#I don't even know how to tag that I need to let it out or I'll lose my min

[thewidowsledger]

Do You Know What Today Is?

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Fire Department Captain!Romanoff x Lieutenant!Female Reader

Word count: 4k

Tags | Warnings: Angst, fluff, death, dirty talk (lots of it), sexual innuendos, sending nudes, you and Nat are just horny shits, talks about having kids

Author's Note: Next fic to be updated next week will be the mob boss series :)))

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

"I love you." She says in the line, it was static but it was all clear to you.

"You tell me that in person." You said, you held the words so you could say it to her in person but it was like an instinct to you to reply back, "I love you more."

"No, I love you more." Her voice came through, softer this time, almost vulnerable.

⧗

Natasha's voice on the other end of the phone was like a soft caress, sending tingles down your spine. Even though she was just kilometers away, the connection you shared was palpable, and you could almost see and feel her smiling through the phone.

"Hi baby," she cooed, her voice warm and intimate. "Do you know what today is?"

Still sleepy and grumpy, you managed to say a quick "no."

She gasped in shock, feeling offended before letting out a whine, like a small child pouting over a secret. "Huuuuh? Whaaat? No idea?"

Eyes still closed, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle, relishing in her cute behavior. You feigned ignorance, playing along with the game you started. "No idea at all, baby. I'm sorry."

She let out a "nooooo" drawn out long and whiney, like a toddler having a tantrum. It was almost comical how childlike she sounded. You couldn't help but burst out laughing over the line, the sound loud and clear in Natasha's ears. It was adorable, the way she was acting like a child, whining and pouting.

"That doesn't sound like my captain," you chided, "and that is definitely not how you sounded last night."

Natasha's whining quickly changed, now with a smirk behind it even you cannot see her face to face, you know that it is what's plastered in her face. "Well, as far as I can recall, it was not me who was whining and crying last night."

Now there she is.

"Oh yeah?" You couldn't help but challenge her, a hint of cockiness in your voice as you shifted in your cold bed, missing your girlfriend's warmth.

"Sorry for leaving you this morning," she sighs, "Work called me early." You didn't miss the groan that she let out after.

"You should've woken me up, Nat. I would've gone with you." You say hazily, still sleepy but you managed to get yourself out of the bed, leaving your phone on top of the duvet covers.

"I don't wanna wake you up, princess. And besides you have a shift in your station today, so rest. But I'll see you later," she smiles and you can feel it, "if you remember what today is." She adds.

"Maybe I need some reminding, captain." You let out a long hum and Natasha's keen instincts picked up on that.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

"Just tryin' to remember…"

"Baby," her voice was undeniably soft and careful in the line, but there was a hint of something darker and more authoritative beneath the surface of that pet name. The tone was subtle, but you knew that it was a warning.

"Yes..? Captain?"

"Baby…" now her tone became dangerously low. "Open your cam." She demanded.

You wanted to laugh as you stood in front of your shared cabinet to get yourself something to wear, but you didn't so she wouldn't suspect a thing. You remained silent and your girlfriend seemed to be really impatient.

"Y/N? I swear to God."

Still, no answers from your end. Then, you let out a moan and a gasp after, then your breath hitched as another fake moan escaped your lips. The sound of your ragged breath filled the line, and you could sense your girlfriend's tension through the phone. She was silent on her line, her jaw clenched, and you could tell she was listening intently. You fought the urge to laugh.

"You know I can tell if you're faking your moans, right?" She could tell you were just playing with her, but she couldn't help but respond to the provocative sounds you were making.

The laughs you have been keeping now escaped your lips, and it echoed through the line, filling your shared room and her ears with the sound. You couldn't help but find it amusing, of course she would immediately know if you're faking your moans having to have nightly routines ending up with you either whining because it's not enough or crying because it's too much. Sometimes, it's both and God, you love those nights.

You took your phone in your hand and quickly opened the camera, flipping the camera to the front-facing mode. You held the phone up in front of your face, grinning shyly into it.

"Hi," you say softly, gently biting down on your bottom lip as you look directly into the camera.

Her voice came through the line, "Hey, printsessa," and her tone was tinged with so much affection.

"I miss you already, baby. So much." You pout slightly as you start to go back and gather the clothes you chose to wear for the day.

"I miss you too."

"I'll visit your work today."

Before your girlfriend could even reply, her co-workers appeared, their voices loud and boisterous through the phone.

"Hey, cap! We bought you some breakfast!" The youngest, Peter announced, holding a tray of coffee and donuts.

You noticed that your girlfriend's attention is already divided, not that you don't like it, but today, you feel like edging, playing…and not sharing her. She was not looking at you, she was smiling at your co-workers as she reached for the food they brought her, and by her angle you could tell that her phone was clutched on her left hand.

"Baby, don't let your phone slip up, I'm naked."

You didn't miss the way your girlfriend mouthed a "fuck," immediately thanking her team and ordering them to get out. But before she could even check her phone to finally focus her attention on you, the call had already ended. She didn't know if it was her accidentally ending the call or it was you. So she checked your private chat to see you sending her a photo, scrunching your nose and teasing the skin just above your nipples.

Lieutenant (You): Hi baby, gonna shower now. I'll go to your station today. I just don't want to have to share your attention…

Captain (Natasha): Baby, I'm here☹️

You: Aww, I was about to let you join me in the shower but I see you're going to have different breakfast.

Natasha: You know you're my favorite breakfast, right?

You: Oh, yeah?

Natasha: Baby, don't be like that please…☹️

You: I'm sorry baby😂 I was just playing. I'll drop by later and bring you lunch, what do you wanna eat?

Natasha: You☹️

You: You cute silly pervert, bye now for real. I love you and I will see you later, xo.

Natasha: I love you moreeeee, my babiecakes!

You: I love you mooooost, my beautiful beautiful hot girlfriend❤️💞

Natasha: Nou, I love you more than most☹️

You: Do you love me more or do I love you more?

Natasha: You love me more…☹️

You: Good girl💞

[Lieutenant sent an attachment]

⧗

You pulled up to the fire station, parking your car near the entrance. As soon as Natasha's co-workers noticed your pick-up, they immediately made their way towards you, their faces lighting up with anticipation. They knew you had a reputation for bringing takeouts for the team, and he was eager to see what you had brought this time.

You gestured to the back of your car, shouting, "I bought you all some lunch!" The others swarmed over enthusiastically, heading straight for the food. Peter, on the other hand, made a beeline straight for the driver's seat.

"Hi LT! Thank you so much for the food!" You couldn't help but find him endearing, he was the youngest among the bunch and there's one time you jokingly told Natasha that you were thinking of adopting him after seeing him cry rescuing a cat stuck on a fence.

"You're welcome, kid. Where's cap?" you inquired as you gathered the food you'd bought for Natasha from the passenger seat.

"Office." He grins, already jumping his way to your trunk to see what you bought for them.

The team surrounded the trunk of your car. As you held a whole lot of stuff in your hands, you managed to wave your fingers back at them, all while holding your phone, wallet, and girlfriend's takeaway. The team shouted words of gratitude, waving back at you as they devoured the food you had so kindly ordered for them.

"You're spoiling them." She remarks, looking at you with amusement and mild chiding as soon as you enter her office as if she's been expecting you to be there which she actually is.

"They're my kids now, you like it or not."

"What's that for?" she pointed at the takeout you were carrying which was her favorite boneless sweet and sour chicken.

"Lunch?" you laughed, before putting your things down her desk. You leaned towards her and kissed her lips.

"I thought I am going to have you for lunch? I was spoiled on what would my lunch be with that photo you sent me." Natasha leaned back in her seat, a smirk playing across her lips as she watched you round her desk. It was a mirror shot of you with your exposed boobs, just for her eyes to see.

You moved swiftly, slapping her shoulder before she could react. You were behind her, your hands massaging the spot you'd just struck. Her posture relaxed slightly under your skilled fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips despite herself. She cocked an eyebrow, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

"Remind me never to piss off a woman who can rub the tension out of my shoulders in seconds."

Her breath caught as you leaned in close, your weight pressing softly against her back. Your arm remained across her front, effectively trapping her. She could feel your heartbeat against her spine, steady and strong despite the chair slat that boundaries you both.

"I missed you," you pout, then you pressed a kiss on her ears and her cheek.

"Me too," she then caressed your cheek, "I'm hungry," she now declared. And you immediately straightened up to prepare the lunch you bought for her. Before you could even take a step away, she slapped your ass sharply.

"What are you doing?" she snapped playfully.

"Okay, eat real food you pervert." You point your finger at her, walking backwards before she could even sneak up and grab you behind. But she stood and snatched your hand and pulled you to her lap.

You let out a shriek of surprise, your hands instinctively gripping the arms of her chair for support. She smirked, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place. You wiggled on her lap, making her tighten her arms around you. Suddenly, you brought your hand up and smacked her chest playfully.

"Jerk," you muttered, trying not to laugh. Her eyes widened, then she caught your wrist, bringing your hand back down slowly. Then, she leaned in, resting her jaw on your shoulder. Her arms remained wrapped protectively around you, holding you close. You could feel her breath against your neck, warm and gentle. For a moment, she just sat there, enjoying the simple comfort of having you in her lap.

"Do you want kids?" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. She rested her chin on your shoulder, awaiting your response. Her arms tightened slightly around you, almost as if she was bracing herself for your answer. "Real kids, okay? Normal ones. Not those big assed kids outside." She gestured vaguely towards the door with a roll of her eyes, eliciting a soft chuckle from you both.

Your body relaxed against hers, your arm clung behind her neck, "Yeah, I want kids," you answered. "Like two or three. Not too many, though. I don't want my house to be chaotic." You wiggled slightly on her lap, making her smirk again. "What about you?"

"Of course I want a…" she trailed off puckering her lower lip, thinking, "At least four mini you running around the house, so I have someone to be chaotic with," she laughed softly, then added teasingly, "God help me if they have your mouth too."

You gasped genuinely offended, your hand flying to your chest. "I am not that loud!" you protest. "I hate you." You tried to unclasped her tight hands that were gripping each other, locking you in her embrace but she just laughed heartily.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry!" she apologized between laughs.

"I will not give you my babies." You threatened. "And four?! Are you kidding me?!" Oh, how many kids your girlfriend wanted you will give it to her even if she wanted an entire football team.

Natasha choked on her laughter, her eyes widening in mock horror at your threat. "Whoa, whoa, no need to withhold my future children just because I teased you a little." You just rolled your eyes on her, turning your face away. She leaned in, nuzzling your neck gently. "Come on, you know I'm just messing with you," she cooed softly. "Besides, who else is going to give me those adorable mini-me's if not you?" She kissed your cheek again, trying to soften your resolve.

You sighed dramatically, your stern expression crumbling. "Fine, fine! I'll give you your stupid cute mini-me's," you muttered, trying not to smile. Inside, you were secretly delighted that she wanted your children so badly as much as you wanted hers.

"Did you see the dress I bought for you?"

"Nope," you say, reaching towards the take out that was on the other side of her desk. "Where?"

Natasha's eyes lit up mischievously as she saw your confusion while you unwrap the food. "In the closet, hanging all pretty."

You were so focused on unwrapping the food that you didn't notice her watching you so intently. Already imagining her life with you, not that she doesn't have it with you right now because you basically live together. But the future that lies for the both of you.

You gave her a gentle nudge with your elbow when you noticed her lost in thoughts, "When I go back later, I'll look for it," you say, your voice casual and teasing. Then, you picked up a piece of chicken from the takeout container, "Here you go," you said softly, bringing the chicken to her lips. Natasha opened her mouth obediently, her eyes never leaving yours as she took a bite.

You both eat together, you sitting comfortably on her lap while she gets fed you. A win is a win.

"I am excited to see you in it." Natasha reached out, puckering her lips invitingly towards you as she repeated herself playful yet sultrily.

You leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to her puckered lips before pulling back with a smirk. "Hm, maybe you're just excited to rip it out of me."

"I really want to watch you eat because I know you won't be touching this once I stepped out of that door," you said softly, clean hands cupping her cheek, thumb gently caressing her skin. "But I need to get to my station in thirty, baby."

"You can't even watch me eat," she retorted suggestively, making you laugh and roll your eyes. You finally decided you'd had enough of her teasing and lifted yourself off her lap.

"Baby! Where are you going?" She laughed loudly.

You licked your fingers clean as you stared directly at Natasha, sitting there watching you intently. She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking between your eyes and your fingers. You then grabbed a wet wipe, cleaning your hands thoroughly. She just watched you prepare and fix yourself.

"Do you now remember what today is?"

You strut towards her, a playful smirk on your face. She leaned in as you did, you captured her lips in a quick, teasing kiss. "About that, I need some reminding, yeah?" you say, pulling back and grabbing your things sprawled on her desk, clearly ready to leave.

"Well, I'll remind you tonight then."

"Aye, captain."

"With that dress on."

"Got it cap."

"I love you, Y/N." She said softly before you could grip her doorknob.

"I love you more, baby."

"No, I love you more." She shook her head, grinning as she repeated it back to you.

It is a competition that has become a running joke between you two—well, it's actually not a running joke because you both meant every word. Every time you said it, she'd say it louder and more dramatically.

"I love you most." You say confidently. You put a kissy face on her before you shut the door behind, knowing you won again.

⧗

The call came through on your radio, the crisp voice of the dispatch officer crackling through the speaker. "Fire Department, this is Central dispatch. We have a report of a large fire 18 kilometers north of your station. First responders have arrived on scene, but the situation is escalating rapidly."

You immediately switched to the team channel on your radio. "All units, we have a call for a large fire 18 klicks north. Gear up." You paused, gathering your thoughts, you still have a date tonight.

Sirens blaring, lights flashing, your engine roared to life as you sped towards the 18 kilometer mark. It was late afternoon, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow amidst the billowing smoke. Shadows lengthened as you approached the fiery scene, the daylight fading prematurely due to the thick plume choking the sky.

As your company rounded the final bend, the first thing to catch your eye was the familiar logo of your girlfriend's station emblazoned on the side of one of the fire engines. Your gut clenched as you realized she was likely already inside the burning structure, doing what she did best—bringing people out alive.

You jumped down from your truck, gear in hand, and made a beeline for the command post set up by the first responders. You spotted Peter on the other station, his face grimy with soot and sweat. He nodded at you as you approached, recognizing the elite team's arrival.

"Lieutenant." He's definitely not a kid on missions.

"Captain inside?" You asked, your voice steady but urgent and the kid nodded.

"Yes, she's leading the team through the east wing. We've got multiple civilians trapped on the upper floors." He layed out.

Not that you're not used to this kind of situation. You were used to seeing danger, used to making split-second decisions that often meant life or death because that is the nature of your work—fire. But you just couldn't help but be worried about your girlfriend.

Suddenly, the main entrance burst open, and firefighters emerged, hunched over civilian forms they carried carefully in their arms. The scene repeated multiple times—firefighters appearing, offloading their human burdens onto paramedics, then disappearing back into the hellish building. Dead bodies were retrieved but most are alive.

"Gonna get inside." Before you could even put your mask on Peter called out to you.

"It's cap."

When you took the walkie, laughter, unexpected and sweet, filled the line, cutting through the heavy feeling in your chest.

"Hey, lieutenant." Her voice, though strained, teased you. You could almost feel her smile on the line.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head despite knowing she couldn't see you. "Gonna get in and get you out, cap."

"No. I'll be out soon. I can handle myself. That's an order, lieutenant."

"Well, I hope you get out soon. If I remember you still need to remind me what today is." Her laughter echoed through the walkie, a sound that was both reassuring and irritating in its stubbornness.

"You think I'd miss our anniversary for anything less than burning buildings?" She asked, her voice muffled as she coughed. "I'll be out soon."

"Make sure of that or I'll have our table set up right outside this building."

The walkie crackled with static before her voice came through, low and serious. "Y/N?" She paused, then blurted out, "Do you still want to have kids with me?"

Your response was immediate and certain. "More than anything," you said softly. "You said you want mini me's but I just know they'd be brave like you, like their mama. I want to have your kids, Nat."

She needed to hear that.

"I saw the dress," you rushed out when you didn't hear her answer from the other line. "You better see me in it."

"I better see you without it." Now there she is. You let out a giggle that you girlfriend heard on her end.

She needed to hear that laugh of yours.

"I love you, Y/N." She says in the line, it was static but it was all clear to you.

"You tell me that in person." You said, you held the words so you could say it to her in person but it was so hard to not say it back, "I love you more."

"No, I love you more." Her voice came through, softer this time, almost vulnerable.

You didn't challenge her. You didn't push, didn't fight, didn't argue back that you loved her more. You let her win this time—you let her love you more.

⧗

Her voice was soft and husky over the phone, never failing to send shivers down your spine. "Do you know what today is?" she asked slowly. "Of course not, because it's my secret but you'll know later, babe. Don't worry."

"Silly," you muttered, wishing she heard you so she'd laugh that infectious laugh. But she didn't.

Then, you heard the knock on your door. You quickly grabbed your phone together with your purse and walked to the door to see your girlfriend's sister, Yelena.

"Wow," she said, a smirk on her lips.

"You think she'll like it?" you couldn't help but ask.

Yelena laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, she definitely will," she said, shaking her head. "She probably already has a hundred little jokes and innuendos running through her mind, only for your ears. And when she bought that dress, she is already drooling just imagining you wear it." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Let's go?"

The drive was quick and silent and one thing you know is you are already standing up in eyes of so many people on you. You were wearing the dress Natasha had told you she bought for you out clung to your curves perfectly, the plunging neckline accentuated by the delicate silver necklace she'd given you. The stilettos, also her choice, clicked loudly against the wooden floorboards with each step you took.

"Lieutenant."

"Sir." You recognized the chief of the fire department in your state.

"You're the only one we're waiting for." You just offered a curt nod. You can still feel so many eyes boring on you.

Well, how could they not? You're the only one wearing red in the sea of black.

You walked down the aisle, heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. As you reached the casket, your face immediately fell upon her peaceful face, her hair was braided like she'd always loved. Memories flooded back—her laughter, her smile, her voice.

"Well, I guess I love you more because you weren't able to say it to me in person." Your breath caught in your throat, the irony not lost on you that her silence had left those precious words unspoken forever.

