#Hope you guys enjoy X'3

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[saerins]

birthday wish;

itoshi sae x female reader. wc 2.4k

content: fluff. some profanity. slight making out. birthday fic for sae <3

summary: it’s itoshi sae’s birthday. the world hates you. you’ve never been a lucky one. being “shit out of luck” is the only thing you know. the tables must turn.

if higher beings do exist, they really must hate you. they must. you can’t fathom your bad luck otherwise.

not only did your cab to the airport run into an hour long jam, your connecting flight also got delayed and now you’re running a day late.

all you get to see is the group chat blowing up, people sending pictures of others, of each of their antics. there’s a photo of everyone together except you.

because your business trip is a pain in the ass.

because it made you miss a weekend getaway with your friends in hokkaido.

because even when they made the effort to convince the birthday boy to make a little side trip back to tokyo, you’re still too late for that.

if it was anyone else, you’d have been fine with it. as much as you feel guilty about that.

but it’s sae. it’s itoshi fucking sae and you can’t even remember the last time you saw him in person because everyone else’s schedules match except yours. the world has driven a constant wedge between you and sae and you hate it.

is there any other emotion to be reserved when that happens to you and a boy you’ve had a crush on since forever?

meeting itoshi sae as a kid was exciting, hopeful. falling for itoshi sae when he was a teen leaving japan for opportunities elsewhere was giddying. sometimes you can’t believe that someone you know is that successful, and other times you hate the fact that he’s so far away because of it.

more than half the time, he’s in spain. he’s never where you are at least ninety-nine percent of the time. the one occasion he was, which was three years ago over new year’s, you were fucking sick.

and all he sent you was a text telling you to get better while the rest of your group of friends get to hang out with him.

though, you suppose that’s a good thing. he barely ever texts anyway, and you don’t initiate, if only out of fear for getting in his way. (as if small speech bubbles could get in his way at all.)

you sigh helplessly as you reach the immigration hall, even more irritated as you look at the time. already past midnight, sae’s flight would’ve already left by now—or, actually, an hour ago because he doesn’t have your bad luck—so you don’t even have the chance of bumping into him at the airport.

whoopee.

your phone finds itself tossed into your duffel bag at your irritation. unwarranted but it is what it is. by the time you finally get your luggage and exit, you’re exhausted. from the disappointment, the delays, everything.

it’s only when you walk a couple more steps, lugging your things behind you when you stop in your tracks, your boots suddenly feel like they’re one with the marble below them.

“didn’t think your luck could get any worse.”

is it possible for your heart to feel like it isn’t functioning properly after hearing a voice? a voice that you haven’t heard physically for who knows how long now?

you have to take a deep breath to even get his name out. “sae…?”

his brows furrow before he cocks one, sighing as he propels himself forward from against the railing, hands in his jacket pocket as he takes a few steps towards you. his face is hidden behind a black mask, his hood pulled over his head but you can still see the clear piercing teal of his eyes and the same nonchalant expression he always wears in his interviews.

you’ve seen a bunch of them.

“who else would i be?” he sighs again, like he’s exasperated, before he grabs the luggage handle from you and starts tugging it behind him.

it occurs to you seconds later that he expects you to follow him when he doesn’t even turn behind.

“wait wait.” you nearly trip over your own feet as you scramble to catch up to him, feeling out of shape the moment you fall into step beside him. “didn’t you have a flight to spain, like, an hour ago?”

you couldn’t have gotten the timing wrong because you triple checked it in the group chat.

sae makes a confused noice in his throat before shrugging. “pushed it a day later.”

he doesn’t elaborate. like he always does. or doesn’t.

“but why? don’t you have training right after you land? or, when you were supposed to land?”

his body brushes your side when he sidesteps someone on his right. you’re ashamed of how your heart skips a beat.

“i have training the day after. i just wanted to get a day to nurse my jet lag if i could. i could still make training if i leave tomorrow.”

he’s always to the point. but he’s intentionally evading a part of your question.

“but why—”

“i’m hungry. you hungry?” he asks, and you can only blink. you can’t even say anything before your stomach growls and answers for you and sae doesn’t have to wait for your response.

he holds your luggage with his right, and his left hand reaches out for you, warmth enveloping as he tugs you beside him into the nearest izakaya, swiftly getting a table for two in the privacy of their special corner table and all he had to do was remove his mask.

“it’s a little late but… happy birthday,” you whisper to him across the table.

sae’s gaze flicks over to you, blank expression as he just stares at you for a moment. “no it’s not,” he says, and upon your confused expression continues, “i got your text.”

right, because you used the shitty in-flight wifi to try and get your message to him. looks like it worked.

“oh, good then,” you heave a sigh of relief as you let yourself relax, subtly slinking lower against the booth.

over supper, sae purposely asks you questions, about your work, your days, life in general, overloading you with them so you don’t even have a chance to ask him anything thus far.

neither of you even realise that it’s not a 24-hour place, but it’s not a surprise that being itoshi sae has its privileges. before long, the only customers are you and the boy you like and your impatience that puts its foot down and bites the bait.

“why did you push your flight back, sae?”

his bowl is long cleared and all he has to busy himself with is the hot ocha on his side. he looks out the window for a moment, as if contemplating something before he spots the waiter and asks for the bill.

another attempt at shaking the question off that won’t earn him any points because the moment you step out of the airport and into the chilly air outside, you question him again.

“sae, tell me.”

sae takes a deep breath, and you can see the bare hint of a flush in his cheeks. it’s not that obvious, but you can see it.

he finally lets up for the first time tonight, the life granting a glint in his eyes. he chuckles, and he shakes his head, though his smile is subtle—just barely visible.

“you’re still as irritating as when you were a kid, you know?” he remarks, and you find yourself crossing your arms before he finally relents.

after a small pause, he takes a step towards you, his body barely inches from yours. he leans down to your ears, with a voice that’s barely a whisper, “i wanted my birthday wish to come true.”

this isn’t fair, itoshi sae.

“and what’s that?” you ask because he’s still there, his neck right next to your lips and sucking the energy out of you because it’s always nerve-wracking being near him even if you’ve known him most of your life. l

“i wanted…” he pauses, hesitant to say, “to see you. in person.”

and he finally straightens back up, giving you room to breathe.

is it greedy of you to not be satisfied? you feel like this could be a fever dream. are you sick?

“why?” you ask again, and you find yourself trailing after him when he refuses to answer.

sae flags down a cab, telling him your address, word for word correctly and it doesn’t register to you that despite never having been there, he remembers it like the curve of the soccer ball, like the arc of his passes.

nothing is ever too much effort if it’s worth it.

you’ve just never thought you were ever in sae’s head.

by the time you reach your apartment, the both of you are shriveling in awkwardness, too stubborn and stupid for too long that you’re too used to it.

“this one, right?” sae asks when he gets to your unit, the one in the corner of the top floor.

you nod weakly, and sae purses his lips before he pushes the luggage towards you.

“get some rest. you must be tired,” is all he tells you before he starts to make a move, heading back towards the elevator.

but you’re sick of it. sick of the chances you never take and sick of how you’re too scared to even try. your fingers reach out to grab the hem of his jacket sleeve, holding him back.

“i wanted to see you too,” you declare, even if he never asked. you get greeted by the sight of his widening eyes, by the slight upward tug of his lips. “you’re never free when i am and i just—fuck—i hate it. and you’re so accomplished and i’m happy for you, really, but i… i miss you.”

(sae looks at you, looking at the floor, looking guilty as if saying you miss someone is a sin. he feels the way his heart aches in his chest—fuck, did he really miss you this much too?

he’s used to having the upper hand, always having you squirm in embarrassment, but why does he feel like it’s slipping with every instance he’s about to tell you how he really feels about you? why is it slipping every single time he sees you smile? in your photos, your stories, even the emojis you send in your fucking texts.)

“yeah, missed me that much?” he asks, teasing you a little as he sees your feet shift nervously.

what you do next catches him completely off-guard, his eyes snapping shut the moment you grab his jacket lapel, pulling him close and kissing him, tasting so sweet he would be tempted to ask you to do that all night.

by the time you pull away, sae isn’t ready. he’s not ready anymore. to leave you. not so soon. you’ve always been one of the few reasons he couldn’t bear to leave japan and not seeing you all this time has helped him tolerate it. now that you’re here, in the flesh, his fingers digging into your hips, he doesn’t think he can leave.

“you- um- what time’s your flight tomorrow?” you ask, breathless when you finally manage to pull away.

sae groans, shaking his head. “don’t wanna talk about that, doesn’t matter it’s fine, i’ll make it,” he mutters, eyes shutting close again because the next second he’s chasing your lips, swallowing your chuckles as you stumble to open your apartment door.

he makes the effort to kick your luggage inside before he feels his back hitting the back of the door, eyes flying open and being greeted with a smirk on your face.

so you have this kind of side to you too.

sae smiles a little wider now, shaking his head when you wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up with your legs around his waist as you drown him in kisses that would probably last him at most a few days.

“sorry, i know this is more than you wished for,” you laugh weakly in between kisses.

sae shakes his head. “i don’t mind a bonus,” he jokes, and you hit him playfully on the chest.

it’s a little surreal to you that the boy you’ve had a crush on for half your life is actually reciprocating. you’ve watched him play pro-soccer since he was a teen until now, when you’re both full-fledged adults. you’ve never thought that anything would work out. not when you’re just barely navigating through life while he has his whole career figured out.

not when you’re always shit out of luck. but if this is the kind of luck that you get, you’ll take it.

“i… i’ve always liked you, itoshi sae,” you confess, foreheads pressed against one another’s as he continues to hold you in his arms, stronger than you remember.

a low hum leaves his throat. “i know, rin told me the first time i came back to japan from spain.”

you might actually kill rin.

(sae bites back a chuckle. he never thought of it much at all back then. he barely cared for anything except soccer. he can’t even remember when he started to think of you more. miss you. wish to see you on birthdays, on new year eves, on new years, christmases, whatever occasions there are in a year.)

“i think i might love you,” he confesses, and it takes your breath away.

you can only blink, slowly letting it sink in. you get down off his arms, both of you locking gazes and never looking away.

“think you could do that from halfway across the world too?” you ask.

it dawns on him what you’re afraid of, but after years of pining for you, sae has no doubt in his head.

“think i could do that forever, no matter where we are,” sae assures you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “could you grant me one more wish?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “what is it?”

“be mine.”

and this is his birthday (it’s still not 11 october in other parts of the world!) but you feel like it’s your lucky day.

“i think i’ve always been yours, itoshi sae.”

and for the first time since you’ve known him, you see him smile. wider than you’ve ever seen. you finally see the path clearing, you can finally tell, somehow—itoshi sae will be yours for life.

[xo-codbby]

thinking about poly werewolf!141 stretching you out for them

18+, cockwarming, anal, p in v, just sex honestly lmao

it becoming a weekly thing for you now that they were heading into heat soon and you were the most willing to help them out and relieve some stress. when the touches become lingering and the kisses become fervent and soft growls and whines falling from their lips, you know its time

first it's price that breaks you in, soothing your sweet cries with soft kisses as he holds you. he's pressed under you, his back against the couch as you're in his lap. his lips peppering soft kisses against your shoulder blades as he buries his knot deep in your ass. it hurt at first but tinged with pleasure, you're already completely overwhelmed. him marking you at the back of your neck growling softly as he humps into you, keeping your body still and open massaging the soft bulge he managed to create inside you, "there's a good girl. y'look so pretty for us, sweetheart"

it's ghost who settles himself into your wet cunt, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes close momentarily. hands gripped around your thighs, filling you up. you feel every movement, locked on both price's and now ghost's cock. you were completely full, soft whimpers and moans falling from your lips as his tongue slowly licks your chest clamping gently on your neck as he sucks a bruise on your skin. humming in contentment. he groans softly when you squeeze around him, thrusting softly into you to ease his knot in further, "easy love, tight little pussy's swallowing me up so good"

then it's soap gently easing his swollen cock against your pretty lips, cooing at you to swallow as much as you can. you haven't been trained to go all the way down their shift just yet especially not over their swollen knots so you settle just sucking the head of his aching cock instead. he groans softly his hand in your hair gently humping into your warm wet mouth while he strokes your face massaging those cheeks around him further, "aw look at you hen, s'fucking beautiful takin my cock like you were meant for it"

gaz giving your pussy soft spanks enjoying the way you clenched around them while he lazily strokes his cock. his grin widening as you cum around them once more. his mouth sucking softly on your nipples feeling them harden against your tongue as he coos softly at your state. usually your hand will rub and stroke him but he's not too fussed, teasing or playing with one of the other boys as he kisses on you, "so needy, babygirl. easy easy, y'doing so good for us"

and when you're too tired to continue, they either wrap you up in a big pile all protecting you from different sides. petting your hair as they kiss over their small marks, holding you close to their bodies. or you rest against one of them while the other three play about with each other, either giving you a show or fucking around until they fall fast asleep in each others arms

[lightseoul]

you're losing me

synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing

word count. 2.5k words

“Where is everybody?”

You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.

“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”

You merely hum in response.

A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.

“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”

At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”

You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”

You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”

“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”

You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.

“Okay.”

You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.

It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.

“You alright?” you ask.

He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”

Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.

“What is it?”

At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.

And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.

He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.

He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”

That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.

You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.

You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”

Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”

And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.

“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”

You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.

Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.

“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.

He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.

You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”

“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”

“Okay.”

You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.

He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.

Since when did he get so hesitant with you?

“I’ll go then,” he announces.

And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.

Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.

The days after are unremarkably the same.

He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.

On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.

Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.

You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.

And so you rarely see him.

But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.

Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.

Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.

Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.

“Nightmare,” he croaks.

At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”

The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—

“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”

Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.

He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.

“Okay.”

The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.

Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:

Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.

Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.

Still, maybe he needs this night out.

You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.

With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.

Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.

You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.

You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.

Huh.

You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”

“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”

Your Katsuki? Drunk?

For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.

“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”

“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”

When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.

“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”

Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.

“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”

“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.

Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.

You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.

“We’re here, Kats.”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.

Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.

“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”

You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“My mom made me do it, you know.”

You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”

“Propose to you.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”

You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”

He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”

Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It was stupid of me, though.”

Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”

He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.

“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”

“Katsuki.”

“You can do way be—”

“Katsuki!”

He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.

You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.

“Look at me.”

He does so.

“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.

“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

He thinks you don’t want to marry him.

Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.

You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.

And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.

You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.

Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.

You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.

He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”

At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”

He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.

A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”

Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.

You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”

He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”

“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”

At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”

At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.

“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”

Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.

“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”

At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”

You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.

“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”

Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.

“Not if I propose to you first.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3

[pupkashi]

volvi a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

a/n: hi hi friends ! this is heavily inspired by this song !! i think it’s so sweet and yeah <3 (unrelated but my bf sent me it i was geeking out for a week ok) ALSO GIGI (@4sat0ruu) I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SO MUCH MY FELLOW LATINA 🙏🙏🙏; slightly latinx coded reader bc i can !

wordcount - 2,737

masterlist

translations: mi amor // my love, hermoso(a) // beautiful, mi corazon // my heart, cariño // sweetheart

there was time in gojo satoru’s life that he felt his life had essentially ended. he felt isolated, like no one would ever fill the void he felt in his chest.

he didn’t think he had anyone to lean on when he needed it, opting for a façade of cockiness and jokes when anyone asked if he was alright.

you saw through it all. with a concerned frown on your face as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could and squeezing him.

“i don’t need your hugs, y/n,” he scoffed, hoping you didn’t hear the wobble in his voice, “I’m the strongest, i can take on anything by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but you don’t have to,” you whispered, not letting go for a second. you heard the tremble in his breath, the hitch in his throat when he heard your next words, “I’m right here, you’ll be okay.”

for a split second satoru saw the world for all its warmth and love rather than its faults and challenges. he felt the love and support he’d only ever imagined, the suns warm rays hitting his skin as you held him tightly.

it faded as you pulled away, and he could hear nobara and yuji yelling in the distance, toge and yuta laughing at something.

“I’ll be here if you need me, okay?” you reassure him, your hand lingers on his shoulder for a bit before you walk away.

you’re only two steps away when you feel satoru gently grab your wrist, letting go not even a second after he did. when you turn to face him he looks shocked, as if he didn’t have control of his own body for a second.

“uh- can-” he stumbles over his words, not knowing exactly what to say and not exactly having the courage to say whatever they were.

“yeah, i can,” you smile softly, taking his hand in yours, “how about we get some food, when’s the last time you had actual food and not take out or sweets?” you question.

satoru rolls his eyes, scoffing before counting the days on his fingers, “it hasn’t been that long,” he mumbles, smiling a bit when you shake your head and laugh at him.

it’s been three years since then, somewhere along the way the line of caring friend and something more had been crossed, pinkies interlinking during movie night, a stolen kiss in a maintenance closet when hiding from an upset yaga.

he’s not exactly sure what’s making him reminisce on that day. maybe he’s recalling the way the sunshine felt on his skin, the way it does now as it pours in through the blinds, landing on his bare chest.

“you didn’t snore this time” you mumble, voice a bit hoarse as you wake up.

satoru grins, “I told you I’d stop,” you can’t help but half laugh, cuddling up to him more, “I’d do anything you ask of me sweets.”

“it’s 9 in the morning and you’re already professing your undying love?” you tease, just barely opening your eyes to look at your lover, who’s already staring right back at you, soft smile adorning his beautiful face.

“would do it all hours of the day if you’d let me,” he replies, not missing a beat. you can only chuckle softly, letting your head rest on his chest. your hair tickles him a bit but he ignores it, focusing on the way your index fingers draws random patterns on his abdomen.

satoru lets his mind wander, he thinks how lucky he is.

how lucky he was to be given a second chance at life, to be able to come back from a place so dark, to now be able to quite literally be bathed in sunlight and tender touches.

“where’d you go?” you whisper, adjusting yourself on your side and letting your arm prop you up. satoru is reeled back in, snowy lashes kissing his cheeks gently as he lays on his side to face you.

“thinking ‘bout how lucky i am,” he mumbles, staring at you for a second before a soft smile overtakes his lips, “I love you.” the words never fail to make you smile, you never miss a beat to respond, “i love you more, angel boy.”

“there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?” he’s focusing on the fuzz of the blanket rather than your eyes, looking up only when you hum in response.

“what if you have to fight off the most talented swordsman in the world for me?” you tease, he’s smiling at you as he sits up.

“then I’ll get a sword and do what i have to do to not lose you,” he answers like it’s the most simple thing in the world, “I’ve fought off worse haven’t i?” his cockiness makes you roll your eyes and chuckle, sitting up and kissing his cheek before stretching and finally getting out of bed.

“i guess so, you’re too strong for any of my hypotheticals,” you mumble, the taller man following you into the restroom, brushing your teeth together before heading into the living room.

“what do you want for breakfast?” satoru asks, his hands are already reaching for the ingredients for an omelette, recalling how you’d been craving one since last night but fell asleep as soon as you’d gotten home.

“what’s on the menu today, chef gojo?” you smile, moving from the couch to the kitchen bar, watching as he took out four eggs and various veggies and meats.

“how ‘bout that omelette you were dreaming of yesterday, sweetheart?” he’s grinning as he cracked an egg open with one hand over the bowl, a trick you’d taught him that took him the course of two cartons of eggs.

“you’re too perfect mi amor,” the words make his ears turn bright red, face flushed as he continues his fluid movements in the kitchen.

three years ago had someone told you the satoru gojo could make omelettes and crack eggs with one hand you would’ve laughed in their face, betting your life savings and then some against the snowy haired sorcerer.

yet here you are; three years, lots of broken eggs, burnt food and nights in the restroom later- you watch the love of your life make you an omelette.

the two of you eat breakfast over small talk, telling him of your plans for the day.

“I’ve gotta run some errands today, i hope traffic isn’t too bad” you trail off, mentally checking all the things you had to do.

“i can drive if you want,” he shrugs, chugging down the last bit of orange juice in his cup before grabbing your plate and placing them in the sink. “i don’t have anything else going on.”

you smile at your lover, “you don’t have to drive me around everywhere, you know that right?” satoru knew your distaste for being behind the wheel, he only saw it as an opportunity to pamper you and treat you like the royalty you were.

“i know, but i love driving you everywhere,” he grins, walking next to where you were seated and bending over to kiss your temple, “I’ll be your loyal chauffeur for as long as you’ll have me, hermosa.” the word is foreign on his tongue, it slips past his lips naturally, just the way you’d been teaching him common phrases.

“hermosa? who’d you learn that one from?” fighting the smile off your face was a predestined loss, barely hiding how over the moon you were at the new pet name. your words are teasing as you stand from the kitchen bar, stopping right in front of your lover, looking up at him.

“duolingo was hitting on me, actually,” satoru replies, a dimpled smile on his face when your arms snake around his neck, pulling him downwards so his lips met yours.

“can duo fight?” you laugh between kisses, pressing a softer kiss to the tip of his nose before detaching yourself from him.

satoru is ready before you, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching- no admiring, your every move as you get ready. his mind is filled with a whirlwind of compliments he can’t seem to get out, overcome with an overwhelming sense of love for you.

you’re an aura of warmth, kindness and love, and angel sent for him. a caring soul, who nurtured him back to health; through late night calls that ended with you in his apartment or vice versa, gentle reminders and tight hugs helping him through his toughest nights. through forced outings to fairs and arcades, despite his protests that he has been doing things other than working with his students and going on missions (he hadn’t).

it had taken time, but satoru had healed.

your love had healed him.

“oh i can’t do movie night Friday” you frowned, watching as the second and first years trained.

“oh? why’s that” satoru was caught off guard, you’d never been one to cancel on him.

“i- uh- I’ve got a date, actually” you chuckle, staring at your finger nails before looking at the man next to you.

“a date?” he repeated, heart sinking and stomach falling as you nodded with a smile.

“nanami set me up with them, didn’t know he actually had friends besides us,” you smiled, trying your best to ease the palpable tension.

you’d gotten up and left shortly after that, some lame excuse he can’t remember now. he did remember angrily walking into nanami’s office, accusing him of hating satoru and wanting to see him suffer.

“have you thought of- i don’t know, maybe telling y/n how you feel?” kento sighs, trying his best to focus on the report he was filling out before satoru had barged in.

satoru hadn’t thought of that, but he took his friends advice and marched up to you three hours later, confessing his feelings upfront.

“don’t go on that date, they don’t deserve you,” he began, immediately taking you back, “and maybe i don’t either but just give me one chance and i swear you won’t regret it.”

“what’s up with you today? maybe you shouldn’t drive” your words pull him out of his memory, blinking once, then twice before fully coming back to his senses.

“do you remember when you told me you had that date?” he asks, watching as you furrows your brows, the corners of your lips turning upwards as you recall the memory.

