy rustic vibe, a bespoke kitchen can bring your vision to life.

A bespoke kitchen allows you to be the master of your own design, giving you the freedom to choose the colors, finishes, and overall aesthetics that resonate with your personality. This level of personalization ensures that your kitchen becomes an extension of yourself, making it a joy to spend time in and showcase to family and friends.

2. Tailored Features: Another significant advantage of bespoke kitchens is the ability to incorporate tailored features that match your specific requirements. A professional kitchen designer works closely with you to understand your needs, habits, and workflow in the kitchen. With this knowledge, they can create a layout that optimizes functionality and maximizes the use of available space.

Custom cabinetry is a hallmark of bespoke kitchens. From the size and style of cabinets to the type of storage solutions, every detail is carefully planned to suit your lifestyle. Whether you need extra-deep drawers for pots and pans, pull-out shelves for easy access, or specialized compartments for your unique kitchen tools, bespoke kitchens have got you covered.

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Bespoke kitchens are not only visually appealing but also highly practical. Every aspect of the design is intended to enhance functionality and provide a seamless cooking and meal preparation experience. From smart storage solutions to ergonomic design principles, your bespoke kitchen will cater to your needs and make everyday tasks a breeze.

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Buyers today appreciate the level of craftsmanship and customization offered by bespoke kitchens. They understand that a tailored kitchen provides not only aesthetic appeal but also practicality and long-term durability. As a result, a well-designed bespoke kitchen can set your home apart from others and potentially increase its market value.

7. Sustainability and Environmental Consciousness: In recent years, there has been a growing emphasis on sustainable living and eco-friendly practices. Bespoke kitchens align well with this trend. Custom-made kitchen cabinetry and furniture often use locally sourced and sustainable materials, reducing the carbon footprint associated with transportation.

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Smart technology in bespoke kitchens offers numerous benefits, from energy efficiency to enhanced convenience. Imagine controlling your kitchen's lighting and appliances through your smartphone or voice commands, making cooking and entertaining more enjoyable than ever before.

9. A Reflection of Your Lifestyle: Your kitchen is more than just a place to cook; it's the heart of your home, where memories are made, and gatherings happen. Bespoke kitchens have the power to reflect your lifestyle and the way you use this vital space.

Whether you're an avid home chef, a busy parent, or someone who loves to entertain, a customized kitchen can be designed to suit your specific needs. By incorporating features and amenities that align with your lifestyle, a bespoke kitchen becomes an expression of who you are and how you live.

10. The Joy of Creativity: Designing a bespoke kitchen is an opportunity to unleash your creativity and imagination. You get to work with skilled professionals who can bring your ideas to life, collaborating to create a space that is truly one-of-a-kind.

From selecting materials and colors to deciding on the perfect layout, the process of creating a bespoke kitchen can be immensely fulfilling. It's a chance to make choices that resonate with you and create an environment that feels like home in every sense of the word.

Conclusion: Bespoke kitchens offer a level of beauty, functionality, and personalization that is unmatched by their mass-produced counterparts. The ability to personalize every aspect of the design, the use of top-quality materials, and the attention to detail make bespoke kitchens a valuable investment.

Customization matters because it empowers homeowners to create a kitchen that aligns with their lifestyle, reflects their unique style, and enhances their daily experiences. A bespoke kitchen is not just a space for cooking; it's a sanctuary, a place to connect, and a testament to exceptional design and craftsmanship.

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pogueswrld · 2 years ago

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*•.¸♡ thread of pleasure ♡¸.•*

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: reader is tired and jason decides to please her.

prompt: "You can either have sexy time or a home-cooked meal tonight, but not both because I am tired."

warnings: 🦢 smut w/ minimum plot!!! domestic!jason (he's husband material yk), pet names (heart eyes), pussydrunk!jason (he gives reader good head), handsfree cumming/cumming in his pants... Yeah, basically reader is given the princess treatment <3

note: I didn't know how to close this one up so the ending is abrupt and weird, sorry babes :/// anyways here's some Jason brain rot 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Y/n released a deep sigh when she finally shut her apartment door closed, the build-up of her entire day came crumbling down on her shoulders. Her eyes were tightly shut and her hands gripped the plastic grocery bags.

With another heavy sigh, she blinked her eyes open and pushed herself off the door to set the bags on the counter.

Her week wasn't out of the ordinary, but for some reason, it felt far more draining the all the other weeks she's worked combined. And with Jason going on patrol more often, she felt extremely alone whenever she went to sleep without him and woke up to him already gone.

She stared, deadpanned, at the six bags before her before pressing her lips together and coming to a decision. She knew that if she started making dinner now, she will be able to have a meal prepared by the time Jason makes it home- they'll have dinner and then she'll immediately crash and not see him again until tomorrow night.

However, if she decided to not make dinner, she and Jason might be able to spend at least two hours before she decides to go to sleep.

But then he won't have dinner, she thought, a pout forming on her lips.

To find a solution, she dug up her phone from her back pocket and sent out a single text to the familiar number of her lover.

You can either have sexy time or a home-cooked meal tonight, but not both because I AM TIRED

Jason was with Dick and Tim when he received the message through the AI on his Red Hood helmet. As soon as he spotted the notification, his face lit up with a grin, and then he read the text and couldn't help but bite his lips in a poor attempt to contain the grin.