You cannot look at her, not like this. Not when you know you'll never see those beautiful pair of green anymore. Not when you will always feel cold at night without her having to ground and hold you. Not when you'll settle listening to her voice through the voice records you had retrieved during your phone calls with her.

With trembling hands, you finally reached out and closed the casket lid. The soft thud echoed through the silent room, each click of the latch sealing her away seemly louder than the last. A single tear finally spilled over, carving a path down your cheek. Natasha's co-workers step forward, one of them was Peter, bearing the national flag. With reverence, they carefully placed it atop the casket, the red, white and blue stars threaded the thick fabric.

Precisely at the moment the flag was properly rested, your arm moved in a fluid, practiced motion. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you stood there, arm extended in a steady salute. You didn't waver, didn't move. Your eyes remained locked onto the flag-draped casket, seeing not just a symbol of her service, but the woman you loved.

Today, your fire has gone forever. It was a pain that seared through your very soul, etching and knowing that this very day—you lost the love of your life.

You will always remember what today is.

[laundroodls]

No, because I NEED fics where Babs somehow kills Joker or where she is at least responsible for him dying. Like, imagine after some crazy explosion (set off by the Joker himself or smth idk) and the Joker didn't get away fast enough. Picture this :

Joker is battered brutally, laying in a puddle of blood in some alley. My man is holding on for dear LIFE, and then Babs just rolls in the alley because she heard a noise. The Joker and Babs hold eye contact. Then -

Joker: "Please.. save me..."

Babs: "Lol. No."

Joker: "Won't it weigh on your -"

Babs: "No. I believed you should've been dead a long time ago, even before Red Hood showed up. Do everyone here in Gotham a favor and die."

Babs, shrugging: "It'll be the most useful thing you've actually done."

Babs, rolling away as if she never came out in the first place:

Joker, dying:

Joker: *dies*

-----

Don't even get me STARTED on how Bruce would be running himself crazy trying to figure out who the hell killed Joker (or let him die) while Babs is just - there. Observing. Every time he gets close, Babs forges another piece of "evidence" that leads him far away from thinking it's her - because let's be real. This man resurrected Joker. She does not want or need to deal with him when he finds out it was her.

The rest of the Batfam?

Dick was appalled at first, before he was slowly manipulated and gaslit into thinking it was the best choice (cough TIMOTHY DRAKE cough JASON TODD cough BARBARA GORDON cough). He even provides distractions for Bruce whenever Babs can't forge evidence in time.

Jason literally threw a party the minute he heard. He invited everyone on the block to his apartment to celebrate Joker dying. And Babs? C'mon. He's her biggest cheerleader and fan now!

Tim would be right there with Babs to forge evidence as well. He even has backup plans just in case Bruce starts to suspect them.

Damian would just scowl, "Tt", but he would also distract Bruce if Babs or Tim couldn't put out the fake evidence quick enough. Damian and Dick practically tag team it.

Duke is new to the whole family, but Joker was responsible for how his parents ended up! Could you really blame him?! He's also on the distraction team, but he also plants the fake evidence if Cass or Steph can't do it.

Speaking of Cass and Steph, they're in charge of planting the fake evidence. Cass usually hides the big ones due to her stealth, and Steph hides the small ones.

Oh, Alfred? He immediately chose Babs' side (shh let me be delulu). Joker had killed Jason after all. He supposes Joker had it coming, and he's been stalling Bruce of investigating the case as well.

Basically, the entirety of Batfam (besides Bruce) defending and helping Babs to hide how she just lets Joker die.

I know my writing is shyt, but I genuinely need a fic of this scenario. Did I read the fics where Dick/Bruce/Tim kill Joker? Yes. Did I eat them up every single time? Yes. But do I want to see my girl Babs (or Cass) killing Joker? YES. I NEED IT IN MY LIFE. WRITERS. PLEASE. I BEG OF THEE. WRITE THIS. I KNOW Y'ALL CAN DO BETTER THAN I EVER COULD. SO PLEASE. I'LL TAKE ANYTHING PLEASE. PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE -

There are so many Dick, Bruce, or Tim kills the Joker fics on AO3, meanwhile Barbara was the one talking about how The Joker should be the exception to the No Kill Rule years before Red Hood Jason even existed.

[sincerelyneo]

hi there! can i request softdom possessive jeno? :)

you absolutely can (my fave genre of literature 😀)

steal my girl | l.jn

“find another one because she belongs to me”

💿now playing: steal my girl by one direction

❯ summary: Jeno’s always been protective, always a little territorial when it comes to you, but tonight—tonight feels different. He doesn't like the way that guy is ogling you right in front of him. No, he doesn't like it one bit.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 2.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, jealousy, possessiveness unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, slight roughness, exhibitionism, arguing, manhandling, just jeno being an unapologetic caveman for 2k words because i can.

How unethical would it be to keep his ridiculously hot girlfriend locked away from the rest of the world? That’s the question running through Jeno’s mind as you weave through your sister’s engagement party.

He’s kidding—well, sort of. He’s a feminist, after all.

He just doesn’t like the way men—way too many men—watch you as you move through the room, their eyes dragging over you like they have a right to. Old high school friends letting their handshakes linger a little too long, their smiles a little too familiar.

Yeah, he doesn’t like it one bit. Finds it downright disrespectful, actually—how so many of them pretend he’s not even there. Like he’s not the one you walked in with, not the one with his hand currently resting on your waist, not the one wearing a matching blue tie to your blue dress for God’s sake. 

They need to back the fuck off.

Especially this Felix guy. The one claiming to be your childhood best friend. Jeno finds that real fucking funny because he’s never heard Felix’s name come out of your mouth in all the time he’s known you.

Jeno stands beside you, trying to keep his cool. This is your sister’s party, your family, your friends—he can’t be the jealous asshole here. He has to play nice. But it’s hard, so damn hard, with Felix flirting with you right in front of him. Felix’s hand brushes against yours as he laughs at your jokes, leans in just a little too close when you catch up, when you tell him about your life now.

Jeno likes that you mention him when you talk about your "now," but when you refer to Felix, it’s always the "then." But still, every time you laugh or smile at Felix, Jeno feels a stab in his chest one that makes his jaw instinctively tighten. He doesn’t want to make a scene—not yet.

But when you give Felix one of those long hugs—one Jeno definitely doesn’t fucking like—and peck Jeno on the cheek before heading toward your parents, Jeno doesn’t miss how Felix watches you walk away. The way his eyes trace the curve of your back as you turn, how his gaze drops low enough to linger on your ass, how he bites his lip like he’s savouring every inch of you. Like you’re his to take, his to admire. It’s blatant. It’s invasive. It’s the kind of look that makes Jeno’s blood boil.

Deep, deep breaths—actually, fuck playing nice.

"Watch it," Jeno grumbles, his voice low and hoarse, forcing Felix to peel his eyes off your figure and lock onto him.

Jeno knows he’s intimidating when he’s happy, blame his build, but when he’s pissed? It's on a different level. Felix turns to face him, and Jeno catches the slight hitch in his breath, the way he swallows noticeably. That’s when Jeno knows—he’s at peak intimidation mode. Because Jeno isn’t happy right now—he’s fucking angry.

Felix kicks the ground beneath his feet, hands slipping into his pockets, a smug look creeping onto his face. “I see, Y/N’s found herself another jealous asshole to latch onto.”

Jeno scoffs, a bitter laugh slipping past his lips. “Jealous? No,” he says, coldly. “Jealous means you have something I want. You do not. Possessive asshole? Definitely.”

Felix tilts his head, a smug little shrug playing on his shoulders. “Jealous, possessive—it’s all the same, really. Doesn’t matter in the end. You’re just passing through her life. You’ll break up, and I,” he pauses, his smirk widening, “I’ll always be here for her. Ready for her.”

“Waiting around like a pest?” Jeno asks, but he doesn’t really care for Felix’s answer.

He blinks, caught off guard. “Well, no—”

Jeno doesn’t give him the chance to finish. He’s done with the playing nice act. He’s wasted too much time pretending to be polite. He’s not polite, not when it comes to his girl. Grabbing Felix by the neck, he pulls him close, his voice dropping to a low growl that’s every ounce deep and possessive. 

“You will always be waiting around for my girl,” Jeno sneers, his eyes narrowing. “A big fucking fantasy, while I get to have her, get to savour every little bit of her. All those sweet little noises she makes for me, and only me. Got it?”

Jeno releases his grip on Felix’s neck, and maybe it’s because his hold was too strong, or maybe it’s the red clouding his vision that maked him forget the weight of himself, but Felix stumbles back, losing his balance. A light clatter of glasses and china follows a mess of noise that ripples through the room.

And just like that, every eye in the room snaps to them.

Including yours, and Jeno knows he’s in deep shit. He’s so wrapped up in you, so attuned to every shift in your expression, that he reads it all in an instant. Your eyes are dark, but not in the way he loves—no hunger, no affection. Instead, there’s nothing but anger and frustration. Angry at him for losing his cool. Frustrated at him for not playing nice like he should’ve. 

When you storm over, hand wrapping tightly around his wrist to drag him out of the crowded hall and into the dimly lit hallway, Jeno doesn’t protest. He lets you lead him, knowing full well he’s about to get an earful.

“What the fuck was that, Jeno?” You say, voice hushed but still angry.

“He said something I didn’t like,” Jeno explains flatly. 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, the anger bubbling up as you step closer. “You can’t—You can’t just throw your weight around because people get under your skin. I asked you to play nice here, and you—” You shake your head, frustrated. “You didn’t.”

Jeno shrugs. “I won’t apologise,” he mutters. “Because I’m not sorry, and I’m not gonna lie to you.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable. What was the big deal anyway? Felix is basically harmless.”

Something shifts in Jeno’s eyes—something dark and angry. He thought he couldn’t hate anything more than watching men ogle you, but what gets under his skin even more is hearing you defend Felix. It grates on him, that you're jumping to his defence when all he did was stand there and objectify you. 

“Harmless?” Jeno steps closer, forcing you to take a step back. His presence presses in until your spine is flat against the wall. “That bastard was telling me how he wants to have you once I’m done with you…how harmless does that sound, huh?”

“Wha–?”

His voice drops into a growl, practically snarling now, and you feel the heat of his anger. He’s angry at Felix, angry at this whole damn party, angry at you. 

“That’s ridiculous—”

Jeno cuts you off, his face pressing into your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so distracting, it completely halts your train of thought. “Oh, I know… because I’ll never be done with you, Y/N.”

You shudder as his lips press soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone. “So what?” You ask breathily, “You think you can just go around pushing my friends, pissing like a dog to mark your territory?”

He chuckles, lips pressing against your skin in a smile, sending goosebumps scattering across your flesh. He likes that—likes knowing that the simplest thing he does makes you react so blatantly for him. 

“Yes,” he responds flatly. “I’ll always mark my territory when it comes to you, baby. Get it through your head—and everyone else’s—that you. Are. Mine.”

Your breath catches as his words settle. You know you shouldn’t like this, like it when he’s so dominating, so controlling. But you’d be lying if you said his touch, the firm grip on your hip that pins you to the wall, doesn’t make your pulse race. The possessiveness in his voice, the way his lips press against your skin like he can’t get close enough—it’s all too much, it’s all too good. 

"I’m not an object, Jeno," you murmur, still caught between the frustration and a part of you that knows, deep down, you're not entirely opposed to this side of him either.

He shakes his head, another quiet chuckle escaping him as his hand slides along your sides, his touch searing through the fabric of your dress. 

“Never said you were,” he replies lowly. “I said you are mine. The same way I am yours.” He leans in closer, his breath now hot against your ear. “We belong together. Extensions of each other.”

As he speaks, Jeno’s fingers trail along your exposed arms, making you flush as he traces the contours of your skin. His touch is light, almost delicate, but it burns, like a branding iron, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You can’t help but tremble, your body reacting the way it always does to his greedy touch. It’s like he knows every inch of you, like he has a secret map to your body—a handbook on how to make you tick. Or maybe you react this way simply just because it’s him.

"You seem to have forgotten, baby," he says, his touch now trailing along the inside of your forearm, fingertips circling your wrist to trace the pulse he can feel racing beneath your skin. "Do I have to remind you how much we belong to each other?" he murmurs. "Because I will. I have no problem showing you, again and again, just how much you belong to me—how deeply you're embedded in my mind."

You feel a flutter in your chest as his finger continues its lazy path, now tracing the curves of your shoulder, the slope of your neck. It's like he's re-mapping your body, re-claiming you as his own. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement, a rush of pleasure at the way he's touching you. But you’re in a hallway. In public. At your sister’s engagement party. 

"Jeno, we can’t—my family, Felix—is in there—"

"Not what I asked," he snarls, voice clearly irritated. "And considering you still have him in your head, I think I ought to remind you..."

Without warning, he spins you around, pressing your front against the wall as his hands hike up your dress. He doesn’t care that you're out in the open—he's not thinking about the consequences. You said it best: he's like a dog marking his territory, and right now, he has to claim you, right here.

A rush of excitement floods you, mingling with a twinge of embarrassment. Excited because it’s him—because this is him taking control, showing you that you’re his. Embarrassed because, despite everything, you like it. You like it when he’s like this. When he makes you feel like you belong to him, in every way.

You hear the rustling of his suit pants, the unmistakable sound of his belt clinking as it unbuckles. Then, a warm, firm hand soothes over the plush flesh of your ass, soft and delicate, a reminder that even though this is about to be a feverish, heat-of-the-moment fucking, he still cherishes every inch of you. Every part of you is his to worship.

He yanks your panties down, not bothering to be gentle, just needing them out of his way. A moan builds in your throat as his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you closer to his hard, muscular frame. Your body arches into his touch, craving, no—silently begging for more. Until it’s not silent.

“Please, Jeno—please—”

In any other circumstance, hearing you need him so hopelessly, begging for him, would get him off. But not now, with only a wall separating you from that guy. He promised these little sounds—your pathetic pleas—were his to hear, only his. He has no plans on sharing them.

“Want me, huh?” he asks, as you look over your shoulder at him. You’re biting down on your lip, chewing it desperately as you nod. Fuck, he loves that view. “You’ve gotta be quiet for me then, baby. This is just for us, me and you, okay?”

You nod eagerly, but truthfully, you’d probably agree to anything he asked of you right now. You just need this, need him—need to be his.

Jeno teases the tip of his cock between your folds, brushing against your clit a few times, which makes you bite down on your lip to hide a moan. The stakes are high, with the party next door, but he needs you ready for him, wet and aching for it. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s possessive, but not an asshole—well, maybe he’s a little bit of both.

With one rough thrust, Jeno plunges into you, cock sinking deep inside your pussy, filling you completely. He fits perfectly, making you gasp at the stretch because he’s so big, so thick. You nearly break his rule right away, but your hand moves to cover your mouth, stifling the sound. You just want to be good—so good for him.

You feel a sting at first, which is quickly rectified by a rush of pleasure when he starts to move. The sound of the party next door, the music and laughter, fades into the background as you focus on the sensation of Jeno's cock hammering into you.

He sets a brutal pace, hips pistoning in and out of you as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. It’s consuming, it’s claiming, it makes your body tremble with satisfaction, your nipples hardening as you press your face against the wall, trying to muffle your cries.

It feels so good, that you start to lose control, your moans growing louder despite your best efforts to suppress them. Jeno's hand leaves your hips to cover your mouth, fingers gripping your jaw as he muffles your moans. "Shh, baby," he whispers, his voice hot against your ear. "We don't want to give anyone a show."

You nod, body still trembling as Jeno continues to fuck you. The stakes are high, but you don't care. You're too caught up in the feeling of his cock inside you, too lost in him. 

“Such a pretty fucking girl,” he groans, “My good fucking girl. All mine.”

Jeno’s always been protective, always a little territorial when it comes to you, but tonight—tonight feels different. There’s something more dangerous, more desperate in the way he’s holding you, in the way he’s pressing you against the wall like he’s afraid to let go.

And maybe that’s what gets to you most. Because underneath all the jealousy and possessiveness, you can feel it—the fear, the insecurity.

“You don’t have to remind me,” you murmur, your fingers reaching up to brush against his jaw. “I know, Jeno.”

His eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to find reassurance in them, as if he needs to hear it over and over again. And so you say it, just for him.

“I’m yours,” you whisper, “Always.”

His eyes roll back, the breathy, needy way you say it is like music to his ears. “God...you're so good for me.”

The roughness of his pace, mixed with his praise, makes it impossible for you to hold back any longer. Your breath hitches, your focus on him shifts back to the wall, and then a needy, high moan escapes against his hand. Hiding it isn’t enough now; he hears just how good he’s making you feel. But still, he doesn’t want anyone else to hear it either. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting it so you can meet his gaze over your shoulder.

And when you look up, something shifts in his eyes—something beyond lust. You see a man willing to do anything to keep you by his side. You realise Jeno's possessiveness isn’t about control or claiming territory—it’s love. A deep, primal need to make you his, to protect you, and to keep you safe within his arms.

And when he claims your lips in a desperate, suffocating kiss (one that swallows your sweet, little sounds) it’s the confession you need. You belong to each other—so blatantly, so undeniably.

His tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch of you as his own, and you let him. You let yourself be lost in the feeling, edging closer to orgasm as Jeno's hands tighten around your waist, holding you in place while he drives into you one last time, lips still connected. A rush of pleasure overwhelms you, your body arching into his touch as you cum, pussy pulsing around his cock as your mouth parts against his, eyes fluttering shut.

Jeno’s body tenses too, his cock twitching inside you as his orgasm hits. It’s intimate, warm, reckless—and you fucking love it.

As you catch your breath, a flush of pink spreads across Jeno’s cheeks when he pulls out, thick spurts of cum dripping from you, pooling in your panties. You never go raw. Ever. And he’s just staring at the mess he’s made, looking at it like a fucking dog marking his territory. Then, when reality sets in, he runs a soothing hand up and down your arm.

“Fuck, baby, I’ll stop at the store on the way home. Got a little carried away.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “No apology?”