“oh yeah! then you confessed like an hour later” satoru nods, blushing a bit. “what about it?” you ask, moving to sit next to him, taking his larger hand in yours, tracing soothing circles into his skin with your thumb.

“i didn’t even know i liked you then,” he admits, “i just felt this terrible feeling in my stomach and yelled at nanami for wanting to ruin my life.” the revelation makes you smile a bit, “he told me to tell you that i liked you and only then did it dawn upon me that i had romantic feelings for you.” satoru laughs at himself now, looking at you with sparkling blue eyes.

“well, you were- and still are a bit of a dummy” you mumble, pulling his arm so satoru can lean against you, letting you rest your head atop his. “my silly angel boy.”

angel boy.

the first time he heard you say that he quite literally stopped in his tracks, smiling from ear to ear before picking you up and spinning you around. ‘say it again!’ he kept asking, blushing just as hard every time the pet name left your mouth.

satoru loves grocery shopping with you, checking off things as you put them in the cart. he thinks you look angelic against the backdrop of produce, heart fluttering as you look for the best bunch of cilantro.

he could do this for the rest of his life, he thinks to himself. the realization makes him bump against the display, thankful nothing fell over.

satoru gojo wants to marry you.

he wants nothing more in his life than to be with you for as long as he could. he wants to spend his mornings and nights besides you, he wants to make you breakfast and help you cook dinner, he wants to wash the dishes because you hate washing them, he wants to wake up to Cumbia and bachata on Sunday mornings as you clean, joining you and singing in broken Spanish as you serenade him with a broom.

it’s not as romantic as he’d once imagined, he thought the realization would come to him as the wind blew through your hair, or the golden rays of the sun kissed your cheeks.

instead he’s watching you pick out a two pack of steak, looking at him with a wide smile, “the prices dropped!” you grin, giddy as you happily put the meat into the cart, practically skipping down the line of raw meats.

he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he wonder what to do next, mindlessly following you around the grocery store with the cart, every aisle affirming the fact that you’re the only one for him, especially as you tell him to get one sweet treat for the week as you go and get the milk.

he’s staring lovingly at you as you wait in line at the register, watching with interest as your eyes light up, “cariño can you get the eggs? i completely forgot,” he nods immediately, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek before turning on his heel and heading towards the eggs.

satoru lets the thought of marriage ruminate in his mind, recalling the times you’d talked about marriage, agreeing that you’d want to marry him. what if you’d changed your mind since then?

later that week as satoru is passing you the salt, he asks you the question that’s been eating at his mind. “do you still wanna get married?”

you chalk it up to his usual insecurities, turning around and kissing the tip of his nose and both his dimples. “‘course i do, angel boy” you reply, not missing a beat, “why? everything okay?”

satoru nods, eyes fluttering shut when your lips are pressing against his. “everything’s perfect,” he mumbles against you, smiling and chasing your lips for one more kiss before he passes you the butter.

one month later satoru is under the shade the cherry blossom trees give him, with you staring down at him, mouth still agape from seeing him get down on one knee.

“mi corazon, I’ve loved you more than i thought possible, you’ve breathed life into me when i thought there was no reason to keep living, you bring out the best in me everyday,” he begins, hands shaking slightly as you stare back at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“i want to be by your side for the rest of my life, i want to find you in every crowd, save you a seat next to mine and end my days with you in my arms,” satoru tried to ignore the thumping of his heart in his ears, “i want to be the only one lucky enough to be loved by you, will you marry me?”

you’re nodding quickly, mouth still covered before you’re throwing your arms around the snowy haired man- your now fiancé. “of course, yes!” you laugh, sniffling and wiping the tears that had fallen as you squeeze him tightly. “i love you cariño, i love you so so much” you grin, pressing your lips harshly against his, not caring when your teeth bump against his as you both smile, the spring wind causing pink petals to fall around the two of you.

there was a time in gojo’s life when he thought his life was over. he looks back and smiles, how was he supposed to know the best part of his life was only starting?

the void he once felt in his chest was now overflowing with the love and patience you poured into him; sickeningly sweet pet names and tender touches to ease his mind.

satoru can’t help but smile when he wakes up next to you everyday, grateful beyond belief he decided to be vulnerable that day in the courtyard.

“already staring at me lovingly?” you teased, making satoru grin, dimples on his cheeks as he hummed.

“something like that.”

[silkythewriter]

hii!! i found your Vox headcanons and i'm very intrigued! i loved the last two and loved them! i've got a request as well, could you maybe do Vox with a singer! reader? one who sings/hums under their breath whenever they get the chance, or even dance when they think they're alone!

Vox with a singer Reader!

( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫!!

Warnings!: Non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note!: AH HELLO!!! TYSM FOR THE REQUEST PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST AGAIN SOON!

Summary!: Vox with a singer reader!

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! &lt;3.❤️

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

“So I come back to my first note

as I must come back to you

I will pour into that one note

all the love I feel for you”

︎✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

Oh my how this man would be entranced by your small tunes

he’s always found comfort in your voice, even when you were just chattering. But now it’s different, the first time a soft melody escaped your lips, let me tell you, he was hooked ever since then.

He found comfort in your soft hum’s, it was such a calming thing, it was a big difference from the hustle and bustle of the over populated hell. A good one at that, it was an escape for him ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He’ll always go silent when you’re humming, and you’ll never notice it!. He’ll listen to the soft hum with full attention. Of course he’ll always be careful so you don’t catch on!

he doesn't understand why, but he love’s being discreet when listening to you. Maybe it’s the wya you feel relaxed or let the notes flow more freely from you mouth. He’s not quite sure but he just knows he dose it quite often!

sooner or later though he’ll make it be known that he’s been listening to you. Most likely in a teasing way! Loves seeing you get flustered.

soon he may even join you in your little hums if he knows the melody of the song your humming! It’s always such a love filled moment. Although he maybe, a bit cocky and standoffish here on there he’s always so tender in moments like these. You get to see his soft side in rare and soft moments like these.

Although that doesn’t mean the teasing would stop! He loves teasingly calling you his singing bird, or his Canary. But he also means it in adoring way as well!

Your little songs and voice get stuck in his Tv head constantly, it’s always on loop. He doesn’t Hate it, not at all! But sometimes when you are apart it dose make him miss you.

Whenever he’s about to have a melt down/ lose his absolute shit (Aka he fought alastor once again ( ｰ`дｰ´ ) ) he’ll let his mind put your hums on loop its very much a coping method!, I would say it helps him a good chunk of the time but you might already know the shortness of his temper at times.

if you guys are possible in his living space and in private. he’s all over you, his love for you is watered down in public, but I’m privacy he’s be asking you too hum for him so he could relax! He’d love just to lay down for awhile and only hear you. Just you, no screaming and cussing from the other Two V’s, and no interruptions. As much as he loves building his power and fame, sometimes he needs this to recollect and can get back to working on whatever he was doing with a much more eased mind.(´∀｀)♡

Now! As for dancing and such, he loves watching you glide across the floor with such ease. Whatever dancing or way you move he’ll always find some elegance in it. And as much as he’s into new interventions, and the new “day and age”, he does love to indulge in this old slow dance’s. Look! Hear me out! He’s not old timey, more like appreciates the closeness, and how nice it is to just hold you and slowly dance around the living room, or his office once everyone is out of course!

even if you think no one’s watching he probably is, and as much as he loves to have a certain image of himself to show to the public at all times. He can’t help but put it away when he’s just focusing on you when you guys are alone. He’ll stare at you for how ever long just doting on you in his mind.

sometimes he spaces out cause all he can think of is just you, only you, and trust me the teasing he reserves form Val and Vel is outta this world.

they will never let him live down the time he buffered and glitched because his systems and inner fans were over heating just thinking about you.

if he is every away for business purposes, when he’s sure he’s completely alone, he’ll pull up his phone and dial you up so you can calm him down with your voice. This will NEVER be admitted form him, cause only the lord knows how Val and Vel would absolutely use this against him in a teasingly bullying way. Yea he’ll do everything just so they could shut up. (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)💧

I feel as though even if he’s proud to be with someone with such an amazing voice like you he’d hate to share it. He loves stomping and showing off to other people, but something like this he just wants to himself, he knows it’s selfish, But this is Vox were talking about, he wouldn’t care.

late nights always end up with him or you on one of each others chest as you hum him to sleep. He finds it comforting to have you near and to know you’re next to him!.

and here and there he’d let you sit on his lap or just next to him as he works. You don’t have to hum, but if you do lord knows it helps the man so much he just doesn’t understand, sometimes he thinks it’s genuinely some type of magic because of the way you make him feel so easily calm.

and yes he dose have a recording of your singing but you won’t see it reach the light of hell cause he keeps it for his own use. A bit creepy? Yes!, but somewhat endearing! Hehe..(｡•́‿•̀｡)💧

his love for you is very much unmatched, and as ironic as it is you always seem to make him lose his breath around you. He doesn’t see you as a weakness but in the same vain is terrified at the possibility of losing you, his only comfort. Sometimes he stresses himself out so bad at the thought of people using you against him or you leaving him, he has problems and most of those he’s not willing to admit he has. Even if you’re powerful, and can take care of yourself he still always finds a way to worry sometimes and at times like that you just have to remind him you’re there. Verbally or physically, but you can take a guess at the best way to sooth him

if your comfortable with it!, he’d wouldn’t even put music on when dancing just the two of you humming.

even if your not he still find you graceful call it heart shaped glasses but he’ll always find a way to complement you on the littlest of things.

he could be at a business deal with the nest biggest singer in hell and still he wouldn’t think they could top you in billions of years.

Again revisiting my point where I said he wouldn’t want to share your voice, he most definitely would snap if anyone just barged in his office (cough, Val cough, Velevet, cough!, sorry must be sick or something! ( ๑‾̀ ◡ ‾́)..) He’d kick them out immediately if it wasn’t something of importance (or what he seems to be important)

velvet always teases him by saying he’s up in the clouds ever since he’s met you which… yea you cant defend him there…

may the angels have mercy on your vocal cords cause as you can see you gonna be humming to him most of the time you are alone! ♫�� ･‿･๑꒱

Overall! please just hum softly with him and dance with this man! It’s his favorite bonding time. He’d give up everything to hear your voice for the rest of eternity. He doesn’t always show it cause of his status but trust me when I say he’s always and constantly thinking and loving you. And the more you dance softly together and spend nights humming together the more that grows! He loves you to no end. ˉ̞̭(′͈∨‵͈♡)˄̻ ̊…

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE (♡ >ω< ♡) Vox is so fun to write for! SO THANK YOU TO EVERYONE AND YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING HIM \(^ヮ^)/ I really hope you enjoy! Please request again! :D.

[nerdallwritey]

Cheeks All Flushed (Part 1)

***IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Unfortunately this chapter was longer than tumblr wanted, so I've split it into two posts. The smut is in the other part if you'd rather skip shenanigans and Get To Business. And that's valid! Part 2 is here and also linked down below. Apologies! It IS all in one place on AO3 if you'd prefer that!

Summary: You looked at him thoughtfully. “Hang on, weren’t you and Karlach trying to get drunk?” Astarion giggled stupidly. “Yes.” You snorted. “How’d that go?” “Fine,” he sighed. “Takes me a lot longer to get drunk. What with the dead liver and all.” You furrowed your brow. “Wouldn’t lacking a working liver make you drunk immediately?” Astarion whined, “I don’t know, but Karlach is completely inebriated and I only have a buzz I can already feel fading. OR It's time for the Tielfing party! Antics ensue.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 23.1k (This particular part is 18.5k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of Astarion's past trauma, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, consumption of alcohol, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, reader likes kids, shenanigans amongst friends, general party antics Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 3 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here and Part 2 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who's read the first two parts!! It means so much to me that you guys are enjoying my writing and silliness. This chapter is much more slice-of-life than the last two parts, in that it's mostly fun at the Tiefling party with less smut. It's also the longest part so far! Apologies to those of you here for vampire penis, it'll show up again in the future surely, but tonight is more about tipsy/soft Astarion. I hope you all enjoy :) (Thank you once again to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder of where Part 2 ended, you and Astarion just entered camp after dallying, even though Shadowheart told you not to. Rest in peace, you will be missed.

Taglist: @a66-1, @khaleesiofthewolves, @khywren, @lollipopsandlandmines,

@minestrones, @mizuki-nautilus

It was Wyll who spotted you first. He’d been wandering close to the treeline, gathering extra kindling for the fire, but something told you he’d also been keeping an eye out for you.

“You two are in heaps of trouble,” he muttered, ushering you behind Karlach’s currently vacant tent. “You’re lucky it was me who saw you first.”

“How is she?” you whispered, looking around to see if you could spot Shadowheart.

“I think seeing you might calm her down,” Wyll said, “but be prepared for an earful.”

“Oh please,” Astarion scoffed. “I’ve dealt with worse than an affronted cleric of Shar-'' He stepped out from behind Karlach’s tent and was met face to face with the cleric in question.  

“What was that?” Shadowheart’s hands were on her hips.

Astarion retreated, shielding half of his body behind you. “Hello, Shadowheart,” he waved his fingers delicately and smiled awkwardly. 

You leaned over to Wyll. “Save yourself,” you muttered. “We’ll be fine.”

Wyll gave you a sympathetic look and nodded. “Coming, Karlach!” he called, to which Karlach responded, “What?”

Shadowheart stood before you, looking frustrated and tapping her foot. You adjusted the pile of blankets in your arms. 

“Got the blankets,” you said sheepishly. Astarion raised his pile up a little higher in agreement.

“What was the one thing I said?” Shadowheart ignored the blankets.

You sighed. “‘Don’t dally.’”

“Mhm. And what did you do?”

“We-”

“Astarion?” Shadowheart turned to the vampire. 

He let out a reluctant whining sound. “We dallied.”

Shadowheart looked pleased by his admission. “Whose idea was it?”

You and Astarion shared a look. 

“Don’t tell me, I already know it was Astarion’s,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

Astarion scoffed. “You don’t know that!”

Shadowheart raised a doubtful eyebrow and looked at you. You avoided her gaze. She looked back at Astarion. “Yes I do.” 

“Darling,” Astarion hissed at you.

“I didn’t say anything!” you hissed back.

Suddenly Shadowheart grabbed Astarion’s left ear and your right ear and pulled you both out from behind Karlach’s tent. You and Astarion protested as you went.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”

“Ah! Watch the hair, you heathen!”

Shadowheart flung her arms forward, releasing both of you and sending you stumbling forward towards the roaring fire. You caught yourselves before crashing into the flames. 

“You could have KILLED us just now!” Astarion exclaimed.

Shadowheart ignored him. “Look who’s finally back,” she addressed the rest of camp. 

Lae’zel scoffed, pausing the loud sharpening of her greatsword. “I must give you credit, Astarion, you last longer than I would have thought.”

Astarion straightened. “Thank you, I- hey.”

Lae’zel rolled her eyes and returned to her blade. 

“Sorry, everyone,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up. “We lost track of time, that’s all.” You adjusted the blankets still in your arms.

“We have nothing to apologize for,” Astarion said, moving close to you and going to kiss your cheek, but thinking better of it when he saw steam pouring from Shadowheart’s ears. “Sorry,” he said to her softly. 

Shadowheart pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head disapprovingly. She clapped her hands together before she spoke. “Okay,” she said and turned to face you, “go wash those blankets and hang them to dry.” You nodded and she turned to Astarion. “Once you help carry those blankets to the lake, you are to help Lae’zel hunt for tonight’s dinner.”

Astarion made to argue. “But-”

“‘But’ nothing. I want the two of you as far away from each other as possible until everything is prepared for tonight’s festivities.”

“Here, here,” Gale agreed from over by the cookware. 

“Oof, tough break,” Karlach smirked. 

Astarion sniffed. “Just because some of us aren’t getting laid, doesn’t mean all of us should suffer the same fate.”

You hid your face in the laundry you were holding and groaned loudly. 

“Watch it, Fangs,” Karlach warned.

Shadowheart took you by the shoulders and turned you towards the lakeshore. “Go,” she said, a bit of a bite to the word. 

“Yes ma’am,” you sighed and started making your way to the waters gently lapping the sand by Withers. 

“You too, Astarion,” you heard Shadowheart behind you. 

“I’m going,” Astarion spat. His footsteps caught up with yours. 

You dropped the blankets by the waterline and grabbed the bucket and soap that you kept nearby for laundry duty, one of your commonly assigned chores. Astarion’s pile of blankets joined your own, then his arms came around your waist from behind, and his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“Sorry, love,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. 

“At least we’re not dead,” you leaned into his caress. 

“You are so incredibly out in the open it’s unbelievable,” Shadowheart called from a few yards away. 

“GIVE US A MOMENT,” Astarion snapped back in her direction. He turned to look at you, his frustration turning into fondness. “I’ll see you soon.” He kissed the crown of your head just as Lae’zel began to complain. 

“Let’s go, vampire. Before someone else steals what is rightfully ours.”

“I’m not anyone’s!” you complained to the sky above you.

“Is it truly so hard to believe that she actually likes me?” Astarion asked as he made his way to his tent to prepare for the hunt.

“You are handsome but weak,” Lae’zel informed. “Far from the optimal pleasure partner.”

“I could make you eat those words,” Astarion teased.

“You would not last a single minute with me,” Lae’zel said and then returned to her own tent to prepare. 

You sighed, embarrassed but not surprised by the camp’s reaction to your delayed arrival with Astarion. There was no talking your way out of it, especially with Astarion’s line about getting laid. The bastard. He could be so annoying sometimes.

At least you didn’t have to dance around it. Even though less than twenty-four hours ago you would have insisted that there was nothing going on between you and the Astarion, now you smiled to yourself, happy that that was no longer the case. 

“Thou hast now a bosom companion-”

“MISTRESS OF REVEL,” you yelped, clutching a hand to your chest to slow the pounding of your heart. You exhaled and turned to see Withers looking more or less unbothered. “You scared me, Withers.”

“Take care that thou are not distracted on thy quest, seeking the comforts of the flesh.” 

You stared at him. “Gods, you sleep with a guy ONE time.”

Withers stared back.

“Okay, two times.”

The stare continued.

“Okay, so he made me cum, like, five times total, is that what you want to hear?”

Withers said nothing. 

You groaned and picked up a blanket, hiking your pants up your legs. “Whatever, stop looking at me.” You waded out into the water, blanket in one hand, soap and bucket in the other. 

“Recall that in time, all becomes dust and bone.”

“All becomes dust and bone,” you mocked quietly. “You’re a pretty morbid guy, you know that?”

