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littlejuicebox · 11 months ago

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You'll stay still, won't you, little love?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: Sometime in the beginning of Act 3; you and Astarion are exploring intimacy/sex

Rating/Warnings: M+ / 18+ only please/ Smut with little to no plot / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers / PiV / CW / fingering / teasing and overstim if you squint / not beta read or edited too much

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I'm a degenerate, idk what else to tell you guys. I’m shocked this came out of my brain, but here we are. Enjoy or be totally flabbergasted or avoid it entirely I don’t know about you all but I simultaneously want to do all three. 💀

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You suspected Astarion enjoyed exploring intimacy with you, perhaps more than he thought he would. The first few weeks after his confession at Moonrise Towers resulted in a rather chaste arrangement between the two of you. Days were filled with stolen pecks and occasional hand holding between missions; nights were spent mostly cuddling half-naked or sometimes simply making out.

When a situation became particularly heated, he would always break away, panting. The flush on his face and the thrumming of his undead heart told you he enjoyed these moments, and his erection pressing into you always became quite the distraction.

Gods, how badly you wanted more. But you had to force yourself to pull back and allow him to take the lead, never pushing further than he was willing to give.

For a few weeks, a bit of grinding and caressing above the waist was as far as Astarion would advance. But shortly after leaving the Shadowlands, something within the silver-haired elf changed. He’d become quite intent on exploring your body almost every night, putting his masterful fingers and tongue to work, almost desperate to watch you come undone.

“You don’t have to, Astarion,” You pant one evening, after a few weeks of nearly daily interactions quite similar to this one. The rogue was working his nimble fingers inside the edge of your small clothes, aiming to delve into your already soaking folds. The bulge of his cock, barely covered by his own underwear, pressed against your rear as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

“I know, my love,” He murmurs, removing his mouth from where it had been tenderly suckling your neck. The vampire licks along the fresh love bite, eliciting a little whimper of pleasure from you. And then he smirks as his fingers find the already engorged bundle of nerves between your legs, causing you to instinctively buck toward him with a whine, “But I want to. I quite like the pretty little sounds you make for me, you know.”

He continues his ministrations for a few moments, reveling in your desperate keens. Nothing else stroked Astarion’s ego quite like this.

“Darling, I’d like to try something different tonight, if you don’t mind.” He purrs as his fingers change their rhythm from the languid circles over your clit to gentle, teasing strokes between your folds. The rogue’s hand dips just enough to tease your entrance with two digits before he retracts again, leaving you mewling in frustration.

You need more. He knows it. And he aimed to give you more tonight, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to toy with you for a moment or two.

“What is it, Astarion?” You ask breathlessly, as he pauses his movements entirely. You whine again and then turn your head to look at the rogue, where he is smirking down at you, clearly enjoying the desperation he’s elicited from his lover. You are caught between his cock and his hand, slowly rolling your hips back and forth, practically begging the silver-haired elf to fuck you with his fingers.

“I want you to come on my cock tonight.” He responds, arching his eyebrow just slightly, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “If that’s what you want, my sweet.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you swear you feel yourself grow more slick at the mere suggestion. You lick your lips, attempting to moderate your own excitement, trying to avoid making him feel obligated in any way. Astarion’s fingers have resumed their teasing movements, and the newly found wetness causes the vampire to chuckle in delight.

“Judging by the slickness of your perfect little cunt, that certainly is what you want. Am I correct, love?” He purrs into your ear, fangs grazing against your lobe as he rolls his growing erection toward your ass once again.

“Y-yes,” You gasp, and as soon as you do, Astarion rips your underwear from your body before tossing the ruined undergarment across the tent.

“Then you will get what you want on one condition, darling.” He continues, and you feel the engorged head of his cock stroking between your folds from behind. The sensation makes you shiver in delight; you desire nothing more than to have him buried inside you.

“What is it?” You ask, instinctively rolling your hips back against him again, moaning when his length rubs against your clit.

Astarion grabs your hip firmly, digging his nails into the side of your ass and ceasing your movements entirely. You whine and then he’s practically laughing in your ear, you can feel how entertained he is by your predicament. He places a tender kiss on your neck before he purrs, “You aren’t allowed to move one bit, sweet girl, or else I will pull out and leave you with nothing.”