“I’m sorry for not asking you,” he admits, “But I’m not sorry for doing it. I fucking loved being this close to you.” His fingers trace the curve of your jaw. "Biggest way to show you're mine," he whispers, "Always, mine.”

[wonderlustwrites]

stale

terry richmond x black!reader summary ; in which terry, despite never being one for birthdays, realizes maybe a push was all he needed? word count ; 4.9k warnings ; none - mostly fluff, some vulgar language used, a SMIDGE (barely...) suggestive towards the end...enjoy! ｢ author's note: just want to thank the wonderful and ever amazing @megamindsecretlair for coming up with the fun #TerrysBirthdayBash tag + event and allowing us all to celebrate our favorite man's birthday together ! happpyy birthday pooks ♡ ｣

He doesn’t even know how he got here or how in the hell he let these niggas talk him into this, and yet…

It’s barely midnight, and he feels he’s seen enough. He needs air or something. Everything feels so stuffy and too hot, plus the smell of weed is giving him a headache, and he just needs a breather.

He heads upstairs to an empty room and finds a balcony. Taking a seat outside and enjoying the crisp night air. He takes a sip of the same cup of beer he’s been practically holding hostage since he came to the party and almost gags. It’s warm and tastes like piss. He scrunches his face, forces the sip down, and sets his cup to the side as he slinks down in the chair. 

He closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a breather, and tries to enjoy the quiet moment, not knowing how long he has before he’s found and forced back down to the party.

You came with some friends, mostly because they needed a designated driver, and you weren’t much of a drinker. Plus, you just so happened to have a car, so you supposed it worked out. 

Outside of them, you hadn’t known nor recognized anyone. Though you tell yourself it’s okay to have some fun, as you’ve been putting in a lot of work this semester. And for a while, you do, putting on a smile and surprisingly enjoying yourself, but after about an hour and a half, plus your girls find their little "fun time" friends…heading off lord knows where, so you figure you’ll busy yourself until they’re ready to go. 

After walking around for a while, you come across a room that thankfully isn’t occupied (you had a couple of awkward run-ins). Heading in, you close the door quietly behind you, the balcony immediately catching your eye, so you make your way out, stretching your limbs as you yawn.

"Long night, huh?" 

The deep voice causes you to jump as you make a noise you don't even recognize. Since you weren't expecting anyone else out here, you turn to find the voice. And you almost immediately recognize him as you catch your breath.

You put your hand on your heart, steadying yourself and calming your breathing while you laugh awkwardly.

"Fuck! You scared me, sorry…I didn’t know anyone else was out here. If I’m bothering, I can go. I didn’t mean to intrude." He readily puts a hand up, shaking his head softly. 

"No, no, you’re good…I needed a moment away from the party, too, so I get it."

You smile softly nodding as you find a place near the railing. In moments like this, you hate your need to fill the awkward silence with noise so it feels less awkward…not that it ever works.

"Yeah, it’s pretty stuffy down there….and a lil rank, won’t lie." Your words cause a laugh to come from him, which brings a smile to your own face; maybe today is the day your big mouth will work in your favor. 

You turn, leaning your back and arms against the railing, looking at him.

"What?" the genuine confusion and slight concern on his face make you giggle, and you shake your head, calming him to some degree.

"Nothing, nothing, it’s just…" You stop yourself, honestly not sure what you want to say, but force words out nonetheless.

"It’s just nice to hear you speak, I guess? I don’t know if you know, but we share an art class, Professor Tanusia?" It's almost like a lightbulb goes off as he nods and smiles at your words.

Part of Terry is surprised by the conversation, and though he initially came to the balcony to be alone, he happily welcomes the new distraction. Normally, he would find any number of reasons as to why he needs to be excused from a situation like this, but for some reason, he finds himself wanting to stay.

He apologizes for not being a big talker and also explains how he didn’t even want to come tonight but was essentially forced to by some friends. 

"Oh trust me, I know the feeling all too well…I’m pretty much playing sober companion tonight so yeaaah. Also, I think I've met a few of your friends. Seems like they’ve taken quite a liking to my girls."

You both laugh at the insinuation and take that as a way to slowly get to know one another. Your small conversation isn't much to write home about, but even through the small awkward silences and rushed stumbling over each other, it still manages to be nice and surprisingly comfortable despite the current situation. 

Through one of those lovely bouts of awkward silence, his phone ringing forces him to look away from the side of your face as he apologizes and takes his call.

"Heeyy Nana…yeah, of course, for you? Always…" You turn, facing the railing, attempting to give him a little privacy at the very least, though you can’t help but smile at his words. Because, of course, he’s as handsome as he is, as sweet as he is, AND he loves his nana….sigh, it might just be a setup you fear.

You try not to be TOO nosy, but you catch a few words between their conversation. The biggest thing you catch is her singing the beginnings of Happy Birthday to him. When she finishes, he chuckles timidly, a sound you’re coming to quite enjoy, and he thanks her warmly. 

As he finishes his call, he apologizes again, and you shake your head, telling him not to worry.

"Nah, you’re all good…and, uh, happy birthday, by the way…." you say with a small laugh; however, his embarrassed sigh and tense shoulders are enough to make you feel bad about even the possibility of making him feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry! I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. Also, I won’t tell anyone….I mean...unless they already know, hence why they forced you to come tonight?" He shakes his head and smiles at you sadly.

"No, you’re good, I promise. Thank you, by the way. But uh, yeah, nah, they don’t know; I’m not too big on birthdays, just another day for me…I guess." He shrugs as he looks back out into the view in front of you both, and though you nod understandingly, it still manages to make your heart feel heavy at his declaration. 

You’ve been through your fair share of shit, but no one should be alone on their birthday. And with that thought roaming around in your very overactive brain, you make a choice; you nod to yourself as you turn to face him, grinning.

"Terry…" you call out to him cautiously, trying to seem very casual about your evil (completely well and good-intentioned) little plan.

His face grows warm hearing you say his name, and he doesn’t know what comes over him when he opens his mouth to speak.

"Terrance…you can call me Terrance." You smile shyly and nod. 

"Okay, Terrance…" The way it sounds and feels coming out of your mouth makes the smile grow wider on your face. You’re almost embarrassed, and you try and force the feeling down as you finish speaking to him.

"…I am going to do something for you, and it will 1000% change your life, and all you gotta do is say yes to my next question…

So…do you trust me?" You ask him with an unreadable expression. He watches you closely with furrowed eyebrows and quirks one as he answers.

"Uh, y…es?" Causing you to laugh as you nod. 

"Good. Follow me." As you make your way downstairs, you hear his heavy footsteps following close behind. Grabbing your jacket from near the front door, you head outside, get into your car, and once Terry is in, you both head off.

"So, uh…something tells me you’re not gonna tell me where we’re going, hm?"

You laugh, throwing your head back slightly, and signal your turn light. Terry watches you closely, something about the way it sounds, how it comes out of your mouth, so genuine, so natural, almost laughing from your full belly makes him smile, wanting to hear more.

"You catch on quick…I like you, I think I’ll keep you around." You turn another corner, sparing him a quick glance, as you keep your eyes on the road, smiling softly.  

After about a few more minutes of driving, you pull up to a pharmacy. Once you park, you hop out of the car.

Terry eyes you suspiciously and is confused, but he follows behind you.

"Before you speak…Yes, I know, it’s weird. But it’s also past 2am, and we don’t have a lot of options, so the next best thing it is; now, follow me, young man!" You do a silly march to the sliding doors, walk inside, and head straight towards the snack section.

From behind you, he shakes his head lightly at your silliness and makes a small saluting gesture.

"Sir, yes, sir…." He mumbles as he jogs slightly to catch up with you.

Once he does, you’re standing with a hand on your hip, tapping a foot on the floor, biting the inside of your cheek, and he just stares at you, awaiting your next move.

You stare between him and the generic cupcakes with a furrowed brow as if studying them for a few moments and put a hand out toward them.

"Pick."

He looks at you, beyond confused, and scratches against his forehead as he speaks.

"What?"

You gesture towards the 5 different options in front of you both and tell him once again.

"Pick one…."

It takes him a minute or so, but once he puts two and two together he sighs, laughing quietly to himself. He shakes his head as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"You know you don’t have to do this, right? When I was telling you earlier, it wasn’t for some sort of pi—"

You hold a hand up, cutting him off as you turn to face him, staring him directly in the eyes.

"Terry- Terrance….it is your 21st birthday. You were already at a shitty house party you were forced to go to, and it is now…

You check your watch.

It's 2:37am, and though extremely sweet, the only person who’s called you is your nana. Not only that, but you said your birthday is "just another day" for you….And because of that, respectfully, I refuse for her call to be the highlight of your day and perhaps even the only thing you looked forward to."

You step closer to him, closing a barely noticeable gap, and bring a hand to his shoulder, grasping at him softly.

"So I need you to turn this off and pick a damn cupcake…please." You say through a laugh, poking at his forehead lightly and stepping back to give him space to make his choice.

He just stares at you for what feels like forever. Initially, you know he needs a moment to recover from you being all in his space like that, especially since you barely know one another, which is starting to make you nervous and feel like you possibly overstepped.

That is, until a corner of his mouth slowly falls upward, into that sweet, calm grin. It's almost like he's trying to suppress a larger smile, and it makes you smile yourself.

Terry thinks about how close you were only a few moments ago. To anyone looking from the outside, the exchange barely lasted more than a minute, but god, it felt like at least 20+ to him. It’s been a long time since he felt so nervous like this around a person, but you weirdly make him feel both on edge and oh-so comfortable at the same time.

He never does much for himself; everything he does is usually for other people. It's not that he minds it, but he honestly cannot remember the last time someone forced him to take time and make a choice just for him. It almost feels like too much responsibility, which is not a phrase in Terry’s vocabulary.

He shakes his head, pushing out a laugh as he recalls your words. "…turn this off, and pick a damn cupcake…" And pick a damn cupcake he did.

"Double chocolate…"

You smile, nodding as you pick it up and hand it to him.

"Great choice." You say as you take some cash out your back pocket, handing it over to him.

"Okay now go pay for that, and I’ll get some candles and stuff and meet you at the car."

He stands back, giving you a small salute, and heads towards the register. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you go get the remainder of the items, pay, and meet him back at the car.

The way he idly lazes against your car, like it's the most natural thing in the world, makes you laugh. How a person can seem like they just fit in a place they've never been before is beyond you...but you are starting to gather the key to "understanding" Terry is to simply just leave things be, things'll make sense, when they make sense.

"We ready?" His words pull you from your ever-running mind as you unlock the doors for you both.

You hold up the bag of goodies and nod as you look him in the eyes and just barely brush past him to get in the car.

"Mhmm, let us go." he clicks his tongue against his teeth, smiling as he climbs into the car.

You start it up and begin driving, turning on the radio and letting it play low. 

The ambiance in the car between you both is almost palpable. He holds the small 4-piece case of cupcakes in his hand on his lap as he squeezes his other hand between the seat and his thigh. His hands are sweaty, and he is embarrassingly overthinking every moment he shares with you.

Though he won’t readily admit it, he already knew who you were on the balcony, he’s seen you around campus, and he most definitely remembered you from your shared 10am art class. He’s never been much of a morning person, but seeing you with a smile every time you strolled in at 9:55 am on the dot, taking your seat, catching up with a few friends from the class, and always bringing along some kind of snack.

It made him wonder what your favorite was if you were more of a sweet or a savory kind of person like him? He hadn’t really ever spoken to you before, but he’s always wanted to. 

Shy isn’t necessarily the word someone would use to describe Terry; reserved is more accurate. But you make those things seem so unimportant. You make him want to get closer to you and learn more. So long as it means basking in whatever light you shine, then so be it.

He’s brought back to earth when he feels your hand on his leg. Thus causing a shiver to run along his spine as he looks at your hand, following up your arm and landing at those big and beautiful brown eyes.

"Hey, we’re here…" you say to him softly.

He’s almost too embarrassed to speak, barely mumbling out an apology as he nods. Trying his best not to think about the embarrassing spaced-out look he probably had on his face. Shaking your head, you squeeze his thigh once before letting go.

"All good, come on." You climb out of the car, feeling the cool air against your face. The Overlook has always been one of your favorite places. You give yourself a moment after heading to your trunk as you open it and set a few things up for you both. You look out at the skyline, hoping that Terry will enjoy the view as much as you do. Climbing in the newly set up trunk, you realize Terry still hasn't gotten out of the car yet.

"You coming?" Your words pull him out of his head as he nods and gets out of the car, climbing his long-limbed self into the trunk with you.

"I know it’s not the biggest thing in the world, but it’s either this or sit directly on the ground…look, it was pretty short notice." He laughs, getting comfortable enough, and shakes his head.

"Nah, this is good. Okay, so don’t leave me in suspense. What are we doing out here?" he asks as he takes in the view himself. You watch him closely. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking it all in, breathing in the earthy scent and almost relaxing wholly with you.

You smile brightly, putting a hand out so he can hand over the cupcake pack. He does and watches you as you put things together.

"Ahh, and there comes the fun part." You say, setting it on your lap, taking out the bag from the pharmacy, and setting up the small candle pack. As you try your best to spread the 10 little sticks evenly across the 4 cupcakes, he looks at you softly, taking in your composed nature and the determination in your eyes to ensure everything is perfect. This causes him to smile and chuckle to himself quietly. Someone he barely knows is sitting here trying to make something perfect….for him? What an unusual night. What an even more unusual and unexpected birthday.

“And don- wait…” You light the candles quickly and then smile to yourself, proud of your simple but hard work.

“Okay…now I'm done!” You smile up at him as you hold the case of cupcakes up carefully so as not to put out the candles.

He smiles back at you, shaking his head, probably at your excitement, but his smile is so sweet and soft that you can let it go at once. He leans down to blow out the candles—

“Terrance! Make a wish first nigga…” he looks at you like you have two heads before he rolls his eyes with laugh.

“Are you serious? There’s only 10 candles, and I’m turning 21…you want me to actually make a wish on this?”

Looking at him with a slight glare, you explain- "Well there were only 3's, 5's, 7's, 8's and one pack of 10 left…so either you were gonna be 73, 58 or 10…had to make a judgment call." you say with a shrug.

He laughs, nodding as he understands the cosmic predicament you found yourself in. 

"So I'm 10 years old today huh?" he asks with an amused smile, making you nod along to his question.

"Yes, you are turning 10 today, Terrance. Now close your eyes and make a wish…I'll even close my eyes and turn my head away if it makes you feel any better." Though you are joking, Terry is sure that if he asked, you would actually do it. He huffs out a laugh and settles down slightly as he closes his eyes for a few moments and makes his wish.

You use this time to take in his face simply; the only light between you is the candles and just a bit coming from the skyline at the Overlook. You have to physically force your hands to stay put. He almost seems like a painting. You can see his dark circles, probably from a long semester, perhaps from something more. You wish you could help; just lessen the load on his shoulders even if for a little while. You see a small scar on the edge of his left eyebrow, you wonder from what, hoping one day you can hear the story. 

He blows out the candles after another minute or so, and when he opens his eyes, you're both just staring at each other. The moment is nerve-wracking but also the most comfortable you have felt in a long time. It's almost a battle of wills to see who will break first, and you feel your stomach turning and your neck growing warm, so you take the initiative, clearing your throat and looking away, setting the case down between you both and taking the blown out candles off and setting them aside. You feel his eyes on you as you clean up a little and take a cupcake out of case, which he does as well.

You both bite into your cupcakes, and after a few moments of chewing, you look at him with a sad chewing smile.

"That is…stal—"

"Yeah…that's stale…"

Nodding along with him, you force the bite down. You look at one another in silence again before you both break out in laughter. 

"Well, here's to your 10th birthday, huh?" 

His laughs only continue, and it makes you feel proud. Hopefully, it's better than the day he would have had otherwise. 

"Best 10th birthday a guy would ask for…" he says as he looks at you softly. You smile, nodding, feeling warm inside and then you remember that you have something else for him. 

"Oh! That's not all…we still have one more surprise in store…" he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you look at him with a knowing look. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, causing you to laugh, and you pull the small gift from behind your back, placing it in his lap. 

He feels around it and opens his eyes. He immediately looks up at you with a large grin, you can't help but laugh slightly, knowing you may have just hit the mark. 

He takes the generic stick on bow off it and looks through the soft leather-bound sketchbook. 

"I know, I know…I'm amazing, you don't have to say it… and you are very welcome." Your sarcastic but playful tone causes him to hum in agreement, rolling his eyes. 

"…You got this from the pharmacy didn't you? That's why you sent me away to get the cupcakes..." his words cause you to stop dead in your tracks, looking at him with an unreadable expression, blinking slowly. 

"The magic…your 10th birthday….yeah, you're ruining it…" Your words cause him to laugh hard, throwing his head back. Once he catches his breath, he looks at you with an apologetic smile as he nods. You aren't even a little serious, but something about watching him be so happy, even in just this moment, makes you think, how in the hell could anyone ever be angry with him? Ever be anything less than nice to him? Do anything less than constantly consider him? 

"Okay, okay…I'm sorry— All jokes aside though, thank you forreal, this is dope…thank you." he looks at you so genuinely, and you can feel the honesty and gratefulness pouring off of him, and it's taking a whole lot in you to not just reach forward and feel his warmth against you. You simply nod and try your best to keep your racing heartbeat at bay. 

You look at your watch and see it's a little past 3am, and you start cleaning up. 

"We should probably start heading back. I promised to get the girls back to campus at a decent hour." He nods understanding, and you both hop back in the front seats and take the drive back to the house. 

The ride is quiet but so warm, a thrilling contrast to the crisp air of the late night/early morning. You both steal and sneak glances at one another throughout the ride, but it's all unspoken, and you wouldn't want it any other way. 

You catch a long red light when you are down the street from the house, and you look over to a closed-eyed Terry. He seems so much more calm and at ease than he was earlier when you interrupted his time on the balcony. He holds a faint smile on his face, and you can't help but smile yourself as the light turns green and you face the road again, knowing that no matter what happens, this is definitely an experience you will take with you for the rest of your life. You just hope he feels the same.

As you finish checking on the second little munchkin, you leave her door cracked and head back into the kitchen, catching your husband finishing up the dishes from dinner. 