He was thankful that tonight's patrol was mostly calm. Nothing more than a few petty crimes that either Dick or Tim can easily handle.

Helplessly, he turned to his brothers. "Hey, guys?"

Tim turned to him first, humming in question. Dick glanced up after, raising one questioning brow.

"Would you guys mind if I ditched?"

The other batboys shared a stare, "Right now?"

Jason only nodded, thankful for the helmet over his face to cover his smile.

Dick shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Jason had jumped off the roof they were idling from and disappeared into the night.

When she didn't get a reply, y/n shrugged and emptied the bags of food. She checked her phone again, still on delivered, and made her way into her bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Unaware of the boy unlocking the door to her apartment.

Jason walked in with two boxes of pizza balanced on one arm while the other made sure to lock the door of the apartment. The click of the door reached her ears, and she turned her head to the door as she fixed the massive shirt covering her form. She padded out of the room and smiled at the sight of Jason placing the boxes of pizza on the kitchen counter. He's still in his Red Hood custom.

She's biting her bottom lip to hold back a grin.

"You couldn't reply to my text to let me know you've seen it?"

Jason turned at her voice and smiled, the Red Hood helmet sat at the counter. His grin revealed the pointy teeth underneath, and he visibly softened at the sight of her. He shrugged.

"Figured I could just show up."

Y/N bites her lip as she slowly approached him, purposely slouching as she hums, burying her face in his chest when he opens his arms for her. She sighs into the embrace, her arms wrapping around his middle. He rubs her back, gently pushing his fingers on the stress points on her shoulder blades and spine, and the girl simply groans as she pulls back slightly, her lips forming a cute pout.

"Missed you so much." She mumbles, her lids heavy as she blinked up at him.

Jason took note of her tiredness and smiled softly, brushing back some of her hair. "Miss you more, angel. C'mere." His index hooks itself under her chin and tilts her head upward to meet his lips, her eyes flutter closed at the contact and she hums against his lips.

Jason has complete control over the pace of the kiss, and he's gentle as he cups her face and pulls her closer; deepening the kiss. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and she happily parts her lips for him, allowing him to kiss her deeper.

She lets out a sigh as her hands climb up his armored chest and try to hold onto the neckline of his suit. She tugs on it once, silently begging it to pull it off. Jason smiles and pulls back to see her, his hands already working on dismantling his suit.

"Someone's desperate."

Y/N grins. "You brought pizza."

Jason chuckles at her, his chest armor falling to the floor, revealing his black undershirt. "You wanna eat it before or after I eat you?"

Her face flushes and her jaw drops, a single laugh escapes her lips and she shakes her head. "After." She breathes before launching herself at him again. Her arms hold him close by his neck, and her lips press against his tightly.

Jason smiles against her lips as he pulls the shirt off his body, his hands grabbing and pulling at her body, keeping her impossibly close. He trails his hands down the sides of her body, causing goosebumps to rise all over her body. He hooks his hands under her ass, his fingers kneading and groping at her thighs before mumbling, "Jump." breathlessly against her lips.

She lets out a whine before following his demand, her legs immediately wrapping themselves around his bare waist.

Blindly, Jason sits her on the counter. The grocery bags and the boxes of pizza are somewhere beside her, and he carefully pulled her to the edge of the counter. He pulled back from their heated and messy kiss, saliva connecting their bruised lips together. He stared down at her, observing the way her parted lips look as she panted for air and blinked at him from underneath her lashes.

"Fuck." He rasped, an image from a while ago of her on her knees looking up at him the exact same way flashed into his mind, and he groaned as he leaned down to press harsh and soft kisses down her neck.

"You're so pretty..." He trailed off, his teeth nibbling and grazing her clear skin, marking his way down her body. Y/N gasped, arching into him as he softly bit into a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. One of her hands leaned behind her, holding her up for him, while the other grabbed his bicep.

"Jay-" Her words were cut off with another gasp as his hands that were previously on her knees pushed them apart, settling him between her legs.

"Yes, pretty girl?" He mumbled, his words muffled against her skin. He's grinning as she whines, her back arching to push herself closer to him.

His crotch area was bulging, a tent forming where he desired her most, but he'd be damned if he used her for his pleasure while she was so tired. No, he was going to pleasure her thoroughly.

"Need you to talk to me, baby. I can't read your mind." He whispered against her skin, his hands pulling up her -his- shirt and letting it pool around her hips. He let his fingertips trace up her thighs, occasionally pinching the fat, but never actually touching her how she wants him to.

She whines, her head falling on his shoulder. "Touch me." She mumbled, a blush flushing her face and the tips of her ears.

One of his hands pulled her face off his shoulder, gently forcing her to meet his teal eyes. His pupils were blown wide, she can't even see the color of his eyes. He's smirking smugly.

"Good girl." He cooed. His eyes glistened, "Where?"

Y/N was breathing heavily, her hand grabs his that was on her thigh and pulls him to her core. He cups her through the cloth, her dripping arousal seeped through the fabric and left a dark patch. Jason chuckles, the sound rippling through his chest. "Hmm, alright. That wasn't very hard, was it, angel? Now keep your eyes on me, I wanna watch you."

His other hand hooked around the elastic of her underwear and pulled it off of her in one swift motion. She gasped and watched with half-lidded eyes as he dropped to his knees. He looked up at her, grinning devilishly.

His stare sent fire through her entire body, and a shiver ran down her spine in anticipation of his next move.