You groan in dismay at this stipulation, “Astarion! I don’t- I don’t know if I can hold still.”

“Oh but my love, the choices are simple,” He continues, his voice playfully condescending as his other hand wanders up to lightly tease a nipple, ripping another little moan from you, “You can either be filled by my cock or by my fingers. So which will it be?”

You whine as the male elf uses one hand to stimulate your breast and the other to barely plunge into your sex again.

“Your cock!” You cry, unable to contain yourself any further, “I want your cock.”

Astarion chuckles, quite content with this response. He slides his erection between your folds again, using your arousal to lubricate his length, “And you’ll stay still, won’t you, little love?”

“Yes, I won’t move,” You agree, and this earns you a delighted groan from the vampire. He reveled in the power dynamics of your coupling, and your willingness to surrender control in the bedroom.

“Good girl,” He coos, and then he’s pressing himself into the entrance of your sex. You moan as the head of his rock-hard cock stretches your cunt; there is a bit of resistance at first; it’s been several weeks since more than two fingers have been inside you, after all.

He takes you inch by inch, slowly dragging himself along your velvet walls. Before long, Astarion’s length has filled you completely, and you’re basking in the sensation of being stretched by your lover.

His breath is ragged behind you as he struggles to remain in control, almost entirely overcome with the desire to simply have his way with you. But that’s not the game tonight, he reminds himself.

In one swift motion he’s rolled you both so that you are straddled over him, your back pressed to his chest. He uses his knees to spread your legs wide, fully opening you up for his seasoned hands to explore. His long fingers drag over your stomach and then travel down between your legs, where they easily find that sensitive nub.

“How does it feel to be sitting atop my cock, darling?” Astarion asks as he slowly, teasingly strokes his slender fingers up and down on your drenched folds. You are seeping arousal at this point, coating him with his well-deserved reward. His cock throbs at the thought.

“Wonderful,” You respond, honestly but breathlessly as you struggle to keep yourself from rolling your hips at all. Your legs are positively shaking with the effort to exert such control, and the little tremors running along your spine are urging the vampire on.

Astarion guides your own hand up to your breasts, where he urges you to tease your own nipple. He palms the flesh of the other breast in one hand as he continues to drag his nimble fingers around your throbbing bud.

You are instinctively clenching around him now, your body desperate to milk every ounce of seed from the vampire. Astarion himself is shaking with the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not lift his hips and fuck up into your warmth.

You cannot restrain yourself any longer, your hips buck and you’re instantly rewarded with the delicious sensation of Astarion’s length running against your walls. But then a sharp, stinging smack singes the side of your ass, and a shocked gasp escapes your lips.

“What did I say, darling? Be a good girl and hold still. Try that again and I will pull out.” The rogue warns while speeding up his efforts on your clit.

You sharply pinch your own nipple, trying desperately to keep yourself from moving any more. But gods, how badly you want to. You’re so close. Your walls are clenching tighter and tighter, and the sensation is causing Astarion to grunt in response. He’s trying just as desperately to hold back as you quiver around him, tempting him to do the exact opposite.

His hips buck just once before he regains control and stills himself, but gods the walls of your tight pussy wrapped around him felt divine. The sharp thrust made you moan loudly in delight, and your entire body was shivering from the self-control you were using to hold still. He felt you standing on the precipice of pleasure, so close to the edge. You just needed a little push to fall into a world of ecstasy, and that, he could provide.

“Let go, little love. Come for me,” He whispers hoarsely, and the command sends you tumbling over the edge. You feel the wave crashing over you, rippling through your sex and up to your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you whine, signaling your release.

You are mid-orgasm when Astarion roughly grabs both sides of your hips and hisses, “Fuck it.”

And then he’s thrusting upwards, repeatedly burying himself inside you, intent on fucking you through the second half of your orgasm. You cry out in pleasure as the vampire moans into the side of your neck, continuing to piston himself into you as he chases his own release.