You looked over at him and swore you could see a small smile before his expression faded into one of cool indifference as usual. 

~~~~~

It had taken nearly all afternoon to finish washing and hanging all the blankets to dry on  the makeshift clothesline you’d erected lining the water’s edge, but you’d done it. Shadowheart had been kind enough to cast Lesser Restoration on you to combat the fatigue of blood loss and to help fade the marks still leftover on your neck. As a result, all you’d suffered from washing was some mild back pain from constantly bending to dunk and soap the blankets and standing back up to hang them. Laundry out here wasn’t the easiest task, especially without the proper tools you’d usually find in the city, but you enjoyed the peace that came from the still waters of the lake. Today, you’d been extra thorough in your work and you were pretty sure the blankets were cleaner now than they had been when Astarion had nicked them from your companions in the first place. 

Speaking of your companions, Shadowheart was doing her best to keep Astarion away from you for as long as possible. When he’d come back from hunting with Lae’zel, she’d made him help Gale prepare the meat.

“Even though I can’t partake in the meal,” he’d protested, “I have to help prepare it? Really?”

“Ah, relax,” Gale smacked him a little too hard on the back, “you can drain it dry first. Much easier if you go to town on the creature rather than letting me exsanguinate it myself with a blade.”

“I’m not some personal predator,” Astarion crossed his arms. A beat. “But fine, I suppose I can help this one time.”

After he’d drained tonight’s meal, a large wild boar, Shadowheart had sent him and Wyll to scavenge for more wine at the Blighted Village. He’d complained about the long trek and the poor quality of the wine they’d probably find, but Wyll had been able to drag him off after a bit of flattery and the batting of eyes. The man was too easy sometimes. 

By then, the sun hung low in the sky and you’d asked Karlach to come stand by the blankets and act as a heater to speed up the drying process. 

“Do you miss him already?” she teased.

“Who?” you teased back, adjusting another blanket.

“Do you loooove him?”

You sputtered. “What?! No! I mean- I don’t know! This is new for me, and new for him and we’re figuring things out, we’ve barely talked about it and-”

She laughed at your word vomit. “Was it good?”

You paused. “Was what good?”

Karlach rolled her eyes. “You know what.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and your heart begin to pound. “Can we not talk about this?”

Karlach groaned. “Come on Soldier, I’m so pent up it’s criminal! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“Karlach!” You whisper shouted. Luckily the others were too busy with their assigned preparation tasks to pay attention to the two of you huddled behind the damp blankets. 

She didn’t say anything, but raised her eyebrows at you to encourage you to talk.

You sighed and avoided eye contact. “It was really good,” you muttered, hoping she might not hear you.

A smug smile graced her lips. “I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, wringing the water out of one of the blankets on the end of the clothesline. 

“He seems like the type who’d know his way around.”

“Yeah, well.”

“And how does he compare? Best you’ve ever had?”

“Um…” You pursed your lips.

“Wait, but you just said it was really good?”

“It was!”

“But-?”

“There is no but! He was really good!”

“You’re hiding something, Soldier, I can tell. He wasn’t the best you’ve ever had?”

“It’s just that… there haven’t been… others… to compare it to.”

Karlach stared at you. “WHAT?!” Her flames erupted to the point where you had to take a few steps back. 

“Shh! Quiet!” You listened for your other companions but heard nothing. 

“Don’t tell me Astarion was your first?!”

“And so what if he was!”

“The smug bastard,” Karlach muttered. Her face grew serious. “If he so much as looks at you wrong, tell me, and I’ll kill him.”

You laughed. “Shadowheart’s first in line to kill him, but don’t worry, I’ll have you waiting in the wings.”

“I’m serious. I’ll kill the pointy freak before he can hurt you, mark my words.”

You laughed again, moving closer to her now that her flames were calming. “Astarion and I are both adults. I’ll be fine.” Your voice went soft, “And I think he truly cares for me.”

Karlach huffed in disbelief. “Gross little vampire probably smelled your virgin blood and couldn’t keep away.” 

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. He likes me.”

“We all like you,” Karlach sighed. “You’re a lot of fun.”

“Thank you.”

“But none of us would want to see you get hurt by the leech.”

“You know, I think he’s more sensitive than you all realize.”

“Astarion.” It was more of a statement of disbelief than a question. She raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Yes.”

“Mr. ‘Tell Me How You’d Like to Die?’ Mr. ‘Describe How I Look in the Mirror and Tell Me I’m Beautiful?’ Mr. ‘I Have A Troubling Relationship with Power Over Others?’” She looked at you pointedly. “Mr.-”

“Alright,” you cut her off. 

“No wait, I've got another.” Karlach held up her finger like she was about to say something. “Nope. Lost it. Damn, it felt like a good one, too.”

“We all have our quirks,” you said, steering the conversion back on track. “Astarion, I think, has a few more than one might deem acceptable, but I trust him. He’s been true to his word about everything so far.” Your voice got small, “And I really like him.”

Karlach blew out a breath of resignation. “I know you do, Soldier.” Her hesitance turned into thoughtfulness. “And he did look pretty smitten when I found you both this morning.”

Your face went red at the memory. “Gods, that was so embarrassing. I still can’t believe we fell asleep out there.” Your brain took a second to process what she’d said. You turned to look at her, a small smile forming. “‘Smitten?’ Do you really think so?”

Karlach rolled her eyes affectionately. “Yes, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Your small smile grew into a smirk of satisfaction. You grew giddy. “You should have heard him, Karlach! He was so sweet, and gentle, and he kept checking in with me, and didn’t make me feel awkward or bad, and his body, oh my GODS, his body! When I say he’s unfairly beautiful, it truly is unfair because, how in the Nine Hells do you get abs like that and-”

Karlach was watching you with a fond smile on her face. She grinned and lifted a hand to stop you. “Okay, okay, I believe you. He took care of you.”

You sighed happily. “He did.”

“I’m glad.” After a moment, she sighed dramatically. “Okay, so maybe he didn’t just fuck you in some sort of weird vampire power play because you’re a virgin.”

“Karlach!” You furrowed your brows. “Seriously?”

“Oh, sorry,” she amended, “you were a virgin.”

You scrunched your nose at her. “You’re so lucky you’re a walking inferno, otherwise I’d punch you so hard right now.”

“You don’t have the guts,” she teased. “You’re too soft, Soldier.”

“I am,” you sighed in agreement. 

The two of you stood in a pleasant silence while Karlach paced back and forth to dry the blankets evenly. 

“I’d hug you if I could, you know,” she said quietly. “I am happy for you. And if anyone is getting laid around here, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Thanks?” you laughed. 

“But if he gives you any trouble, you come find Mama K, yeah?”

You saluted her playfully and she mirrored you.

“Your guests dost approach from the east.”

“WITHERS,” you stomped your foot, pretending to be upset, but smiling over at him. “We need to put a bell on you to remind us that you’re still alive.”

“I am not still of this realm of existence,” Withers corrected.

“You know what she means, skelly boy,” Karlach grinned over at him and then at you. “Come on soldier, let’s go greet our adoring fans.”

Karlach led the way to the center of camp where sure enough, Halsin and the tieflings of the Emerald Grove were emerging through the brush. Halsin caught your eye and waved affably. You waved back, happy to see him looking so well after the rescue from the goblin camp. 

Behind him, he tugged a cart meant for an ox, filled to the brim with food and booze and the eight troublesome kids who’d been kind enough to show you their hideout hidden beneath the Grove. Mol hopped out first, followed by Arabella and Mattis and the others who looked around briefly before zeroing in on the abandoned little temple past the waterfall in the corner of camp. They made their way over to it and disappeared inside.

Noted. You’d have to check on them later.

Suddenly a flash of blue and pink was launching itself at you and you stumbled backwards as it wrapped you in a tight hug.

“Alfira!” you wheezed, returning her hug.

She pulled away, grinning. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day!” She was positively giddy and her mood was infectious. “I need to get some wine in me first, but we must play something together!”

Your smile faltered a little. “I’d love to, but my lute’s a little worse for wear.” You led her over to your tent and gathered a few pieces of the shattered instrument from your bag.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding.” Alfira took the pieces and examined them closely. 

Lakrissa found her way over to you. “Is this one causing trouble?” she asked, playfully slinging an arm around Alfira’s shoulders. “She was buzzing all afternoon about this shindig.”

“Hi Lakrissa,” you greeted happily. “No, I was actually just showing her the state of my lute.” You pulled a loose string out of your bag to emphasize your point. 

“I’ve seen this before,” Alfira took the string from you and inspected it along with the few shards of wood you’d already handed her. “The music overtook you during a particularly powerful song and your trusty instrument suffered the consequences. Did you bash it into a rock in a fit of musical liberation? Been there.”

You gritted your teeth sheepishly. “I wish it was in a fit of musical liberation. No, I kind of got backed into a corner protecting Astarion from a bugbear attack.”

“The mouthy one?” Lakrissa asked.

“You’ve met a mouthy bugbear?”

“No, Alfie, I mean their mouthy friend. The one with the hair?” She lifted her hand up to her own head to try and emphasize the height of his hair. 

“Oh yeah! Hard to keep track of you all,” Alfira shrugged.

You laughed, “Think about how we feel! There’s a billion of you!” You gestured around to the tieflings that were now acclimating to your spruced up camp.

Shadowheart had done a great job of tidying the clearing of fallen branches and mischievous weeds and had gone around making sure that everybody’s tents were in order. With the help of Lae’zel and Karlach, the three had managed to move a large log into the center of camp that was acting as a table that currently housed the booze your party had gathered, along with the food Gale had been preparing all afternoon. 

Gale, as soon as he’d declared the meal to be sufficient, had gone around hanging colorful banners throughout the camp with a few magic words and the snap of his fingers. You’d offered to help him in his effort but he politely declined, citing Shadowheart’s wrath. 

Now Halsin, Zevlor, and a few of the other adult tieflings were unloading the cattle cart and adding their hoard of food and drink to the table. Shadowheart and Gale were already filling goblets with wine and Lae’zel was chatting with (or maybe threatening) a tiefling that you recognized as one of the guards at the gate to the Grove. Karlach waved over at you from where she was talking with Dammon and you returned it happily.

You turned back to Alfira and Lakrissa. “Sorry Alfira, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to play with you tonight.”

“Nonsense!” She took you by the hand and led you and Lakrissa to the cattle cart. She pulled out two lutes and held one out to you. “One’s my teacher’s. I’ll play hers and you can borrow mine for tonight.”

You took the instrument she offered carefully, testing its weight in your hands. It was lovingly worn and smooth to the touch. You gave an experimental pluck at one of the strings. Perfectly in tune. You strummed a chord and minor illusioned Gale’s robes to go from deep purple to a loud, obnoxious orange. 

Gale paused in his pouring of wine as Shadowheart snorted. He looked down at his robes then looked over at you smirking at him. “Hey…” He scolded with no ice behind his words. He addressed Alfira and Lakrissa who were holding back giggles, “You realize you’ve just given her a literal instrument to channel the weave more potently, and now she can make tonight extremely irritating for us all?”

“You missed my illusions,” you teased, strumming again and returning his robes to their royal purple hue.

“On the contrary, we were only gifted about twelve blissful hours without you tormenting us with your tomfoolery.” 

You pouted at him teasingly. “How sad.” You poised your hands, ready to strum another chord. “I could make things so much worse,” you threatened, your voice lowered to a stupid octave.

“Behave,” Shadowheart raised her eyebrows at you, but you could see the amusement that played at her features.

“Fine,” you groaned and turned back to Alfira. “Thank you for this, I promise not to attack another bugbear with it for the sake of the mouthy one.”

A voice sounded from behind you. “The mouthy one?”

Astarion came to stand beside you, his hands clasped behind his back and skin speckled with blood spatter. For some reason, he absolutely stank. 

“Oh gods,” you said, scrunching your nose and turning away. “Did you and Wyll wander into a stinking cloud or something?”

“Hello, dearest,” he purred, pulling you to him and puckering his lips for a playful kiss, but you pushed his face away, avoiding his mouth at all costs.

“Get away from me, freak,” you laughed as he was able to plant a kiss on your cheek with a loud “MWAH.” He looked very pleased with himself. 

Alfira and Lakrissa, meanwhile, watched this display politely with their noses plugged.

Lakrissa gestured between the two of you. “When did this happen?” Her voice was nasally. 

“He’s always been a jackass,” you said.

“She means, love, when did you finally pluck up the courage to confess your undying love for me?” The flamboyant lilt in Astarion’s voice made you smile. 

“This just happened, actually,” you said, pointing from you to Astarion. “The stink is extra new.” 

“Do you like it, darling? A gift from one of the goblins at that Blighted Village. They weren’t pleased we came for their wine, stink bombs were thrown, blood was spilled, a tale as old as time.”

“Did you get to murder a bunch of goblins?” Despite the topic, you spoke to him as if he were a child. 

“I did,” he said, his voice gravelly, his face twisted in a wicked smirk. 

“Good for you. Now get the hells away from us.” You pointed in the direction of his tent. “I don’t know why you haven’t already scrubbed your skin raw to get rid of that smell. You hate things of a vile nature.” You adjusted your accent to sound like him as you said the last bit. “Though you do love gore.”

“I had to share this delightful experience with you first, my sweet. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” You gave him a teasingly sour expression and pushed him off in the direction of his tent. “Get fresh clothes and go jump in the lake or something! Then burn that armor!”

Astarion grabbed your arm and pulled you closer again, much to your dismay and protest. He brought his mouth to your ear. “Care to join me?”

You met his gaze, which flickered down to your lips for a moment, only for a roguish grin to spread across his face. You grew flustered and looked away.

“Maybe later.”

He chuckled, “Can’t wait.” Then he spun on his heel and headed off to his tent.

“Sorry about that,” you said, turning back to Alfira and Lakrissa, only to discover that they’d already walked away. You spotted them pouring themselves some wine a little ways off and sighed. 

“They left ages ago,” Astarion called over his shoulder.

“And you’re still here?” you called back, smiling. 

He laughed and you settled Alfira’s lute safely within your tent before you meandered your way over to Rolan and his siblings who were seated not far off. Rolan was bent over, his eyes closed in concentration. 

“Evening, folks,” you greeted and were met with joyful hellos from Lia and Cal.

“You’re just in time for Rolan’s extremely cool magic trick.” Lia teased.

“That is, if he’d hurry up and do it already,” Cal added.

“Patience,” Rolan said. “Have you no respect for showmanship?” He cracked his knuckles enthusiastically. 

Cal leaned forward and whispered loud enough for all of you to hear, “Having performance issues, Rolan?”

“Hush, you,” Rolan rolled his eyes.

“I, for one, love a good bout of showmanship,” you settled in next to Cal. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Rolan gestured to you, vindicated. “Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth as he looked at his siblings. He took a deep breath. “And…”

A burst of colorful light erupted from his hands as he lifted them into the air.

“...behold!” He exclaimed as the colors faded into tiny bursts of light, dissipating like fireworks.

You clapped excitedly. “Beautiful!”

Rolan looked over at you, clearly pleased. “Adoring applause? You’re too kind.” He bowed dramatically, making a show of his gratitude. 

Lia turned to Cal. “Remember when he could barely cast that?”

Cal nodded. “They grow up so fast.”

Something caught your attention from a ways off. Peeking out from behind the large cluster of rocks you found yourself facing was Silfy; the younger sister of Mattis, the tiefling child who tried to sell you a “lucky ring.” Astarion had halted your hand when you went to give him a coin, shaking his head and explaining that you were being scammed. 

Now, however, Silfy seemed alone. You remembered how upset she’d been when you caught her trying to rifle through your pockets. 

“Never have I met such troglodytes,” you heard Rolan laugh. “Now, pass the wine.”

“I have to take care of something,” you said as you stood up. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the party’s over,” you smiled and waved, making your way over to Silfy’s hiding spot. 

You saw her see you and duck behind the rock. 

“Hello,” you coaxed gently, bending on your knee to level your height with hers. Silfy poked her head out but looked nervous. “It’s okay,” you encouraged. “You’re Silfy, right?”

She came out slowly and nodded. 

“That was a pretty cool show just now, huh?” You said, referencing Rolan’s trick which she’d no doubt seen. 

She nodded again and looked at her feet.

“What are you doing over here all alone?”

She sniffled. “Mattis was mean to me.”

You tilted your head. “What did he say?”

Silfy looked up at you. “He said Mol would never let me in her Guild in the city because I’m no good at pick-pocketing.” Her voice wobbled and you could tell she was trying not to cry.

You hid a smile. The things siblings fought about… And this particular fight was extra unusual. “Should we go talk to him?” you asked.

“Okay,” she said and watched as you stood. 

“Come on,” you said and took her hand.

Together, you and Silfy walked around the length of camp, passing people as you went. You tossed out polite greetings and a few kind words, but eventually made it to the waterfall and the slippery log that connected your camp to the little temple where you knew the other kids were hanging out. You held tight to Silfy as you crossed the log.

Mol stood by the entrance. “Silfy!” she exclaimed, clearly happy to see her. “There you are.”

Silfy let go of your hand and approached Mol. “Sorry I’m no good at pick-pocketing,” her voice barely audible above the roar of the waterfall a few feet away. 

“Is that what Mattis said that made you run away? Ah, don’t listen to him. You’ll get plenty of practice before we reach the Gate.” 

Silfy stood up a little straighter and looked pleased. 

Mol cocked her head towards the temple entrance. “Get in there,” she smiled.

Silfy smiled back and ran inside. Mol turned to face you. 

“Thanks for that,” she said. 

“Happy to help,” you said, attempting to subtly peer into the temple and see what the others were up to.

“You came through for us. That’s a change from most adults I know.” 

You shifted a little to try and get a better angle. It was too dark.

“What are you guys doing way over here?” you asked absently.

“Watching a bunch of old folks get dumber by the dram-full. And when they run dry… I’ve got a few bottles tucked away to keep things flowing.” She grinned at her own ingenuity. “For a price, of course,” she added. 

“Smart,” you nodded and crossed your arms. An idea had struck you earlier in the evening when you saw the kids slink over here. You readjusted your feet, trying to look like an authority figure but knowing Mol was probably immune to the act. “How would you guys like to get a little practice in, this evening?”

Mol looked at you curiously. “Practice what?”

“Scamming. Scheming. Stealing.”

“I’m listening.”

“One of the men I travel with, the one with the hair-”

“-long or floofy?”

“Floofy, for sure,” you answered almost immediately.

“Right. I know him.”

“Well he considers himself to be an expert at sleight of hand.”

Mol scoffed.

“I know,” you agreed. “I think you should all prove you’re better than him.”

“Easy,” Mol crossed her arms. “How?”

“Here’s my proposal: You each try to take something from his tent or off his person without getting caught. If you get caught, you’re out.”

“And if we don’t get caught?” 

“Depending on what it is you took, I might let you keep it.”

Mol scoffed again. “What’s the point of stealing off him if there’s a chance we won’t be able to keep our spoils?”

You pursed your lips in agreement. “Honestly, I really want to prank him and I think it would be hilarious if you guys took his stuff. He loves his stuff.”

“I do love a good con…” Mol pondered for a moment. “Alright, counteroffer.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Since you happened to catch me in a good mood; we do this for you and we have your sworn loyalty once we establish ourselves as the best Guild in the Gate.” She thought for another moment. “Also two hundred gold.”

You sucked in a breath. “You drive a hard bargain, Mol.” You held out your hand for her to shake. “But you’ve got a deal.”

“Hang on, you’re not gonna try to talk us out of it? Not gonna haggle?”

“I already tried to talk you out of it back at the Grove,” you shrugged. “But you’re all way too clever for your own good and I know there’s no changing your minds. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some friends waiting for us in the city.” You smiled at her, your hand still outstretched. 

She returned your smile and took your hand, shaking it firmly. “Deal.”

“A pleasure doing business with you,” you bowed dramatically and Mol snickered.

Mol made her way to the open door of the temple. She looked back at you. “I expect to see that two hundred gold before the night is through.”

“I’ll go get it right now,” you said pointing back towards camp.

Mol nodded, satisfied, then entered the temple. You heard her shout as you were leaving: “Alright, listen up! We’ve got a job.”

You smiled to yourself. You didn’t know what had come over you, and you knew that it was dangerous to be negotiating deals with con artists in the making, but you couldn’t help yourself. Especially after Astarion had crowded you in the aftermath of the stink bomb he’d been hit with. You loved watching him squirm and this was a great opportunity to do so. Mol and her gang of tiefling troublemakers were harmless as they were right now. They’d managed to take odds and ends from around the Grove, minus Arabella’s attempt to take the idol from the druids’ ritual. There was nothing currently at camp that couldn’t be replaced on the road. After all, you’d all crashed onto the same beach with nothing but the clothes on your backs. Well, except maybe the artifact Shadowheart concealed on her person, but you had just sicced the kids in the opposite direction towards the vampire. 

You made your way back into camp, stopping to chat with Zevlor and Halsin. 

“Gentlemen,” you acknowledged, trying not to seem guilty after conspiring with the leader of the child criminals a few yards away. “A pleasure to see you both.” You noticed Zevlor was enjoying a goblet of wine, but Halsin was not. “Not partaking in the revelry, Halsin?” 

He chuckled. “I assume you mean my lack of a goblet of wine or a cask of ale?”

You nodded.

“In truth, I rarely imbibe. The stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on.”

“Oh, ho, ho.” You and Zevlor made amused eye contact. “You sure you’re not a bard, archdruid?” You elbowed Halsin playfully and he chuckled again. 

“You’ve never heard me singing. Which makes you very fortunate.”

Zevlor laughed. “Yes, the singing we could probably do without. It feels so good to see these people smiling, let’s not ruin it. ”

“Then I shall not keep your ear any longer,” Halsin said, holding up his hands in playful surrender. He nodded to you. “There are many grateful people here who want to spend time with you. Go enjoy yourself. Seek out some wine before it runs dry; there are a lot of thirsty people around here.”

Zevlor raised his goblet to you. “Here, here.” You mimed raising your own cup to clink with his. You exchanged goodbyes and the men resumed whatever conversation they’d been having before you walked by. 

Your tent wasn’t far off and you knew you had plenty of gold in your bag to spare for your hired thieves. You exchanged a few more hellos before making it over to your tent. You lit a single candle to help you search your bag in the dim light of your tent and tried to not draw attention to yourself. You started digging through your bag for your coin pouch. 

Just as you’d counted out the last of the gold, you heard Astarion behind you. 

“Here’s my little treat,” he purred.

You stood up quickly, miscalculating where you were located in space and hitting your head against the top of your tent.

“Agh!” you yelped, turning around to face Astarion and ducking to properly exit. You looked away from him, hoping he wouldn’t ask what you were up to.

He looked you up and down. “With their cheeks all flushed.” 

“Hi,” you said, not knowing how to respond. 

“Hello,” he smiled, drawing closer. “You’ll notice a distinct lack of blood stains and horrid stench to me.” He held out his arms and spun to show off his fresh, clean appearance. “It’s crazy what a little water and perfume can accomplish.”

“Well done,” you teased. “You’ve mastered basic hygiene.” 

He moved even closer. “Go on,” he said, leaning towards you, “give me a sniff.”

“And smell more rotten eggs? I’ll pass.”

“Come on,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You looked at him skeptically, then leaned in a little and inhaled. 

He smelled just as good as he had this morning, perhaps even better given that he’d just reapplied whatever it was he used to scent himself. You leaned in closer to his throat and inhaled again. It was a clean scent; one that was mature and distinctly male. It was delicious.

“What is that?” you asked, not pulling away.

Astarion chuckled lowly. “You like it?”

You finally pulled back and nodded. 

“Just a little scent profile I concocted to mask the unfortunate smell of death that comes from being, well, dead.”

“Do tell,” you probed, just as you noticed Mattis and Silfy sneaking around, a little ways off, clearly on their way to you and Astarion. You did your best to hide your stare, but Astarion noticed when your eyes shifted back a little too quickly and he looked behind himself. Mattis and Silfy quickly ducked behind a nearby tent. He turned back to face you.

“Thought I saw something. It was nothing.” It was a bad excuse, was what it was.

Astarion narrowed his eyes but continued, excited to talk about his scent mixture. “Mind you, my undead smell is very faint, but it’s nothing a little bergamot, rosemary, and a hit of aged brandy can’t hide. It’s the perfect olfactory disguise for a corpse.”