His eyes moved down from her face to her dripping core. He ran his thumb up her slit, collecting her wetness. His tongue wetted his lips, and Y/N let out a desperate noise at the sight.

He looked heavenly on his knees for her, his hair disheveled and messy, and he was still in his combat pants with an obviously painful bulge. She felt the wind being knocked out of her chest, and she leaned down and grabbed his face, pulling him close and clashing her lips against him.

"I love you." She mutters before pulling back, returning to her previous position.

Jason's lips parted in shock at her rapid movements, he blinked at her, his mind blank. Then he beamed, his head leaning on her leg, hearts pouring out of his eyes. His lips pressed soft kisses up her leg, leading up to her thigh and under the fabric of her shirt.

"I love you," He breathed against the skin of her inner thigh, causing a ticklish sensation to fly through her. She giggled breathlessly, then gasped as she felt his lips wrap around her clit and suck harshly.

She jerked, her hand immediately latching onto his locks as she moaned loudly. Her eyes fixated on him, just as he asked. He's looking up at her through his lashes, lust and something else stared back at her, something far more intimate.

His tongue pressed against the sensitive bud and lapped up at her juices, and she shuddered as she realized it was yearning.

His arms hooked around the thickness of her thigh, pulling her closer to the edge, closer to his mouth as he devoured her. He felt intoxicated with her, a particular sensation fluttering through him. He couldn't get enough of her, and the way her face contoured with pleasure made him moan against her. Every noise she made traveled straight to his cock and made him twitch against the fabric of his briefs.

His moans sent vibrations through her, accompanied by his fingers thrusting steadily into her, curled just right to stimulate a spot within her that made her see stars, Y/N was in heaven. She whimpered and whined, her hips unsteadily and subconsciously bucking into his mouth, chasing a thread of pleasure just barely out of reach; tying itself at the bottom of her stomach.

"Jason- I'm- oh fuck- please~" She whined, writhing above him as she tiptoed across the edge of a climax. Jason mumbled something, his words muffled by her clit, and she whines loudly as the wave of pleasure crashes down on her.

Her eyes were shut tightly, and her legs tightened around his head, closing on his ears. Her hand tugged at his hair, roughly pulling at his roots- he liked it though, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he moaned against her. His fingers never stopped their movement, helping her ride out her orgasm.

He looked up, caught the way her mouth was agape in a silent scream, the way her brows furrowed in immense pleasure, and shudder as his throbbing cock strained against nothing and emptied itself in his boxer. He muffled a groan against her and his tongue lapped up her release happily.

He didn't move from his spot on his knees until Y/N was jerking and shivering, her hand pushing his head away from her clit to stop him from overstimulating her.

"Sensitive-" She breathed, panting as she looked him over. He sat back on his heels, his eyes blinking at her from underneath his lashes, his tongue swiping on his glistening lip, his nose and chin drenched in her juices. His hair is a mess, and his pale skin is tinted with pink where her thighs were wrapped around him.

Jason sends her a lopsided grin and brings the fingers that were inside of her up to his mouth, he keeps his eyes on hers as he sucks them clean, purposely making a pop sound as he pulls them out of his mouth. "Hmm, my favorite dinner." He winks at her and Y/N's face flushes red.

"Shut up," She giggled, jumping off the counter and leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. He tasted of mint, Jason, and her. She grinned against his lips and pulled back, helping him stand on his feet. Her eyes curiously glance at his previous bulge and noticed the dark patch, her lips parted before she glanced back up at him.

He was red in the face, embarrassed. The tips of his ears, neck, and cheeks were flaming pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did you cum in your pants? Handsfree?"

Jason shrugged. "...Maybe." His answer was quick and short, averting his gaze from her.

Y/N giggles, reaching up to cup his chin in her hand. She forced his eyes back on her, a grin on her lips. "That's really hot and attractive, and incredibly thoughtful for some reason."

Jason smiles at her, his eyes nearly glowing. "What can I say? Making you cum is one of my favorite pastime activities." Y/N giggles at his words and wraps her arms around his shoulders, Jason wraps his around her waist and hoists her up in the air. "Let me clean you up then we can have dinner, yeah?"

Y/N squeals as her boyfriend carries her like she weighed nothing across her apartment and to her bathroom.

#jason todd #jason todd smut #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #dc titans #tv: titans #beast boy #starfire #kory anders #garfield logan #rachel roth #raven roth #dc robin #red robin #nightwing #batfamily #batkids

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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year ago

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Out of office is ON. Absolutely ZERO customer service duties until Monday and I am sososo relieved!

May i give you all a look at my exbf!dick WIP?

Watching that first edge of your relationship catch at the precipice of failure felt so much like grief it was alarming; letting go has never been something you’re good at, especially not when it comes to him.

But you couldn’t stop Dick Grayson from slipping through your fingers the same way he couldn’t stop you from slipping through his.

Ending the relationship was a mutual decision. But that fact brought no relief. He was still leaving you, and in the terrible reflection of that, you were leaving him too.

There was no coming back from that.

Your relationship ends on a Tuesday and first thing Wednesday morning you walk into Titans Tower to find Dick standing at the kitchen counter.

Time stalls, your whole life stuttering in a furious backfire.

Whatever you were expecting. It wasn’t this.