Once again, his fingers find their way to your over-sensitive clit and he’s working at it frantically, in the practiced motion he knows to be your favorite. You keen and try to clamp your legs shut; the sensation is almost too much. But Astarion growls and forces your legs open with his knees as he quickly brings you to the edge of another orgasm.

Your lover is panting with exertion as he holds back his own release. Through gritted teeth he urges you on, using the hand not playing with your clit to grab your hip and slam you down to meet his thrusts.

“One more, darling. You can do one more, can’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.” He coaxes, his voice near breathless but filled with gravel.

“Oh, fuck!” Is all you can respond as the second orgasm rips through you, stronger than the first. You’re seeing stars as your pussy throbs around Astarion’s shaft, rewarding his efforts with a deliciously tight grip and another gush of your delectable juices. The high-pitched, uninhibited whine that escapes you while you’re drowning in ecstasy is music to the rogue’s ears.

As your greedy cunt clenches around him again during that second wave of pleasure, Astarion emits a strangled moan of his own.

He buries his face in your neck as he soon struggles to buck forward, shakily dragging his sensitive, swollen length in and out of your walls just a few more times before he buries himself balls-deep. Thick ropes of his spend shoot up into your warmth as he groans, consumed by his own euphoria behind you. His cock continues to pulse for a few moments longer, urged on by the relentless spasming of your sex around him.

Both of you are heaving and shaking slightly once he finally relaxes his legs. You’re still laying atop him as he slowly roams his hands over your body, idly stroking your curves in soft, soothing motions.

“I thought you said we couldn’t move,” You finally say, voice completely hoarse from the cries of ecstasy you uttered moments ago.

“I said you couldn’t move, darling. I didn’t say anything about me.” The vampire responds with a self-satisfied smirk as he playfully nips at your earlobe, “Are you truly complaining that I did all the work?”

“No,” You respond, finally pulling yourself off of the vampire, releasing the slick combination of your respective arousals as it drips between the two of you. “But at some point I’d like it to be me making all that effort to bring pleasure to you.”

He pulls you down beside him with a little hum. You pull the blanket over the two of you. No other words are exchanged as you drift to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the events of the day and this satisfying but unexpected evening. Astarion watches you sleep, and for the first time he allows himself to acknowledge that he might also like to let you have a bit of control in the bedroom… perhaps next time.

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aliteralsemicolon · 4 months ago

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

1K notes · View notes

nerdallwritey · 4 months ago

Text

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!! - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days.

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine.

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up.

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo.

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it.

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through.

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger.

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk.

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely.

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately.

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.”

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own.

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms.

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.”

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you.

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party.

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her.

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine.

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left.

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you.

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.��

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach.

But you faltered.

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you.

“You do. You know you do.”

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up.

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off.

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion.

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place.

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him.

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy.

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t.

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him.

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection.

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral.

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless.

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.”

He approached you slowly.

Seductively.

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway.

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?”

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly.

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head.

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed.

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch.

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react.

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features.

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body.

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous.

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway.

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake.

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face.

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention.

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away.

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt.

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you.

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband.

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear.

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything to end this weird tension you were feeling.

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet.

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you.

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing.

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh.

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.”

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge.

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears.

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders.

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades.

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work.

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin.

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over.

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child.

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing.

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand.

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued.

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face.

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky.

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked.

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair.

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased.

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory.

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp.

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him.

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.”

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded.

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks.

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process.

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh.

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance.

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited.

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body.

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.”

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder.

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes.

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly.

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip.

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight.

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throneofsapphics · 5 months ago

Text

have your little girlfriend, part seven

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Catching Aelin's eye, you quickly end up entangled between her and Rowan, forced to navigate their darker sides in your new relationship.

Warnings: included on series masterlist to avoid spoilers!

Word Count: ~4.4k

A/N: we've reached the penultimate chapter!! thank you to both @whisperingmidnights and @moonlightttfae for your support <3 (and all of you who kept motivating me and reminding me about this little story)

series masterlist

Settling next to her on the bed, Aelin ran a hand down her thigh, “Rowan and I are thinking about trying for a child.”