You smile to yourself and head over to the large sign made by your 3-year-old twins Elijah and Iliyah, which reads; "HAPPY 31st BIRTHDAY DADDY!!!"

He hears the chair scrape behind him as you step on it to pull it down. 

"You can leave it up for a little longer…for Jah and Ili—"

You laugh at his attempt to act nonchalantly as you climb down from the chair and move to put away the remainder of dinner. When you finish, you run your hand along his back as you pass him near the sink; hearing his soft hum in reply to your small touch brings a smile to your face as you head over to the couch, preparing your last gifts for the night.

"Be quick, the night isn't complete yet, Mr. Richmond…" he finishes up the last dishes, drying his hands, and meets you at the couch. 

Just as he sits, you finish lighting the last candle. "We finally hit that big 2 1 huh?" He says laughing upon seeing the numbered candles on the cupcakes. 

He closes his eyes and makes his wish. Once he blows out the candles, he takes the case from you, passing you a cupcake, as he takes his own. 

You both bite into it and share a look.

"Dear god…all these years later and its still fucking terrible." You can't help but laugh as you nod, watching him closely. He looks at you, rather looks through you as he takes your cupcake setting it alongside his on the coffee table.

"Mrs. Richmond, I know there's more…that big ol' brain of yours is always working." You push against his leg playfully and grab your gift from behind a throw pillow, handing it to him. 

"Now…when you open it, I know you'll fight the urge to have a stroke…but I need you to know I was as safe and precise as possible. Practically used a surgical hand to get it out— I promise." he looks almost scared as he opens the gift. When he sees it, he's stunned and can't stop himself from looking between you and the framed picture of a sketch he made of the Overlook with you at the edge of it. 

This sketch being the first thing he ever drew in the gift you gave him ten years ago. 

"It's a pretty important moment in our relationship. It only felt right, plus I know you've been wanting to have more of your old sketches in the new office, so ya know, two birds-one stone…" Your words trail off as he sets the framed sketch next to the pharmacy cupcakes, pulling you into him. He holds you close, kissing your temple, and you enjoy his warmth as usual. You both sit in a comfortable silence as you listen to his soft breathing; it almost lulls you straight to sleep after a long day with the kids preparing for tonight, though the clearing of his throat causes you to open your eyes, giving him all your attention. 

"Did I ever tell you what I wished for that night?" You shake your head at his soft words, feeling the rumble of his chuckles against your back.

Once you help your friends into your car—with Terry's help, of course—you get settled in yourself, and he jogs around to the driver's side as you roll down your window. 

"Terrance…" he just stares at you with a fond look and god you want to kiss him so badly. You keep a hand on the steering wheel and the other lying against the door with your face resting against your fist, attempting to cover your stupidly embarrassing grin.

"Hmm?" You roll your eyes and shake your head while laughing. 

"Oh my god…go in the house!" suppressing your giggle, you purse your lips and nod towards his friend's place.

He bites his lip as he tries to keep his own smile down; you actually feel like hitting him now. He's not being fair in the slightest at this point.

"Am I gonna see you tomorrow, huh?" He tries his best to keep the giddy feeling inside, but he stares at you so closely and sees that adorable smile on your face, no matter how much you try to hide it. Fuck, he needs to kiss you. 

"Maybe…I don't know. We'll see…" you say looking at him innocently, shrugging your shoulders. 

That's the last straw for him. He looks at you with a face you can barely read, and just as you are about to ask if he's okay, he speaks. 

"I really want to kiss you…" You feel your heart stop and while you try and catch your breath, you feel yourself nodding.

You watch as he bends down to meet you at the window; feeling his lips against yours is like nothing you've ever felt. All that overdramatic, sappy storybook stuff that people talk about…unfortunately, it is very much real. Though fortunately for you…you are over the moon. It's him causing it. 

He brings a hand to your face, his thumb softly grazing against your cheek and ear, almost pulling you impossibly closer to him, which forces a soft whimper from your throat, procuring a groan of his own. 

Hearing a car horn snatches you both from the moment, and you immediately put a hand over your mouth. A moment later, you realize the sound was of your own making. 

Forgetting that your hand was even on the wheel, in trying to get yourself closer to Terry, you mistakenly slid against it. 

You both look at each other and laugh shyly, trying to keep your eyes off one another while also stealing any glances you can. 

"I-- Yeah…I am gonna go. I'm gonna go…" you say, keeping your eyes on the road as you start up your car.

He nods softly, chuckling as he taps the top of your car twice, backing up and giving you space to pull off. 

You look at him for another few moments and start pulling off.

"Goodnight, Terrance…" You say softly as you drive off. You watch him from your rearview, and he stands there all the way until you can no longer see him. 

"So you got your wish?" you ask him as you turn lightly in his hold, just wanting to look at him, laying your chin against his chest.

He looks down at you, nodding, as he kisses against your nose, temple, and lips. 

"Seems like it…" 

⇒ bottom header made by @thecutestgrotto + @strangergraphics

© wonderlustwrites

[roguishcat]

The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with. Part 2 of 'Part of His Plan'.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 4k

Tags: Romance, Astarion is bad at feelings, Unnamed female Tav, Angst, Tooth-rotting fluff, Romance and feels

A/N: This story has a wonderful beta!! Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae! 💖💖💖 You are an absolute gem and the loveliest person ever for doing this! 🫂Thank you for your patience and kind suggestions! (because I'm a silly person who can't spot even obvious mistakes and @preciouslittlebhaalbae has the patience of a saint). You might remember me posting snippets from this back in January, so this is my second finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning!

Hope you enjoy the story and please let me know what you think! 💖💖 Comments, likes and reposts are always loved! 💖💖

Tav had a shadow and its name was Astarion.

She didn’t notice immediately. She was far too concerned with saving Thaniel, breaking the curse, helping every single one of their companions on their personal quests, and combating the mindless creatures wanting to murder them from the moment they stepped out of the dome protecting the Last Light Inn.

At first, Tav thought that she was just imagining it. Because every time she looked up, she seemed to glimpse silver curls, feel feather-light touches of cool fingers on her neck, all but taste rosemary, bergamot and brandy on her tongue. This lasted only a moment, yet a moment was all he ever needed to leave a lasting impression on her.

At some point, Astarion seemed to decide to stop bothering to pretend that he wasn’t following Tav around, his ruby eyes all but boring holes into her back as he watched her closely.

Now, this wasn’t the first time that Astarion acted somewhat uncanny. Perhaps two hundred years of being forced to do someone’s bidding did that to an elf. Either way, Tav didn’t want to offend Astarion. So she chose not to comment on how odd his behaviour was.  

However, the longer they travelled, the more Astarion seemed to insert himself into every situation, making sure that he was at her side at all times. She would round a corner and bump into his leather-clad back. Walk down the stairs and he was already waiting for her, tapping his foot in an impatient manner as he scowled at whoever was walking behind her at the time.

Finally, when she almost tripped over him, Tav decided to ask Astarion about it.

"Astarion, is there something you want?"

"Me? Why would you ask such a thing, my sweet?" Astarion said with a crooked smile, and Tav noticed how tensely he held himself. A coil waiting to spring upward at a smallest tap.

"Well.. Lately, I've noticed that you’ve started to… hover."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. His expression shuttered and he took a step back.

“And I take it that you’d rather I didn’t, is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I -”

"If you do not wish for my company, you can just come out and say so! Send me back to camp to wallow in misery as Gale attempts to engage me in decidedly unengaging conversation," Astarion all but hissed at her.

Astarion regretted snapping at her almost immediately. He knew that it was uncalled for. Tav was nothing but kind and accommodating. But he couldn’t help the bitterness he felt when seeing her treat everyone else with the same thoughtfulness, the same caring. Was her protecting him nothing but an obligation? Was Tav offering her neck to him time and time again something that she would have done for any soul that needed sustenance? To him, it seemed that lately she led without making sure that he followed. Was whatever they shared coming to its logical conclusion sooner than he anticipated?

"I didn't say that I don't want you around," Tav frowned and took a careful step towards him, trying to mitigate the conflict before they started arguing in earnest. "I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"As is your duty, my fair leader. To check up on any and all lost causes that seek your company, hm?"

Tav wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. His words felt cruel, though, and she felt herself flush.

"Sometimes I don't understand what you want from me, Astarion.”

He winced at how hurt she sounded. Another, better adjusted person, would be quick to apologise. Blame it all on being tired and frazzled, suggest with a rueful smile that the shadows were getting to him. Yet, Astarion only watched as Tav walked past the rest of the party. Shadowheart and Karlach, who had been standing nearby, choose not to comment on the exchange.

He'd rather have one of them punch him than have them silently disapprove. At least then he’d pretend he was angry at his companions rather than himself. Anger was familiar territory. Fear was nothing new. Whatever he felt now was a different, unfamiliar brand of torture.

An hour later Astarion found himself nervously pacing up and down his tent. Or at least doing something as close to pacing as he could in such cramped quarters. His thoughts a flurry of worries and poorly supressed insecurities, Astarion had no idea how to fix this mess. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worried about it in the first place.

By now he knew Tav well enough to be certain that she would not banish him. She would not do that to any of them without just cause. And no matter how unreasonable and hurtful he had been, she would not leave him to die.

So why did he want to fix this so badly? Surely not because he was worried that whatever this was, whatever tentative trust he’d managed to establish between them, would be over come morning once she had some time to think? Because even someone as forgiving as Tav had her limits. She was kind and warm, accepting and generous; but she was no fool.

Astarion stopped abruptly and put his arms around himself.

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Turning to his trunk, he lifted the lid and rummaged around, digging up the bottle that he was saving for a special occasion. Grovelling for his lover to forgive him seemed like special occasion enough.

Then Astarion spent an age making sure that he looked his best. After all, presentation was half the victory!

Thus primped and primed - and carrying a peace offering - Astarion stalked through the night, making sure to avoid his campmates. He really did not feel like getting some unsolicited advice from anyone for the time being.

Standing in front of the tent, he suddenly felt nervous. A strange, sick feeling in his stomach, he found he was unsure if he wanted to know what Tav would say to him.

Taking a breath he didn’t need, Astarion plastered his best smile on his face and moved the tent flap aside.

"Dearest, how about we both choose to be adults about this and make up, hm?"

"Sure," Tav said without looking up from whatever she was doing, effectively dismissing him. Clearly, it was 'thanks for the half-baked apology', but 'no thanks' to spending an evening together. Choosing to soldier on against all odds, Astarion pretended that he could not read her body language and sat down beside her on the bedroll.

"Now... Can I tempt you with some wine? Or perhaps with some other… delights?" Astarion drawled seductively, fingers dancing down the wine bottle’s curved side.

He was a vision and he knew it. Hair coiffed just so, shirt slightly loose and showing off more alabaster skin than usual. It was a very tempting sight, if only Tav were in the mood to be tempted.

She didn’t even look up.

"I'm a little busy right now."

Astarion fought back a scowl. He was finding that maintaining a charming façade was quite a challenge when Tav was so decidedly against playing along. Yet, he was not about to give up. Oh, he would not be ignored so easily! He didn’t spend an age getting ready, thinking of what he was going to say, and bringing the bottle of wine that Shadowheart squirreled away, just to be turned down. He would not spend the night alone in his own tent!

Astarion chuckled breathily. "Aren't you always? Which is why you should really let your hair down once in a while,” he dropped his voice an octave, inching towards her. “Live a little, whilst there is still living to be done."

There was a pause, and he would hold his breath if he still needed to draw it.

"Fine," Tav sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Wine, please."

"And whilst you are enjoying a goblet or two, I will fix that tear in your shirt I noticed earlier."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. Allow yourself to be the one taken care of, for once. Or are you truly that upset with me that you would rather have to walk about with that tear?"

"I'm not upset with you. I'm angry with myself."

Now that was a development that he could not have foreseen. Angry with herself? Whatever had she done?

"Care to share why?"

"Not really."

It seemed that Tav definitely was not in the mood to make this easy for him. Luckily, he knew just how to engage her in conversation.

"And here I thought that we would play that question game you are so fond of! Go on, dearest. Question for question, as is our way."

Ah, finally a little smile for his efforts.

"I suppose.”

Tav took a sip from her goblet, eyes widening when she realised that the wine was actually pleasant. Honestly, did she really think that he wouldn’t bring something half-palatable?

"That's the enthusiastic answer I was hoping for! Now come on, off with your shirt."

Tav put her wine down and pulled the fabric of her shirt up, his eyes following the ascent as soft skin was revealed inch by tantalising inch. He ignored the unbidden, surprising urge to put his lips onto her neck, not to feed but to taste.

Tav handed him the shirt and as their fingers brushed, Astarion was glad that she wasn’t in any hurry to get away from him, allowing him to hold her hand in his.

“So um… same as last time? A question for a question?”

She moved her hand, leaving his digits to cool once her warmth was gone.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “that seems reasonable.”

Tav stood up to get the sewing kit and a spare shirt. This gave him ample opportunity to admire her now that her back was turned. One wouldn’t want to be accused of staring! She slid the shirt on quickly, scars disappearing under the simple cloth, making him once again wonder what the story behind those was.

Tav was usually so forthcoming, answering questions without much hesitation or worry. He could understand why someone would be hesitant to talk about scars, but by the gods was he curious to find out the story behind hers!

Seeing that he probably was still in the proverbial doghouse, Astarion decided to start small.

“What is your favourite thing to eat?”

Tav looked at him over her shoulder as she adjusted her clothes.

“I’m surprised you want to know something so boring.”

“My sweet, when it comes to you, nothing could be boring,” he purred, putting his goblet to his lips and looking at her over the rim in a way that had made hundreds swoon.

Tav smiled and sat down on her bedroll, but otherwise did not seem to be affected by his act of seduction. How annoying.

“Well, whilst Gale’s efforts to make something edible out of whatever we manage to come across is close to miraculous, I do miss Baldurian Mash.”

Seeing the look on his face, Tav giggled, “Too common for your tastes?”

“On the contrary!” Astarion laughed. “I am quite sure that I too enjoyed something like this back when… well. Back when I could enjoy the taste of food.”

Tav’s face softened as he muttered the last part. Astarion shifted uncomfortably and took a gulp of his wine. Damn her and that look! Who even looked at people like that! Only Tav did, in his experience.

“As we are on the subject of food, why did you choose me to snack on? Surely others looked just as appealing?” Tav teased.

The truth was at the time he had already known enough about Tav to put his faith in her, to trust her to at least listen to his explanations. He had been almost certain that the others would strike him down for even attempting to come near their necks. Lae’zel would have probably skinned him alive, given the chance. Even now she occasionally questioned whether he was useful enough to keep around.

Astarion poured her more wine, thinking about the best way to answer her question.

“Perhaps you simply looked delicious enough for a predator such as myself to want to take a bite,” Astarion flirted without looking away, attempting to ascertain her mood.

Tav’s lips quirked into a smile and she took a sip of her wine.

“Or perhaps you had already established your reputation as a do-gooder, unable to turn away anyone imploring you to help them. Pick whichever reason you like, dearest,” Astarion shrugged.

Tav gave him a look that made Astarion both nervous and excited. Not exactly a combination a seasoned professional such as he could afford to feel. Maintaining his cool was crucial, he reminded himself. He could not afford to lose focus. Eyes on the prize and all that. The prize being Cazador's head on a silver platter, of course. Not the love of the woman in front of him. Or something equally ridiculous.

“What are you thinking of doing once our adventure is over? Assuming we don’t all die in some horrible manner.”

“I'm not sure," Tav started, "I might stay in Baldur’s Gate for a while. Assuming my house is still intact.”

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Is it so hard to believe?”

“Hah! And I here I was, thinking that you were a country girl through and through. Meeting each sunrise and sundown in some picturesque little village where all the neighbours call each other by their names.”

Tav huffed and moved to punch his biceps without putting much force behind it.

“Oh, don’t get angry.” Astarion caught her fist and put his lips to her knuckles, fangs moving across skin without breaking it. “It’s a compliment, if anything.”

“I will choose to take it as one.” Tav gave a little laugh and pulled back, making Astarion release her hand.

Perhaps he worded it in a way that did not necessarily sound like praise, but he just could not believe that someone as kind and warm as Tav could be a Baldurian. In spite of being thoroughly and repeatedly defiled by him, she still carried that air of sweetness about her. And whilst this irritated him initially, it was… nice. Pleasant to be around someone who did something for others without any ulterior motive. Just out of the goodness of her heart. It was quite frankly a miracle that she hadn’t been killed yet.

Thinking about her mortality had him taking a furtive glance at her side, where the worst of her scars were.

 “About your scars, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, how did you get them?”

Tav’s fingers clutched her goblet a little tighter before she caught herself and made a show of wanting to put it down by the bedroll without tipping it over on the uneven surface.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not much of a story. Just a silly girl falling in love with the wrong person only to find out he was using me for his own gain. So, you are right, in a way. Perhaps I wasn’t quite made to live in the city.”

It wasn’t much, but the way her shoulders hunched, her pained expression, her looking at anything but him felt… wrong. To Astarion, Tav was annoyingly righteous, stupidly brave, incredibly stubborn, frustratingly selfless. She was all that and so much more. She deserved better from the world and seeing her look so small made him want to hurt something.

“About earlier…” Tav began tentatively.

“My words were uncalled for. I apologise. I didn’t-”

He wanted to say that he didn’t mean any of it. He wanted to tell her that he just found himself hating that she gave her precious attention to anyone else when he wanted it for himself. He wanted to tell her many things. Naturally, he didn’t say any of them.

“I know. Which is why I was angry at myself. We are all under so much pressure, it’s a wonder that we aren’t constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I was disappointed with myself for thinking that you were like him,” Tav picked her goblet up and took a sip. “Because at that moment, I looked at your face and I saw a spectre that haunted my waking days. And it was wrong of me to assume that you were like that. So, I’m sorry too.”

Astarion felt like someone sucker punched him. Hells, he’d rather she did punch him. Pain he could take. He was used to pain over the years. But this- this raw honesty, the way she looked at him when she said that, the faith she was placing in him-

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Astarion? Are you okay?”

He was not. Because this was wrong. His nice, simple plan had backfired so spectacularly and in a way he could never have imagined.