Memory blooms against the palms of your hands and it’s tangible, focus hard enough and your fingers could trip along the interlocking bones of his spine. It’s historic recollection, almost twelve months eclipsing the time it takes to blink; one trip around the sun together and your life comes back to you irrevocably changed.

Three hours of sleep isn’t enough to deal with this; you don’t think any amount of sleep is enough for this.

Dick stares at the wall just past your head, mug held halfway to his mouth. He’s still wearing the same clothes as last night, doesn’t look like he’s slept for even a minute, and you could throw a dart at what you’re feeling about that and still not pinpoint it exactly.

Silence seems to echo, then swell, and you can't help but fumble in the face of it, caught in foreign territory. You wasn’t quite sure what you were expecting, but seeing him again so soon wasn’t really on the list. For a moment you consider turning on the balls of your feet and leaving, and yet, you know that won’t solve anything.

A cup of coffee is pushed across the counter in your direction and you stare at it, bewilderment shoved up against the roof of your mouth. You know it’s made exactly the way you like it; know with the same sort of certainty that you bring into mission briefings, the same concrete accuracy you display in combat.

It feels like you’re going fucking crazy.

Glancing at Dick you try to gauge the look on his face but you can’t.

When you first starting dating it was hard to read between his lines–difficult to spot the miniscule changes in his mannerisms–you could stare him straight in the face and miss the switch; miss the split second where emotion filters through the cracks and he shuts it down, hides behind a smooth facade of indifference.

After all the time you spent together it got easier. You learnt. But you look at him now and you might as well have never known him at all.

Dick opens his mouth and every muscle along your spine flexes in preparation, "Let’s not make this weird, yeah?"

Your teeth grind.

What a fucking diplomat.

One thing about you is this: you’re petty. Hand on heart you can’t help it. You get wronged and hit back in the lowest form you can think of–the most inconvenient way your mind can conjure up. The satisfaction you get from it is unparalleled.

Years ago, your uncle told you to leave your own house after a disagreement and in retaliation you parked your car so close to his bumper he couldn’t get out of the space. Then you blocked his number and didn’t come back for three days.

Not once did you regret it.

Dick knows exactly what you’re like; who you are on the inside, and yet he arrives at the solution of damage control. As if that would have ever gotten a positive reaction out of you–as if there would be any moment in your life where you wouldn’t bite all the way back to your molars into something glaringly spiteful.

There’s a split second where you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.

He knows you on a level you can’t speak about–knows you through all four seasons and right down to the cosmic dust that interlocks with the fabric of your being–and he’s so brilliantly clever. Strategist since he was a child. You don’t have a doubt in your mind that he knows what you’re about to do before you do it. The revelation stings the same way a papercut does, wound superficial and with clean edges, yet painful no matter what.

Dick Grayson knows you, and in a fit of something helpless and tearful, you wish he didn’t.

The mug of coffee tips in your fingers and you pour the whole damn thing down the drain.

“Yeah.” You say, blinking furiously, refusing to acknowledge the wobble in your voice. “Fuck that.”

Dick stares at you the whole time–the blue of his eyes almost flashing with something un-named–his free hand tightening into a fist. The exhilaration is damning, blood rushing up to greet the sick satisfaction sparking in the hollow of your throat.

Fuck him.

Fuck him so goddamn much.

#exbf!dick grayson my beloved #I’ve missed him #being petty to push his buttons is my number one goal in life #to the anon who sent the ask inspiring this #I owe you everything #dick grayson x reader #ella writes #WIP: Event Horizon

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violetmuses · 15 days ago

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Fool Me Once - R. Reigns ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Pairing: Roman Reigns + Female Reader

Author’s Note: Hi! Should I continue ideas with this pairing? Feedback would be greatly appreciated and thank you so much for reading my work! - V. 💜

@thekittysmeow 🏷

======

Called to travel out of nowhere, your footsteps moved with purpose this evening as you headed to the training hall. Even officials and longtime security guards almost held their breath.

After losing this surreal Triple Threat match between rivals Seth Rollins and CM Punk, modern legend Roman Reigns hadn’t faced serious injuries, but locked himself in one of the medical rooms.

You didn't know what to think yet, especially when the production team stopped rolling cameras.

“Hello, may I come in?” Gently knocking on this private door, you tried to introduce yourself. Maybe someone else with a different voice would turn his attention elsewhere.

Before you considered talking inside, the door creaked open.

Still walking shirtless, Roman slowed the arrogant march of custom-made sneakers as tribal ink would scale down his muscular frame.

As this graying beard welcomed that perfect jawline, dark tresses shadowed near his chiseled features.

To make matters even worse as you faced this one man, his deep and powerful brown eyes just looked hollow, exhausted.

Damn. You thought. What can I actually do?

Soon enough, haunting eyes locked with your gaze and everything paused. You never crossed paths with him before, yet tales and nightmares flashed whispers of his dark side.

Nothing about this encounter seemed terrifying.

In fact, Reigns himself could be troubled.

“We have to go..” His Southern accent nearly wavered through shaking breaths when Roman looked at you.

“What, what’s wrong? The building hasn’t closed yet.” You tried to meet this chance halfway. There’s no other option until Roman explained himself.

“I just lost everything.” His tone almost trembled and started drifting piece by piece. “Do you think I'm a failure?”

“No.” You answered this complete stranger as those brown eyes latched each word. “Just follow us out of here first.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” Pulling himself together by miracles, Roman straightened posture and found this t-shirt in the medical room, trailing your lead with respect.