The happiness she felt in that moment wasn’t faked. It was true, bright, and genuine.

“That’s wonderful,” she breathed, reaching out and clutching Aelin’s hand gently. “Are you?” She glanced down towards her stomach

Aelin’s bright laugh tinkled through the room. “Thinking about trying, petal. You should listen more,” she chided ‘jokingly,’ but she caught the small down curve at the last syllable.

Her mouth curled up at the corners anyway. This was something that had been hovering in the back of everyone’s minds for so long it only felt right. Now, her mind drifted to how she’d celebrate with Aelin. She glanced at the small bottle of oil on the side table. A massage would help her mate relax. Running her hands over her shoulders, she realized just how tense she was, and noticed the light bags underneath her eyes.

Aelin read the question in her eyes.

“There’s been a lot to … catch up on,” she said delicately.

‘Because of you, your settling, your burden,’ her mind whirled, the voice not her own.

“No,” Aelin said firmly, aloud. “What you’re thinking - it’s not true.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she countered automatically. Aelin frowned and she winced, sending a silent apology. It seemed to appease her mate, especially as she reached for the oil, motioning for Aelin to turn around, eagerly complying. First, she undid the ties on the back of her tunic, letting her skin expose inch by inch, fingers running delicately over the relatively smooth skin, tracing the lines and swirls of her tattoos.

Aelin laid down, head turned sideways to rest her cheek on the pillow. Straddling her waist, she let the oil drip directly on her back.

Not having any training or particularly good technique, she just went for whatever drew the best reactions out of her mate. Thumbs dug into sore spots, nails scratched down lightly, gentle kisses left on shoulders, teeth nipping, dodging when Aelin’s fingers shot out to pinch in playful reprimand.

The breaths grew longer, more ragged, less controlled. Bodies shifted to release tension, thighs rubbed together subconsciously, hands jolted, movements less smooth and controlled.

The game reached its expiration point as Aelin flipped over, throwing her underneath and straddling her hips to pin her in place.

Leaning down, brushing lips against her ear, “my turn,” she breathed.

Strands of fire wrapped around her wrist, not burning but pinning them above her head. She lifted her chest, arching her back, giving her mate her favorite view.

Aelin’s thumbs brushed over her breasts in appreciation. The touches grew firmer, a mark of exactly who was in charge.

“So beautiful, petal,” she murmured. “I’m so lucky.”

“We’re so lucky,” an amused voice interrupted from the back. Aelin waved him off - a half hearted dismissal, countered with a laugh and slow but purposeful steps across the room.

Her mates locked eyes, a silent conversation she wasn’t privy to passing through. Her legs shifted, subconsciously reaching for their attention. The smiles appearing on their faces set her on edge.

Before she could think further, or ask more questions, Aelin had turned, slid up the bed, and hovered above her. She faced away, toward Rowan, who was currently lining up between her thighs.

“Snap if you need to stop,” he said roughly. She didn’t get to see him enter her as Aelin lowered herself over her face. She didn’t care.

Later that night, curled up next to them in bed, she realized she’d probably never fall pregnant. Biologically, it didn’t matter to her who birthed the child, she’d help raise and love them all the same. But was pregnancy something she wanted? It would interfere with the royal succession and all of that. Things her mates had probably thought of and discarded for a later time. Well, now was the later time. Right now … she was a royal concubine, wasn’t she?

Still, they already had little time to spare, and a child would … she shook her head. How gods-damned selfish could she be? The time she took up in their lives would be better spent on a child. A child would be more worthy of the time than her. All she’d done is drag her mates down since they met, causing problems and bringing chaos in her wake. She was, at the very least, a basket case.

She should be happy for her mates, for how long they’d wanted this baby - held back by her. She was the one holding them back from their dreams and everything they wanted.

It was bullshit, she knew. The child would be more than happy with three parents. She wasn’t happy, and the time was coming where she picked for herself for once, but she had to be careful about it.