“Sounds like you missed your calling as a perfumer,” you said, genuinely interested in what he was saying but noticing Mattis and Silfy out of the corner of your eye. 

“I did, didn’t I?”

It was then that Mattis and Silfy approached you both.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mattis said, the picture of innocence. “Silfy and I just wanted to thank you again for finding her earlier.”

Silfy nodded.

“Oh!” you said, doing your best to sound shocked. You bent to get on eye level with her again. “I’m glad you’re okay, Silfy.”

Silfy sniffled and threw her arms around your neck. “Oh, thank you, Miss Hero!”

“Aw, this is too much,” you said, rubbing her back and making eye contact with Mattis. “I’m always happy to help.”

Mattis came around behind you and hugged you as well. 

“Thank you for reuniting me with my baby sister.”

You felt his hand reach for your own and grab the pouch containing the two hundred gold for Mol. He concealed it expertly. 

Both he and Silfy pulled away from you at the same time. “Well, guess we better head back to the others. It was so nice meeting you.” Mattis turned to leave but Silfy lingered.

“Come find us in Baldur’s Gate!”

You smiled at her. “We definitely will,” you squeezed her hands before she shuffled off to join Mattis walking back towards the temple. 

You stood up, dusting off the front of your pants. 

Astarion looked at you with narrowed eyes and crossed arms.

You pointed with your thumb over your shoulder in the direction the kids were headed. “That was weird.”

“Why’d you give them a coin purse?”

You sputtered. “Why did I-? Whaaaaat? I didn’t-”

Astarion placed his hands on his hips. 

You sighed and looked at your feet. “Okay, I didn’t want to tell you this, but Silfy was upset because Mattis said she wasn’t good at pick-pocketing, so I went to the kids and said Silfy could practice on me.” You smiled lamely.

“So why did the brother pocket it?” He was onto you.

“I uh… think it was a round one type of thing. So next time it’ll just be Silfy.”

“Uh huh.” Astarion didn’t look convinced. “I’m going to assume you lost some sort of bet with Mol and her fleet of child criminals and that those two are the ones who came to collect.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed. “You caught me! I said I could beat Arabella in a staring contest and lost big time. Like, double or nothing lost.”

Astarion tsked and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You really must stop picking fights with children that you cannot win.”

“I can win,” you got defensive, even though you were lying through your teeth. 

Astarion tilted his head in disbelief. 

“I can!” You doubled down. 

“Mhm.” Astarion leaned forward and kissed you deeply, tilting you back a bit and bringing his hand to your cheek. 

He pulled away and you blinked back at him, dazed. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “You and your weird soft spot for those urchins.” He pretended to gag, as if admitting such things was making him sick.

“Aw, shucks.” 

He groaned. “I’m going to have to insist that you remove ‘aw shucks’ from your vocabulary immediately.” 

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Your eyes went to his mouth.

He flashed his fangs. “Don’t tempt me, darling.” He bent forward to kiss your neck and you tilted your head to give him better access.

“Astarion,” you half protested, “people can see us.”

“Let them,” he hummed against your throat. He moved his mouth so it was beside your ear. “Come to my bed tonight.”

A pleasant chill ran through your body. “I’ve seen your bed,” you sighed, thinking of the wooden pallet in his tent that was often covered with jars of half-drunk animal blood. “Come to mine instead.” 

Astarion growled from the back of his throat and kissed your neck again. 

“Yo, Astarion!” Karlach’s voice called from the food table. 

He pulled back slowly and turned to her, his arms still resting around your waist. “I’m a smidge busy here, Karlach.”

Karlach held up her hands innocently. She made eye contact with you and winked. “I just wanted to know if you’d seen all the wine the tieflings brought.”

“Of course I’ve seen the wine, I procured half of- wait, the tieflings brought wine?” He immediately pulled away from you and marched over to the table, examining the copious bottles of liquor. “So I got a stink bomb thrown at me and it was for nothing?!”

Karlach sucked in a breath. “Seems like it. Sorry, mate.”

Astarion turned back to look at you, clearly distraught by this discovery. You withheld a laugh.

He turned back and picked up a bottle and goblet. “Well, we’ll see who’s the better sommelier: me or the half-fiends.”

Karlach turned quickly and whipped him with her tail.

“Hey!” He stumbled a little, but caught himself. 

“Whoops! Sorry, you can never trust us half-fiends.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Oh,” Astarion backtracked. “Apologies, Karlach. I didn’t mean that.”

“Mmm,” Karlach crossed her arms. Then she smiled. “Wanna get drunk?”

“Gods, yes,” he sighed and uncorked a bottle, grabbing two goblets. He turned back towards you, still standing at your tent. “Care to partake?”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m going to continue with my rounds,” you said, pointing vaguely towards the party at large.

Astarion shrugged and turned back to Karlach.

“Your loss, Soldier!”

“Save me a glass of the best stuff,” you called before walking in the direction of Gale’s tent. 

“No promises,” Astarion sang as you rounded the corner and found Gale at his tent, a goblet of wine in his hand and a half eaten plate of food set off to the side. 

“And how’s my favorite wizard enjoying the evening’s festivities?” you asked upon arrival.

“Ah,” he smiled, “come to turn my robes yellow this time?”

You held up your hands. “No lute. Sorry about earlier.”

“All in good fun,” he reassured. “I did miss your tomfoolery.”

“I knew you did,” you elbowed him playfully and he laughed.

“A beautiful night, don’t you think?” He looked up at the stars. 

Your gaze followed his. “That it is.”

“Nothing like a brush with destruction to make one appreciate the majesty of the celestial canvas.”

“Yes, destruction by cleric would have been a tough way to go.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled and looked back up at the stars. “This is a view I once might have shared with my companion. Though definitely unaccompanied by such revelry.” He gestured over to Danis and Bex, drunkenly giggling with each other not far off. 

He turned back to you. “She preferred it when we were alone, curled up before a crackling hearth with some ancient, esoteric tome between us, ink glinting by the firelight…”

You smiled at the wistful look on his face. “I hope you’re referring to your cat and not Mystra.”

“By Ahghairon’s lost nose- no!” His voice cracked a little as he exclaimed. “Tara is not any cat. She’s a tressym. And given your confusion, I’m guessing you’ve never met one.”

“Guilty,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

“They’re brilliant creatures; fine company for any self-respecting wizard. She’d be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings. Proud, even. And I’ve given her little to be proud of recently.” 

“Not true! Gale, you have so much to be proud of.” 

“You’re very kind,” he sighed. “She’s the one who discovered that the orb’s fury could be quelled with magically-infused items, you know.”

“You’re kidding! How’d she figure that out?”

“A lot of trial and error,” Gale laughed, holding a hand to his chest where the orb laid quiet for now. “I can still feel the phantom torment of her claws prodding me. Regardless, after so long being cared for by someone else, it feels good to repay the favor. Not directly to Tara, but these poor tieflings. I’m sure she would approve.”

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know she would.”

He smiled at you, then looked away. “So… you and Astarion.”

“Me and Astarion,” you bobbed back and forth on your feet.

“He has a certain charm about him, Astarion,” he nodded. “Then again, so does a tiger when it purrs.” He took a swig of his wine.

“Gale, if I did something that led you to think-”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted before you could finish the thought. “You did nothing of the sort. I think I’m just too deep in my cups.” He looked down into his goblet and sighed before looking back at you. “I’m glad you found each other. And better I have this revelation now than farther into our journey.”

“You’ll always be my favorite wizard,” you said, punching his bicep in playful camaraderie. “I hope this doesn’t change things between us. I value our friendship too much.”

He chuckled softly, his hand ghosting over where yours had just made contact. “This changes nothing.” A reassuring smile graced his features. 

Movement to your left on the beach caught your attention.

“Is that Wyll?” you asked.

Gale followed your eyes over to his right. “Ah, yes I believe he’s been pensively staring at the water for a majority of the evening.”

“And you didn’t check on him?”

“I did, but he insisted on being alone. Though I’m sure he would much rather welcome your company than that of a babbling wizard.” He nudged you with his elbow. “But after that, go indulge in the frivolities! They’re good for the heart. And mine will be lighter, to see you enjoying yourself.”

You surged forward and hugged him. He held you tightly while still clutching his goblet. When you pulled away you pointed at him. “You still need to teach me lanceboard.”

“And you need to stop enchanting the pieces to attack each other.”

“I will when it stops making you laugh.” You grinned at him, then waved and headed towards Wyll.

Just as Gale had said, Wyll was standing alone by the water’s edge, past the drying blankets that swayed subtly in the evening air. 

“Thought I smelled you over here,” you said, sliding down some rocks and making him noticeably flinch.

“Oh gods, do I still stink?” He raised his arm to his nose and inhaled deeply. “I fear I’ll never be fully rid of it.”

“I was teasing,” you came to stand beside him and looked at the lake. “Though, Astarion seems to have a promising career ahead of himself as a perfumer if you need his help.”

Wyll chuckled. “Good to know that your new beau smells as good as he looks.”

“Indeed he does,” you smiled at him and he smiled back. 

After a moment, Wyll sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“It’s no party without the Blade of Frontiers.”

“Really? I’m honored.” He turned back to face the water. “In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood. And I didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night.”

“What? Why?” It concerned you deeply that one of your beloved companions was feeling down and you hadn’t even noticed. “What brought this on?”

“I’m a devil,” Wyll scowled. “I love the people from the Grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays. You don’t want a devil at your party.”

You were surprised he felt that way. Mizora had so kindly gifted him his devilish features not long after Karlach officially joined your team well over a tenday ago, and the people of the Grove had long since come to terms with the Blade’s new horns. He was still Wyll; kind, fiercely protective, and above all, a good man. Those who couldn’t see that were fools.

“Claws will pop the balloons, you see,” Wyll teased, trying to lift the mood. “And the sweetcakes don’t taste half as good as raw eggs with this blasted forked tongue.” 

You smiled sadly. “You don’t unsettle me. Or any of us. You know that.”

Wyll laughed humorlessly. “If only half the world had half the heart you do.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “But off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

“I suspect you’re the best dancer among us, Mr. Upper City. I’d love to dance with you sometime.”

Wyll laughed. “In truth, I always enjoyed a bit of pomp.”

“You seem like the type,” you laughed.

“I once beat the Baldurian record for the most sarabandes dances in a single evening. Much to the exhaustion of the good ladies and gentlemen of the Gate.” 

“I can see it now,” you said wistfully.

“I had years of lessons, but honestly, it’s all about your partner.” 

You took a step back and bowed dramatically. “Well I hope one of these evenings I might be a proper partner to stumble along with.”

Wyll smirked and bowed back to you. “One of these evenings,” he agreed. He inhaled deeply and turned back to the lake. “I just need some time alone beneath the stars, and I’ll be back to my old self. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, walking forward and hugging him. He returned it and you squeezed him tightly. 

“Okay,” he jokingly wheezed, “you have my word.”

“Good,” you pulled away. “You know where to find me,” you said, nodding your head in the direction of the party. 

“I do,” Wyll nodded, looking at you fondly. 

You turned and called down the beach, “Keep an eye on him, Withers!”

Withers simply stared at you from his spot by the boats. 

You placed your hands on your hips. “One of these days I will crack him.”

Wyll laughed and waved you off. “Good luck with that.”

As you reemerged into the party, you saw Zaki run past you holding a tin of one of Astarion’s hair products. You snorted and looked around to make sure Astarion hadn’t seen. 

No, he and Karlach were still busy downing goblets of wine and comparing them to each other. 

“Bitter!” Astarion exclaimed, sticking out his tongue and pulling the goblet away from his mouth as if it had bitten him.

“Ah, you’ve got no taste, Astarion!” Karlach clapped him on the back. “This one’s better than the crap you served three cups ago.”

Astarion scoffed. “That was a classic vintage! Gods, it’s like you know nothing of fine wines.”

Karlach rolled her eyes. “Um, hello? Ten years in Avernus, mate. Didn’t get much drinking in while enslaved. Anything’s better than fire wine.”

“Tragic,” was all he said in response.

Suddenly Alfira was running over to you. “There you are!” The sweet scent of alcohol wafted off of her and she held a goblet in one hand and her teacher’s lute in the other. “Now, this might be the wine talking, but I’m feeling inspired. Thinking of writing my next song… about you.” 

“Me?” you asked, placing your hands on your chest and batting your eyes. “I’m flattered.”

Alfira nodded. “But I need an angle. Any ideas?”

You thought for a moment, then made your voice pompous. “Let it be only as truthful as true poetry would permit.”

Alfira grinned and matched your tone, “But of course.” Then she became serious, “You achieved something beyond mere fact by helping all of us. That deserves to be remembered.” She shut her eyes for a moment, regaining her thoughts. “Buuuut, like I said, I need more wine before I truly start waxing poetic. Shall we play a song together now?”

“Great idea,” you grinned and started making your way to your tent to retrieve her lute. 

As you passed by Astarion and Karlach, you watched Arabella reach into Astarion’s back pocket and come away with what looked like a few coins. She made eye contact with you and smirked before running off.

Karlach clearly saw this occur and held in a laugh. She looked past Astarion at you and you held a finger up to your mouth, signaling for her not to say anything. She snorted.

“What’s so funny?” Astarion asked.

“Nothing, you just look so stupid when you sniff wine like that.”

“I do not!” he protested. A beat. “Do I?”

You shook your head to yourself as you made it to your tent and grabbed the lute, walking with Alfira to the center of camp by the fire. 

“What shall we play?” she asked. 

“How about a classic?” you suggested, strumming the opening chords to “Bard Dance.”

Alfira grinned and nodded, immediately picking up the harmonies to the song while you took the melody. A sudden whistling caught your ear and you turned to see Volo performing the song with just as much gusto as the two of you. Had he been here the whole time?

Around you, the tieflings and your companions gathered around to hear you both play. They were stiff at first, merely listening and swaying to the familiar tune they’d no doubt heard many times. It wasn’t long before Danis bowed to Bex, who curtsied back, and the two began dancing merrily around the clearing. 

With the ice broken, others coupled off to dance together, and others formed groups of three or four. 

Shadowheart clapped along to the beat as Gale approached her and twirled her around happily. Karlach joined the fray, swinging her hips and waving her arms, but was careful not to hit anyone by mistake. Even Halsin joined in on the fun, awkwardly marching back and forth to the beat and encouraging shy tieflings to join him. Lae’zel and Astarion remained on the edge of the crowd, but you could see Lae’zel tapping her foot to the beat despite her best efforts to remain unaffected by the merriment. 

As your fingers danced over the strings, you sent off a few minor illusions of fireworks to add some dazzle to the performance. Alfira added her own dancing lights to swirl around the audience.

You made eye contact with Astarion who was smirking at you. He made to raise his goblet to you in a toast, but his hand was empty. He looked around himself to see if he’d misplaced it, but movement farther back in camp let you know that it was Meli who had absconded with the cup. You smiled widely at Astarion and shrugged. He shrugged back, smiling and reaching for a new cup. 

As the jovial song came to an end, the audience clapped and a few members approached you and Alfira, thanking you for the music and placing a few coins in your palms. 

“Marvelous!”

“Such fun!”

“Alfira, you simply must play for us on our journey to the Gate!”

“No praise for the wizard, Volo?” Volo complained to an unhearing crowd. He humphed and returned to scribbling in a notebook closeby.

You and Alfira thanked everyone before you handed Alfira her lute back.

“Thank you for this,” you said. “I’d love to play again with you some time.”

Alfira took the instrument from you and nodded. “Oh, yes please!” She looked at her lute for a moment, then held it back out to you. “You should keep this one.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” you shook your head. “You’ve clearly had it for a long time. It must hold sentimental value to you. I don’t want you to part with it, I’ll have a new lute in no time.”

“Please,” Alfira insisted, still holding it out. “You play so beautifully.”

“Don’t go inflating her ego now,” Astarion said as he approached carrying two goblets of wine. “She’s annoying enough as it is.” 

Behind him you saw Mirkon run by with a set of thieves' tools.

Astarion handed you one of the goblets of wine and smiled at you. “Hello, my sweet.”

“Hi,” you said shyly, still not used to his full attention but enjoying it nonetheless.

“Oh, stop teasing her,” Alfira said, rolling her eyes. “Tell her how well she did and make her take my lute.” She held it out again.

“While yes, she did play wonderfully-”

You looked at Astarion, a little shocked. You weren’t sure he’d ever complimented your music before.

“-she won’t be needing the lute.”

“See,” you said to Alfira before pausing for a moment and turning back to Astarion. “I won’t?”

He shook his head at you. “It’s taken care of already,” he said to Alfira. 

She understood what he was saying and nodded. “How very kind of you,” she said, smiling. She reached forward and squeezed your hand. “I’ll make sure to see you again before we leave.” 

You nodded and smiled as she left to rejoin Lakrissa at the wine table.

You turned to Astarion who looked smug. He turned to face you and grinned.

“What was that?” you asked.

“What was what, darling?”

“With Alfira. ‘It’s taken care of already.’ Did you steal me a lute or something?”

Astarion brought his goblet to his lips, ignoring you.

You gasped, your mouth open in faux horror. “You did not.”

“And if I did?”

“Where?”

He groaned. “Enough questions. Come enjoy a drink with me.”

He took your hand and led you over to his tent. When you arrived, he dropped your hand and held up his cup for you to clink with his. He took a sip. 

“You know, I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You snorted. “Bold of you to assume that’s what you are.”

He rolled his eyes and continued. “Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…”

He held you in suspense as he took another drink of his wine. 

When he pulled the cup away, he scowled. “I hate it. This is awful.” 

“Aw,” you said, walking forward and wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling back a little. “Is this okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded.

You continued. “It’s not that bad. Think of all the goblins you killed.”

“True,” he agreed. “That was fun. Still, I would have liked more than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who curated the wine?”

“Yes, but it’s not like I had much variety to choose from. Plus the tieflings didn’t bring anything to write home about.” He cocked his hip to the side, then nodded to you. “Go ahead, give it a taste.”

You stepped back and swirled the wine in the goblet that Astarion had provided for you. You took a tentative sip of the heavy, rich red. It was dry and sharp. To be honest, it tasted like most other reds you’d had before.

Astarion leaned forward a bit to gauge your reaction. “See what I mean? Awful.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Why didn’t you pick a better one, then?”

“Darling, this is the best they had.” 

“How sad,” you sighed, clearly not as upset as he hoped you’d be.

He held up a hand and turned away from you. “None of you have any taste.” 

“I’m sorry, my love,” you brushed some hair out of his face. “You’ll have to share once you find something you actually like. That way I’ll know what to look for.”

He sighed heavily. “What would be the point? You probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Rude,” you scoffed, “but fair.” You looked at him thoughtfully. “Hang on, weren’t you and Karlach trying to get drunk?”

Astarion giggled stupidly. “Yes.”

You snorted. “How’d that go?”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Takes me a lot longer to get drunk. What with the dead liver and all.”

You furrowed your brow. “Wouldn’t lacking a working liver make you drunk immediately?”

Astarion whined, “I don’t know, but Karlach is completely inebriated and I only have a buzz I can already feel fading.”

You looked over to Karlach who was still dancing despite the fact that you and Alfira had finished your performance several minutes ago. She was trying to get Dammon and Zevlor to join her but both looked like they were searching for escape routes. 

You laughed. “Shame there’s no music to accompany her,” you said, half joking.

“An excellent point, my dear.” He turned to bend down, wobbling, but catching himself. He started rifling through his possessions. “Odd,” he mumbled, “I swore it was here.”

“What are you looking for?” you asked.

“Hmm?” He was clearly lost in thought. “Oh nothing, darling. But, um, do me a favor and go somewhere else for a minute.” He waved you away without looking at you.

You smirked. “Okay,” you said, pretty sure he was looking for the lute he’d snatched for you. As you were about to step away, you paused, remembering the gang of young thieves actively stealing from Astarion. “I-” you shook your head. “Nevermind, keep looking.”

“I will, now go away.” He got up to look behind his tent. 

You held in a laugh and made your way over to Shadowheart, who you just witnessed pour herself a fresh glass of wine. 

“Hello,” you said, joining her at the refreshments table and popping a grape into your mouth. The crisp snap of the grape reminded you how hungry you were and you began to fill a plate with food. 

“Hungry?” Shadowheart laughed.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I missed bread and cheese this afternoon.”

“Uh huh,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “And whose fault was that?”

You slowed your chewing and slouched. “Mine.”

“Uh huh,” she took a swig of wine and smiled at you. “I think it’s safe to say you learned your lesson.”

You nodded as you took a large bite off a bread roll. 

Shadowheart took a step back to rest against the table. She surveyed the party at large. 

“Everyone seems to be in high spirits.”

You swallowed heavily and willed yourself not to choke, clearing your throat instead. “You put together a great party, Shadowheart.”

“I know,” she smiled. She shimmied closer to you and nodded over to Astarion’s tent where the man was still searching around, looking deeply confused. “I saw you and Astarion have been reunited.”

You lifted your gaze to Astarion’s tent, your expression melting into one of pure adoration. He was such an idiot. Even though you knew you were the cause of his ignorance. You shook your head, snapping out of it.

“Sorry again.”

Shadowheart blew out a puff of air. “Far be it from me to keep you two apart any longer. Besides,” she nudged you playfully, “blood must still be running hot. After everything.”

This time you did choke. Shadowheart’s eyes widened and she smacked you on the back.

“I’m fine!” you insisted. You cleared your throat and took a sip of wine. 

Shadowheart laughed. “It’s fun getting you flustered.”

“I’m sure Astarion would say the same,” you agreed.

She sighed happily next to you and returned to looking into the party.

“You know who I never thought I’d find myself caring for?”

You stuffed your mouth with a hunk of cheese on a cracker to the point where you could barely get out the word, “Me?”

Shadowheart looked at you and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, desperate people… like these refugees. Never gave them much of a thought. Certainly not this bunch from the Grove. Yet we came through for them. We saved their lives. Odd.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “I hate to say it Shadowheart, but you’re a good person. Though given your sentimentality, it sounds like the wine is talking,” you teased.

“It’s not talking enough for my liking.” She turned and grabbed the bottle you’d seen her pouring from moments ago. “Share a bottle with me?” 

You looked at her skeptically. “Just a bottle? You’re not trying to poison me for disobeying you earlier, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just a bottle of poison free wine. You’ve suffered enough. Besides, I think you have other plans afterwards. Wouldn’t want to keep you.” She kicked her foot out towards Astarion’s tent which was now vacant, minus Doni slinking away with a hairbrush.

Before you could give her an answer, she was filling your goblet to the brim, despite the fact that you hadn’t finished the wine that was already there. She poured the rest into her own goblet, shaking the bottle to get out the last few drops.

“There,” she said. “Liquid courage.”

She tapped the brim of her goblet against yours and took a long sip. You joined her. Mixing the two wines hadn’t been a bad idea after all. There was a pleasant fruity aftertaste that you enjoyed. You went back in for another sip. 

She watched you as you drank. “Do try to get some rest tonight if you can. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Yes, mom.”

She smacked your arm. “How dare you! I’m nobody’s mother.” She took another swig of her wine just as Lae’zel approached with her greatsword. 

“Are you aware that the child thieves are taking our belongings from camp?”

Shadowheart choked a little. “Excuse me?” She patted herself down and was relieved when her hand made contact with the artifact still on her person. She didn’t dare pull it out in front of everyone and instead looked at you.

“Oh, that,” you said smiling. “I told them they could.”

“And why would you tell them that?” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” you sat up straighter. “I told them they could only take from Astarion.”

Shadowheart snorted. “What?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be funny if the rogue got robbed by a bunch of kids.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel scoffed. “He is failing miserably at what he claims to be very good at.” She eased her stance and loosened her grip on her greatsword.