*****

Joining this hotel for “Wrestlemania” at the last minute, you struggled to move along as Roman walked down the hallway and still looked defeated.

“Rest.” You tried one solution. Experts couldn't figure out his immediate problem. “I'll have to leave unless…”

“Don't…” Reigns stepped forward and almost towered beyond height, but his glare kept shattering your presence.

Tired. He looked so tired.

And you realized that no amount of dreams could change what just happened.

______

“Who are you?” Roman's question lingered between shadows of moonlight while you both laid down on the floor and watched this chandelier, grounding concentration. Distractions might help for a while.

“Professional…” You said, quietly guiding his direction back up. Reigns understood.

“No. Outside of work, who are you?” Roman leveled the importance back.

“Just another person.” Though feeling grateful about your own life, there's nothing special.

“That's not true.” Roman would offer his perspective now. "You booked a random flight just to help me.”

“I couldn't refuse.” You'll never forget that unexpected number on your phone. “You wouldn't budge.”

“Thank you.” Reigns helped you stand up and moved to the kitchen table, offering distance for boundaries.

“Of course.” This evening moved deeper than assistance. “Do you feel any better?”

“No, but I could be. Good night.” Reigns watched you straightened up and walked back down the hall, giving Roman space for this time since meeting each other.

Fuck. Reigns closed the door, breaking down in private.

#wwe #roman reigns #fanfiction #violetmuses #au fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #should i continue?#feedback appreciated #slight angst #❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹#💜💜💜#does this make sense?#wwe fanfiction #my writing #roman reigns x you

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house-of-cabinet · 9 months ago

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Why Choosing In Stock Cabinet is the Smart Choice for Your Kitchen

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Fast and Easy

When you choose In Stock Cabinet, you're choosing speed. No more waiting for weeks or months to have your cabinets delivered. These cabinets are ready for you right now. It's perfect for anyone working on a tight timeline or simply eager to finish their renovation quickly.

#forevermark cabinets #black kitchen cabinets #online kitchen cabinets #In Stok Cabinet #Fabuwood cabinets

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chatty-cat-cafe · 6 months ago

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Cookies for comfort

Today was a rough day for the feline phighter as he pulled out the keys to the apartment he shared with his boyfriend. He felt annoyed and drained, irritation scratching at the back of his head. He was trying not to let it show. Emphasis on TRYING, but it was really hard for someone like Sling who couldn’t hide his emotions to save his own life. He sighed, swallowing his irritation and walking into the apartment, using his tail to close the door behind him. Boombox was situated on the couch, hunched over slightly while working on his next big music project, fluffy racoon tail perking up at the sound of the door opening and closing. Sling was back! Yay! He smiled, about to call out and greet his boyfriend until he saw the demon himself come into the living room and walk past him. Boom frowned, taking instant notice of the sad aura wrapped around his boyfriend’s form. He took a moment to think before calling out. “Somethin’ happen, Sling? You alright?” It took a moment for Sling to register what the other demon said as he stopped in place, glancing over at Boom and sighing softly. “Bad day. Stressed.” Was all he said before continuing his trek to their shared bedroom, leaving Boom to sit there in worry. Boom wanted to do something to cheer his boyfriend up, the eyes of his visor being replaced with question marks as he considered several options. He could just follow his boyfriend and see if he wanted to cuddle or something, but that seemed like the easy and quick solution, so he scrapped that idea. He could make Sling a comfort playlist! He knows the type of music his boyfriend likes and it’s something he would whip up quickly! But what if music didn’t work? What if the songs didn’t kick up his mood? He frowned more, leaning back into the couch before an idea popped in his head and causing him to move his stuff off his lap and pop up off the couch, hurrying off into the kitchen to start his masterplan. Boom has… Never baked before. Hell! He only knows the basics of cooking since he’s never really had a reason to learn anything beyond that. He’s always been happy with quick and easy meals to make at home and would usually go out somewhere if he wanted to eat something different and fancier. Now he wouldn’t consider making cookies as something that should be TOO difficult, but then he remembers he’s never once made cookies before! He’s only watched Sling make them. He pulls out his phone and rests it atop the kitchen counter, scrolling through various little cookie recipes. He wanted to make something nice, something fancy and tasty, but he also didn’t want to royally fuck it up and make something that tasted like total trash! So he settled for a simple chocolate chip cookie recipe and got to work collecting the ingredients, getting all of the bits and bobs he needed. Measuring cups and spoons, mixing bowls and all that. He set everything out and smiled to himself. It was time to get bakin’!