Right now, she didn’t know what she wanted. Of course, these concerns couldn’t be raised because at the first hint of suspicion she might leave them she’d be placed firmly on lockdown - not given the slightest chance. Their love always came hand in hand with obsession, and with that a heavy weight she couldn’t quite kick. Several days, all she wanted was for the heaviness to leave her chest.

Besides, they were Fae and it could take years for any of them to fall pregnant. When that time came, she knew what she’d have to do, and knew it would hurt like hell in so many ways.

“What’s on your mind?” Rowan murmured from her right. To her left, Aelin was sound asleep. She hadn’t realized he was awake.

“Life,” she whispered.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Aelin had spread out to take over most of the bed, and seemed perfectly content wrapped in all of the pillows and blankets but she knew her mate would reach for her soon. Until then, she let herself melt into Rowan, his warmth and the steady circles he traced on her back.

This, this feeling, warmth, and content. She wanted desperately to be selfless and stay, but eventually she’d need to be selfish and go. The clock was ticking down.

A year later, she knew something was different. Firstly, she could barely stand to have others near Aelin. At first she thought it was because they hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, but then her mate’s scent changed.

Rowan’s behavior confirmed her suspicion. She thanked the gods that their instincts didn't apply to each other.

Pregnancy suited Aelin, it seemed like a gold dust or shimmer always coated her, bathing her in some sort of ethereal light.

It took one week for her to remember the original plan.

With her mates distracted with preparations for the babe, it was all too easy for her to get things together to leave.

There was one thing standing in her way. Her bargain with Fenrys. Her own conscience died as soon as she began considering this. She wasn’t able to go to the Staghorns with him accompanying her, and he couldn’t run with her. Would he try to stop her if she he knew she was preparing to leave? She considered him a brother, but undeniably his loyalty went to Aelin first and not just because of the blood oath. It hurt that she couldn’t truly trust him, and she knew it was unfair but in her mind it was Aelin and Rowan stealing another thing from her. Besides, he’d pulled away from her recently. Like the rest of them, he was preoccupied with Aelin’s pregnancy.

A blessing, but a blessing so precious it put everyone on edge.

The only other option was to go somewhere else. She decided to post a few letters.

Rushing over to the table, grabbing a quill and ink while they were still busy, the sound of pen scratching paper filled their rooms.

What were those vacation spots we used to go to? I’ve been reminiscing about our childhood.

Only brief phrases flooded into her mind as she wrote, the rest flowing straight from her mind to paper, the only filter the code she created with her cousins years ago as children. Hopefully the gods were looking out for her, and her cousins remembered. With a little luck, whoever undoubtedly read the letter wouldn’t find anything suspicious or worth reporting back to home for. Even if they did, she’d gained their trust well enough and they were so preoccupied she doubted they would pay much attention to it. After all, they hadn’t paid much attention to her.

She glanced at the clock. Two hours til they were finished with the meeting. Leaving the castle alone wouldn’t raise suspicion anymore, now with her settling a year in the past. Black cloak pulled over her head, silver clasp fastened at the collarbone, rain pouring outside, she slipped through a servants passage, and out the front gate. Sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight.

Sticking to main streets, smiling at the few who dared venture outside during inclement weather, she headed right for the post stand. Not unusual of her before her settling - the citizens of Orynth had long memories after all, even the mortals. Her primary form of communication couldn’t be in person after all, and she had piles and piles of letters from her cousins. Still, the code was necessary because she couldn’t risk anyone reading her mail. Everyone was nosy. Finding someone she trusted, someone loyal to the crown, knowing an extra coin would make no difference in their behavior, she made the exchange.

Instead of a breath of fresh air, her chest tightened. This was the first step to the ultimate betrayal.

Anxiety and panic filled her, all of her will and energy went to keeping it from the mating bond. Despite her current plans, she still cared deeply about Aelin, her health, and the health of the babe. But … how much of herself did she need to sacrifice? How much could she, before it broke her completely?

“Is everything alright miss?” A guard asked at the gate. Miss.

When did she start crying?

“Just good news,” she put on her best cheery voice. He looked skeptical. “Really,” she insisted.