You laughed. “I think it’s partially Karlach’s fault. She suggested they both get drunk.”

“That’ll do it,” Shadowheart nodded, taking another sip of wine. 

“Hang on, Lae’zel, were you planning on attacking the kids?” You pointed at her sword.

Lae’zel eyed the weapon, then looked at you. “All children should know how to defend themselves from enemy attacks. I had already killed two of my cousins by the time I was their age.”

You nodded slowly. “Killing isn’t as much of a priority when you’re a kid here.”

“You make that blatantly obvious everyday with your oafish battle stance and shoddy swordsmanship.”

You scoffed and Shadowheart laughed. “I’m a lot better at fighting now, thanks,” you smiled at her, not actually offended. You knew she’d been raised on an entirely different plane, and who were you to judge their customs? At this point in your adventure, you knew not to take her harsh words personally. Even though she was usually right.

Lae’zel looked you up and down. “Perhaps so. I have seen the kith’raki tear a screaming neogi’s legs from its belly to fashion into blades.”

“Ew,” Shadowheart scowled. 

Lae’zel kept her eyes trained on you. “Yet, they could not match your nerve at the goblin camp. It was enough to drive me to madness.”

“Oh,” you said, a bit taken aback. “Thanks?”

“I smell their blood on you still. I smell your sweat.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh gods, I thought I washed that all off-”

Shadowheart set a hand on your shoulder and shook her head. You turned your focus back on Lae’zel. 

“I meant to taste that sweat. Pity for us you’ve already promised your body to Astarion.” She crossed her arms, annoyed.

“Ah,” you nodded, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Lae’zel, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” 

“Chk,” Laezel rolled her eyes. “It is your loss. Come morning you will wonder. You will wonder how my lips might have tasted. How my fingers on your skin might have felt.”

You looked down at the ground, feeling guilty for not picking up on her intentions sooner. Shadowheart laid a comforting hand on your back.

“Enough, Lae’zel,” she said. “She was bound to make a choice sooner or later. Let’s respect her decision.”

“And what a foolish decision it was. Astarion can’t even handle a few children. I would skewer them the moment they touched one of my belongings.” She thrusted her greatsword forward as if to demonstrate. 

You swallowed. “Then let’s be glad they aren’t after your belongings.” 

Lae’zel looked down her nose at you. “Let us hope that continues.” 

“Hope what continues?” Astarion approached the three of you and grabbed another bottle of wine, not bothering to pour it into his goblet and instead opting to drink directly from the source.

You shook your head, feigning annoyance. “Are you following me?”

“Darling,” he purred, sidling up next to you, “didn’t I tell you last night that I wasn’t going to leave you alone anymore, especially after we-”

Lae’zel groaned loudly. “I’m going to keep a vigilant watch for any of those whelps stepping out of line.” She turned on her heel and headed back to her tent, but not before intimidating a few unfortunate tieflings milling about nearby. 

Astarion took another swig from his bottle and winced, not enjoying the taste. “What’s with her? Apart from her usual Lae’zel…ness?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, sipping your own wine and feeling warmth spread through your chest.

Shadowheart leaned over to look at the vampire. “Enjoying yourself, Astarion?”

Astarion did a double take, apparently having not noticed her when he first walked up. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you protectively.

“Ooohh no,” he said, “you’re not sending me out on another long errand to keep me away from her.” He sounded whiney, likely from the buzz he was still nursing with the wine.

You and Shadowheart laughed.

“It’s okay, dearest,” you teased, poking his nose. “We’ve made peace with Shadowheart.”

Astarion looked from you to Shadowheart skeptically. “No more errands?”

Shadowheart smirked. “Don’t dally again and we won’t have to find out, will we?”

That answer seemed to satisfy Astarion, who pulled away from you and continued to drink from his bottle. “I suppose that’s fair. But to answer your question, yes, surprisingly I’m having a delightful time.”

You scrunched your nose. “What happened to hating all the attention and the bad wine?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Must you always question the details, darling?”

You laughed. “Yes, evidently I must.”

Astarion waved his hand in the air, ignoring your answer and continuing to address Shadowheart. “It’s been centuries since I’ve been able to really let loose at a soiree such as this without being told what to do or hunting for something.” He wrapped you in his arms again. “Not when I already have my prey for the evening right here.”

Your eyes widened at Shadowheart and you avoided eye contact with her, flustered.

“Astarion,” you muttered as he kissed your shoulder from behind.

Surprisingly, when you looked back at her, Shadowheart had a small smile on her face.  

She addressed you when she spoke. “Seems like you’ve really captured this one under your spell.” She nodded her head towards Astarion who had his nose pressed against your neck. 

He pulled back and looked shocked. “Is that what this is? Have you cursed me? Vile witch!” He smiled at you like a dope. He snapped his fingers at Shadowheart. “Remove this curse, cleric!”

Shadowheart grabbed his hand and set it back at his side. “What you’re not going to do is snap at me as if I were a dog.” She looked at you. “Who knew liquor would make him even more insufferable?”

“We should have accounted for this,” you agreed. 

“I am right here,” Astarion pouted.

You reached for one of his hands wrapped around you and squeezed it. “We know, dummy.”

His slightly unfocused eyes went gooey. He looked at Shadowheart. “You know, Shadowheart, we were each others’ firsts.”

You went rigid under his touch and Shadowheart inhaled her wine by accident, coughing briefly.

“That can’t be true,” she said looking between the two of you.

“Astarion,” you elbowed him.

Astarion scowled. “Oh, perish the thought, she was the first thinking creature I ever drank from.”

Shadowheart nodded slowly. “Congratulations?” She looked at you. “You didn’t drink… his blood too, did you?”

You shook your head and Astarion laughed. 

“No dear, I took her virginity.”

You elbowed Astarion with a good amount of force. 

“I will kill you,” you muttered exasperatedly.

“You will not,” he wheezed.

“I will not,” you sighed, looking up at Shadowheart, whose eyes had gone wide. 

Her expression morphed from one of shock to one of anger. She stood and walked over to Astarion. Her hand glowed with the makings of a guiding bolt. You stood quickly and stepped in front of Astarion, shielding him.

“Shadowheart!” you exclaimed. “It’s alright!”

“He’s a vampiric freak,” she said loudly, drawing the attention of a few party goers. “He’s using you for your blood and your innocence!”

Astarion scoffed and stood, stepping to the side, rendering your body shield useless. 

“How dare you,” he said, stomping his foot. “While, yes, that does sound like me, and was my intention originally,” Shadowheart raised her glowing hand and you held up your arms to stop her, “I did not make passionate love to her for no reason!”

You brought your hands to your face and ran them down your features slowly. This was mortifying.

“Can we keep it down?” you asked quietly.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes and dropped the prepped guiding bolt. She crossed her arms and looked at Astarion expectantly. “And what was the reason?”

He groaned dramatically. “Gods, I only brought it up as a joke for a laugh, do we have to keep it up?”

“Astarion,” both you and Shadowheart warned.

“Fine,” he avoided looking at you. “I like her, alright? More than like her, she’s- well, I don’t know what she is.” He took your hand in both of his own. “But isn’t it nice not to know?”

You looked at each other for a moment, his face soft, but a little concerned. You smiled and brought the back of his hand to your mouth for a kiss.

“So you didn’t bed her for the sake of gaining power from her virginity or something?”

That snapped Astarion out of his focus on you. “What? No, of course not! I’m a spawn anyway, so even if I wanted to I couldn’t.” He smiled at you. “But I didn’t want to!” He added quickly. 

“Nice save,” you teased, ruffling his hair, then thinking better of it and moving it back into place. “Let’s keep our sex lives to ourselves from now on, okay?”

“Gods below, if I’d known she’d react like that-” Astarion looked up at Shadowheart who was crossing her arms and looking at him as if daring him to finish the sentence. He cleared his throat. “Noted.”

Shadowheart shook her head and rolled her eyes before perching on the refreshments table once again.

“If he hurts you, I’m going to kill him and not revive him. And I’ll pay Withers for him to stay dead.”

You patted her shoulder. “I know. Thank you.”

Astarion leaned over to look at her. “To be clear, I don’t plan on hurting her.”

Shadowheart changed the subject. “What were you looking for over there?” She nodded her head towards Astarion’s tent. 

“Hmm?” he looked confused as to what she was referring to, then caught on and perched on the refreshment table again beside you. “Oh, just a little something for our beautiful bard here.” He started playing with the ends of your hair.

Shadowheart returned to her wine. “Couldn’t find it?”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing, I’ve been misplacing things all evening. Must be because of this delicious buzz I’ve got.” Astarion remembered the bottle he’d set down mere moments ago and returned to it.

Shadowheart lifted her eyebrows at you over her goblet. “Strange,” she said with an air of “We know exactly what’s happening and Astarion doesn't.”

You sighed, thinking he’d suffered enough at the hands of the kids. You took his free hand and hauled him up from the table. 

He eyed you curiously but made sure to take the wine bottle up with him. “What is it, darling?”

“Come on,” you started leading him towards the temple. 

“Oh ho,” he chuckled, stumbling a bit behind you, “wanted to get me alone, did you?” He sped up a little and gently bit the tip of your ear. 

You gasped at the sensation and he pulled back to smirk at you. You blinked and shook your head. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to ravish me in there,” you nodded ahead to the temple. 

Astarion caught you by the waist and lifted you a little, forcing you to stop moving. You yelped and he pulled you back so that he could whisper in your ear. “I can take you wherever I damn well please,” he growled. 

You shivered as he set you back down. “As sexy as you are, my love, you’ll see what I mean momentarily.”

You grabbed his hand again and led him across the log bridge and into the temple.

Only to find it empty.

Your stomach dropped. Uh oh.

Astarion sighed. “I don’t see what the problem is, dear.”

He took advantage of his grip on your hand and pulled you back to him, then spun you around so that your back was against the damp stone wall of the now truly abandoned temple. 

His knee came between your legs and he pinned your hands above your head. 

You were too shocked to say anything.

He grinned, and leaned into your ear again. “I could take you right here and right now,” he bent to kiss your throat and moved his thigh to rub deliciously against you. When you let out a small noise of satisfaction, he pulled back to look at you, his voice low, “If that’s what you want.” 

“Astarion,” you whined, closing your eyes and rolling your hips. 

“Yes, sweet girl?” he smirked at the pathetic look on your face.

“Kids, Astarion,” you exhaled shakily as he adjusted his thigh to give you a better angle. 

He paused. “Kids?” Then he chuckled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, darling.”

You opened your eyes and gave him a confused look. 

He gave you an equally confused look. “I’m dead,” he said slowly, “I don’t think it’s possible?” He raked his eyes over your body and rested on your stomach. “Is it?”

You gently whacked the side of his head. “No, idiot, I’m talking about the tiefling kids.”

“Oh!” Astarion let out a relieved laugh. “What about them? You didn’t lose our entire camp over a game of hopscotch, did you?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed off the wall, looking around for any sign of the kids. It was dark and you couldn’t make out a thing. You groaned loudly up at the ceiling and ran your hands down your face. 

“I shouldn’t have trusted them…” you muttered.

“What did you do?” Astarion asked, sounding prematurely annoyed. 

You ignored him and opted to march out of the temple and up the log back into camp. 

A small laugh rang out from behind Gale’s vacant tent a ways off.

It sounded distinctly childish. 

You huffed some hair out of your face and marched up to Volo who was near Wyll’s tent, still writing in his journal. 

He lit up as you approached. “Aha! There you are! Come now, settle in. I do hope you have partaken in something bracing? This may well take up all night.”

You grabbed him by the arm. “No time.”

He protested as you dragged him towards the edge of camp. “I say! Unhand me! I’d hate to see your name slandered in an upcoming tale of your heroic escapades!” 

You ignored him and spun him to face you. “How loud can you whistle?”

Volo puffed his chest proudly. “I’m surprised you have to ask, given my accompaniment to your performance earlier this evening.” He cleared his throat and stood up straighter. “As loud and as lively as necessary.”

“Great. I’m going to need one sharp, loud whistle on my say so.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Ah, drawing attention, are we? Giving a rousing speech? Toasting to your fine accomplishments?”

“Neither.” You cupped your hands up to your mouth. “MOL AND COMPANY.”

The party grew silent.

Volo tilted his head. “Oh. Interesting choice of audience. But, children are the future-”

You elbowed him. “Do it now.”

“Right.” As instructed, Volo lifted his fingers to his mouth and blew harshly, emitting a loud, high pitched whistle.

You saw heads turn to you, as well as the figures of the kids clamoring to look at you from behind Gale’s tent.

“TO ME,” you called firmly, making eye contact with Mol and motioning for her and the others to come to you. 

As the children filed towards you, Volo shrunk back. “Do you need-”

“You can go.” 

“Thank heavens. Good evening.” He tipped his hat to you, then scurried off back to his post by Wyll’s tent. 

Mol came to a stop in front of you, crossing her arms and scowling at you. “What do you want now?”

You looked down at all eight of the hired thieves. Most avoided eye contact but Mol and Arabella, who smiled at you. You crossed your arms.

“It’s time to go over your spoils.”

“What, in front of him?” Meli asked, pointing behind you at Astarion, who lingered behind you looking rather in awe of what was occuring. 

“It’s been long enough,” you confirmed. “You all did very well and I’m very pleased with your efforts.”

You watched as the kids grew smug and shared excited looks with each other. 

Mattis spoke up. “What do we get in return for doing so good?”

“So well,” Astarion corrected.

“Didn’t ask you, did I mate?” Mattis snarled. 

Astarion flashed his fangs in retaliation and Mattis shut his mouth.

You placed your hands on your hips. “Well let’s see what you gathered, huh? Then we can determine.”

Mol clicked her tongue. “I already told ya’s, we have her support when we get to the Gate.”

“Lame!” Zaki exclaimed. “We should get some kind of physical prize or something.”

Doni made a noise of agreement. 

Mirkon shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s nice that we have the support of the hero of the Grove to help us.”

Arabella smirked. “I kind of want to see what else she has to offer.”

You did your best to stay stoic in front of them all, but you were too endeared by their curiosity and felt a smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright cretins,” you teased loudly, “show me where you buried the loot.”

Silfy giggled. “We didn’t bury it, silly!”

“Silfy,” Mattis hissed.

She grew quiet. “Sorry.”

“Be nice,” you warned, resting your hands on your hips. You took a deep breath, thinking about how to proceed. “Alright, first one to show me where you hid the loot gets their prize first.”

“Prize?!” Zaki gasped and Meli was already running across camp.

The other seven raced off after him.

You sighed fondly, choosing to walk after them at a leisurely pace.

Astarion caught up and strolled beside you. “Am I to understand that you had the urchins steal my belongings this evening?”

You clasped your hands behind your back and looked straight ahead. “Perhaps.”

Astarion chuckled. “I’d kill you if I didn’t desperately want to kiss you right now. Seeing your command over those children was really something.”

You cleared your throat. “Later. We need to get your stuff back first.”

He nodded, his brows furrowing. “You seem to like kids. Not just those brats.”

“I do,” you smiled. “They can be the best audience. Plus they’re hilarious in their own ways without even trying most of the time.”

Astarion nodded. “A collective of child criminals is rather funny from an objective point of view.”

“They’re pretty good, too,” you bumped his hip. “Got past our master rogue all evening.”

Astarion tsked. “I blame the wine, darling.”

“I think you’re getting sloppy.”

“Would you STOP FLIRTING and GET OVER HERE?” Mattis yelled from the boats near Withers.

Arabella leaned against the boat closest to the living corpse. “Bone Man here said we could hide our stuff in the boats.”

“Withers!” you exclaimed with no actual anger in the cry. 

“I did no such thing,” he denied, as stoic as ever. 

“Uh huh,” you said, then leaned in conspiratorially to the kids. “He hides our stuff all the time.”

The kids snickered, looking from you to Withers.

“I do not,” he said, his tone holding the same inflection as always. “I hast no need of thine earthly possessions.”

You clicked your tongue. “And yet you require compensation from us whenever we need something from you. Where’s the money going, Withers?”

Silfy giggled.

Withers didn’t budge.

You turned back to the kids. “He absolutely hides our stuff.” 

They snickered again. 

You moved closer to the boat to peer inside. Doni stepped in front of you, blocking your view.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, taking a step back, “who wants to show me what they took first.”

“So you really are going to reward them for this behavior?” Astarion crossed his arms and you ignored him. 

“I got here first,” Meli said, stepping forward with his hands behind his back, “just so we’re clear.”

“You did not,” Zaki protested, “Doni got here before any of us.”

“Doni doesn’t count! He’s the best sneak of all of us!”

“He does count and that’s why he won!”

“Quiet, you two,” Mol said with a bit of an edge to her tone. “Doni did win fair and square.”

“Told you!” Zaki stuck out his tongue.

Meli rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He stepped forward and addressed you. “May I present…” he pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing Astarion’s wine goblet from earlier.

“You little whelp,” Astarion hissed but you held up a hand to silence him.

Meli smirked at the vampire. “You’ll notice,” he tipped the goblet forward so you could look inside, “not a drop wasted.”

Sure enough, the goblet still contained a hefty portion of deep red liquid. 

You applauded his effort and a few of the other kids joined in. “Well done, Meli. But, uh, you didn’t drink any, did you?”

Meli scowled. “Yuck, no thanks. I don’t know why adults like this stuff.”

Astarion bent forward. “I’ll be taking that,” he swiped the goblet back, “thank you.” He took a long, deep sip, then wiped a drop that rolled down the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Who’s next?” you asked.

Silfy reached into the boat and pulled out a small brooch, covered in rubies and emeralds. “I got this from his tent.”

You got down on your knees in front of her again. “Oh Silfy!” you said, in awe of the craftsmanship. “This is lovely! Good job.” You turned to show Astarion.

He looked uninterested. “That was my mother’s.”

You stiffened briefly, then relaxed. “No, it wasn’t.”

He snorted. “Of course it wasn’t. I swiped it off some dead-” You made a face at him and nodded towards the kids, reminding him that young ears were listening, “-teddy… bear?”

“People die,” Mattis said flatly. “We’re not idiots.”

“I’m missing a gods damn eye,” Mol pointed to the bandage around her head.

You sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even trying, you guys are way too smart.” You turned and handed the brooch back to Astarion who pocketed it without question. 

“The smartest,” Mol grinned, looking around at the other seven.

Mirkon stepped forward. “Me next!” he reached into the boat and pulled something out, concealing it behind his back. He looked very pleased with himself when he revealed a set of thieves' tools. 

Astarion laughed once, humorlessly. “I have a million of those.”

Mirkon smirked. “Yes, but only one on your person.”

Astarion’s face fell and he patted himself down. His mouth raised into the smallest smile. “Not bad.” 

Mirkon tried to look cool, but he burst into a grin and stepped back to rejoin the others. You handed the tools to Astarion who hid them on his person once again and took another sip of his wine.

Zaki reached into the boat. “Here’s what I got.” He held out an unmarked tin but one that you recognized as one of Astarion’s beloved hair products.

Astarion spat a bit of his wine. “Give that here,” he held out his hand and Zaki clutched the tin closer to his chest. 

“Why should I?”

“Um, Zaki?” You made eye contact with him and shook your head. 

Zaki sighed and handed it over to Astarion reluctantly. “Tasted terrible anyway.”

You laughed and Astarion sputtered. “This is NOT to be ingested, you twerp.”

“Weirdo man!” Zaki exclaimed in response.

“Oof,” you turned to Astarion, “that’s gotta hurt.”

The kids laughed. Astarion narrowed his eyes. 

He examined the contents of the tin to see how much was left. When he saw that not much had been sacrificed, he sighed in relief. “This is a fine hair product from a particular salon in the Upper City that I was able to snatch while on the road. I only have the one container, if you must know.”

You turned back to Zaki. “Well done,” you clapped for him. “It’s like you stole his baby.”

Zaki blushed and smiled before Doni stepped forward.

He made a small noise and held out a hairbrush. 

Astarion gasped and snatched it from Doni quickly. “This was actually on my person during the Nautiloid crash.” He held it close to his chest. “I had it hidden away, how’d you find it?”

Doni responded with another unintelligible noise.

Astarion looked at the other kids.

Arabella shrugged. “We try not to question his methods.”

You patted Doni’s arm. “Great job, Doni.”

He smiled and Arabella took his place. 

She held out a small coin purse. “Tah dah!”

Astarion bent forward to examine it closer. “Sorry darling, that’s not mine.”

Arabella smiled. “I know.” She loosened the string to the purse and emptied the contents into her hand. A substantial amount of coins fell into her palm. “But these are.”

Astarion gasped and felt around his person again. You and Mol laughed at the look on his face. “Har har, I’d like those back now, please.”

Arabella handed the coins back a little too eagerly.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “All of it.”

Arabella’s shoulders slumped and she reached into the pocket of her skirt, handing him another handful of gold. 

“Work on your poker face, darling.” 

Arabella pursed her lips but nodded. 

“Mattis,” Mol said, motioning for him to step forward. 

Mattis nodded and looked between you and Astarion with a smirk. 

He extended his arms, revealing a dagger in each hand. “Whoa,” you said cautiously, motioning for the other kids to step away. 

Astarion laughed. “Be careful with those, kid.” He knelt next to you, looking Mattis in the eye. He elbowed the tiefling gently in the ribs, but it was enough to shock him into loosening his grip. Astarion caught one of the daggers and expertly grabbed the other one by the hilt and yanked it from Mattis’ hand. 

Before Mattis could even register what happened, Astarion was back on his feet, sheathing the daggers through his belt.

You looked at him with a shocked expression. He raised an eyebrow.

“What? Oh please, I didn’t hurt the child, and now he’s no longer armed. You’re welcome.”

You turned to Mattis. “You okay, Mattis?”

Mattis rubbed his chest and nodded. He looked up at Astarion in awe. “You have got to teach me that.”

The other kids agreed and crowded the vampire. 

He laughed uncomfortably. “There are… so many of you.” He looked to you for help.

“Alright guys, let’s give floofy hair some space.”

“Floofy?” Astarion brought a hand up to his hair as the kids dispersed. 

Mol stretched her arms over her head. “Best for last, I suppose.”

She went to reach into the boat for what you had to assume was the lute Astarion had hidden away for you. What she pulled out made you audibly gasp.

You’d expected something tattered, nothing special. Something plucked from the road by someone who didn’t understand the intricacies and nuances of musical instruments, but you knew you’d be content to make due with it because someone you deeply cared for had taken the time to pick it up and take it home to you.

Instead Mol presented you with a lute that looked like it hadn’t even been played yet. It was crafted from rosewood, giving it a pinkish hue and its surface shined as if it were just polished. Delicate roses were carved into the face and the strings were coiled tightly along the neck. 

“Oh,” you breathed out.

Mol raised an eyebrow. “Okay there, hero?”

You shook your head to break the spell. “I- yes.”

Mol turned to Astarion. “And what does this one mean to you? You had it stowed away so carefully with all those pillows and rags. Must be pretty special.”

Astarion cleared his throat. “It’s um… a gift.”

Mirkon giggled. “For who?”

Arabella crossed her arms. “It’s a lute. Clearly it’s for the bard.” She gestured to you with a nod of her head. 

Mattis blew out an unimpressed breath. “I saw her already carrying one around the Grove. Some gift.”

“So what?” Mirkon argued. “I think it’s nice.”

“So do I,” you confirmed, looking at Astarion, who caught your eye then turned away sheepishly. You turned back to the kids. “Want to know something funny?”

The kids looked intrigued and nodded, a few of them giving “yeah’s.”

You leaned in to whisper loudly and placed a hand next to your mouth as if telling a secret. “He broke my other lute,” you pointed your thumb over your shoulder at Astarion.

He scoffed. “I did not!”

You tilted your head at him disapprovingly. “It’s your fault it broke.”

“I-” he tried to dispute you, but came up short and shut his mouth.

Mol laughed. “No wonder she wanted us to swipe your stuff. Although, seems kinda pointless now.” She handed you the lute.

It was a comfortable weight in your hands and you tested the sound. It would need a bit of tuning, but it was good enough for you to cast a minor illusion of fireworks around the kids, who all looked up in awe. You flipped the face of it up towards you and ran your fingers over one of the rose etchings. 

You turned to Astarion who was avoiding eye contact by drawing shapes in the dirt with the tip of his shoe. “Where did you find this?”