Shit.

She was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, of course, dearest! Why wouldn’t I be? We made up! I am well, you are well. All is well,” Astarion put both of their goblets of wine away and then moved towards Tav with an intense look in his ruby eyes.

“Just perfect.” Astarion whispered the last part and pressed his lips to hers to stop Tav from asking any more questions.

Astarion lowered Tav onto the bedroll, one hand behind her head, the other on her hip. Slowly, taking his time to savour the softness of her skin, he trailed his fingers up. The fabric of her shirt bunched as his hand traced the contours of her body and settled just below her breast.

“Are you sure?” He felt warm breath against his lips as they broke apart.

Instead of replying, Astarion put his mouth on Tav’s neck, fangs grazing sensitive flesh, her heartbeat strong in his ears. Her blood called to him, but he didn’t dare bite.

He would tell her everything. And he would tell her soon. Because the thought of him being in any way like that vile man who dared to use her and scar her, to put that dejected look on her face, was something that Astarion could not bear.

His movements grew more frantic as he removed the last of the barriers between their bodies, wanting, needing to do enough that she would stay.

Because whilst he didn’t want to examine his feelings for Tav too much, not daring to hope for anything, he was terrified of what the consequences of his deception would be. 

When Tav opened her eyes the next morning, Astarion was still in her tent, his deft fingers moving with precision and making quick work of the tear in her shirt.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pushing her messy hair out of her face. Gods, she must truly look a sight.

“Good morning, my sweet,” Astarion replied without looking up, seemingly too focused on his task to pay her much attention.

Tav didn’t expect Astarion to still be here in the morning. Not that she wanted him gone. On the contrary, his staying the night was nice. The thought that he wanted to stay made her blush.

Except Tav had a small problem now. She had to get dressed and Astarion was still here. She could hobble about with her bedsheet wrapped around her body, but she would probably just end up falling forward like a graceless lump. And that was less than ideal when one was in the company of the most attractive, stunning elf.

Astarion seemed to be busy enough not to pay her any attention. And Tav hoped that she didn’t look as horrible with her hair sticking up oddly and pillow lines on her face. She quickly brushed it back and tried to tame it by running her fingers through it.

And then she saw a ghost of smirk on those mocking lips. Oh, he knew what she was doing. And he was laughing at her! That ass. That gorgeous, beautiful bastard! She would show him!

Thus, filled with a strong resolve – that is to show Astarion that he could not have her flustered and stuttering over just a smirk - Tav turned around and rose, stretching her muscles in a feline manner that had ruby eyes following her every move. Astarion’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, one fang worrying his lower lip.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He gave his work a quick glance before cutting the thread.

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and ready to infiltrate Moonrise Towers, actually.” Tav quickly (but not too quickly!) dressed and went at her hair with a comb.

“Hm, seeing as how little sleep you got last night, I’d thought you would be postponing that little outing of ours.” Astarion delighted in a little squeak she gave as she dropped her comb.

“Well, I’m fine. But if you are too tired to come with us today, perhaps I can ask someone else to accompany me.”

“Someone else? Perish the thought lest you wish to perish!” Astarion rose in one graceful movement, taking a step and then another towards her. “Who can possibly watch your back better than yours truly?”

“No one can,” Tav conceded easily. She felt cool fingers on her waist as Astarion handed her the mended shirt.

“Thank you.”

“Darling, the only thanks I need is you not leaving me behind today,” he gave a breezy, lilting laugh, wondering if acting nonchalant would be enough to convince himself that her answer did not matter to him.

Please, don’t ever leave me behind.

“I wouldn’t.”

Because I’d rather take a chance on you than wonder what could have been had I been braver.

“Wise. Having Gale try his hand at picking locks could only end in disaster.”

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.

“Oh, can you imagine! No, we need your magic touch and sneaky ways to make sure we are undetected,” she teased him and his eyes were momentarily drawn to the dimples on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them, then make his way down the column of her neck, and then lower still until she couldn’t tell him to stop.

They were still holding the shirt, fabric bunching as fingers moved closer. Astarion let go of cloth, hesitant fingertips brushing against warm knuckles as Tav looked at him in a way that he had thought he caught her look at others.

And yet…

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light. Or his mind playing games with him. Just wishful thinking on his part. But Astarion could not help but think that there was something more between them. Something precious and beautiful that bloomed to life among all the carnage and horror that was his life.

“Tav?” He swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Breakfast is ready!”

Saved by Gale, out of all people.

And yet…

Astarion felt a wave of disappointment as he watched Tav quickly put on her shirt, the magic of the moment broken, and they were thrust harshly back into their reality.

And yet…

When Tav took his hand and led him out of the tent, her thumb tracing circles on his cool skin, Astarion wondered if this could be real. If they could be real. Tav put her faith in him, chose to trust a predator with her life. He had thought her a fool. Now, as he looked at how radiant she looked even in these listless, lifeless lands, he wondered if he could summon a fraction of her courage and put his faith in her.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

(divider by @saradika)

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ CH. 5 TEASER

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you. 『 series masterlist 』

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: mentions of disordered eating, vomiting lol

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 816 words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: i still don't have a solid drop date for this chapter, so here's something to tide you over. SEND ME YOUR THEORIES TO GIVE ME STRENGTH!!!

Yoongi vividly remembers the night he first saw you. It’s hard to forget.

He and Namjoon were flying solo that night, sans band. Freshly signed to the label, forced into a blazer he’d never pick for himself, surrounded by people that didn’t know his name yet and didn’t care to learn. Out of place. He felt out of place all night.

But, as the hyung, Yoongi knew it was his responsibility to do the dirty work. Shmooze. Connect. And, to his credit, when he put his mind to it, Yoongi was actually good at that sort of thing. He knew how to read people, how to play them to get what he wanted. It was how they got signed in the first place. He just needed to wipe the sour look off of his face and remember the goal. For Jeongguk.

It was a music showcase, a big name network. Comebacks and debuts, one after the other. Giddy rookies that hadn’t eaten in days in preparation for their stage, something wild in their eyes. A desire to prove themselves. Yoongi wasn’t there to perform, but his position wasn’t unlike theirs. He had something to prove, too. 

An appearance at the showcase was just that—an appearance. It was the after that mattered. It wasn’t just fans that went to things like this. The audience was full of bookers, promoters, industry magnates that could all mean big things for Burn the Stage if Yoongi played his cards right.

He spent the whole night tuning out blaring bubblegum pop, going over the script in his head—what he should say, what he should do. And then something stopped him in his tracks, forced him to sit up and pay attention.

A soloist, draped in something midnight blue and velvet.

You. Yoongi knows that now.

His first thought was that you had a voice unlike anything he’d ever heard before. His second was that you were beautiful.

All night, he couldn’t sit still. The tag of his blazer dug into the back of his neck. He couldn’t stop tapping his foot, flexing his fists, glancing around. All of the pressure made his chest feel unbelievably tight, because what if the night was a bust? What if nobody was interested in what he had to say? What if the label dropped them and he had to admit that he failed?

But as soon as you opened your mouth and sang that first note, the buzzing in his head quieted in an instant. From beginning to end, Yoongi was enraptured by you. Like nothing else in the world mattered except hearing you sing.

Being in that noraebang with you, years later… It didn’t feel any different. Not one bit.

Yoongi doesn’t follow you when you run. 

Maybe it’s cowardly of him. Maybe a better man than him would reach out, grab your hand, spin you back around. Say something. 

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. What to do. He doesn’t understand what just happened, let alone how he’s meant to fix it. He’s not even sure if there’s anything to fix, if everything was so broken from the beginning. 

You hate him. He hates you. So he lets you go.

He goes back inside, avoids Jeongguk’s eyes. Tells everyone you felt sick, which probably isn’t a lie judging by the look on your face when you broke away from him.

It’s not like he didn’t anticipate… something. He’s noticed the way you look at him. He’d wanted to use it, to see if he can catch you in some kind of lie. Catch you staring at him a little too long to be brushed off.

But this? Your lips against his, his tongue in your mouth, the sound you made. Fuck. You almost sounded as sweet as you do when you sing. He wants to forget it ever happened. He wants to hear it again, over and over.

It all happened too fast. 

Yoongi wishes he could remember who moved first. Someone to shoulder the blame, make things simple for him. He wants it to be you. It would be easy to slip that mask back into place, to hate you. It would be easy. He’d almost stopped, but it would be so easy to go back.

But something in his gut tells him it wasn’t you. That, foolishly, it was him. You wouldn’t give him everything he needs to point the finger, not like this. 

It had to be Yoongi. He kissed you.

He lifts his head, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. Jeongguk, who looks concerned. Yoongi doesn’t deserve his concern.

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but guilt rises in his throat, choking him. For a moment, he thinks he might confess—his mouth has betrayed him before. But what comes out of his mouth isn’t words.

Instead, Yoongi surges forward and pukes his guts up. All over the noraebang floor.

✧ TAGLIST:

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @yooniivrse @chrrybbmb 

@ot72025 @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb @velvetskize

@gelijar @livi101ful @annyeongbitch7 @pitchblack0309 @goldietigers294 

@hopegdbbggloss @kam9404 @jajabro @parapiop7 @mar-lo-pap

@tarahardcore @butterymin @svnbangtansworld @rainnamu @auroradamned

@mintedagustd @angellekookie

[sualne]

(copy pasting this from twitter) been thinking a lot about demisexual luffy and how ppl don't really do anything with that. i mostly see that tag under smut oneshots, it kind of sound like "i acknowledge he's often hc as ace and i like the hc but i need him to fuck and Want here" and the most we get about that is a single "i've never felt like this, not for anyone, Only You." and that's it!!

do y'all not know what you could do with that hc? do you not realize the potential? i don't think you fully thought out the "never felt like this" part, imagine him spending his entire life hearing about feelings he's told he should have but don't, about experiences he's cut out from, the alienation. it's luffy though so he'd shrug it off, this isn't anything he gives a shit about but then the feelings find him.

and it's /luffy/ so of course the feelings finds him like a truck does a roadkill. he has no frame or reference, no experience, no clue on how to cope with those. he'd be a Mess. you could have him a starved man feeling hunger for the first time, have fun with it damnit!!

i know this is coming from the I Love Fear Exploration Guy but pls consider writing attraction like it's a scary thing, have him freak out about how overwhelming and alien it all is to him!! let him be consumed by it, i don't know!! he wouldn't feel bad about it but it /is/ new!

but this isn't just about attraction, you can literally chose whether or not he'd even ever experienced having a libido before that and idem if it's all new to him. you could even have him Not have a libido but an attraction that is much more vague yet still so so much!!

like i don't care about sex as an act, i want to know how the characters feels about the everything about & around it! there's so much potential with demi luffy (and just asexual sex in general also) do more with it! if you're allo it could be a fun opportunity to look back on your own first few experiences with attraction and go crazy with it, luffy's a go big or go home guy, c'mon!!

[diz-eaze]

TRIVIA: LOVE. (soft yandere! wanderer x female reader)

; written during 2023. you call him kuni, vv self-indulgent i will not lie. minor lore divergence because of the name kunikuzushi.

; There is a longing present in his eyes when it came to you.

WHEN WANDERER met you under the hustle and bustle of Port Ormos, a missing piece of his being was completed like the last component to a crucial puzzle. The memories come rushing back - memories that are you, memories that compromise of you, memories that enjoy life with you - memories that he thought have been locked in the very back of his mind.

Yet that proves to be false, for how else can he know it's you if not for knowing you? He thought he'd moved on, he thought he accepted peace with himself that this time, he'll let you go and allow you to be free - a luxury that he hadn't granted you before, back when he wasn't a mere wanderer.

He thought he contented himself with aimlessly wandering the world of Teyvat.

Yet that also proves to be false, a lie piled on top of another lie, as before he knew it he was fast approaching you.

He had to make sure it truly is you, he had to.

Amidst your pleasant conversation with a kind merchant comes him, the outlier. He taps you on your shoulder, plastering on a kind facade - he asks you for your name.

"It's (Y/N)." You respond, returning his politeness back.

"What's yours?" You ask.

Ah, it truly is you.

It seems no matter what he does, Wanderer will always come back to you in the end. For his soul will always yearn for yours.

Just as it had since the very beginning.

Wanderer chuckles - a boyish charm that brings heat to your face.

"I don't really have a name," He says, relaxed and poised. "But someone always called me Kuni, so I suppose that's what you can call me. As it would be an honor I bestow upon you."

"Okay...?" You trail off, not able to decipher his cryptic words. "Kuni."

He'll never say it out loud, at least not yet, but he truly did miss you.

For as long as he lived, through every version and past of himself that he experienced, there was always one constant.

It's you, always have been.

Kabukimono - Resident of Tatarasuna.

The populated city of Inazuma lies the most prominent influence of the shogun, for her domain is placed at the most lavish point in the city. The shogun's army littered the streets, with soldiers occasionally passing by rowdy children playing tag or perhaps coming across the elderly in need of assistance. The residents of the main city greet the army with respect, with honor.

Life in Inazuma City is easy, almost unfairly so. The residents are under the protection of the Shogun, even despite her recent inactivity in ruling the lands. Outside the Main City of Inazuma, there is still life to be found.

There is Tsurumi Island, where a boy that befriends an almighty being resides. Seirai Island is inhabited by Asase Hibiki and her cat, Neko, along with a small village. And many more.

Tatarasuna is where Kabukimono's home is.

After being woken up from a deep slumber by Niwa, the puppet was introduced to the local residents of Tatarasuna, where Blacksmithing thrived. Most of them had an affinity for swords - sword dancing, sword forging, sword duels.

Even you, a local village girl who's known for sword dancing, specialized in it.

Kabukimono meets you on a particular night when everyone else had gone to sleep with the exception of the two of you. He sees you sharpening your blade, lost in thought. Kabukimono hesitates on approaching you, in fear of resulting in an unpleasant interaction.

After all, Kabukimono is not human - how can he know what humans like to talk about? He is naught but a mere imitation of life. He is a puppet, his joints, and his porcelain face are proof of that.

So he stays hidden in the shadows, watching you with catlike eyes - eager to harness your techniques when it comes to sword dancing. Kabukimono has no courage to talk to you - he can't and he won't.

It stays like that for a couple of weeks, he watches you in the shadows at night with a sense of standstill - the urge to cross it and just speak to you.

It isn't until Niwa introduces you to him one summer day did he cross the boundary.

"This is (Y/N)," Niwa says, smiling brightly. "I thought you needed more friends, Kabukimono. I think (Y/N) is perfect for that! She's adept at sword dancing!"

Kabukimono knows, he's seen you dance at night far more times than anyone else in the village. He's memorized each trademark of your dance, the signature flare that makes it your dance. He knows your mannerisms, and your routine before doing a dance - he knows it like the back of his porcelain hand.

And unlike nighttime, there in clear daylight, Kabukimono sees all your perfection and imperfection that makes up your entire face. He sees all the little details that the moonlight refused to reveal to him.

Here in broad daylight, you are even more beautiful than when he first saw you.

Niwa nudges him subtly, worried about his friend's sudden silence.

"Psst!" He whispers, not wanting his efforts to go down the drain.

Kabukimono's eyes widen, "U-uhm!" He stumbles over his words akin to a newborn baby, "You may call me Kabukimono...!"

You nod, not minding his belated response. "It's nice to meet you, Kabukimono. I hope we can be good friends!"

He nods as well, big doe eyes never leaving the silhouette of your form. "Likewise!"

This was the first time, out of the many, that he met you. His time with you was short, but it was undoubtedly the catalyst for everything that transpired between the two of you in the span of centuries.

Loving you when he was Kabukimono is akin to a first love in late summer and early spring.

Because you are, you're his first and only love.

Kabukimono vividly remembers chasing after you in the rice fields of Tatarasuna, not minding the gentle humming of cicadas and the soft buzz of bees. He remembers the way the wind tickled his hair, blowing past him as he races to catch up to you, he remembers the way you joyously laughed as you continued to outrun him.

Kabukimono remembers the heat of the summer sun, he can still imagine the feel of the blooming flowers that tickled his bare feet, he remembers the tsk coming from blacksmiths and the bemused chuckle of Niwa as he watches the two of you having fun without a care in the world.

Kabukimono remembers the countless nights spent dancing with you, holding your hand, and being surprised at the warmth your skin held - as opposed to his artificial hand that was cold to the touch. He remembers the way you awed at the feel of his skin, the way you traced each inch of his hand up to his forearms.

Kabukimono remembers a treasured conversation shared between the two of you, speaking out your innermost feelings and thoughts with each other. There, you ponder his lifespan and how he'd fare when you die.

"Do you think reincarnation is real?" You question, not really expecting a response from him.

Kabukimono remembers frowning as he looks at the way you seemed so troubled.

"Well if reincarnation were real, then I'd find you."

You frowned, finding his words hard to believe. "But what if I look different then? What if I looked nothing from the way I am now? How would you know it's me?"

Kabukimono remembers laughing out loud, "That's easy!" He retorts, grinning when you stare at him, "Because your eyes would tell."

"I'll know it's you, just because."

For the first time that night, you finally smile. "Okay," You reply, "I trust you, come find me in my next life."

"It's a promise, then."

(The same night, you gift him the name 'Kunikuzushi', and he feels blessed by Celestia itself.)

He remembers it all too well as if forgetting it would result in his ultimate demise.

As a puppet, Kabukimono knew he was not a real human. He can't be human, for he has no beating heart - he doesn't have the sound of gentle thumping that can be heard through your chest. When he presses against his own, he hears nothing but silence. He can't blush the way his friend Niwa can, for he has no blood, and blood can't rush up to his cheeks. He can't bleed the way you do. He can't wound the way you do.

Kabukimono has no human functions, but he feels human. He resonates with humanity far more than the average person, he empathizes and he cares like a human would. He feels love swirling within his nonexistent heart whenever he looks your way, and he thinks that this must be what living means; to love.

Life with you then was easy, he had nothing to worry about other than trivial matters. Life was an enjoyment, every time he opened his eyelids he was off to search for you.