“Alright,” he gave her a polite nod and she fled - well, walked as fast as she could get away with. He would undoubtedly go to someone. With Aedion gone for a few days, it would be Fenrys - the guard knew better than to approach Rowan at a time like this. Fenrys might be testy as well, she realized, but a safer option for them - and her.

Fleeing for her safe space, she eyed the clock, counting the time until a white wolf appeared.

Seven minutes.

“You’re slow today,” she mumbled, wiping an errant tear with the back of her hand.

Flash of light, a Fae male.

“What’s wrong?” He said, voice deep and lined with a touch of exasperation. He cut to the chase, a touch of impatience in his tone. A tone he’d never taken with her before.

“I should ask you that,” she bit back.

His shoulders loosened. “I don’t like being away from her right now,” he admitted.

She sent him a commiserating smile. “Neither do I.”

He raised a brow. Why aren’t you there, you could read the words in his eyes.

“Rowan is touchy,” she added.

“I’m aware,” he drawled and sat on the couch opposite her, leaning forward, forearms against his thighs. “But I’m surprised he is even with you, his other mate”

Other mate. Fenrys realized his poor choice of words immediately, she saw it in the look on his face. She waved it off, “I know you don’t mean it like that.” She wondered if he’d acknowledge the lie or brush it under the rug, and would’ve bet money on the second.

“I don’t,” Fenrys said, “it doesn’t mean it's not wrong I said it like that.”

Maybe she underestimated him. “I’m f-”

“Don’t say that, I know you don’t mean it,” he cut her off, “how are you handling this?”

She pressed her lips into a tight line, going for as close to the truth as she can get. “I’m thrilled, nervous, and uncertain.”

He huffed “you sound like the rest of us.”

“I suppose I do,” she forced a smile. Concern flashed in those dark eyes, but he didn’t push, enough of that had been done today.

She didn’t go to the healers with them, she never did anymore. The first time had been so much that they insisted only one mate could come with, and that went to Rowan. Personally, both she and Aelin thought she would’ve been the safer choice, less likely to murder someone, but even that couldn’t be completely guaranteed so it might as well be the king. It only reinforced her thoughts, without her it would be easier around. She thought it was probably better that way, each visit felt like the ticking of a clock, and at least here she could separate herself more with less worry that they would notice it.

It felt like hours this time, and Fenrys kept her company today in her workshop. Good, better than being alone with her thoughts. Aelin was seven months pregnant, and weekly check ups quite obviously frustrated her but the rest of them didn’t care. Each check up was one week closer to her departure.

Shaking her head clear of thoughts, her hand hovered over the material, flooding back and forth. It was frustrating, trying to get her magic to work as it used to. Half of the time she could make beautiful creations, even better than before, but the other half they were … not ugly but more angry is the best way she could describe it. They said magic spoke to her soul and she wondered what that meant about her. Nothing good.

“I like this one,” Fenrys pointed towards a piece that pissed her off. Angry ripples of wood, different colors streaked between, “it’s … original.”

“It should go in the trash,” she muttered.

“No more breaking things,” he snorted, but she could hear a hint of worry. She rarely threw anything away - if anything she took them and tried to remake them over and over again. There was no point in throwing out old creations if they could tell a story of her life and work, or if they could be re-used. After the ‘broken glass episode,’ as she called it in her mind, she hated the sounds of anything breaking.

Once, Aelin almost took the head off a poor courtier who’d accidentally broken a glass in her presence. At least her magic cooperated enough for her to make it nearly impossible for any glassware in this castle to break, unless someone intentionally threw it. The way it worked, her magic wouldn’t stop someone from breaking it if they wanted to, it only stopped accidents.

Maybe if - when she reinvented herself somewhere else she could sell magically reinforced glassware. Although that might be too obvious and could get her caught.

The southern continent might take her. She abandoned the glass, settling for tapping her fingers on her table instead. Fenrys was pacing by the door. This appointment had been an emergency and she was thinking of how she’d be leaving soon.

More than ever before, she believed she was a truly terrible person. Someone, she had to tell someone about this - get them to convince her to quit this insanity.