He looked at you and perked up, gaining an air of confidence that you usually saw when he was showing off in battle. “Found it on the Risen Road. Some poor soul perished with it hidden away in their belongings under a bunch of useless junk.” He examined his nails, feigning disinterest. “It was from the same horde where I found my hair product. I suspect some Upper City patriar accidentally stumbled into a pack of hungry gnolls on their way back to Baldur’s Gate. One can only imagine why they were all the way out here. But their loss was our gain.” He laughed airily. 

You stood and held your breath. “You’ve held onto this for that long?” 

Astarion deflated a little, caught. “I… may have been saving it for a special occasion.” He saw you move towards him. “Don’t be weird about this,” he warned, holding up a finger. “If you really annoyed me I was planning to give it to you and then destroy it. The look on your face would have been priceless.” He laughed again.

You ignored his deflection and took one of his hands in your own. “You’ve had this since before we-” you paused. “Since before last night.”

Astarion smiled softly. “I told you I liked you.” He looked away again when he asked, “But you like it?”

You bent forward to kiss his cheek. “It’s gorgeous. I love it. Thank you.”

“Gross,” Mattis moaned. “Can we just get our prizes now?”

You turned away from Astarion to face the kids again. “Right.” You clapped your hands together. “GALE!” You shouted, not bothering to turn your body in his direction, knowing he’d hear you anyway. 

Not even a second later, he misty stepped beside you. “Yes?” he asked. “How can I help?”

“Gale,” you said, your tone implying that you needed him to play along, “the kids did a great job of stealing from Astarion tonight.”

Gale furrowed his brow in confusion, but sensed the kind of answer you wanted. “Oh, that is most excellent news.”

You nodded and placed your hands on your hips. “I think we need to discuss their reward.”

“Absolutely,” Gale agreed. He motioned over to a patch of grass a little ways away, “Shall we?”

“Be right back,” you said. 

As you and Gale walked, you heard the kids talking to Astarion.

“So why do you have fangs? You some kind of demon?”

“My father was a bat.”

“Cool, can you fly?”

“No.”

Gale spun on his heel to face you. “So,” he started, “what’s going on?”

“Fair question. I wanted the kids to rob Astarion.”

“Sure,” Gale nodded. “Why?”

You shrugged. “Thought it would be funny. Didn’t think that far ahead.”

Gale nodded again. “Let me guess, you didn’t want them to actually keep the loot and now you need to satiate their desire for spoils of some kind.”

“You got it,” you confirmed.

He held a finger to his chin, lost in thought for a moment. “Alright. Play along.”

“Can do,” you said and followed after Gale back towards the kids.

“Why would I need echolocation if I’m not blind?” Astarion asked, exasperated.

“I don’t know!” Zaki shouted in the same tone. “You’re the one who’s half bat!”

“Tell me you can screech at least?” Meli asked.

Gale cleared his throat and the kids turned to face you.

“I don’t see no prizes,” Mol said, crossing her arms.

“An astute observation, Mol,” Gale agreed. “That’s because I’m going to summon your prizes from the Astral Plane.” Gale raised his eyebrows at you, talking out of his ass.

“Ooohhh,” you gushed, making what he said seem really impressive. 

“You’ve been to the Astral Plane?” Mirkon asked excitedly.

“Of course,” Gale lied.

Arabella cut in. “How do we know you’ve actually been?”

Gale chuckled. “How do you think we met our Githyanki friend?” He pointed to Lae’zel over his shoulder who was in the process of skewering watermelons with her greatsword as a few others watched.

The kids looked back at Gale, seeming to accept his reasoning.

Astarion rolled his eyes.

Gale rubbed his hands together, his fingers sparking with the purple glow of the weave. Something you suspected he was doing to try to further impress and convince the children.

“Who’s first?” he asked.

Meli was about to step forward, but Arabella stopped him.

“Doni got here first, he gets his prize first.”

Meli groaned. “I’m next, then.”

Gale smiled at the boy before him. “Well Doni, it’s Githyanki tradition that their most skilled warriors receive Crowns of Valor.”

You placed a hand on your heart, further playing along. “Gale! You can’t mean-”

“Oh, that’s right,” Gale nodded. “These young, intrepid adventurers deserve the highest of honors.”

You looked at the kids and raised your eyebrows. “That’s amazing!”

The kids shared excited glances and giggles as Astarion leaned in to you.

“To be clear,” he whispered, “Crowns of Valor don’t exist, right?”

“Correct,” you said through an unmoving smile. 

“And I knew that,” Astarion said unconvincingly.

Gale spun his hands through the air, the purple glow of the weave glowing brighter and brighter until a small, Doni sized crown appeared in Gale’s hands. It was of simple construction, made of tin with pointed peaks at the top, like the paper crowns you would make as a child. Then, Gale moved his hands some more and the crown molded itself into something similar to Lae’zel’s armor that you’d first met her in; polished silver with delicately raised patterns throughout, adorned with shining red jewels. 

“Whoa,” you said, genuinely impressed. 

Gale smirked and lifted the crown above Doni’s head. “I now bestow unto you the Githyanki Crown of Valor. Well done, lad.” He placed the crown on Doni’s head, who smiled widely and stepped back for the other kids to observe. 

They ooh’d and ah’d, a few even reaching to touch it, but Doni brought his hands up to the crown to keep it on his head.

Meli excitedly jumped forward. “Me next!”

One by one, the kids stepped up to receive their incredibly real and not conjured on the spot Crowns of Valor from Gale. 

“Thank you for the lute,” you said quietly to Astarion as the two of you watched the parade of children marching up to the wizard.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “I’m not sure you even deserve to keep it, given that you hired a bunch of children to steal it for you.”

You sighed loudly. “Just admit you were bested tonight and move on. I won’t think any less of you for it.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t use this one as a club.”

“No promises,” you lifted the lute to mime hitting another imaginary bugbear. 

When Mol received her crown, the last of the kids to do so, Gale stood.

“Oof, the knees,” he muttered before rubbing his hands together to convey that his work here was finished. “Well then! I believe everyone has been thoroughly rewarded for their hard work.” He looked at you and winked. You mouthed a thank you.

Mol took off her crown and inspected it. “Hypothetically, how much could a Githyanki Crown of Valor sell for?”

You and Gale gasped dramatically.

“Why would you want to do that?” you asked, scandalized.

Mol rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Just tell us how much coin we’d get.”

Gale thought for a moment. “Hypothetically, if it were to be appraised, maybe about-” You elbowed him. “-a lot. Despite the absolutely priceless nature of the objects, you’d probably get a lot of coin.” He sounded pained to be saying such things.

“Excellent.” Mol said, examining her crown and then placing it back on her head. “Now,” she said, placing a hand on her hip, “do you need anything else from us? Or can we go? There are drunk adults to swindle.”

“Charming,” Astarion said flatly. 

You straightened. “Yes, you’ve all done an excellent job tonight and are free to go.” 

As the kids were about to leave, you stepped in front of them, blocking their path. 

“No more stealing tonight-” you said and a few of them groaned, “-but it’s fair game again when we see you next. Which will be in Baldur’s Gate when you’re members of a highly respected new guild.” You smiled at Mol who looked at you smugly and nodded. 

“Damn right!” she said proudly. 

The others buzzed with agreement and started dispersing after saying their goodbyes. You hugged Silfy, Arabella, and Mirkon, and waved to the others who promised they’d be careful on their journey to the city. 

You stood back and watched them go, flanked on either side by Astarion and Gale. 

Astarion examined his nails. “Those weren’t worth anything, were they?”

Gale shook his head. “Not unless transmuted tin suddenly gains a lot of value amongst merchants and traders. I’ve been gathering different alchemical items and ingredients all throughout our journey, and that tin that I used was actually from-”

“Ugh, stop talking,” Astarion interrupted. “I merely asked if they were worth anything in case I needed to nick one of them off one of the little roaches before they leave and we never see them again.”

“Astarion,” you whacked his arm lightly. “They’re just kids. And I’m sure we’ll see them again.”

“Whatever you say, darling,” he sighed.

“You could also just ask Gale to make you one if you want.”

“I’d be happy to-”

Astarion held up a hand. “And ruin this hair? I don’t think so.”

You looped your arm through his and watched as a few of the kids retreated into their makeshift headquarters for the evening, while a few others made a point of walking by Lae’zel’s tent first. It was clear they were trying to show off in front of her, but Lae’zel paid them no mind and focused instead on cleaning her greatsword of watermelon chunks. After a moment of them pacing back and forth in front of her, she leered at them and the kids quickly ran back to the temple, terrified she might stab them. Scratch and the owlbear cub chased after them.

You turned to Gale. “Thank you for coming to the rescue. I owe you one.”

Gale smirked. “Is it really a party if one isn’t rescuing their friend from the clutches of their own antics?”

Astarion snorted. “What kind of parties have you attended?”

“Well, I thank you for your quick thinking and skill with the weave.”

Gale puffed his chest. “I am rather excellent at magic, as I’ve said many times over. Though I fear what will happen once those miscreants try to pawn off those fraudulent crowns.”

You shrugged. “That’s a problem for future us.”

Astarion tsked. “Assuming they can catch us.”

You and Gale laughed. 

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Gale agreed. “I’ll leave you two to your evening. Let me know if you find yourself in any more trouble.” He nodded his head to you. “Good night.”

“Good night Gale,” you smiled as he walked back towards the excitement of the party where Karlach and Rolan were partaking in a loud drinking contest.

Astarion pulled you closer to him and squeezed your hip. “I still can’t believe you did that. After everything I’ve done for you.”

You smiled at him. “Ah yes, thank you for deciding not to kill me every day since you’ve met me.”

He pulled you into a kiss. “You’re welcome,” he said, muffled against your mouth. Unsurprisingly, he tasted of wine.

You pulled away and inclined your head towards Withers, still standing stoically nearby.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m not even entirely sure he’s paying attention half the time, what with his distant stare and lack of meaningful conversation.”

“He called you my ‘bosom companion’ earlier.”

“He did what?” Astarion looked past you at the skeleton who made no move to acknowledge either of you. “I’ve barely had any time with her bosom yet, thank you.”

When Withers didn’t respond, you laughed and bent down to get a better grasp on your new lute. Astarion joined you, picking up his recently returned items and turning to face you. 

“Care to join me on a walk?” he asked.

You smirked. “This isn’t part of another plan to bed me, is it?”

Astarion laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He made his voice low and gravelly.

Your face went red. “Aren’t you drunk?” you asked, deflecting his advances as the two of you started making your way towards Astarion’s tent.

“Ah, ah,” Astarion tutted, “I was only ever tipsy. And to be honest, I believe the last of it burned off when the one person I stupidly trust most for some reason, betrayed my trust and stole my things.”

“We got them back!” you argued. 

“Hmm,” Astarion hummed. “Perhaps we should break up.”

You gasped loudly. “How dare you!”

He smirked. “I suppose you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Am I going to regret asking what you have in mind?”

“I can think of a few options,” he said as you reached his tent and he knelt to return his items to their proper places. 

You yawned. “Oh yeah?”

Astarion rose back up and looked at you softly. “Tired, darling?” 

You mentally surveyed how you were feeling. “I suppose I am.”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. “A side effect of playing hero for dozens of tieflings. Told you it wasn’t worth it.”

You rested your arms over his shoulders. “And it surely has nothing to do with my lack of sleep last night, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Astarion teased, kissing your forehead. “Go say your good nights.” He nodded towards the heart of the party where Karlach and Rolan were drunkenly singing an old dwarven drinking song. 

You looked at him curiously. “What about you?” 

“Trust me, my sweet, none of them are here to see me.” He tucked some hair behind your ear. “Even though I’m world-endingly beautiful.”

“I think you’ve mentioned that,” you teased. 

“They should count themselves lucky they even caught a glimpse.”

“Alright.”

“I mean, look at me.”

“I got it,” you laughed and pulled away from him, lifting your new lute one last time. “Will I see you later?”

Astarion furrowed his brow. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

You smiled shyly. “I don’t know, I’m still new at all of this.”

His expression grew soft. “As am I. We’ll get the hang of it.” His voice became flamboyant again when he said, “We are the most impressive pair in Faerûn after all.” Then he laughed brightly.

You laughed and turned to make your way to your tent to drop off your lute. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I await on baited breath, my love.”

~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unfortunately tumblr thought this piece was too long (fair) so I had to split it into two parts. The second part can be found here.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "pretty mess" ⎯୧ (mjh)

+*:🐨:*﹤descrip. : making jaehyun a pretty mess <3

+*:🥯:*﹤content : sub!anton x fem!reader/dom!reader (i think)

+*:🫐:*﹤warnings : dom!reader, 18+, cockrings, reader calls jh "baby, sweetie pie, baby boy," and "sweet boy", jh maybe slips into subspace here but im not really sure i didnt write it out, ig you could call this edging of sorts, reverse cowgirl but only for a wee bit

+*:🩶:*﹤wc : 1.2K

+*:🍞:*﹤a/n : this probably has typos but im not feeling great today so please just ignore those, babies

+*:🐨:*﹤masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

Underneath you, Jaehyun mewls desperately, fingers twitching where his hands are laying against the bed sheets. He's physically drained, so tired he can barely move, but he's still so tense, vibrating under you as you bounce up and down his cock. You're facing away from him, using his knees as leverage, because you know if you look at his face, splotchy with tears and nose snotty, you'll give in quicker than you’d like to.

"What's the matter, Jae? Something wrong?" You ask breathlessly, feigning ignorance and working yourself on his cock. Every now and then, his hips twitch weakly, causing the head of his cock to bump into your sweet spot and making you gasp before you recollect yourself.

Jaehyun babbles a mess of incoherent pleas and complaints, and you can barely make out "cum, n-need t-to-- pl-" through his ragged breaths and loud gasps. 

"If you need to cum, why don't you? Go ahead, baby. Just do it." You tease, putting on your most innocent voice through your own shaky sighs and low moans. You're glad he can't see your devious smirk – you've gotta keep the act up, after all. 

You bottom out and roll your hips. Jaehyun starts babbling again, thighs shaking as he weakly thrusts up into your cunt.

It drives him crazy, the feeling of being so close to release but having no way to reach it. He's so frustrated that he's crying, tears trailing down his cheeks and wetting his neck, as well as the pillow he's laying on. 

His head is so fuzzy, and when you tighten around him, he sobs. You're so wet and warm, squishy walls squeezing him just right. He’s pretty sure he's going to explode if he doesn't get to cum soon, and he tells you this, or at least, he tries to–

"Need it, need it, mmfg, 'm gonna die, gonna die, fu– pleas–" He manages to mumble through heavy lips, and everything about him is so heavy, like he's underwater. The room is filled with such dirty, slopping sounds when you and Jaehyun’s hips meet, and he's so overwhelmed, so, so frustrated.

You’ve worked him through so many dry orgasms that his dick actually hurts. He just wants to cum, needs it desperately, but he can't, not with the snug ring you slipped around his cock earlier in the evening. He thinks he's going to have another dry orgasm, and the thought runs cold fear through his body, because he can't do it, he can't take it anymore, it hurts so bad, and he wishes you could read his mind, because his tongue is thick and useless in his mouth, too heavy for him to get it to work.

"Hyunnie?" You call out. By now, you've stopped the hip movement, after calling out to Jaehyun for a couple of minutes and not getting a response. He kind of reacts, whining weakly at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around his shaft. Jaehyun shudders as you pull off of him, slipping his hard length out of your wet cunt, and now he’s cold, and this is somehow worse. Then, you turn around to look at him, and every complaint he has dies on his tongue. Your own hair is a bit messy, lip gloss smudged, and he finds comfort in knowing you’re also affected by this. You’re stunning, and he whines again, quietly, as his cock twitches uselessly.

To you, Jaehyun is just as pretty. His cheeks are such a deep shade of red, and his eyes are barely open, lashes fluttering prettily at you. There's a thin trail of drool running down the side of his mouth. You almost wanna lick it up, feed it back into his mouth for him, but you have at least a little self control left. 

Guilt pricks at you when you take in his state – his body is limp against the bed, chest heaving and lips turned down in displeasure. His penis is nearly throbbing, pulsing against his stomach and leaking precum into his belly button. 

"Sweetie pie, I’m sorry. You must’ve needed me so badly, huh?" You coo, kissing his tear-stained cheeks and running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Can you give me a color?"

He doesn't respond for a minute, lost in the sea of his mind, and you rub his biceps soothingly to give him time. Once the question finally reaches his ears, he mumbles something weakly.

"What was that?"

"Gree- g-green, c-color's green." You hum at that, looking over his fucked-out state. His eyes unfocus every couple of seconds as he tries to look at you, eyebrows furrowed, and you decide that maybe he’s reached his limit.

"Think you're ready to cum, baby boy?" He shakes his head, or something like that, the movement is aborted halfway through, and his head falls against the pillows again.  

"Can't, can't, n-need-" 

You shush his struggling words and straddle his lap, hovering over his thighs and trailing your hands down his stomach.

"It's okay, I've got you, yeah?" You nod, and Jaehyun tries to nod with you, but it's jerky and awkward. His back arches when you wrap a hand around his member and start stroking it slowly.

"Haaah- ple-- pleas' don make me, hurts so bad." 

You tell him that it's okay, that you won't make him suffer through another dry orgasm. 

Jaehyun’s hips follow you when you start sliding the ring off of his cock, whining about how it's not gonna come off, it's stuck, it’s gonna hurt. You hold his hip down with your free hand, placing a gentle kiss on his tip. His hips twitch, trying to chase the feeling, but your hold is firm. His cock drools precum pathetically, and you spread it along his shaft, using the wetness to slide the ring off with a pop!

Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh of relief, and his body melts into the bed at the feeling of his penis finally being free. 

"Gonna let you cum now, Myungie. Wanna make a mess for me?" You ask, straddling his hips, and Jaehyun's nodding desperately, aggressively before you even finish your statement. When his tip pushes against your opening, his mouth drops open, and his back lifts off the bed again, arching as you slide him back into you.

You're facing him now, and you regret not doing it sooner, because he's absolutely stunning, face scrunched up in pleasure.

"Mm, you're so good, Hyunnie. You always do so well, my sweet boy." You praise in between your own gasps and moans, grinding Jaehyun's cock right into your sweet spot. Jaehyun’s shaking like a leaf, fingers gripping your hips. His mouth is still open, making no move to hide his loud, desperate whimpers and moans. Spit pools in his mouth and drools down the side of his chin. Sparks dance behind your eyelids, and you kiss Jaehyun's cheek before leaning into his ear.

"Cum for me, baby boy." And he does, almost immediately, eyes rolling back before his lids squeeze shut, and his moans are so high pitched, so helpless and pitiful that the sound helps send you over the edge, buzzing while taking in Jaehyun's ruined appearance.

You fuck him through it, ignoring his cries of how sensitive he is. You grind your cores together until his hips are jerking up into yours again, only pulling off then. 

You clean him up, kiss him, dote on him until his eyes are less spacey and he’s giggling when you tickle his sides. He’s so special, so amazing, deserves the best, and you tell him that until he’s snoring softly against your chest.

✧･ﾟ: *

[drac0line1nn1t]

Hello Tumblr,

I'm back and still in the middle of fuck ass nowhere, so you know what that means, more phone drawings of my favourite old men yaoi

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter one

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

status: ongoing

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two]

word count: 2.9k

The darkness lurched and a sensation of falling brought you back to your senses. There was a momentary confusion–as was the case after leaving the half-conscious state–but it didn’t take you long to piece the world back together. A shudder disturbed the panel beneath your feet and you felt the running tremor that followed accompanied by a low rumble you could barely hear through the stressing pressure in your ears. You blinked your eyes open and there was a rawness to them that made you squint, taking in a familiar scene that greeted you past the window as you did. 

A deep purple tint veiled the brilliance of the sun, casting the world into the cool calm of dusk, as the remainder of the day streaked the horizon with its fading light. You recognised the sloping silhouettes of the mountains that stood tall in the distance, seeming all the more greater against the early evening sky, comfortingly familiar and inviting in their grand stillness.

The intercom played a three-tone melody followed by a voice that filtered through the static.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Barcelona. The local time is six hours ahead of the Newark area, and it is currently approaching six in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on until the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign has been switched off. It has been our pleasure to serve you on this flight. Thank you, and a very good evening.”

In the moments that followed, chatter erupted all around you. Tearing your gaze away from the window, finally, you unbuckled your seatbelt but made no move to get up, opting instead to rest your cheek on your hand. 

The thing that made window seats great–apart from the view, of course–was the fact that people who were in no rush to get off the plane wouldn’t feel compelled to move to avoid obstructing other passengers. And you, who was normally eager to stretch your legs after a particularly long flight such as this one, very much needed another moment to gather yourself. So you watched on as the other passengers stood and shuffled about, opening and closing the overhead bins to retrieve their luggage.

A restlessness crept over you. It erupted from somewhere deep down your gut to your limbs, and the feeling had you longing to jump out of your seat–to run–but you stayed put. There you waited, drumming a rhythm with your fingers against your thigh as your other leg bounced to the same chaotic pace. And without any bidding, the scenes you’d thought of before you sank into the nap you’d just woken up from flashed through your mind, relentless in their effort to tear you apart again.

You craned your neck to the side to see through the window. Somewhere at the far side of the airport, a yellow light flashed from a parked plane. It reminded you of fireflies and–

No.

You halted the memory and instead resorted to counting the number of times it blinked to keep your mind occupied.

“Excuse me, is everything okay?”

You blinked.

Turning away from the window to the direction of the voice, you saw an attendant looking at you with a curious expression. 

“Yes,” you stuttered out. 

Behind her you noticed that all of the seats were empty, and probably for quite some time now, so you gave her a quick apology when you stood to gather your belongings. You began for the exit after closing the overhead cabin but the stewardess stopped you again with another question. 

“You’re a professional footballer?”

You looked at her over your shoulder. Your surprise at her question must have been clear on your face because she looked down at your duffel bag and then back at you with just a hint of amusement by the way her brow was lifted.

Oh. You forgot about that.

You hefted your Barça bag over your shoulder as you replied, “Uh, yeah. Are you much of a fan?” 

“I love it. Love watching and playing it whenever I can. I’m more of a Madridista, though.”

“Oh. That’s a shame.” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at your dry humor but without any hint of offense.

The both of you continued to the exit. 

“What position do you play?”

“Keeper.”

“Very cute. How long have you been playing for Barça?”

“I’m just newly transferred, actually.”

By this point, the both of you had arrived at the plane’s open door.

“Oh, really? Well, I wish you all the best for your season. And I hope this doesn’t come across as unprofessional but is it okay if I asked you for a picture?” 

“Thank you. And no, not at all.”

After you posed for the photo, she thanked you. You felt her fingers brush over yours as she took back her phone before she sent you a playful wink. Her beauty attracted you, yes, and years ago such blatant advances from a fine woman would’ve been received warmly by you but not anymore–especially not today. So instead, you gave her a polite, almost apologetic, nod and parted ways with a small smile as you shuffled out of the plane.

It was a haze, your journey through the gates, the baggage reclaim zone, and the checkpoints. The lights and images melted together in one big blur, the noises coalesced to a low drone, before the world focused again when your phone screen lit up. 

‘I’m in the arrival hall,’ it said.

Despite yourself, your heartbeat picked up upon seeing it and a familiar restlessness made you shiver. You shook your head, rolling your luggage towards the arrival hall, tapping your thumb against the handle of your roller, the strap of your duffel bag clutched tightly in your other hand. 

With every step, your heart jumped in anticipation. 

You turned the corner and your chest stilled. 

And at the sight you beheld, you were gone. It was like you were seventeen all over again.

To you, it was as if the world became brighter, the colors and shapes now sharper, and she was the light that made everything that much clearer. 

A thought rang clear in your mind, Oh, god, she’s right there.  And she’s so beautiful.