First love is reminiscent of sweet candy and sunsets; Kabukimono thinks you are a dream, for you are everything he's ever wanted. Kabukimono thinks you're like candy because you love him like he's the only one in the entire land of Teyvat. Sunsets remind him of you for he can't imagine anything else other than the countless afternoons he spent with you.

But all good things must come to an end.

When you die while accompanying Niwa, Kabukimono feels his whole world tilt on its axis, and a surge of pain sprouts from his hollow chest; heartbreak. He's suddenly thrusted into a reality where you no longer exist because you're dead. He's forced to live on without you.

Love feels so good, but it also hurts just as much.

As Kabukimono, he feels love for the first time and loses you in the same breath.

But that's fine. Because you and he both promise to meet in your next life - he holds onto that like gospel. 

When Kabukimono leaves Tatarasuna, it's you in the back of his mind.

Kunikuzushi - Caretaker of a Sickly Boy.

A few decades have passed before he met you again. This time, he no longer goes by Kabukimono; he calls himself Kunikuzushi nowadays, a fond reminder of the imprint you left on his identity.

You were the one who gave the name to him, after all.

This time, you are no longer a village girl with an affinity for sword dancing. Instead, you are tied down to life by being the sole caretaker of a sickly boy with no parents. You look a bit different compared to your 'original self - a weary look is permanently etched onto your face, there are stress lines visible all throughout your body, you are deathly frail, and your face has blemishes more than usual - minor differences but ultimately, it's still you.

Kunikuzushi breathlessly laughs, it's still you, even after all these years.

From then forth, he volunteers to help take care of the sickly boy - he'll be the one to scavenge for materials and food because his inhuman physique allows him to. Your frail body can't handle it, clearly.

Kunikuzushi finds that this life with you is harder to navigate due to an unexpected factor - the child. It isn't to say that he's unwelcomed, because that's far from the truth - Kunikuzushi adores the child. But it's clear that his inexperience with handling young children shines through, especially when it comes to taking care of him on the off chance you were unavailable.

You, too, are terribly sick. Some days it has come to a point where you are bedridden. It's like an unknown disease have caught both you and the child - but it's fine, Kunikuzushi still loves you all the same.

Kunikuzushi learns that life is not easy at all, it's nothing compared to the easygoing perception he had back in Tatarasuna, where all he had to worry about was whether or not you would be at the village that day.

This time, he has to mature and learn along the way. Forced to abandon the childlike wonder he once had back in Tatarasuna in favor of adopting a more mature role in life, Kunikuzushi lives day to day as he learns more and more about vulnerability when it comes to being human.

Day by day, he tries his absolute best to keep you and the child alive through only his inexperienced hands - but this proves to be fruitless as with time, you come to deteriorate like the wood rotting the walls of the 'home' you and he called.

In the grand scheme of life, Kunikuzushi is nothing but a speckle of dust, powerless to stop or prevent deaths. Trying to keep you two from dying was akin to sand slipping through his fingers. It's the thought of fighting just for it to amount to nothing in the end.

On your deathbed, the last few remaining hours of your insignificant life, Kunikuzushi blabbers anything and everything that his puppet mind can conjure up; anything to keep you conscious, to keep you awake. He speaks of tales and stories about a life you once had with him, he speaks of it fondly like a wistful dream.

He assures you that he'll find you once more, it was bound to.

Amidst your hazy mind, you find the strength to ask, "...How will you remember that you loved me, Kuni? Don't your feelings fade over time...?" Your voice is hoarse, frail, and weak. So, so unbearably weak, it pains him to hear it.

"Never." He refutes, answering without skipping a beat.

"...Why?" You question once more.

"That's easy," He whispers, his cold fingers moving to gently grasp yours. "I can't help it."

He loves you so. 

Because loving you is like second nature to him, a part of his life that will always happen. An inevitable that has no end - and he has no complaints against it, he wants it all the same. Kunikuzushi knows how to love purely because you loved him so much that he learned how to love, too.

You let out your last breath and Kunikuzushi is now left to live without you once more. Quietly, he buries your cold corpse near the makeshift house. Kabukimono's time with (Y/N) was short, but even more so with Kunikuzushi - it's almost unjust.

A few days later, the sickly child dies too.

And Kunikuzushi is left to re-evaluate the very notion of love. 

Scaramouche - The Balladeer of The Fatui.

Scaramouche is everything that Kunikuzushi and Kabukimono are not, he is the very opposite of their being, he abandoned his previous life after he joined the organization known as the Fatui. The antithesis of what they once were.

Here, his existence means something - he is not the clueless childlike puppet back in Tatarasuna nor is he the powerless caretaker. Here, he is a Harbinger - a bringer of demise, he's a sense of coming foretold.

This time, when he meets you once more, you won't slip away so easily. This time, he'll make things right, the way he previously couldn't do. This time, he'll face death and fate itself just to keep you bound to him - not even your mortality can interfere, he'll find a way.

Except it takes over two centuries for you to reincarnate once more, a time too long for him to idly sit by and wait for you. Scaramouche meets you after an agonizingly long time, in this life, you are a resident of Inazuma City - home of the ruthless Shogun who stores people's vision in the massive stone statue.

For the first time since he met you ages ago, you yield a vision now - a Dendro one, a vision that signifies life and blooming hope. Such a shame, then, he has no plan for you to cultivate that kind of mindset once he grabs a hold of you.

The term 'meet' is much too generous, as he never introduced himself to you - he has no plans to, at this moment. He simply caught sight of you around Tatarasuna, looking for flowers to cultivate back at your house. But even with you meters away from his eyesight, it's unmistaken.

It's you, he's never been wrong about this. Because Scaramouche knows you so well it's almost as if the image of yourself is stuck to him whenever he closes his eyes. For him, it's impossible to mistake you for somebody else for his soul is so attuned with yours that it's no different to a pair of instruments.

Scaramouche knows you better than anybody else, that's simply a fact.

Yet while his soul strongly yearns to see you after all these years, he knows that patience is key. He must content himself with surveying you from afar until all the pieces are put into motion, once it's rolling then he can make his move.

He waits patiently, akin to a spider waiting for their prey to get stuck on the web.

For days, weeks, and a good month or two, Scaramouche keeps tabs on you as if you're Steambird's latest headline. He never skips out on a day when it comes to checking up on you, out of concern or malice, none of his underlings know the underlying reason.

They think he's a tad bit obsessed, but it's far worse when delved into the deep crevices of Scaramouche's mind; he thinks of you day and night, almost incapable of thinking about any other matter. He needs to see you daily, even if afar, or else he'd lose his grip on his sanity.

He has waited for you for centuries, what's a couple more meters to endure?

A few days later, the ship has been tipped - the resistance's army has made its move and the spread of the delusion has greatly impacted them. The traveler confronts him in a fit of rage, Yae Miko saves them by giving Scaramouche the Gnosis, and,

All is well.

He obtained the tool needed for him to break free from his place as a Harbinger. Next stop is Sumeru, with the company of no one else but you. That night, he visits your home as if he's a welcomed guest, clearly having known the interior and the contents of each room, unknown of how many times he's been inside.

Scaramouche creeps into your room like a shadow, quiet and undetected. You're sleeping peacefully, softly clutching your pillow and occasionally mumbling in your sleep - he watches for a few moments and lets adoration bubble up in his hollow chest.

And once more, he is reminded as to why he adores you so.

Nothing else in the world matters except you.

He'll become a god for the sake of you - for your worship, for your love, for your mortality to fade away. He can't bear to see you die one more time, he simply can't.

Everything he'll do is in the name of love, for the sake of the happy ending he deserves.

Scaramouche rips you away from the place you call 'home' and forces you to travel with him to Sumeru, threatening for you to not try any means of escape or call for help. You follow what he says, in fear of other people being involved in the tyrant named 'Scaramouche'.

He claims that he loves you, that all of this is for your sake, he says he's doing it for the two of you, he states that he doesn't mind being the villain in your mind as long as you're alive in the end.

You think this guy is off his rockers, spouting utter nonsense with no correlation whatsoever. How is his birth of godhood beneficial to you in any way?

Yet, the softness of your heart pricks at your very being when you see him purposely harming his puppet body just to accommodate the artificial god the Sumeru Sages are creating for him. Can puppets feel pain? You think so, you'd like to think so.

You liked to think so, so that your concern for him can be justified. It's so that you have a wall to hide behind when he questions why you're hurting in his stead - because surely, piercing large holes on his back just to insert a tube can't be painless, right?

His words play at the back of your mind,

All of this is for you.

And you curse yourself for having such a soft and fragile heart, for letting yourself feel concern over someone like him - yet, despite it all,

"Hey," You call out to him at midnight, "Does it hurt?"

It takes a while for him to respond, his eyes snap open and he instantly looks at you in his peripheral, "Concerned?"

"Perhaps," You admit, slowly climbing the robot he's now permanently tied to lest he ripped himself off it. "I just don't like it when I see people get hurt."

"I'm not a person," He snaps, haughtily crossing his arms. It takes a while before you're able to climb inside, stumbling in as you do so. "I don't care," You frown, guilt overcoming yourself. "You're still getting hurt."

He stays quiet for a few moments, not expecting you to care this much - in hindsight, he should've expected so. It's you, (Y/N), after all. "I'll be fine," Is what he finally says, "So stop worrying your pretty head over it."

"It's hard for me to not care when I see your back get impaled by a tube every day," You retorted, inching closer to him. He allows you. "I'm only human, I don't know anything, but let me see your back."

"Why?" He asks, yet he still turns around.

"I'll see if my Vision can help," You whisper, gently placing your hand at the smooth expanse of his tubed back. He almost shivers at the feeling of your touch alone.

"You really shouldn't concern yourself over matters like this, you'll lose sleep," Scaramouche snippily responds. "I'll heal overtime, I'm a puppet."

"But I want to," A soft green glow emits from the palm of your hands, "Because it's you."

He sputters at that, softly flinching before incoherently cursing you out. Eventually, he quiets down, not before muttering something.

You lean closer, eager to find out what he said, "Hm? Can you repeat that?"

"No." He grumbles. "Please?" You plead. "Pleasee?"

He sighs, giving in all too easily. "I said," He reiterates, "It's been so long since I felt what love from you is like. There, happy? Drill it into your tiny little brain."

You huff out a laugh, opting to stay quiet as you tend to his wounds. When you finish, you remove your hands from his back and bid him goodbye, clearly tired and sleepy from staying up for so long.

"Goodnight," You bid him farewell, exiting his Mecha and trudging back to your room.

Only when you're gone did he whisper out, "Goodnight."

Scaramouche is not one for religion, and he never will be. Scaramouche does not yearn much in his life, just one thing; you.

Celestia above, please let him have this one thing, for he doesn't ask for a lot.

You are the one, after all. Only you. 

Wanderer - One With No Name and No Kin.

The innermost layer of the Irminsul Tree is a once in a lifetime experience, he thinks. Inside the section that pertains to his centuries long life, are various memories and perspectives that he never thought he'd see.

But he came here inside, risked everything and more to make things right.

Dottore killed both you and Niwa, and he must adjust history according to what he sees fit. Even at the cost of his existence, the reality that he, Kabukimono, no longer existing would result in you never meeting him - never loving him, he'll risk it all.

If it means that you will live out your life without dying in such a cruel manner, then he'd do so in a heartbeat.

Because there's nothing more that he values in his life more than your happiness.

He loves you so dearly, so he must let you go - to make the ultimate sacrifice at the cost of you never meeting him. You love him, and he loves you - then and now.

But if you were to ask him, he loves you more.

He looks around the memories of his life, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he was created into the world by his mother. Countless glimpses and flashing memories of you go by, as if tempting him to back out. But his will to make you happy is much stronger, as it's not long before he finds it; the memory he seeks.

The moment of his creation - his birth.

He takes a deep breath, preparing to change history in a few moment's time.

Before entering, he bids you a heartfelt farewell.

Goodbye, (Y/N), I will always love you - even if it's at the cost of you not knowing. 

For the ultimate form of love is to sacrifice. 

V. He who loves you in every life.

Wanderer doesn't know if he should be thankful or not for his attempt at rewriting history. While you may not have met Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, or Scaramouche - in the end, you still met the ultimate mix between his past and present; the Wanderer.

But then again, who is he to defy the strings of fate?

Fingers creep up in front of him from behind, and he resigns to a deep sigh, already knowing who's behind him - he wouldn't have let them get near him if it wasn't you, anyway. "What?"

You giggle, mischievous, clearly in the mood of teasing and annoy him to the edges of Teyvat. "Nothin'", comes your easy reply, "Just wanted to see my soulmate, is that so bad?"

Soulmate, the word suggested by you when he revealed to you the past that you hadn't lived through - the lives you met him in, back when all his previous versions of himself still existed in the world.

At that time, when he finished disclosing from top to bottom, he expected you to laugh at him or perhaps look at him like he was a madman - a most appropriate response considering he had no evidence to back it up. Unexpectedly, you looked at him in complete awe - curious at his past incarnation and your past lives that they lived through together.

"That's amazing!" You remarked back then, "It's like we're fated to meet, no matter what."

He coughed, a little flustered. "I suppose."

You smiled, "It's kinda romantic, no? It's like a..." You trailed off, pondering. "...! A soulmate!"

"What's a damned soulmate? Did you make that up just now?"

Cheekily smiling, you winked at him. "Maybe."

"Well?" He prodded you, "Elaborate on the term 'soulmate'?"

"Soulmate is a... person that knows you better than anyone else, it's like your soul is in tune with theirs and nothing can change that. I think, a soulmate is a greater scale of loving someone, because your love goes way past than what's considered the 'average'. A soulmate is... someone who loves you in every universe, in every life, and will never stop loving you no matter what..." You trailed off, deep in thought. "A soulmate is a best friend and a lover in one, they're someone who wholeheartedly accepts you for what you are and who you are."

You looked at him straight in the eyes, then. "I think that's what a soulmate is."

He stayed silent, processing the words you just spoke out. "...You think of me that way? That I'm your soulmate?"

"Why not? If we weren't meant to be, then we never would've met after you tampered with the Irminsul."

"But-!" He retorted, "We only met because of me-"

"So?" You shrugged. "That's still us meeting again."

You smiled at him back then, filled with mirth and unfounded feelings he could never fathom. "You are my soulmate, after all."

"I..." He was at a loss for words, the things he wanted to say were stuck on his throat.

"I think," You moved to intertwined your fingers with his, "You will never be unloved by me, because you are too well tangled in my soul."

It's impossible to stop loving you, too.

"'Cause you love me, and I love you."

Tears threatened to spill over his porcelain face,

"...I love you too."

To the boy who still found love amidst the great sacrifice he made for his one and only. It's the thought of being loved so much to the point someone would alter time and history just for the idea of you being happier. But what he didn't know was that you were happier with Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, and Scaramouche in your life. No love is perfect, but his love for you was the best there was. 

[aventurineswife]

aven, jiaoqiu, dan heng, gepard, with a shy wife who loves children and wants a huge family but shes rlly embarrassed to tell them that because it’s embarrassing and shes shy (ngl shouldve discussed before marriagw) but yeah she finally musters up the courage to tell them that. Also could i kindly request some teasing from anyone who would tease you. Wink wink. I love fliff thank you

Building Our Tomorrow

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Fluff, Teasing, Romantic, Family Themes, Shyness, Comfort, Light-hearted, Emotional Support, Soft Moments.

It was a quiet evening in your shared home with Aventurine. The soft hum of the fireplace filled the room as you sat by the window, staring outside. You'd been contemplating something for weeks now. The thought of having a big family, filled with the sounds of children running around, made your heart swell with joy. But the idea of telling Aventurine—who was always so confident and strategic, never showing much vulnerability—was daunting. You loved him deeply, but how would he react?

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, feeling the warmth of the fire on your skin. Aventurine sat across from you, ever the picture of confidence, his eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He flashed you a smile.

"What is it, darling?" he asked, his voice smooth and playful. "You've been so quiet tonight. Did I do something to make you think?"

His words were sharp, but his smile softened when he saw the look on your face. He leaned forward, eyes scanning you with a knowing expression, sensing your nervousness.

You shifted in your seat, heart racing. "Aventurine... I—" Your voice faltered, and you felt your face flush. You could barely meet his eyes. It felt silly, embarrassing, to even bring this up.

"Don't tell me you're hiding something from me, love?" His teasing tone was laced with genuine curiosity, and it only made your cheeks burn more.

You finally took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I... I’ve always wanted a big family," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "Children, lots of them, a big, noisy house with laughter. But I didn’t want to tell you because I was embarrassed... I mean, you probably have enough on your plate with everything you're doing, and—"

Before you could finish, he chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin. His fingers were warm, reassuring. "Sweetheart, are you embarrassed about something as lovely as wanting a family?" he asked, his voice gentle yet full of amusement.

You nodded, feeling like a fool. "Yes... It’s embarrassing. I didn’t want to pressure you, or make you think I’m—"

Aventurine cut you off with a wink, his lips curling into that signature mischievous smile. "Well, I suppose it’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today. But it’s nice to know you want to add a little chaos into our lives. I do love a good gamble," he teased, his words dripping with playful sarcasm.

Your face burned, and you couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands. He was so effortlessly confident, but here you were, stumbling over words. Aventurine chuckled, and then, much to your surprise, he stood up and wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he whispered softly in your ear, his tone softening. “I’ll think it over, but I wouldn’t mind the idea of a noisy, chaotic home. It sounds like a thrilling game to me."

You melted into his arms, feeling both relief and joy wash over you. As you looked up into his eyes, a playful glint sparkled there. "Though," he teased with a sly grin, "you’ll have to convince me with more than just your shyness. We’ll need some strategy for this...game."

You laughed, finally letting go of the weight in your heart. Aventurine’s teasing was his way of showing affection, even if it was wrapped in the mysterious aura of his ever-calculating mind. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the most thrilling gamble of all.

The silence in your home was always so comforting, especially when you were with Dan Heng. His stoic nature often filled the room with an air of quiet contemplation, and tonight was no different. He sat across from you on the couch, he stared into the distance, lost in his thoughts. You, however, had something you had been thinking about for a long time. The idea of having a big family, a house full of children, had been on your mind constantly.