“Fen-” She started, his head turning towards her, just as they heard footsteps down the hall. Later on when the wolf asked what she wished to speak about earlier, she didn’t remember, mentioning offhand it must not have been very important.

“Everything is well,” Aelin said as she entered, Rowan quick on her heels. They’d taken to coming here after - probably because she always had chocolate ready for Aelin.

Sure enough, she slid a box of hazelnut chocolates across the table to her pregnant mate. She was absolutely insatiable. Nothing could curb her appetite, but she gladly fed the addiction. Anything to make her happy while she was still here.

“I wish you could go to the appointments with me,” Aelin mumbled in between bites after Rowan stepped out of the room. “He’s such a bear.”

“He’s always seemed more bird-like to me,” she countered automatically, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she focused on one piece of material.

A palm slapped against the table, stifled breathing - panic - eyes shot up. Laughter.

“That. Was. Horrible,” Aelin wheezed, but her cheeks were lifted, eyes light, and the giggles left her were contagious.

“If I’m a bear,” Rowan grumbled, stalking through the door. Aelin shot you a hopeful look. Had she spoken in his hearing range on purpose? “Then let petal go next time instead.”

Rowan turned, looking at her like he had a mental list of instructions ready. She gulped. What had she signed up for? A tiny glint in his eye told him she wasn’t too sure

Her hands shook as they floated over the material. It took what felt like ages for her to work with glass again, and even now it still felt too raw but this was something she needed to do. And with the glass collected from her … melt down. A complete waste, that was. So many hours of work smashed into pieces, thrown into a bucket for her to try and fix her mistakes. She vowed to herself this wouldn’t be a mistake, that she was doing the ‘right’ thing.

But … was it the right thing for her or for them? Could it be both?

Too. Much. Thinking.

She refocused on the object in front of her, passing her hands over it again, trying to let her magic flow from inside of her. Ever since her settling it had been a tad more difficult to access, but when she did manage to access it … well her workshop is now reinforced. Heavily.

After the fifth attempt, she sighed and slid it to the side. This one had to be perfect, and if it wasn’t working now she might as well try again on a later date. If it wasn’t perfect … well, for who it was going to she’d accept nothing less from herself. Would it sting more if they knew the effort she put into it? When the time comes?

Generally, that thought would’ve kept her mind swirling for hours but she was so damn tired that as soon as she laid her head down on her bench to ‘rest’ for a moment, she was out.

“Beautiful,” a lovely voice whispered into her ear, a warm hand running down her arm, warmth spreading behind her. She jerked up, nearly falling out of her chair.

“Shit,” she muttered, glancing at the clock, dings and tears on the outside. Worn down from where years ago it was shiny and new. It only started breaking down more after she moved to the castle.

Aelin laughed, the sound beautiful and carrying. She glanced at her pregnant mate, Radiant as always. “You should get some more sleep,” she tutted.

“You’re pregnant you should be,” she yawned, hand covering her mouth.

“Hush,” Aelin murmured, reaching a hand to her. In her tired state, the hand seemed like a lifeline, a symbol. She took the land, but used her other to push herself out of her seat, refusing to let Aelin do any lifting.

“I’m not incapable,” Aelin said, an edge to her tone.

“You’d do the same to me,” she countered, pulling her hand away to cross her arms in mock stern-ness.

Aelin frowned and snatched her hand back. “This is mine,” she flipped it off and placed a kiss on her palm, before tugging her towards the door, “and I’m hungry.”

Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.

It felt like years, when in reality it was months, but eventually it was ready.

“I need to go grab something,” she murmured one night, perhaps an hour or so before they’d turn down for bed. Rowan and Aelin didn’t particularly like when she went wandering around alone after dark, but this was when she wanted to give it to them. “From my workshop,” she clarified.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” Rowan sounded a little snippy.

Throat tightening, she nodded and turned, blinking back tears at the slight embarrassment. Has nobody really been stopping her? Had this all actually been inside of her head?

“Wait,” Rowan’s voice floated through the open doorway. She turned to see the male standing there, filling the space completely, the corners of his mouth softened slightly. “Let me come with you.”

“You can’t,” she backed away, but a natural smile started playing on her lips. “It’s a surprise.”