Sling, however, was holed up in the pair’s bedroom, dressed down in pajamas and curled up under the blanket. Normally Sling could easily pick himself up, shrug off the bad vibes and start to feel like himself again! But today was really stressful, too many customers and a lot of people deciding to kick up some kind of fuss when there was really no reason for it. Sling loved his job, he really did, it was fun and gave him something to do and helped him show off his impressive baking skills! But the people… Oh the people who decided they were oh so entitled to everything and anything made him wanna close up shop early sometimes. But he didn’t, he endured because he loved his job so much. Sling wanted to fall deeper into his little depression hole, but his tail perked up and his nose twitched a little. What was that? Was someone making something? He sat up and sniffed at the air, tail swishing back and forth slightly. Cookies. Someone was making cookies. Why was Boom making cookies? He slid out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, poking his head through the entryway in curiosity. Boom, who was finishing up with the cookies, looked nervous and a little worried as he stared at the small plate of cookies he had made. He chewed on his bottom lip, unaware that his boyfriend was there until the feline himself came up beside him, head cocked to the side as he spoke. “Did you make these, matcha roll?” Boom flinched and stepped to the side a little, shyly looking up at Sling and wringing his hands together. “Y-Yeah, I did. I uh- Made them for you! Since you weren’t feelin’ good and whatnot.” Sling couldn’t help but smile at that, reaching over and picking up one of the cookies. Chocolate chip, a cute little classic. He knew Boom wasn’t the best at baking, although he didn’t mind that tho. The fact Boom wanted to make him something to cheer him up meant a lot to him. Boom’s fluffy racoon tail pushed between his legs as he watched Sling take a bite of one of the cookies he made. He was nervous, maybe more than he should’ve been! But he really wanted the cookies to taste good! Sling giggled a little at his boyfriend’s nervousness, reaching over with his free hand and cupping the racoon’s chubby little cheek. “They’re not that bad, matcha roll… Calm down, okay? You did your best for someone who’s never baked before! Maybe someday I could give you little baking lessons, yeah?” Boom’s head perked up and his tail untucked from between his legs, wagging a little in delight. “Yeah… I think that would be fun!” Sling giggled and smiled, placing his cookie down before hugging Boom tightly, planting a sweet little kiss onto his boyfriend’s cheek. “Thank you for making me cookies, matcha roll… I love you lots and lots.” “I love ya too, Sling!”

#phighting!#phighting #phighting slingshot #phighting boombox #boomshot #slingbox #windy writes

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spotaus · 4 months ago

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New Age thoughts (which will get forgotten if I don't write them down-) regarding side-characters not yet established!

I want to include at least a few more of these guys in the drabbles at some point, but we'll see!

-> Torch: A classic grillby who works in the kitchen of Night's castle! He's not very verbal (which is how he got into hot water back in the day. Not responding to guards questions when asked was basically admitting guilt-) but he's a fantastic cook and helps manage the rest of the kitchen staff somewhere a step below Ccino. He's stoic and quiet, but he isn't able to hide his age or past very well. His hands shake when he tries to lift heavy pots or pans and he refuses to have anything to do with water.

-> Cizor: A fell!undyne who is part of the guard! She was imprisoned in her hometown for picking fights with some shady guys in the black market and was picked up during one of Nightmare's last sweeps of criminals to hire. She's abrasive and aggressive, so she's usually given work along the walls or less populated spaces, but she's just doing her best! (I think she'd try to start a one-suded rivalry with Harper and Harper ignores her about it-)

-> Fleur: The mettaton who works with Lust in his tailor shop! Fleur is constantly picking up any loose ends Lust may have (he worked for the late owner) and is extravagant in his work! Because robots aren't quite. Uh. Designed. In this au? Fleur was made a custom body from unused fabric, so he looks like normal mtt, but he's plush instead! (His feet have rice in the bottom, so his kicks hurt if they land!) He's a diligent worker, but appears to constantly be skipping out on work, treating it as unimportant, and disappearing to go hang out with his friends or party. It's just that he loves his work so dearly that the idea of admitting it makes him physically ill and vulnerable.

-> Rita: A toriel who was hired on by Nightmare to teach lessons to his employees. (Night made it clear that he cared about his people learning. He focused on his knights, but the guard + servants also recieved basic lessons.) She's very kind and older, glasses sitting small on the brim of her nose, but she's got the spirit of a real teacher. Nightmare met her when he was visiting the home of a noble he had grievances with. She was a maid at the time and was struggling to mamage the laundry in her arms, so Nightmare set one of his guard to help her. She thanked him very... verbosely, and after his business he asked about her. When he learned she used to be a schoolteacher, he offered her a position with him instead.

-> Oracle: Rita's son! He's an asriel (loosely based on those deltarune college headcannons) who went off to become a scholar! He kept in tight contact with his mother, and when he learned she'd been hired somewhere new he returned to meet this new employer. When Nightmare met him, Oracle spoke with him for a while, and while Oracle was an excitable young man who held himself with a high self-esteem (similar behavior to Night's old mentors) Night offered him work as well. Oracle decided to stay to do study as well as assist his mother in the teaching. (Oracle was the first 'study' hire he took on, but certainly wasn't the last. Several scholars live in the castle as well.)

-> Fennec: A human! (If I had to be specific, a littletale Frisk would be the closest?) Initially a kid originating from Whispering (is that what I called that kingdom?), they were freed from trade during the dismantling of the black market. They escaped, found a place to live in a neighboring kingdom, but never gave up on returning to help those who had saved them in the first place. Eventually, he manages to get himself into a position that he can apply for an apprenticeship w/ someone who works in the castle, and ends up getting in. Fennec is a tinkerer at heart, their brain coming up with every solution aside from the normal one. Often, if there was a weird weapon, trap door, or a reinforced carriage pre-Error? Pretty good chance it was Fennec's idea. (Error and Fennec stay as far away from eachother as possible one Error arrives. Fennec can get competitive, even if his opponent is 12 (<- Fennec is at least 20). Error is protective of his spot and very prideful. Eventually they come to good terms, because Fennec uses no magic and Error is all magic, so they don't step on eachothers toes.)