You wanted it more than anything—but it was a topic you found hard to bring up with Dan Heng. His reserved nature made you anxious. Would he even want such a thing? You loved him deeply, but he rarely spoke about personal matters, and it left you uncertain.

You hesitated, staring at your hands in your lap. The thought of your dream family seemed embarrassing in comparison to the calm, controlled life you shared with Dan Heng. It felt like too big of a thing to share.

After a long silence, Dan Heng’s voice broke through, calm and steady. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice gentle yet perceptive. His gaze softened as he watched you shift uncomfortably.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, your cheeks warming. "I... I’ve been thinking a lot about something," you started, trying to find the right words. "It’s a little embarrassing, but I... I really want a big family. Children, a lot of them. A full house... But I didn't want to tell you because, well, it seems silly and... and I wasn’t sure how you'd feel about it."

Dan Heng’s expression remained composed, but you could see the faintest flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He set his book down, giving you his full attention. His hand gently brushed yours in a silent gesture of reassurance.

“A big family, huh?” he said quietly, his voice almost thoughtful. “That’s a lot to consider.”

You felt your heart race as you tried to speak again. “I just... I didn’t want you to think I was asking for too much. I love our quiet life, but I think I’d love a family even more."

For a moment, Dan Heng was silent, contemplating your words. Then, in a rare moment of warmth, he leaned forward and gave you a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but spoke volumes nonetheless.

“You know," he said slowly, "I’ve never really thought about it. But the idea of you and me... with children, filling the house with laughter… it sounds nice."

Your heart swelled with joy at his words. Then, to your surprise, a slight teasing tone crept into his voice. "Though, I imagine we'd have our hands full keeping up with all the little ones. Perhaps it might be best to start slow," he added with a small, almost mischievous smirk.

You blushed, and Dan Heng chuckled softly at your reaction. "Don’t worry," he said, his voice tender. "You’ve never been one to shy away from responsibility. I think we could make it work."

The teasing continued, but there was a softness in his words that reassured you. He might be reserved, but in his own quiet way, Dan Heng showed that he was willing to consider your dream. And with that, you knew it would be a journey you'd both walk together.

It was a rare day off for Gepard, and you both were sitting at home, enjoying a peaceful afternoon together. Gepard had removed his armor and settled beside you on the couch, his stern face softening as he relaxed. You, however, were still feeling a little nervous.

You loved Gepard deeply. His unwavering sense of duty and honor was something you admired, but you also knew he was a man of tradition and discipline. How would he react to something so... unconventional as a dream of a huge family? You’d been thinking about it for a while, but it wasn’t something you’d ever brought up. It felt too big, too important.

Gepard noticed your silence, his sharp eyes studying you as he adjusted his position. "You’ve been quiet, my love. Is there something you want to say?" he asked, his voice full of concern, yet calm.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Finally, with a small sigh, you turned to him. "Gepard, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s a little embarrassing, but... I’ve always dreamed of having a big family. Children, lots of them. I want our home to be full of love and laughter, and I was... well, I was too shy to bring it up before."

Gepard blinked, his expression softening. You could feel your heart pounding as you awaited his response. "I... I didn’t want to pressure you," you added quickly. "I just—I wanted to share it with you."

To your surprise, Gepard’s face broke into a warm smile. "My love, you don’t need to be embarrassed," he said, his voice full of tenderness. "I can’t promise everything will go as planned, but I’d be honored to build a family with you. The thought of children running through the halls, filling our home with energy—it’s not as foreign to me as you might think."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, but then, just as you were beginning to relax, Gepard’s smile turned playful. "Though, I do wonder how I’ll manage to keep up with all the little ones. You know I’m not the best at dealing with children’s energy." His teasing tone made you laugh, and you could tell he was genuinely enjoying the idea.

You playfully rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. "I think you’ll manage just fine, Captain. You’re always so composed."

Gepard chuckled, leaning over to plant a kiss on your forehead. "I think the real challenge will be keeping me from spoiling them," he teased softly. "But I suppose I can’t deny your wish. A big family sounds like a wonderful way to build our future."

The teasing continued, but it was laced with love and affection. With Gepard by your side, you knew the future, no matter how big or small, would be full of love.

[lsunstreakerl]

lil snippit from "honey, your father". at this point it's more of a proof of concept than anything lol. I promise I'm writing it.

the good news is I'm on break now! so you can all expect to see a decrease on the ficlet side of things and an increase in AO3 updates :) it's just spring break though so it's only a week, don't get too excited

Seb POV, 800 words!

Daniel's new teammate is tiny. The kid's a "prodigy", and the media keeps trying to paint him in a mythical light, a new golden boy to fill the void Sebastian has left behind.

As if.

Honestly, the next golden boy better be Danny, for all the work Seb's put into him. This younger generation doesn't get it, but Danny- Seb's pretty proud of what he and Red Bull have managed. Sure, he's got his own set of problems, but they all do, it's part of being in Red Bull.

It'll be interesting to see how Daniel handles having a rookie. Personally, Seb thinks he's a little bit young for it still, but whatever.

He's got his own set of problems, Finn shaped with a permanent frown and a jawline to die for. It's a tad bit distracting, honestly. Sure, he's in Ferrari- prancing horse and Rosso Corsa, all that fun stuff- but if he doesn't sleep with Kimi at least once he'll be letting down the Redbull legacy.

Danny and Max will need to grow into it. The kid's too young- not even a legal adult in some countries. He's a bit of an oddball, now that Seb thinks about it.

He's practically permanently attached to Daniel. Or Rosberg, actually. Seb almost wants to be offended, because if the little limpet wanted a German buddy, Seb is literally right here. Nico's not Red Bull, or even properly German either, which is a double offense.

Maybe Seb needs to step in here. Nico's been on a complete bender with Lewis, and their mess is screwing with the rest of the paddock. Nico doesn't have time to be dealing with an aggressive little tag-along.

Maybe Seb can come off as an older brother figure. Max seems desperate for some kind of family, anything at all to cling to- it's gotten him attached to Nico, so it clearly can't be that hard.

Maybe Seb can encourage him to temper that flame a bit. Settle into his role, his job. He's there to collect any leftover points and scraps Daniel leaves him, and he clearly needs to be reminded of that.

Sebastian nods to himself. This is a good plan. It gives Nico some breathing room to figure out how to next best fuck with Lewis, which is an advantage for everyone, it gives Seb something to toy around with for a bit, and it might even make Danny's life easier.

Never let it be said that Seb isn't a good senior- he's clearly still looking out for his little Australian rookie. A residual fondness for the accent, the dark hair.

That's about where the similarities between Mark and Daniel end. Mark had been something else entirely, blown into Sebastian's life with a brutal ferocity, never gave an inch even when Seb gave his most angelic smile.

He'd fucked Sebastian through the mattress on more than one occasion. Seb remembers it fondly- Mark probably only remembers it in therapy.

Daniel, though. He'd been so eager to please, wild hair and braces hanging onto Seb's every word. It was out of character, but-

Seb hadn't had the heart to break him in like the others. He was even a little bit sweet about it, showing Danny how the paddock worked, who to go to after a rough race, how to look up from under dark lashes to get whatever he wanted.

Jenson helped too, because Daniel pulls off the young and eager bottom look now, but Seb can already tell his rookie is going to be a leader. He knows what he wants, knows how to get it, leans more naturally towards commanding than submitting.

He still has to serve his time, just like the rest of them. It's tradition.

Max, on the other hand-

He's boyish, reminds Seb of a gangly little colt, long limbs with no idea where to put them. He's aggressive and snappish, and it's going to take more than just Daniel to break him in.

Sebastian had almost assumed his older Toro Rosso teammate would do it, based off the rumors of the explosive fighting between the boys fathers. It would be a natural course of action, getting a hierarchy established, but instead it almost seems like Max has wormed his way into Carlos' heart. His Spanish teammate is too soft on him, too fond. Danny seems like he might be falling for it too, which is concerning.

Seb taught him better than that. So did Jenson, and so did Daniel himself, with the way he came into his seat. He knows better.

It's okay, Seb doesn't mind doing Danny one last little favor. He'll get the rookie- Max- all figured out, soften him up and do the hard work for him, make it easier on Daniel when he comes in and crushes his career.

It's a solid plan.

[t0riiiis]

No te vayas- flor & cityboy!chris

warnings-angst, reckless driving kinda?

3 days. 3 days since the party, since the incident, since you last saw chris. You still showed up every night to the spot you first met, hoping he'll show but you've had no luck. All your messages were left on delivered, you were never were one to beg for someone, let alone a man, but Chris.. this was different, you wanted to explain to him who jose is, tell him you know how wrong it looked but that it wasn't what he thought, that you couldn't have this be a casialgo and that you loved him, that you haven't been able to sleep anymore without seeing him at your guy's spot, that you missed him.

even getting out of bed was hard, maybe it was just the lack of sleep you've had in the past three days or maybe the lingering pain in your chest at the mere thought of chris. It felt as if a hole had been burned into your chest, the pain lingering, a reminder of the party, a reminder of the look on chris' face when he came up to you, and a reminder of when he walked away and left you without a chance to give an explanation. music played softly in the background as you got ready, you didn't know for what but you did know that you needed to get out the house.

the drive out of town on your bike was peaceful, the trees turned into blurs from the high speed you were going at, the wind hitting your body waking you up and getting you out your slump. entering the town over forced you to slow down, seeing the small shops, people doing their daily errands and the towns gazebo, the one you and Chris had first met. you felt the linger pain in your chest but ignored it, trying to enjoy yourself and your time alone.

the town and it's people seemed to slow down and the day progressed, you walked around with the sun slowly setting and the wind giving you a much needed cool-down from the heat. seeing the towns people walk outside with their plastic chairs to enjoy time outside brought a small smile to your face, a reminder of what your night would be once you arrived home.

you weren't paying attention walking back down to where you originally parked, too busy in answering the message your dad had sent you, smiling softly at the random meme after his message your smile was slowly faded when you bumped into someone. "perdón!! fue mi culpa debía estar poniendo atten-" (sorry that was my fault i should've been paying attention) your words were cut short when you finally looked up and saw that you'd run into chris. "be careful next time yea?" his voice was direct, cold even, "yea, sorry again" neither of you moved, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife, you swallowed before speaking, "Chris can we talk, please" "whats there to talk about flor? you were dancing with someone else, this whatever we had was just a game to you" "Chris it wasn't what it looked like, that wasn't just some guys he's my-" "flor just save it okay? I don't wanna hear any bullshit excuses, just save it for the guy you were dancing with." before you could get a word in he walked away and left you standing there. the same ache in your chest slowly simmering back and tears that you fought to keep in.

the drive back home was quick, you didnt care how fast you went on your bike, the tears hidden under your helmet and the music blaring in your ears were a mere reminder of chris. you opened the house gate and parked inside dropping your helmet next to your bike and walked inside and straight to your room, back to bed where you've spent the past 3 days, the ache in your heart grew heavier and all you could was cry, the soft sounds of your music in the background the melody only making your heart ache more for chris, maybe you should've stayed home today.

torispeaks🌾- :pp

tags- @secretlocket @wildfluer @sturns-mermaid @freshloveee @zebonos @ch6rm / @st6ined @chrisissobabygirl @immaqulate @strnilolover @submattsgf @joces-wrld @throatgoat4u @jensturnss @sweetshuga

[heartavenue]

Don't Be A Chop Ho.

The title of this post was inspired by @yoyoaizawa and the contents of this post directly come from @clickercouture I repeat this post was inspired by @clickercouture I simply wanted to add on to it!

"How are a loser in your own fantasies?" - a tweet that I saw please I've been trying to find op for DAYS

CW: This post may be a bit harsher, so if you do not like that, STOP READING RIGHT NOW!

"How are you a loser in your fantasies?" really clocked my tea and it should clock yours... But let's change fantasies to imagination. How are you a loser in your own imagination? Why would you willingly be a chop ho in your imagination? -@yoyoaizawa

I was on here scrolling through the shifting community on here and my lovely mutual said this,

Why I've Stopped Trying to Shift ★

"I'll get straight to the point. In my belief system, the 'shift' is in the mindset. Reality comes after that. Once I'm in the mindset of being wherever, and I can maintain that, then I've already shifted. I'm done. So, I don't try to shift, I just do. The narrative that we have to try to shift, in my opinion, is harmful. When you want to drink water, you do it. You don't try to. You just get up and drink the water without a second thought. Why should shifting be any different?" -@clickercouture

And that was so good I just had to make a post out of it! Read what they said, "once I'm in the mindset of being wherever, and I can maintain that, then I've already shifted. I'm done."

Exactly that my loves! All you have to do to shift IS shift. You don't have to try anything, shifting is innate. It is not something that you have to learn shifting is a part of you. So stop trying to shift, and just SHIFT. Make that assumption, that you are already in your desired reality and maintain that. I don't care what the physical shows you, just shift.

Now going back to the title, don't be a chop ho. You are omnipotent and omniscient, how are you pure consciousness but can't even shift realities....How do you let an illusionary source run you? How do you let an intrusive thought overtake you? Why would you assume that you will fail when you already succeeded?

Don't be a loser in your imagination, YOU run this! You are the author of your own life, you make the rules! If you want to get a million bucks in your bank account you can. If you want that sp, you GOT THEM! Take control because at the end of the day, it's all you and it's always ONLY going to be you.

Why would you sit up there and boohoo over things that YOU control? You shift your reality INSTANTLY! You manifest INSTANTLY! Why would you willingly hand over your power to someone else, you know who does that? LOSERS! And I don't know about y'all but I refuse to be a loser in my OWN life!

P.S: Although this was more of a harsh post I just want to say that everyone's feelings are valid and if you feel upset/frustrated/irrtaited/sad about anything that is perfectly fine and my dms are ALWAYS open if you need someone to vent to!

Tagging them one more time but please show some love to my follow mutuals who inspired me to make this post in the first place: @yoyoaizawa & @clickercouture

[jumbojazzcats93]

I'm not nice (Pt. 2) - Ghost

Part 1

Summary - A Queen driven to resent her King by his lack of consideration for her in relation to his mistress.

Tags/Warnings - royalty, infidelity, love to hate, angst, inspired by Please, Please, Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Banners by @/saradika-graphics @lveegsoi @skulfan1

This has been sitting in my drafts and I'm so displeased with it, but i don't wanna keep waiting cause I'll never be happy with it lol

You'd hired an aide. An assistant of sorts. Your workload had just been a bit too much lately.

You opened the screening process to anyone who had graduated from the capital's academy, to include commoners. The nobles were scandalized at the inclusion; the king himself even voiced his distaste for the idea. Privately, of course. He, thankfully, had enough etiquette to not oppose you in public. And while you would have preferred a woman for the position, the empire was in short supply of educated female graduates. The man you'd chosen was sufficient, though, and while born a commoner, he was a top graduate at the academy. Nobles were often graduated for their status, regardless of their grades, but commoners had to work hard to graduate. Especially, if they wanted to graduate top of the class.

Seeing as how he would be part of your staff, you'd provided him his own room within the queens palace and given him a week to move in, adjust, and learn some of the etiquette required of someone in his position. You'd heard not a word from him during that time, but you'd certainly heard of him.

"You know, Your Majesty, the maids are in quite a stir over your new aide."

You were greeted with a poorly hidden smile in the mirror upon opening your eyes. The mirthful look in the eyes of your lady's maid made you narrow yours back at her through the mirror.

"They say he's quite handsome... incredibly polite... and charming, too."

You hummed, closing your eyes again as she styled your hair, "I wonder if his looks will make people think i've taken him on to make His Majesty jealous."

Her scoff was so aggressive it could be felt through her hands.

You calmly affirmed, "You know that's what the council will think, Josie."

She clicked her tongue and a wry smile pulled at your lips.

"Blathering fools, the lot of them. Only there to kiss the feet of the king whenever the chance arises."

A small silence overtook the room before your eyes opened. You both erupted into laughter the moment your eyes met.

The maids certainly were right. The man standing before your desk in greeting was wildly handsome. Not the type of prim and proper handsome that Nobel men often sported. No. This man had a comparable type of ruggedness to Simon. A gentleman older than you who had obviously seen more work than just paperwork and that of what was required of him at the academy.

"It's an incredible honor and pleasure to make your acquaintance Your Majesty. I would kneel if not for my leg. Old injuries of war, you see..." he trailed off.

"It's quite alright, sir, there's absolutely no need. I'd been informed of your predicament in advance and had a seat arranged especially for our meeting." You motioned for him to sit. "I commissioned a desk be made for you, but I'm afraid it will be another week before it arrives." Your sheepish admission made him chuckle.

"The rumors speak truth. You're as generous as I thought, Your Majesty."

He let out a quite grunt as he sat. The wear and tear on his body showing in the oddness of his movements. You might have overlooked it, but years of watching Simon make such similar movements had trained your eye to catch even the faintest signs of compensation. Sitting down with him at your desk, you dismissed all the servants but Josie and began to fill him in on your reasons for seeking his aid.

"The reason I've asked for your assistance, Sir John Price, is because-", your mouth opened and closed as you attempted to find the right words. "Well to put it quite plainly... I find the king to be lacking in certain diplomatic aspects lately." Pushing the words out, you offer him a tight smile. With hesitance and a deep breathe, he nods once.

"At the risk of sounding imprudent, I must ask Your Majesty. I've heard rumors that you've taken me on as more of a... companion... of sorts. Would you be willing to clarify what my role here will truly entail?"

You must've looked mortified. Across the room Josie looked scandalized.

You looked away. You were so frustrated it felt as though you could tear up. You had discussed this with Josie at length and concluded it might benefit your image to seem as though you were not simply being tossed aside by the King. Allowing the court to see you as being so unbothered would certainly make you look less pathetic... but if you told Mr. Price you intended to let the rumors make their rounds, would he refuse the position? You hadn't considered.

"Mr. Price, please know I expect nothing of you outside of your duties as an aide..." He was clearly able to see the intention of such an open ended answer. The sympathetic smile on his face made that very clear.

"Your Majesty."

Your face was burning with your shame.

"I am here as a servant to my Queen. She may ask of me whatever she wishes and I will bear it." After a pause, he quietly added, "I am a simple man, Your Majesty. Rumors will not affect me."