She was leaning back against one of the columns that lined the terminal, the darkness of her outfit a stark contrast against the white paint which made her all the more easier to spot. Her eyes were trained on her phone as she tapped away at it with a small, soft smile adorning her face; that, for some reason, made your heart ache. A few locks of her hair escaped the hold of her ear and they framed her face in such a way that made her look inviting and at the same time accentuated that air of untouchability that seemed to be always present around her. Some people recognised her as they walked past, their heads turning and fingers pointing, but none of them seemed to be inclined to disturb her, which you were grateful for.

Just one more minute, one more moment. You wanted to take her in as she was for just that bit longer. 

It was as if she sensed you because, not a second later, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly, and then you were locked in her gaze. There was still quite a distance left between the two of you but even from where you stood, you saw her face lit up to a beaming grin as she met your eyes. She tucked her phone into her back pocket and gingerly pushed off from the column to approach you, sidestepping the people in her way with ease. 

The next thing you knew, the familiar scent of wintergreen and mint, mixed with the faint sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, washed over your senses. And the warm weight of her arms and body was all you could think about–could feel. Then a peck branded your cheek that left them feeling heated despite the dampness of her hair against your skin there.

Squinting through the sudden rawness of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around the strength of her, looping them around her waist as your hands found purchase on the small of her back. You hid your face in the safety of her neck, just like you’d done many times over the years. Like this, it was as if the two of you were still best of friends. Like you still knew each other like you used to. 

“Hello, pretty girl,” she breathed against your ear. “Welcome back.”

As she said this, you knew in your mind–believed–that you were finally home. And the thought was enough to steal and return your breath to you.

You whispered.

“It’s good to be home, Alexia.”

———

The car ride was silent. It had started to drizzle not long ago and it had grown heavy enough that Alexia needed to turn the windshield wipers on. The wipers made a steady rhythm when they met the hood of the car and made a slight squeaking noise as they moved up and down the windshield–two of the few sounds that made the air in the car bearable.

The world outside the passenger side’s window had devolved to blobs and blurs from the droplets that clung to the glass. Still, you kept your gaze there as guilt gnawed at your gut the same way you worked your lower lip between your teeth. 

The thing was, the walk to the car wasn’t bad at all. The both of you had chatted while Alexia led you to where she parked her car, your duffel bag hoisted casually over her shoulder despite your protests. But the moment the doors of her car slammed shut, so did you–it was as if all the weight of the past few months–exacerbated by the restless plane ride, finally hit you. 

And to Alexia’s credit, she’d done everything she could to remove the silence. She asked you about your flight (again) and when that didn’t work, she began to talk football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt like for you. Alexia briefly turned the topic to Barça and sprinkled in some funny stories she hadn’t told you over the sparse messages you’d exchanged that you reacted to. You were just about to settle into the conversation when she inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning to Barça; she solicited the reason that made you inclined to come back. At that, you clammed up again. Alexia didn’t seem to notice because she began to mention things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now–in the quest to get you talking.

For each question she asked, you’d given her back the same kind of nothing: a yes, a no, a hum. The simple drizzle had turned to steady rain pattering against the roof, and the calming sound did nothing to ease the growing tension in the car. Despite the desire to engage in a conversation with Alexia, it was as if all of your thoughts–or at least the capacity to string them together–were hiding behind the dark curtain of your mind, the heavy veil tailored from the same fabric that weighed in your chest. Weariness pervaded your bones and your soul, and it exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a task now seemingly impossible.

So you excused yourself from the conversation. You told her it was jet lag. Alexia nodded in understanding, but the light in her eyes had dimmed, and she trained them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line fit for silence. 

Despite not having spent time with her like you used to the last two years you’d been away, the language of her face and body was still familiar to you–and how could they not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–enough to know that she wasn’t convinced at all with what you said. Because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar.

The thought provided little comfort, and the guilt felt heavier, another stone dropped into the pitcher.

And the feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew. Alexia took time to drive you to your apartment instead of resting for tomorrow’s practice, and this was how you treat her? How nice.

Then another.

Just like how you treated Olivia, right?

Your eyes closed from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from a newly-sewn wound. And you tried to prevent yourself from crying, but the darkness only served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer and the words ever louder.

“I’m so stupid! So stupid…”

“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”

A touch to your arm startled you back to the present. The jostle from the gasp you let out was enough to make a tear fall, and you turned to Alexia who already had her eyes on you; her face graced with concern and a question. 

The car had stopped, and now parked outside of your apartment complex.

“What’s wrong?” Came the gentle question. 

Your heart lurched at the look she laid upon you, followed by an ache, a longing for the old times��back when you used to tell each other everything. But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained, glowing patiently as an ember in the dark, waiting for the wind to call her name again–to set her aflame again?

Another tear escaped your eye before you could turn away, which you brushed off with the back of your hand before you met Alexia’s gaze again.

“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You said with a small, apologetic smile. 

Alexia traced some invisible path along your face, regarding you with a pensive look. The moment took long enough that you considered she’d press you for information. Instead, she teased softly with a half-smile, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?”

Your shoulders eased down a bit.

“Still a smart-mouth, I see,” you laughed with more than a bit of air, “Indeed, what else is new?”

At that, Alexia chuckled with you but the pressing silence returned. 

Then Alexia sighed.

“How long has it been since we’ve played together?” 

Her brows knitted together at her own question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her hands behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoo on the underside of her arm.

You casted your eyes aside, your gaze fleeting to the unlit window of your apartment.

A memory intruded your mind again.

“I’m not sure,” you half-whispered. 

“Two years.” Something in her tone told that she knew that you knew, but she didn’t call you out on it. But it seemed she was more inclined to call you out on something you said a long time ago. “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever made you leave all the way to the States of all places.”

You looked at her. Alexia’s brow was raised in silent expectation. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on.”

“‘Come on’, what?”

“You were offered a place in Lyon–in Bayern. Bayern! When I heard you were leaving, I went, ‘That’s it. Bayern has her’. Imagine my surprise when you said you were going to America.” Alexia scoffed as she gestured in the air with her hands for emphasis. A pause before she continued, “Now, tell me why you really went away.”

“I already told you.”

“Yeah. What was it you said? ‘I’ve always wanted to see what the competition is like there’? For someone who talked about Neuer and Bayern all the time second to Barça, it always made me think how and when the NWSL crossed your mind.” 

Guess you don’t know me that well then.

You bit your tongue before you could say it. Instead, you shrugged and sighed, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs. “If you don’t want to believe what I said, that’s up to you. I stand by it.”

Alexia regarded you with that same deciphering look she’d been giving you the whole night. And as if she finally understood that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with you, she shook her head and sank back down in her seat.

“Indulge me, then. Tell me, what’s the verdict?” Alexia drawled, dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm. 

It wasn’t like home.

“Really appreciate the judgment all over your tone, Alexia.” You replied drily then added, “And it was great, thank you very much.”

Alexia tilted her chin up to release a laugh. A strand of her hair fell out of place and she brushed it back with a finger.

“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’

I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.

“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did. 

“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”

I went away because of you.

“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.

Alexia chuckled, and then softly she said, “Just tell me anything then.”

Distance didn’t work. My heart is still yours.

You hummed, thinking of a story, as you finally eased back on your seat and then you began. 

“Well…”

[oppsiedoo]

This is my FIRST DIGITAL COMIC so I apologize if it looks weird…😭😭🥺🥺😔😔😔🥺🥺🫠🫠🫠😓😓😢😢💔💔💔… Anyways, I hope you like it! I’ve always wanted to do something like this but I’m a lazy fatass. BUT I did it now so guess that’s something. Hope I don’t regret this in the next 20 hours!💋💋💋💯💯🎉🎉🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️😅😅 i kinda don’t like how i tuned out but I didn’t really plan it that well so I don’t know what I was expecting tbh. Sorry grinnames you deserve a lot better than this 😞

[toasted-buguette]

Into Your Own Hands

Summary: Ryis decides to pine from a distance in order to be a better wingman for March. The farmer has other ideas.

Ryis is many things: A son, a brother, a nephew, a pretty good woodworker if he were to say so himself. A friend, and he tried to be a good one. 

Ryis is also in love, although he would desperately like to not be. 

Mistria is, despite its constant activity, a very small town with a very close knit community. It’s one of the things that made him love it there, that and the quiet that let him hear birdsong with more clarity and variety. Everyone knew each other and everyone had some manner of bond that had existed for at least a year or two, so it made sense that the arrival of a new member of the community would spark interest in everyone. Ryis wasn’t exempt from this, after all the last time someone new came it was him, but he liked to think himself a little bit chiller about it than some others.

Chiller than March, he means.

March is, as much as he likes to hide it, a pretty good guy underneath all his bluster. He just doesn’t like change, when Ryis first moved in it took March a week to stop sulking and talk to him. It was only once Friday came along and Olric dragged his brother to the inn that he and Ryis actually got to have a conversation and that (Plus one or two of Hemlock’s drinks) was all it took to spark a friendship that would surely last a lifetime. Because besides being craftspeople and their mutual adoration of Mistria and its citizens, the quality Ryis and March shared in the highest quantity was their loyalty. 

Which is why Ryis can’t acknowledge his growing fondness for the new farmer. 

You see, after the earthquake a lot of things needed repairing and the citizens of Mistria needed a distraction, so a new face was just what the town needed. Ryis, on his part, was eager to welcome the new farmer into town, after all he knew better than anyone what it was like to be the new member of a well established community. Besides, he knew they would be working together on the myriad of reconstruction projects, so it was only natural that they get along outside of work. It helped that they were very easy to get along with. 

March, as is his wont, was not as receptive to this newcomer. No one was surprised when any conversation with him eventually led to him grumbling about the no good farmer who was only here for their own gain and totally wasn’t going to last the season. Ryis, at least, was surprised when these grumblings continued past the first week of the farmer being there. 

After all, the farmer went to very great lengths to talk to everyone frequently, March included, and usually once he got to know someone he mellowed out at least a little. But no, it seemed that March’s ire only grew with every attempt to make peace the farmer made. Ryis tried to reassure them that March would warm up to them eventually, (He had to, they were just too charming even for March to hate for long), but his reassurances could only go so far when March seemed to go out of his way to antagonize the farmer. It wasn’t until late spring that Ryis found out why March was being so… like that. 

For all his guardedness it only takes a couple drinks to get all of March’s walls to crumble like a termite infested fence, and once they did the blacksmith was the most open book in the world. There was no such thing as secrets with drunk March, so Ryis got a front row seat as March got to rambling about the farmer once more, and it instantly became plain as day that March’s blush that night was not caused by the beer. 

Ryis couldn’t remember a time March was ever so enthralled with someone. He sat there and listed out Ryis’ thoughts verbatim about how interesting and capable the farmer was, how helpful and hardworking, and Ryis realized two things simultaneously.

One: He was developing a crush on the farmer.

And Two: He could not, under any circumstances, let it continue to grow.

When was the last time March was so enamored with anyone? When had he ever been this animated when talking about something that wasn’t made of metal? March had always been a happy drunk but this was beyond anything that Ryis had ever seen from his friend and he wanted desperately for that happiness to continue.

So he resolved himself to try and help March realize the feelings he had while he was sober as well as pushing the farmer in his direction whenever possible. It was easy for Ryis to ignore his own feelings, at first, after all the farmer hadn’t been there long and was always running around going who knows where to do who knows what. Out of sight out of mind and all that, and when they were not out of mind Ryis could always find a project to take his mind off them for a little while. And when that failed to work he could always tell himself that once their novelty wore off so too would his unfortunate crush.

And then the general store was ready to be remodeled and all that flew out the window. 

Unlike with the bridge Ryis couldn’t do the whole thing alone in a single day, and aside from his uncle (Who he loved very dearly and wanted to enjoy his retirement as much as possible) the only person qualified to help was the farmer. So the two of them set to work and Ryis tried very hard not to think about how every time their hands touched when exchanging tools a shock would go up his arm and send his heart racing, or how every so often he’d look up from his work and see them so deeply focused that he fell just a little deeper in love. 

That, he thinks, is what finally broke the dam and now when he aims the farmer in March’s direction (Because he still does, because he loves March) it is accompanied by a horrible pang in his chest that he knows he’ll never be able to get rid of. 

‘It’s fine.’ He tells himself. He’ll make do with what he can get and he’ll blame the work on why he’s so flushed every time he joins the farmer on a project and when March can finally admit to himself that he doesn’t hate them Ryis will look on as two of his favorite people can freely admit their love for eachother and it will be because of him and maybe the ache in his chest will get a little easier to live with. 

The next time he sees the farmer, Ryis wants to hide in his scarf. They’re sweaty and out of breath and he can tell why when they hand him a stack of hardwood so big he wonders how they fit it all in their bag. They smile so wide when he accepts it and their face makes him want to melt. That doesn’t stop him from inviting them to the shop, of course. After all, it's hot and he can’t move all of that himself (he can) and wouldn’t they like to sit down and cool off for a second after all that work? Really it’s the least he could do after everything they’ve done for the town (for him). 

And now they’re alone in the shop and the wood is all put away and Ryis would talk about all the projects he has planned for it except the farmer makes it really hard for him to think and of course Landen is gone and can’t distract the farmer from him so they’re just watching him stammer with those intensely beautiful eyes of theirs and Ryis realizes a little too late that he said that last part out loud. 

Mortified, Ryis looks away and it takes him a minute before he can bear to take his eyes off the pile of sawdust they landed on and return them to the farmer. The sight that greets him when he does is not what he expected; The farmer is staring at him with a sort of half-smile and did they get closer? Their face is definitely closer to his than it was when he looked away. He bashfully tells them that he’s sorry and they should probably forget what he said and after a second they say that maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they gave him all that hardwood because to them his smile is the prettiest thing in the whole town. 

And every plan Ryis ever made to play matchmaker for March goes in the trash because hearing that makes his heart stop and when the farmer kisses him it is the most right anything has ever felt. And soon they’ll have to leave because it’s late and their chickens are still outside and then Ryis will have to grapple with the fact that he just kissed the person his best friend is in love with but for now none of that matters because after a season and a half of pining and pushing his feelings down it feels like he can finally breathe. 

And as the farmer leaves, trailing promises to see him soon behind them, Ryis revels in not having to dread their next meeting any more.

[euphor1a]

Best morning ever | cyj

↬ pairing: yeonjun x f!reader

↬ genre: established relationship, domestic au, fluff (if you squint), smut, pwp.

↬ summary: you wake up to your boyfriend between your legs; not that you’re complaining.

↬ rating: 18+ (minors dni)

↬ word count: ~1.9K

↬ warnings/tags: profanity, brief somnophilia(?), dom/sub undertones, cunnilingus, dirty talk, use of pet names, unprotected, penetrative sex, praising, cream pie.

↬ navigation

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌺 a/n ꒱ hi, hello <3! this is actually the first ever txt fanfic i wrote, back when i started! today, i bring you an edited and ✨enhanced✨ version of the original piece; enjoy! 

Hazy sunlight creeps inside your shared bedroom, announcing the morning not so subtly. Yeonjun is already wide awake, admiring your sleeping form and feeling butterflies in his stomach. He lets his slender finger trail down your jaw, neck, stopping right before your poorly hid cleavage. The enticing sight makes him bite down his lower lip instinctively.

He can see everything through the sheer material of his white shirt on your body, and it’s most definitely making his blood rush to the south. With a shuddering breath, Yeonjun continues his journey, earning a soft whimper from your still asleep self. He stops once he reaches the waistband of your panties, his eyes shooting up to your face. Somehow, you’ve managed to sleep like a baby through the whole ordeal, unaware of the sinful thoughts swirling in Yeonjun’s head. 

You look so peaceful, angelic even, your breaths light and your lips parted ever so slightly. With a fond smile, he shakes his head a little, climbing up on you. Yeonjun takes a few moments to stroke away the tousled hairs from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. His gentle hands unbutton the shirt slowly to leave you only in your baby blue cotton panties. 

Your boyfriend keenly watches how goosebumps spread over your skin, your nipples erecting against the cold morning air. The urge to lean down and suck on those sensitive nubs is strong, but he holds himself back.

Feeling bare and unprotected in your sleep, you whine in protest, unwilling to open your eyes. The familiar warmth of Yeonjun floods your senses as he kisses you softly, the touch fleeting yet comforting.

You can feel his fingers tugging down your underwear through the haze of your sleep. But you don’t stop him — subconsciously knowing exactly where this is headed to. It only encourages him to go further, his mouth leaving soft nips on your inner thighs. You purr, and he looks up from between your legs, noticing how your breathing picks up from his touch. Yeonjun parts your legs, dragging his mouth along your inner thigh, so close yet not there. He keeps teasing you to his liking, effectively awakening your body from its slumber. 

The pink of his tongue peeks out of his mouth, his hot breath fanning over your core. Your desperate hands grip on the bed sheet, waiting for his touch. After what feels like an eternity, you feel his tongue sliding along your moist folds.

“Junnie!”

You gasp, your lips parting and your eyes flying open. Yeonjun takes the hint, taking your left leg and placing it over his shoulder for better access. He gets to work immediately, covering your pussy with kitten licks, his nose nudging at your clit. With great effort, you manage to support your body on your elbows, his eyes locking with yours. 

Yeonjun’s eyes twinkle with mischief, and before you can comprehend anything, his lips are wrapping around your clit, the sensation making you delirious.

“Don’t… ugh, don’t stop please–” you fall back on the mattress and cry out, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

“Shh, I’m not stopping, baby.”

He flattens his tongue against your slit, going up and down but not giving you what you need. It amuses him — the way you make cute sounds of frustration, writhing uncontrollably under him. You’re entirely under his mercy.

Growing impatient as the urgency rises, Yeonjun finally pushes his tongue inside the molten warmth of your cunt, his low groan sending vibrations throughout you. Your back arches off the mattress from the sensation. The feeling of him inside you intoxicates you, your body hypersensitive to each stroke of his tongue. You both moan simultaneously when he starts fucking you with his tongue, your head hitting the pillow.

Junnie grunts, pushing harder and deeper, your essence filling his mouth. Your toes curl as you crest higher, and he softly brushes his thumb on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You buck up your hips, trying to move with his ministrations as he delves his tongue in and out, his thumb rolling your clit in tight circles. Out of breath, you wound your fingers in his hair, trying to ground yourself.

He softly plucks his tongue out, groaning as he enjoys the way you pull on his hair strands. He dives back down to slurp at your juices eagerly, ravishing you like he’s been starved. Yeonjun wraps his lips around the swollen nub, sucking and grazing his teeth on it.

“Please…” You whimper, your legs shaking as you plead.

“Please what, baby?” He hums, suckling on your clit. “You know you can say it better for me, don’t you?”

“Please! God, I– I’m gonna come!”

You feel his lips curling against you before he pulls away, moving down to your sopping entrance. The warm, flexible muscle slides into you again, his index finger rolling your clitoris. Without prior warnings, your orgasm blazes through you like a tidal wave, body trembling as you gush around him. Junnie moans appreciatively, devouring every single drop that you offered to him. With slow, long licks, he lets you ride out your high, sensitizing you further.

“My princess loves it, yeah? The way I eat out your pretty pussy until you come?”

You open your eyes to find him hovering over your spent body, a devilish smirk on his lips. His mouth is covered with your slick, glistening under the golden rays of the early sun. The urge to have him buried deep inside you invades your mind at the sight, and you mewl, “Junnie.”

Yeonjun quirks one of his eyebrows, “Yeah, baby?” 

“I wan’– need your cock in me.”

“Fuck, you say it so prettily. How can I say no to that?” His hungry mouth finds yours, and you immediately taste yourself on his tongue, a moan escaping you. He pulls down his sweatpants with his boxers, resting his erection between your slippery folds. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, weak at the feeling of his rock-hard cock rubbing against your pussy. He knows you like it; he knows that it drives you crazy.

“Please, baby, I– can’t,” you whine with a pout.

“Please what, my angel?” Yeonjun smiles. Even though he’s running very low on patience, he teases you. His pre-cum is dribbling down onto your slit, making a mess, but he still wants to hear that final confirmation. 

“In me… I’m ready…” you whisper, eyes glazed up.  

“Fuck.” He positions himself along your needy, waiting hole. His bulbous, thick head protrudes in a bit, causing you to gasp. You intertwine your fingers together right before he pushes inside, your head lolling back in pleasure. Your moans get muffled as he kisses you hungrily, your inner walls stretching to give him space.

“Yeah baby, just like that, take it, it’s all yours.”

You manage a broken whisper in response, adjusting to his size. Yeonjun holds you close, starting with slow, languid thrusts, pulling and pushing, giving you time to get used to the stretch. Soon, you start to rock your hips, building up a rhythm with him. He growls, surging his hips forward again and again, hitting all those spots inside you that make you feel mushy. His mouth finds its refuge on your shoulder, cock plummeting into your warm, tight and slippery depths. 

Yeonjun rests his forehead against yours, rasping, “Can you hear that? Can you hear how fucking wet you are for me? Hm?” As if to prove his point, the squelching sound increases, the raw sound of skin slapping against skin magnifying the wet noise. You struggle to form a coherent sentence. But knowing very well that he’ll demand for an answer, you just nod your head vigorously. 

“Baby can’t even talk, huh? Am I fucking my baby dumb? That she can’t even use her words?” A few rough thrusts hit your cervix, tears gathering in your eyes. He’s fucking you good. Yeonjun is in a frenzy, his pace quickening with each of his strokes, deep moans of satisfaction rumbling in his throat.

“Pussy so good, fuck! You’re so good to me, baby, squeezing me so well. So wet and hot for me. Taking this dick like a good girl.” Your boyfriend murmurs all these praises like a mantra, his weight pushing you down and bending you further. Tears gather in your eyes from the intense stimulation. It feels so unbelievably good. Your whole body is buzzing with pleasure.