-> Hearth: Another oc of mine (Catacombtale) but he's another Grillby. He and his sister (Cupid, a pink fire elemental) work together at Dream's base as sort of blacksmiths. Hearth wants to settle down one day, but after fleeing his kingdom alongside Ichor + his sister, he needs something to start him off. Luckily, he's a good blacksmith and Dream is willing to promise him a noble title if he sticks around. Hearth is a very playful and extroverted type (he used to have 'a guy' for everything). His downfall is a gambling addiction 🙏. It's not actually harmful, he's usually dealer or Winning, but Blue often finds Hearth dealing cards and rolling dice with folks in the grass instead of forging new weapons.

-> Cupid: Sister to grillby (total oc from Catacombtale-) used to be a matchmaker back in her home kingdom, raised to do womanly duties and married to a noble, nothing more and nothing less. However, she is an expert at reading faces (Poker is HELL with her at the table-) and she could correctly diagnose love in monsters abd humans alike. Cupid herself is entirely uninterested in romance, though, so when her brother sent news of his impending treason she followed with little hesitation. Now she works with her brother blacksmithing, but she's nosy and loves reading into others without their consent. She's heard Eclipse speak and seen his discomfort about Dream and backs up his worries. Dream seems to be hiding something, or at least not what he seems.

-> Sam: An Alphys who helps Dream keep the camp operational. Where Night has Ccino, Dream has Sam. She self-appointed as a permanent resident after a black market trade went sour in her home and her girlfriend was kidnapped (Cizor perhaps??? Cizor thinks Sam is dead-) and she was greatly wounded. It was a year later that Dream appeared and started the rebellion, and she decided that he would be her new reason to keep moving. She's very meticulous in planning trade, keeping track of newcomers, allies, suppliers, and deaths/M.I.A. members (that list is... longer than she'd like). Dream doesn't treat her right aside from minimal praise, but she keeps going anyhow. (When the rebellion is over, Sam is hired by Night to be the recorder for official court meetings and discussions.)

-> Phishbone: hello my special son (Papyrus oc!). Phish is actually just a really friendly traveler. He was raised in Sanctuary, but after the passing of his father he decided to branch out and explore new places! Help people! And the place that needed desperate help was Orchard, so there he went! He's been doing humanitarian efforts in town for years (Night would've probably tried to recruit him if people weren't so tight-lipped about his presence tbh) and eventually he found his way to Dream through his traveling parties! Phish is almost constantly away from camp, only ever returning briefly for urgent reports, usually sending news through letter (in an obnoxiously encrypted code, mind you. Luckily he wrote the solutions down for Dream.).

#new age au #i'm sure there are more but I need to take a break haha!#and most of these probably wont even get used. just sone fun idea-fodder to include in the lore tags for worldbuilding!

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undead-moth · 1 year ago

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Ok ok my guess is that things have already died way down for The Bear fandom but I've made several posts defending season 3 now which I only did because I was so stunned to see that the fandom's criticisms of this season were mostly of legitimate and frankly common sense writing decisions and now that I've gone over all that - I thought I would share the few criticisms I do have for this season, starting with the one I think is the most damning:

The theme of gentrification being treated like a footnote.

In season 1 there was a very purposeful commentary on the implications of Carmy taking over The Bear, and immediately changing the culture of the kitchen to reflect his own, very high-end, culinary background. At one point there's a drive-by shooting and their front window gets shot out. Sugar asks about calling the cops and everyone but her immediately shuts it down. Sugar is a white woman currently living in what appears to be a more middle-class suburban area of Chicago, and so naturally she doesn't see any problem with calling the police. Everyone else understands why the police, under no circumstances, should be called.

Richie dwells on "the delicate ecosystem" of this specific corner of Chicago changing. He comments on how changing any tiny thing has devastating consequences. He brings up the statue without a face that was placed on top of what used to be the tallest building in Chicago and how so many buildings have become that tall since that everyone can tell she doesn't have a face. This is a very astute metaphor for the soullessness of a gentrified Chicago. Richie also mourns the loss of a pub down the street, not because he frequented it but because it was a staple. It had always been there, and now it was forced to close.

In this same episode, the people who hang out on that street have begun crowding closer to The Beef, and when Richie approaches one of them, he asks Richie, "Are you going to call the cops?" and Richie is offended, and says, "I would never." The person explains they can't hang out where they normally do because of construction - a newer, flashier institution is being built on that street and displacing the very people who occupy it. These same people who hang out on that street get in a dispute, and once again, calling the cops is not an option. Richie panics, trying to find his gun to scare them off, and Sydney resolves the issue by promising to feed them every Tuesday as long as they keep the peace. At the end of the episode, Richie steps out to smoke a cigarette, and down the street police cars roll up with their sirens flashing, and Richie shakes his head.

This episode beautifully showcases the value of community organization, as well as the harms of gentrification.

It would stand to reason that in following seasons The Bear would have continued exploring the implications of these characters opening a high-end - potentially Michelin-star no less - restaurant in the same building that was once The Beef, where regulars frequented and where employees weren't expected to provide impeccable, inhuman service. The people who worked at The Beef were allowed to yell, to swear, to be conversational with customers, and the regulars were regular entirely because they could afford the food. The atmosphere of The Beef, however unprofessional, however classless, was human, and once again a place for community.