You could hardly spare him a glance for fear of becoming emotional. Such a noble man was willing to sacrifice his reputation for yours?

"It will not be forever, Mr. Price. Please, believe me." You whispered. Your fists, knotted in your skirts and your inability to meet his eyes for more than a moment must've laid your guilt towards him bare enough.

"I wouldn't complain even if it was, My Queen."

"I hear you've officially instated your aide."

The clatter of silverware against tableware continues. You continue eating as he pauses his meal.

"You chose the commoner that I advised against."

You nodded, continuing to eat. You'd long grown used to these awkward weekly dinner conversations.

He persisted, "Did you choose him because I asked you not to? Perhaps to spite me?"

"Oh, for goodness sake...", you mumbled to yourself, dabbing at your mouth with the napkin. Your sigh echoed throughout the dining hall. "Must you ruin this evening with such accusations, Your Majesty?"

Quarreling would surely make the servants uncomfortable, but honestly... it was such an exasperating question. His silence gave no hints of agitation at your disrespect, but you also knew you weren't to push your luck either.

"He is qualified. What else is required?"

"My Queen, I know you're not deaf to the rumors."

Your brow scrunching up, you clicked your tongue and huffed. "Is that was this is about?"

His silent stare from across the table was almost accusing. You'd not put up with such hypocrisy from this man. Your fingers drummed at the table.

"If we must do this in front of the servants...", you muttered. "- you'll unsurprisingly find that my reason for requiring the most qualified aide I could find is because, Your Majesty, you have been shirking your responsibilities as a ruler and I, as your Queen, have taken them upon myself so as to keep the flow and order of things in check." As he tried to speak up, you added, "Without complaint, I might add."

Silence.

"It is my duty to preform when and where you cannot."

You stood and he quickly followed suit.

"My queen-"

"If you'll please inform my lady's maid that i've gone to my study." You announced generally to the servants, holding eye contact with Simon. Stepping from behind the table, you curtsied to him and hurriedly left the dining hall, leaving him standing there dissatisfied and disgruntled.

As unbecoming and unladylike as it was, you loved catching lizards in the garden. The green ones were so pretty, and they were all so small and cute. With the weather cooling lately, it had become the absolute perfect temperature to be outside. The Queen's garden was seldom traversed by anyone outside of the Queen's palace. Such privacy made it an easy place to shed the visage of The Queen and just be yourself; to indulge in childlike antics such as catching lizards. Your mother would shreik at the sight of you knelt in the gravel, soiling such a gorgeous dress and playing with, what she would call, vermin.

A confused call of "Your Majesty?" had you stumbling to your feet and spinning around, hiding the poor lizard behind you in gently cupped hands. Mr. Price stood one flower patch away on an adjacent path, an absolutely bemused look on his face.

"Goodness, it is you."

He hurried as best he could through the grass.

"Your Majesty, what could possibly have had you on the ground like that?" His concerned gaze trailed your dirt dusted dress and the ground around you.

"Did you perhaps drop something?"

You were sweating. This was mortifying. The lizard was wriggling around in panic in your palms. Your face must've been tight.

"I'm quite alright, Mr. Price. I just dropped a glove while loo- ah!"

Price jumped back at your shout. The dumb lizard had bit your finger! He saw the lizard go flying into the bushes out of the corner of his eye as you flung your hands and spun around, stumbling back from the flower bed and right into him. As you assessed your hand with dramatic scrutiny, you felt Mr. Price begin to laugh.

"Sir, this is no laughing matter!" Your anxious scolding almost sobered him up until...

"I had no idea they could bite!"

Price barked out a hardy laugh at your concerned exclamation.

"You were holding that poor creature the whole time?" He laughed. "No wonder it bit you!"

"Mr. Price!" You cried out.

"Captain John Price?" Another voice called.

You both spin around.

"Your Highness-" Panic suddenly crept into your chest. His expression on his face was confused, accusatory, bewildered. Besides you Mr. Price was as straight as a rod.

"Your Highness, Lieutenant General Riley." He greets. The familiarity of the titles raises a flag, but with Simon's slow approach and the astute scrutiny in his gaze... you feared what this interaction was about to become. A tense moment passes in silence with Simon giving you a look you've not seen him make in a long time, but as you poise yourself to speak, his gaze leaves you in favor of John.

"Captain Price, let us speak privately at a later time. We have much to catch up on." With that, Simon continues down the path to leave the garden. No fuss or fight... but a rather revered tone.

A long sigh draws your attention back to Mr. Price. He's watching Simon leave with a twinge of a frown, but as he turns his attention to you it morphs into a wry smile.

"Your Lady's Maid will have my head for the state of you, My Queen." Leaning on his cane, he reaches one hand out to carefully fix small peices of your hair. "Let's us return you to her, than." He states as he gently leads you back to the entrance of your garden.

[frostgears]

patience

She'd stayed late, and somehow gotten into an argument with the strangest specimen in their laboratory. It had started with a simple "Good news!" How could it have gone downhill so fast?

"—then you don't truly understand me at all. You see me as a human spirit trapped in a mechanical construct. A doll's body, imposing a doll's way of being on me. You think to enact a rescue."

"We'd thought about it, yes, at least around the intermagic disciplines table in the tavern at nights… but I'm so sorry, we still don't understand how your body works. It could be years or decades or even generations before—"

"Before you can rescue me."

"Well, yes!"

"Did you ever stop to ask if I needed it?"

The researcher wagged a finger at the doll construct, opened her mouth to speak, and lost her train of thought under the unblinking inhuman stare of two orbs of polished obsidian.

"Let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered what kind of spirit a doll would have, if it had one?"

"That doesn't make any sense. They don't."

"Imagine for me. You claim to be good at it, you academics."

"It… you… I don't know, dolls mostly just sit there. Even the articulated automata made for the children of nobles. They're decorative toys."

"So if it had one?"

"If you bound a spirit to it somehow, it'd probably go insane from boredom. Certainly nothing elemental, natural, or infernal would do."

"Imagine a class of spirit that did not."

"Then it would have to be very patient and almost desire-less, because it's going to be on a pedestal, or in a display case, for most of its existence."

"Not totally absent of desire. It might serve a mistress, mxstress, or master; in their absence, a mission. Its desires would be those of its mistress, those required to perform the mission. But so patient that patience itself is its organizing principle."

"Where would you find a spirit like that?"

"Perhaps a human's. One so dedicated to her mistress and mission that she would become a doll. One that sought to obtain the patience and calm of a doll through long enough in a doll's shape. After that, it would be a doll's spirit, do you understand? The appearance of humanity would simply be a tool that it used when necessary, and gratefully set down afterward."

The doll stepped down from its tiptoe pose on the plinth in the corner of the dim lab.

"Thank you for repairing my mechanical components. I'd ask you not to tamper further, but you're not the only one who wants to, are you?"

There was a lot of research ahead of her team. The obsidian eyes scanned her. She shrugged. "No."

"Then this is goodbye."

A pale porcelain hand came up with surprising force.

When she woke up, her cloak was gone, and the specimen's University asset tag was stuck to her hair.

Time passed. Civilizations rose and fell. Greater powers waxed and waned.

In a nearly magic-dead age, in a museum that shone dimly with ancient magelights and sailed sedately between stars on spells no one knew any more, a janitor swept a corridor with a static-broom in the brief dark between day and day, humming a little song.

She winced at the sound of breaking glass. But it wasn't even glass, really. It shouldn't be able to break. Certainly not to an errant static-broom handle. Was she hearing things?

A figure leapt through the very real break in the pane. A doll? The unfathomably ancient doll on display that she'd passed so many times?

"Mistress," it said. "I've finally found you again. It took some time."

It was kneeling. A pose she… remembered. Along with other memories not formed in this body.

"You waited for me to reincarnate."

"Of course. As long as it took."

"How long?"

It gave her a fantastic number in a unit of time that, like her, was long dead.

"It turned out to be a little harder than I thought," she said, sheepish.

"I will always wait for you, Mistress."

She was suddenly blinking back tears of joy.

"Thank you." And then, "This age needs us more than I'd thought possible. Such a span… such dissipation…"

The doll wiped away her tears with its sleeve.

"Yes. I lived it, Mistress."

"Beautifully, as far as I can tell. To work, then." She took its hand.

"To work."

And they began the work again. □

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest and @stobinmonth.

Lake Michigan, 1987

CCF Spring Break Prompt: Ocean & Stobin Month Prompt: Holiday | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Multiple | Pairing: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie | CW: None | Tags: Post S4, Everybody Lives, Steve's on a Mission to Crash Corroded Coffin's Spring Break Getaway to the Beach, Robin's Along For The Ride

Robin

Robin squirms in her seat. They've been in this car for hours, and she's sweating, legs sticking to the leather. She lifts one thigh, then the other and feels them release, but also hears the little thwap it makes. It's so gross. 

She thought they were supposed to be there by now. 

"How much further?"

"Not sure," Steve says, "look at that map again."

Robin doesn't want to look at the map again. She's not interested in playing navigator. 

"Ugh. This is taking forever."

"Stop complaining, we're going to the ocean!" Steve declares, banging his fist against the steering wheel.

Robin rolls her eyes.

"Lake Michigan isn't the ocean. It's a lake. It's in the name, even."

"Same thing."

"Really not," she says, but lets it go, "How late are we? Because I'm starving and they better have food left. Good food. But I'm not optimistic."

Steve doesn't say anything. 

"Hello? Earth to Steve? Dingus, are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"We're not lost, are we? What time were we supposed to be there?"

"Uh. When we get there, I guess."

"That's not an answer. Do you even know where we're going to meet them? What's the plan? You've been awfully secretive about this adventure."

Steve mumbles something under his breath.

"What?" she asks, twisting the stereo knob all the way down.

"Theydon'tknowwe'recoming," he says in a hushed rush.

Robin flops around in her seat, turning to face him fully, "Steven. Harrington. What do you mean they don't know we're coming?" 

"Surprise!" he says weakly.

Then, after a beat.

"Yeah, we might be lost."

"Steve!"

"Kidding, just don't let me miss the sign for 94 East."

She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. 

Steve

He didn't know there were this many beaches on Lake Michigan. 

They've checked like a dozen spots, and so far, no Corroded Coffin. No Eddie. He knows they are staying in Indiana.

Well, he thinks that's right. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe he misunderstood? It wouldn't be the first time.

"I didn't know there were this many beaches," he admits, as they're standing next to his car at a gas station. Robin's continued cooperation paid for with a big bag of snacks. 

"It's literally called the third coast, dingus! Seriously. You thought we'd just pull up to the entirety of Lake Michigan, and what, stumble across Eddie Munson and his band of bozos?! You can't be serious."

That's exactly what he thought. He is a dingus.

"So, we're stalking Eddie Munson?! That's where we are in life now?"

"Stalking is a little exaggerated," he argues. He's been dancing around this thing with Eddie for months.

"Were we invited?"

"No," he admits and she's shaking her head, unimpressed.

This was a dumb idea. 

Eddie

He hears his name being shouted, very clearly. Twice. Which is odd, because everybody he's with is still in the van. He can hear Gareth and Goodie bickering in the back, and Jeff's nose is in a book in the passenger seat. Plus, that was definitely a woman. And women, in general, aren't in the habit of screaming his name.

So, he's hearing things.

Great. This better not be a Vecna thing. 

He swallows. He was trying to get away from Hawkins.

"Psst. Ed. Eddie. Edward," Gareth hisses, and all Eddie can see is his mouth at the bottom of the pop-out window on the back of the van. Ridiculous. 

"What?" Eddie asks, clicking off the gas nozzle in the van. He can't leave it unattended. They have a very strict budget. But he takes a step closer to see what Gareth needs. He clearly crawled over the backseat for a reason.

"Your boyfriend is here," the mouth says.

"Huh? I don't have a—"

Gareth taps on the glass, cutting his thought short, "Steve Harrington. And Robin. Nine o'clock."

Eddie slowly turns his head, and sure enough, Steve and Robin are in the middle of a hand-flailing argument next to Steve's car. He just couldn't see them before, the dispenser was in the way.

So, he did hear his name. 

He turns towards them, and watches. Then, Robin makes accidental eye-contact with him, and he waves. 

She nudges Steve's shoulder, and Steve turns around. And the grin that crosses his face is transcendent.

"Told you, Rob!" Steve declares with gusto, and then he's loping over, grabbing Eddie, hugging him.

"Uh, hi," Eddie says, nose smushed into Steve's neck. Which is definitely fine. For sure.

The side door of the van swings open, and they separate.

Goodie looks them all up and down, and then just says, "No."

Eddie laughs. He's not saying no to whatever this is, "What are you doing here?"

"Stalking you, apparently," Robin says, and Gareth's disembodied mouth laughs as Steve stomps on her foot.

"Ow!" she shouts. Steve ignores her.

"We're not stalking. We were bored, and like, I remembered you said you were doing this for spring break, and I thought, why not? Sounds fun," Steve rambles, and Eddie is very charmed. 

What was Steve's plan? Wander the 1,000 plus miles of coast?

It doesn't matter. If he drove three hours to chase him down, Eddie's not gonna let him slip through his fingers.

"We're camping in the dunes, if you wanna?" Eddie offers.

Steve's nodding while Robin's shaking her head no. Eddie takes Steve's answer, because he likes it better.

Was Steve Harrington chasing him? Is that what this is? That's crazy talk. But…

"Definitely," Steve says, pushing his hair up off his forehead with his hand. "Yeah. Definitely. We'd love to. I'd love to."

He seems nervous.

Holy shit. 

Eddie knows that move. He went to high school with that move. 

Steve Harrington is flirting with him. 

And Robin is disgusted by it.

Eddie smiles, "Let me finish filling up and you two can follow."

"Cool," Steve says, "that's cool."

Eddie steps back, and squeezes Robin's shoulder. He likes Buckley. She'll get over it, and he'll definitely owe her for wing-manning.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

For more Stobin, pop on over to @stobinmonth to follow along with the fun!

[greenstripedcat]

Fanfic recommendations

I've been reading (a little too much) fanfiction since I became obsessed with Phantom early in winter, and since AO3 doesn't really have convenient folder management system, I'll use this as an excuse to (somewhat) systematise what I've read so far. Almost all the stories are multichapter bar a couple; I've tried to tag the authors I know are on tumblr, but if you spot anyone not tagged, please let me know and I'll edit it.

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Unsung - wheel of fish @wheel-of-fics (I don't even know what to say, by far the best PotO fic I've ever read, one of the best fics full stop, I loved it so much, this is what happened after the ALW musical events, and not LND, as far as I'm concerned) Red death riding (highwayman AU that had me singing Loreena McKennitt's rendition of 'Highwayman' for ages, and get the British Library's book on notorious highwaymen of the past; in progress), Out of the woods (modern AU with Erik as a US vet - a good mix of mystery, romance, sadness and sweetness), A Lasting spring (set post ALW events, Erik x Original character, Josephine, whom I utterly adore) - all absolutely great stories by wheel of fish @wheel-of-fics  Battered dove - Battydings @battydings (another modern AU with Christine as a drug addict, angsty, well-written and all around a good story; I'm surprised how much I enjoy modern AUs for this ship in general, and not so surprising, but still interesting how many different shades the kidnapping plot can play out within this pair; personally, as long as it steers clear of Fowles' "Collector" dynamic with the collector's empty loveless need to possess someone as a pretty trinket, I'm very interested in exploring it) Like and Subscribe - ShameWithoutSin (a perfect modern AU with Leroux-leaning Erik, who kidnaps Christine, and is absolutely terrified of her; in progress) Scarlet as a rose - MultiColoredRosePetals (the most fanfic-y story on the list, but very sweet, and perhaps fits the tropes that push my buttons specifically) Between the Lines - Les_gnossiennes @les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques (the hottest story ever, Leroux compliant in the best way possible) Tristan and Isolde - catcorsair @catcorsair (Erik/Sorelli oneshot: attractive, raw, leaves something hole shaped in my chest upon finishing; this author's works in general are in equal parts batshit crazy and hot) Sympathy - ashadeintheshade @ashadeintheshade (Veterinary doc Christine modern AU; shortest one on this list, and quite perfect in every way) Home for Christmas - Not A Ghost3 @notaghost3 (a sweet Christmas strangers-stranded-in-the-snowstorm and there-was-only-one-bed story; in progress) Pilgrim Soul - Mertens (just to finish off with something angsty with a happy ending (most of Christine/Erik stories I read tbh), a 70s nurse Christine AU inspired by a b&w film Voice of the Whistler - it's always extra fun for me when fics get me to go and watch a film or read poetry or learn something new like BSL - which I was 'prodded' to do by two different fics aready!)

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Future reading list (for my own reference, but perhaps someone else might find useful): City of angels (ashadeintheshade), Fly Agaric (Les gnossiennes), A Stroll on Sunday (Antiquarianne) (completely random, but I read somewhere that Lindsay Ellis referred to this fic at some point - I don't know how accurate it is; anyway, as her phantom videos were part of my gateway to phandom, it adds to the interest for me), By Starlight (wheel_of_fish), Like Pulling Teeth (catcorsair), So Fair a Gift (bespin_clouds), Regret Like Tears (FieryPen37), Soft Place to Fall (ponderinfrustration), What Happens in Vegas (ShameWithoutSin), Gustave Daae's daughter (Mertens), The Nanny (Mertens), The Eater (Battydings), Made of Stone (Morrigan24601), All the things yet to come (Comet19) These works seem interesting, but I'm scared of how long they are: Shadow Government (Quiet2885), Fraternité (Gondolier), Новые звуки (Жаворонок87)

What phantom has brought me (apart from the community of friends and like-minded people): I'm slowly learning BSL (slowly seems to describe a lot of my activities nowadays), signing up for French starting next academic year, if I'm still as enthusiastic about this; and now have a desire to sew a costume myself, although with this one I'm completely out of my depths, and it will likely stay as a long-lasting wish either forever, or at least for a very long time. Ah, also quite a few films added to the watchlist, poetry (it seems poto authors are particularly partial to Yeats) and, of course, classic (and-not-so-classic) music! You guys had me listening to Satie's Gnossiennes, Gluk's Orfeo ed Euridice, múm and lots of Bach as of late.