A string of incoherent words leaves your throat, your nails raking on his back, sure to leave visible marks the next day. His cock twitches inside you, wrapped up snug in your gummy walls, both of you moaning simultaneously. You bury your face in his shoulder as the knot in your lower tummy tightens further. 

“I know you’re close, baby. Come for me.” Yeonjun groans, moving harder against you, making sure to grind against your clit with his pelvis as he moves. Clearly over stimulated, you quiver beneath him, white spots appearing in your vision.

“Junnie!” You cry out, your walls clenching around his cock as you reach your high. He slows down with a low growl, your cunt pulsating around him sporadically. His pace turns sloppy, and he moans your name, getting closer to his own release.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m gonna come, baby. I’m— fuck!” Yeonjun collapses on you, his ecstasy crashing over him as he drains his balls inside you. You shudder, pussy clenching as he fills you up with his seed to the brim. His body gives up, crashing down on you — which you accept with open arms.

You stroke his hair, trying to catch your breath while he soothes the bites left by him in the fit of passion. He rolls over after a while, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

“Wow… So that was something.” Yeonjun sighs, drawing random patterns on your back with his fingers.

You nuzzle his chest, cuddling up to him, “Why?”

“This is the best way to start my day. Why didn’t I think of this before?” He chuckles, squeezing you in his arms.

“Maybe because your galaxy brain isn’t really a galaxy brain?”

Junnie shoots you a glare, smacking your ass. “Don’t push my buttons, I’m in a good mood, ‘kay?” He continues after a brief pause and sigh, “Wanna take a shower together? To save water, obviously.”

You giggle, “Showers are supposed to clean you up, not to make you dirtier.”

Yeonjun pouts, burying his face in your chest and groaning, “It’s not like I’m coming all over you and making a mess, I just come in you.”

You tap your chin, pretending to ponder over his invitation. On the other hand, impatient and careless, he stands up all of a sudden, picking you up in his arms and carrying you towards the bathroom.

“Why don’t you– ah-mmh!”

The rest of your sentence turns into a whimper as he pushes three of his fingers into your mouth. You moan, looking at him through half-closed eyelids.

“Were you saying something?” Yeonjun sets you down on the bathroom counter, smirking. You shake your head no, sucking on his fingers obediently. “Such a good girl, that’s what I thought. You wanna suck my cock instead of my fingers, baby?”

You nod eagerly, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, kissing you passionately. Not to be biased, but this has been the best morning ever. 

Yeonjun prays that all the mornings would be like this from now on. 

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 end notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading <33!! i’m like, kinda proud of this 😗? hope this was a good read! apologies for any mistakes left in there!

consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! support your local writers, it keeps us motivated to create and share 🌸!

[taki-yaki]

I just thought of a prompt: In the game Astarion mentions during the first decade of his enslavement he met a sweet man that he didn’t want to bring to Cazador, which led to his year of entombment and giving up on fighting Cazador. What if Tav is a descendent or relative of that sweet man, and he left a journal of how a pale elf saved his life before escaping into the remote countryside. Tav is abducted while on her way to Baldur’s Gate to investigate the journal, and when she meets Astarion she immediately suspects it’s him.

When it’s revealed he’s a vampire spawn Tav is now sure he’s the elf that saved her ancestor/relative’s life.

Oooh, this is interesting, I have made this one a little bit angsty in one section. But I feel like this would change up the dynamic if it was in the game

Astarion x Descendant Tav Headcanons

For most of your life, you grew up living in the countryside, far from the large bustle of the city life in Baldur’s Gate. Despite your family's willingness to distance themselves from the city, it never seemed to deter you. Ever since you were gifted your grandfather’s journals as a child, chronicling his life in the upper city, from the views to that of the variety of dishes they provided, seemed like a dream to a country child like yourself.

Although one section was a mystery to you, that of in-depth descriptions of a pale elf. When you asked your parents, they never wanted to speak much about it, saying when he returned, he looked entirely different, changed by an event that took place there. They would always try to steer your thoughts away from the city if prompted any further.

One day, you decided to leave the small village on a whim to journey to the city, wanting to put an end to the mystery. Travelling along the road to Baldur’s gate to investigate the mystery, is cut early after being abducted by the nautiloid ship, now being set back further from where you started with a tadpole in your head.

However, one face looked familiar among your new travelling friends. A pale elf, one which matched the exaggerated descriptions inside your grandfather’s journal. However seeing him in person said otherwise, matching what was written, ‘Ruby eyes as if looking into a ripe rose’ and ‘Silver lock curls that brushed softly against his ears’. But how could an elf like him look the same after so many decades?

Upon discovering his vampiric nature, explains how he was able to stay young for so long. One night you decide to confront him about your grandfather’s journal, showing him the entries and asking if he knew anything about it. Of course, he would deny not having a clue about what you are talking about

“Why do you insist on exhuming the past? I have no such knowledge of meeting a person like this”

His eyes would dart away from yours wishing to no longer engage in such pointless dribble. Any other mentions of the journal would just leave you with him trying to skirt himself around the topic.

One night though, he approaches you, drunk on, presumably, the blood of a bear, clinging to you refusing to let you go “I’m glad you’re alive still” he’d slur “You were so naive and sweet, to be subjected to such a thing”. When you try to question him about it, he refuses to answer any further, just tightening his grip on you longing to stay in the moment, eventually having to drag him back to his tent for the night.

The next morning, approached his tent to check on him, “I suppose you want to know what I was talking about last night” His body turned away from you to stare at the deep crimson of the tent walls. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to”, he turns to face you “Hmm, well I don’t want to talk about as much as you do, but that won’t do anyone any good”.

He explains how, in his first decade of slavery, he found a sweet naive man, who dreamed of making it big in the upper city of Baldur’s Gate. Compared to most he would find from petty criminals, street drunkards and brothel-goers, he would occasionally find some naive soul who wished to make it big in the city. 

One of those was your grandfather, he never tried to charm him, more so befriend him, he warned him to never approach him again and to run far away from this city if he wanted to live. 

“He was the first and only one who I ever truly let go” his eye meeting the floor 

“And I punished horribly for it” the grip on his shoulders tightening.

An awkward silence fell upon the tent “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you like that to answer”. A light laugh leaves his lips as he turns to look at you, “Ha, you're just as sweet as he was, but…I’m glad he was able to make a life for himself, unlike me”. Slowly you clasped over his shoulder, his eyes staring directly into yours “Don’t speak so short of yourself, I promised you that I’ll keep you safe, just as you did for my grandfather, your actions won’t be in vain”.

Whilst travelling to Baldur’s Gate the two of you bond over the descriptions left in your grandfather’s journal describing the palaces within the city, ‘The Blushing Mermaids signature dish, salted small-fish stew, may be one of the establishment's more unique dishes that they have to offer.’, “We have to try that when we get to the city it sounds amazing”, “Hmm, how about we just avoid the Blushing Mermaid, I know their calamari dishes don’t live up to their praise and that was over 200 years ago.”

Upon reaching Baldur’s Gate, you felt as if you had the biggest culture shock of your life, from the once romantic establishments now being nothing more than an average local tavern and the food they served was nothing but the morning leftovers from last week's catch. Now staring down at the dish through the murky stew a piece of baitfish floating to the surface. “Now darling, it was your choice to go here you should looked more pleased with the dish that dear old grandfather elegantly described to you.” smiling at you with a smug look.

Despite the reality of city life overwhelming your naive outlook on life, one quiet night in elf song, you turn to Astarion, “You know, over 200 years ago, if you didn’t let him go that night, then I would have never met you, funny how things worked out like that”, “I’m glad you think so too, ever since that night, I wonder sometimes if I ever made the right decision, but know I think I do, and I’m thankful to have met you”.

[angelyuji]

lost keys

william afton x afab!reader warnings: noncon sex, kidnapping, creepy boss, gross power dynamics, william afton is a murderer, ooc-willy, henry lost charlie, william lost evan, this story follows my own personal canon abt fnaf :) violence, williams a sick sick freak and i want him bad sawry, she/her pronouns for reader

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

william afton sucked. he was an asshole and a creep, but he was also your boss.

“god he’s so awful.” your coworker whispers as you both wipe down tables. the pizzeria was closing and you both watch as he stalks around, watching everyone. “i miss henry. i hate when ass-ton’s around.” she sighs and you agree. henry emily had taken the last couple weeks off, and rumors spread around that there was a death in the family. you stay silent, eager to finish your work and leave. both of you wince as you hear william shout out orders to one of your coworkers. william comes near you both to inspect your work. he places a hand on your lower back, leaning in to check. you feel a chill go down your back at his touch. you resist the urge to creep away, but as he rubs his thumb against your back, you immediately jump away.

“finish up quick.” he gives you a stare and walks away to the others. your coworker grabs your arm.

“ew, what the hell was that?” she looks at you panicked.

“god, i hate when he does shit like that.” you whisper to her. she whips her head to look at you.

“he’s done that before?” she whispers.

“yeah, like i forgot my hat once and he called me into his office and put the hat on me and like… called me his good girl.” you shudder as you recount the situation. you friend stares at you, jaw dropped.

“what the actual-” she raises her voice, but you cut her off.

“shit, let’s finish up and get out of here.” you panic as he looks back at you both at her voice. everyone finishes their work and chat as they head out. you stand at the front, fishing through your pockets for your car keys.

“what’s wrong?” your friend stops to look at you. you sigh, exhausted.

“i forgot my keys, man…” she laughs at you, before patting you on the shoulder. you turn to head back inside.

“you want me to wait for you?” she calls out as you open the door.

“nah, you can go. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

“you sure? i know ass-ton’s still here. i don’t want to leave you alone with that creep.” her eyebrows furrow as she remembers what happened earlier.

“don’t worry, i’ll be okay. he won’t even hear me come in.” you wave her off. she, hesitantly, waves goodbye and you head back inside. the pizzeria was creepier that usual as you stand alone in the front. you turn to wave to the animatronics, but they weren’t on stage. “he must be doing some repairs…” you mumble to yourself before calling out, “mr. afton? i just wanted to ask if you’ve seen my keys?” silence follows and you sigh, thankful. you head to the employee room to see if you left them there. you walk down the silent hall, your footsteps echoing. you feel the hair on the back of your neck raise as you walk down the dark hallway. you pass ass-ton’s office and you see the light on. you quietly pass by his office, not wanting to get interrogated by him. you turn the knob to the employee room and quietly go in, the door squeaks and you wince. you spot your keys on a table and grab them. you feel relief flood your veins, happy to go home.

“(y/n).” you jump, startled at the voice. william stood at the door, an edge to his tone.

“mr. afton! ha, i don’t know if you heard me, but i- uh- i forgot my keys.” you lightly slap your forehead, nervously laughing. he doesn’t move from the entrance. you don’t move either, feeling something wrong.

“if i had known that all it took were some keys to get you alone…” your boss chuckles darkly. he starts to walk closer to you and you back up, panic setting in. you notice something in his hand, glinting in the darkness.

“oh god…” you see the knife and put the pieces together. you realize that as he walked to you, he stopped blocking the door and you make a break for it. you try to sprint around him, but his hand lashes out and wraps around a chunk of your hair. you scream and he pulls you to the ground, your head throbs. he’s on top of your legs, holding you down. william cackles as you scream, he tries to bring the knife down into your stomach, but you hit him as hard as you can wherever you could reach. shocked, william stumbles off and you run down the hallway.

“THERE’S NO WHERE TO RUN, (Y/N)!” he screams after you. you hear his thundering footsteps follow and you run into the first open room, slamming the door shut. he bangs on the door for a couple seconds before stalking away. you breathe out a sigh in relief. you turn and hold back a scream as chica and bonnie stares back at you. the smell hits you suddenly, the stench of iron. you notice the blood dripping to the floor from the cracks in the robots.

“oh… oh god…” you cover your mouth with your hands, feeling tears drip down. you inch closer to the blood, but before you could inspect the scene, something smashs against the door. the doorknob falls off and you stare, unable to move. you watch as the door slowly creaks open. your boss stands in front, staring at you. he’s gripping a knife in one hand and you notice a hammer dropping to the floor with a thud. you try to move, but knowing you could step in blood stops you. swallowing, you choke out, “blood.”

william smiles, warmly, “a means to an end… though, i did enjoy hearing them scream.” you choke out a sob, paralyzed as he steps closer to you. he stands, looking down at you, inspecting your face. he takes a hand to brush strands of hair behind your ear. his hand was cold as it grazed your face. you flinch, feeling the tip of the knife poke your stomach, and his smile widens. “so pretty…” he whispers as he leans in, close to your ear. his hand grips the back of your neck and he pulls you close to lay his head in the crook of your neck. you stand stiffly against him. “i’ve had my eyes on you for so long. cute little face, so… innocent.” you can feel his breath on your skin and your skin crawls.

you hiccup and you feel him chuckle, “what- what do you want from me?”

“what do i want from you?” he pulls away, “(y/n), i want relief.” he brushes his hair back and puts a hand on your waist, affectionately. you don’t respond, looking for a way out, and he continues, “i’ve lost so much… i need something for myself for once. these kids…” he gestures to the suits, bleeding out onto the floor. you feel your stomach drop.

“k-kids?” you feel like throwing up as you see a tiny tuft of golden hair peeking out from chica’s suit. “you- you killed these kids?” you back up, but step into blood. “oh my god…” you feel yourself gag as you feel the squish of your shoes. he comes closer to you and you’re forced to back up into the desk. william grabs your arm, tightly squeezing. you look back at him.

“at first, it was just supposed to be one… a test. but, it was just so… fun!” you see a manic grin crawl up his face. his pupils were blown wide, “hearing their screams, how easy it was to make them shut up, how satisfying it was shoving them into the suits. that was a last-minute idea by the way.” horrified, you try to move, but his hand tightens. “i mean, when i killed henry’s brat, i had just left her out there in the rain. i didn’t think to hide her somewhere, which was my mistake.” he shrugs, “but these two?” he gestures to bonnie and chica, “i planned better.” william laughs. you break down. you were going to die, just like these poor kids, alone and afraid.

“are you going to kill me too?” you whimper out as you sob. william had taken a breath, so he could continue his speech, when he heard you.

he coos as he cups your face, “oh no, sweetheart. no, no. i couldn’t kill you. i mean, if you had just not ran earlier, we’d be at home, but… plans change.” his hands drift down to your waist before it travels under your shirt. you panic, realizing what was happening.

“no no no, please, i’d rather die.” you try to shove his hand away, sobbing harder. william rolls his eyes and waves the knife in your face.

“would you really rather die? cause i can make that happen for you and ill keep your corpse warm to fuck.” he shrugs.

your eyes widen, “you’re insane.” you sob and he puts the blade to your neck.

“if you really want to die, than go for it.” he presses the blade into your neck and you hold your breath. a moment of silence passes between the two of you as he waits for you to kill yourself, before he tilts his head, lowering the knife, “that’s what i thought.” his hand moves from under your shirt to your head and yanks your hair. you yelp, and william turns you to face his desk before shoves you down to lay flat on the table. you wheeze as you hit the table and william trails the knife down your leg. you lay, afraid to move, as william tugs your pants down to your ankles. his knife traces your skin, before cutting into your underwear, and you feel him press himself against your ass. “so beautiful… i knew you’d be perfect for me.” you can hear the smile in his voice and you feel a chill of disgust go down your body. you hear him unbuckle his belt.

“please, mr. afton, i’m begging you. i won’t tell anyone, you can just let me go.” you sob as you feel his fingers slide over your slit. he hums, disappointedly, seeing how dry you are. he tosses the knife to the side and you hear it skid across the floor, before hitting an animatronic.

he ignores you, “i wanted to make this feel good for you, wanted to feel you clench around my cock, but i’m not gonna waste anymore time.”  he pulls you back using your hair and taps a finger on your lips, “open.”

“fuck y-” he shoved two fingers into your mouth before you could finish. you gag as he pulls you back against his chest, shoving his fingers deeper. you choke around his fingers and he moans. he pulls out his fingers and see them slick with your saliva. you take advantage of the new position to try and elbow william but without missing a beat, he grabs your arm and twists it against your back. he pushes you back down. you scream, pain throbbing from your shoulder to your arm. he keeps his hand pressed against you, keeping your arm held back, as he drags his fingers down your slit. his rough fingers sent tingles down your spine and you grit your teeth to hold back any sounds. you feel his fingers push into you and you choke out a moan.

“all that running and screaming just for you to be clenching around my fingers.” william pulls his fingers out and you whimper.

“you’re psychotic.” you grit out, arching your back.

he laughs, “i know.” you hear his pants hit the ground and you press your cheek against the desk, sobbing. you feel the tip of his cock rub down your slit before he pushes in. you moan, unable to hold back, and william moans with you. “you feel so good, sweetheart.” you feel a warmth spreading throughout your body as he thrusts into you, pausing for a second. his other hand rests on your hip, squeezing.

“fuck.” you choke out as he fills you, his pelvis pressing against your ass. you feel him lean forward and pull your shirt back to expose your shoulder. his lips press against your shoulder, lovingly. without thinking, you lean back into the soft kiss and hear a soft hum in your ear, before teeth pierce your skin. you scream as william bites down into your shoulder, he lets go and pulls out till the tip of his cock is still in. his hand leaves your hip to rub his thumb on the mark he left.

“you’re so good to me, (y/n)… i should’ve done this the moment i saw you.” his hand goes back to your hip and he lets go of your arm, before snapping his hips back against you. you moan, unable to hold back as he pounds into your sweet spot. you feel your toes curl as the pain of the bite and the pleasure he’s giving you starts swirling. you grip the desk as it shakes, he fucks you with no care for your pleasure, but you feel something building up inside of you. “my good, good girl…” william moans as he feels you squeezing his cock.

“feel… feel so good…” you moan as you feel the pleasure numbing your head. you feel a wave of pleasure rush through your body and you let out a silent scream, vision blacking out. william feels you gush around his cock and he pushes in once more to the hilt, before filling you full. you lay there, exhausted, feeling his cum drip out onto your thighs. you shiver as william takes a finger to scoop it and push it back into you.

“cute.” you feel a jacket cover you up and you let yourself drift off. you feel him left you into his arms and murmur into your ear, “i’ll wake you when we get home, sweet girl.”

[lichilly]

"you dangle on the leash of your own longing, your need grows teeth." -- Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country; from ‘Speeches for Dr Frankenstein’

cw: wounds, implied violence, talk of blood, uhh me being mushy over werewolf Joseph, gender-neutral reader

The fire crackled softly, its glow spilling over the cabin walls, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow. Flecks of light flicked across the worn wooden beams, dancing along the edges where the dark gathered. He sat still, nestled in the warmth, the flames reflecting in the depths of his eyes. His pointed ears twitched at the occasional crack of the embers, but otherwise, he remained motionless—watchful, calm.

You approached from the doorway, your steps shifting against the creaking floorboards. Kneeling beside him, you set down the first aid kit, its zipper cutting through the stillness of the room.

His gaze shifted, tracking your hands as you laid out gauze and bandages with routined care. The faintest of huffs escaped his nose, his version of acknowledgment, as he extended his arm toward you. No words exchanged. There never were.

"Let’s get these changed," you murmured, your voice barely disturbing the air between you.

You took his arm in your hands, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the rough texture of old scars mingling with fresh ones. The bandage unraveled slowly, each layer revealing the healing beneath. A faint tremor passed through him, so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t been so close.

As you worked, the fire’s glow bathed the two of you in warmth. He watched, eyes flicking between the fire and the slow movements of your fingers as they worked the fresh bandages into place.

It was routine now. He’d sit by the fire, you’d kneel beside him, tending to wounds that spoke of violence he never explained. You didn’t ask. Instead, you learned to listen to the small cues—the soft exhale, the shift of his posture, the way his eyes lingered on you before returning to the flames.

The old bandage crumpled in your palm as you set it aside, your thumb ghosting over the newly healed skin. The worst of the inflammation had faded, the edges of the wound knitting together. You took a moment, letting the quiet settle around you again before speaking.

"It’s healing well," you said, the words softer than you intended.

A low rumble stirred in his chest, vibrating through the space between you. His eyes flicked up, locking with yours for a heartbeat, then returned to the fire. You couldn’t help but smile.

"You’ve been a good patient," you added, your fingers resuming their work.

He didn’t answer, but the subtle way his body relaxed beneath your touch was enough.

The bandages on his arms were easy, but the deep gash in his side—still raw, still stubborn in its refusal to heal—was the one that troubled you most. You didn’t know what had caused these wounds, nor did he offer any explanation. His body bore the marks of bloodshed long fought and endured. Scars layered on scars, and yet, here he was.

You worked carefully, your fingers brushing over his side as you unraveled the last of the bandage. His breath hitched, just barely, but you felt it—a flicker of discomfort. The gash along his torso, though healing, was still raw, angry. You winced for him but kept your focus, your hands steady as you cleaned the wound with gentle, practiced movements.

He didn’t pull away, but his gaze slid to the floor, a subtle shift that made your stomach knot. It was in these moments, the ones where the silence between you felt more like a weight than a comfort, that you wished he’d let you in just a little more. But he never did.

“Almost done,” you whispered, though he didn’t need the reassurance. You weren't sure if it was for him or for yourself.

His chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if controlling the pain through breath alone. The firelight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips pressed into a thin line. His pointed ears twitched again, though you couldn’t read it yet—frustration? Agony?

You wrapped the fresh bandage around his torso, your hands brushing against his skin with each pass. He didn’t flinch, didn’t react, though his body seemed to relax minutely with each passing moment.

You tied off the bandage, your fingers lingering for just a moment too long, the warmth of his body seeping into your palms. You cleared your throat, pulling your hands away, suddenly aware of the closeness between you.

“There,” you said softly, settling back onto your heels, giving him space again. "All done."

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on yours. Something hung in the air—like words he wasn’t ready to speak. You waited, your breath held tight in your chest, hoping for some sign, some crack in the silence.

Instead, he dipped his head in a slow, deliberate nod. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The quiet between you felt different now—less heavy.

You stood, the old bandages clutched in your hand, and moved to toss them into the fire. The flames licked at the fabric, devouring it in seconds, casting the scent of smoke into the air. You watched the embers rise, your back to him, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened, how the room felt smaller when you were both in it.

Behind you, you heard the softest shift of fabric, the weight of him rising to his feet. You turned just in time to see him step closer to the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames, expression unreadable. He stood just beside you, the space between you barely enough to call distance.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Without a word, he reached for a log by the hearth and placed it on the fire. The flames roared briefly before settling into their steady crackle, the warmth spreading further through the cabin.

You stood there, side by side, staring into the fire.