But in the following season, the decision to keep the restaurant window open during the day so that the regulars can still buy food from the old menu is treated like a band-aid solution to the entire theme of gentrification, and there's little more said about it. The very characters who were once allowed to be imperfect and human and on equal footing with their customers now must dedicate themselves to impeccable, inhuman levels of "service."

And while I will say that "Forks" is possibly one of my favorite episodes in the whole show, maybe even my favorite, and that I get deeply emotional every time I watch it because it is just so beautiful, the way it takes a job - being a server - that most people have little regard for, and most people dread doing, and present it as something rewarding, and fulfilling, and deeply meaningful - I'm nevertheless critical of romanticizing that level of service, especially given that that level of service is functionally required because of how expensive the restaurant is, making the beauty of finding purpose in service about serving the ruling class, rather than just serving others, or serving your community.

The episode "Forks" draws attention to the idea that the reason these servers can do this is because "everyday you make someone's day" and on top of that, they show people being informed that their meal that night was "on the house." This is not the reality for most people dining in these restaurants. In real life, most people dining in these restaurants are not having a once-in-a-lifetime experience that they've saved for and dreamed about - it's Tuesday to them, because they're so filthy rich, they can do this kind of thing whenever they want. And of course, most guests aren't going to be told their meal is on the house - this can't ever be the case, because the entire purpose of everything about the restaurant that makes it such an experience is money.

I understand why this side of things wasn't explored in the episode "Forks," which needed, for the sake of Richie's character arc, to be as romanticized and inspiring as it was, and I wouldn't change it for the world. But there was more than enough room to make a more purposeful commentary about this side of "service" and this side of "high-end" restaurants in season 3 - and there's nothing. There was even more room in season 2 elsewhere - and again. Nothing. Even when Sydney is researching for The Bear menu and becoming overwhelmed with how many restaurants are closing - this is not touched on in order to continue a commentary on gentrification or capitalism. The only purpose of it is to demonstrate the stakes for The Bear.

And then on top of this, they are opening this restaurant in the wake of the height of the pandemic, which a lot of restaurants didn't survive, and there's no one talking about the fact that the last thing most people need post-pandemic is a high-end restaurant they can't afford to go to. There's no commentary on how part of the reason restaurants are dying as much as they are is because people literally just can't afford to eat out anymore.

Now...any time I'm critical of some component of a written work, I have to make the distinction: "Do I dislike this because it's bad writing, or do I simply dislike it?"

in this case, I think I would have leaned toward, "I just dislike it," except for the fact that they bothered to introduce the theme. If Storer had, from the beginning, purposefully decided that his story wasn't about gentrification, and wasn't going to explore it - I still would have disliked it. I still would have thought it was an oversight, and a missed opportunity -

But it was introduced. It was very purposefully explored in season 1, and it was explored beautifully. And then they slapped a narrative band-aid on it and moved on, as if serving sandwiches through a drive-by window during the day completely tied up that narrative thread. To me, it screams, "If I want to write about people opening a high-end restaurant in Chicago, people are going to expect me to acknowledge the implications of that, so here. I talked about it. Can I write my story now?" It's just so...tacked on. It's the narrative equivalent of a diversity-hire. Like Storer was just checking an obligation off a list. And now, the writing is worse for it, I think.

There are times when the story comes close to touching on it again, and other times when there was so much opportunity to. We see Tina struggling to find a new job after being let go from her place of employment of fifteen years. Storer took the time to show us this and then really didn't say anything with it. We understand how important this restaurant is to Tina now, how much she can't afford for it to fail - but this still doesn't really say anything about the standard of living in Chicago. The fact that it's set so far in the past begs for a modern comparison, begs for something to be said about how much worse it's gotten since, and why - and yet, nothing.

Marcus's mother needed full-time medical care. Marcus was also already employed at The Beef before Carmy arrived, and it doesn't appear that he or anyone else in his family has any other source of income. He has a roommate, which would ease living expenses, but wouldn't do anything to help with medical debt, and the fact that he has a roommate also demonstrates that he couldn't afford to live on his own. There's no way he was getting paid that well at The Beef - and did employment at The Beef come with any benefits? Health insurance? Not a chance. Yet in season three, the reason this restaurant is so important to Marcus is because his mom wanted it for him. That's a lovely sentiment - but I'm also left baffled by the decision to at no point bring up the cost of his mom's healthcare, and the debt Marcus is likely swimming in.

There were opportunities to use both Tina's and Marcus's backgrounds to contribute more to the gentrification commentary. It would have provided a juxtaposition - yes, it's unfortunate the neighborhood is being gentrified, but look at how it's potentially benefitting and providing hope to these impoverished people. But once again, Storer doesn't make any obvious effort to continue exploring this theme. He is treating it as though it's been wrapped up, as though he's said everything he needs to say, as though he ticked off the "gentrification elephant in the room" box and is now free to ignore the same setting and circumstances he purposefully chose to set his story in.

It is, in my opinion, wasted narrative potential and a huge oversight on Storer's part. Frankly, I think it's possible this story, when finished, will miss its own point, or at least part of its own point, if Storer continues to treat this theme like it's been taken care of already. I'm holding out hope that he's building toward this conversation again, that he at some point does something with Tina's and Marcus's background, that he maybe even explores Sydney's feelings about it, and possibly uses it to develop her character in an interesting way...but I'm not holding my breath.

#the bear #the bear fx #sorry I was initially going to include all my criticism on this same post #but this is already so long that I'm going to leave it and just make a different additional post #long post

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