“I’ll close my eyes,” he took one step into the hall.

“No,” she insisted. She’d worked too hard on it to have the surprise ruined for one of them. It had to be both or nothing.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes lightly, but she could’ve sworn she detected some fondness in his tone. “Be quick,” he added.

She shifted, senses sharpening, a white fox sprinting down the hall. A fae female carried back the gift, perfectly wrapped in a small gold box, a neat bow sealing it.

The cautious way she held it caught Aelin’s attention first, as if it was the most precious thing she’d encountered in so very long. She knew instinctively it was one of her creations.

Do you know what this is? She looked at Rowan.

No, he answered her silently, and she caught the curiosity in his eyes, probably reflected in her own.

She motioned for Rowan to sit, and he did - amusing her. Her mate’s thigh pressed against her own, a strong and comforting weight. She stood before them, and held it out almost like someone presenting a gift at court, her hands shaking slightly. Her hands rarely shook. Aelin frowned, but working in-sync she and Rowan took the box together.

Carefully, the bow was slid open, the lid tilted back - an involuntary gasp left her. She nearly dropped it. Thanks the fucking Gods Rowan was holding it or she might’ve spiraled if she’d somehow broken it.

A beautiful glass sphere, painstakingly decorated with the Lord of the North, trees, rivers, mountains, kingsflame, and several other tiny decorations that must’ve taken her hours. How long had she been working on this?

More than that, as far as Aelin knew it was the first glass decoration she’d created since the episode, as she called it in her mind.

Shattered glass. Blood. Screaming. She pushed it out of her mind, refocusing herself on the present.

Rowan was already standing and embracing her. Carefully and slowly rising, she joined.

For as long as it was together, the glass had a proud place on the mantelpiece, prime sight for any who walked in the rooms spot it.

It was time. Barely a week after her gift, she’d received the imminent word Aelin was going into labor. An hour later, she ran.

Not being there for her mate at her most vulnerable time nearly killed her, but she knew Rowan wouldn’t dare leave Aelin’s side to come look for her. They knew where she’d be, but they wouldn’t risk outraging the Wolf Tribe and alienating some of their subjects by coming to steal her in the middle of the night. She’d heard them acknowledge it before when they thought she was sleeping. They’ve always underestimated her, she thought.

She wrote down the words rehearsed in her mind for months, edited and changed over and over again until they made sense.

Don’t come looking for me, you know what will happen if you do. I’ll come back when I’m ready. I swear I love you.

She sliced the tip of her finger with her dagger, let three drops, one for each of them, dripped onto the paper and folded it in three before placing it in as obvious of a position as possible, their names stitched on the front in her elegant cursive. Would they burn the letter or keep it?

It didn’t matter.

She snuck through the castle, taking servants passageways and back exits until she was at the edges of the city. Stashed in a hidden hole next to a tree were her supplies. She slipped her arms through the loops of the pack before setting off.

The new tree growth and winter morning smelt like fresh air and freedom to her, like a new beginning and dawn she never thought she’d see, despite the strong and ever growing tug attempting to bring her back to her mates.

That thought posed another question, could they really be her mates if she could hurt them like this?

She knew, in her soul, this was a betrayal she’d never come back for. What she was breaking could never be remade in its original form or anything similar. She kept going, without so much as a look over her shoulder. Yes, she felt the pain and misery and likely would for the rest of her miserable immortal life but at least she did something for herself.

Rowan knew in his soul she was gone. Physically.

If he detached himself from the situation, he would recognize how she had good timing and planning, perhaps even appreciate it. But he wasn’t, instead he was filled with fury. That fury was contained with his pregnant wife and mate currently in labor in front of him. Distracted enough she didn’t know yet, and he’d keep it that way for as long as he could. Rowan wasn’t certain he wouldn’t hurt her for everything she was about to put Aelin through. He couldn’t kill her but he could make her life a living hell and in his current anger he swore he would.

Surrounding himself and the room in a shield of wind, drowning out all sounds, his shaking fingers closed around the glass orb she’d painstakingly created for them. Even months of work, fine lines and pure artistry were no help in quelling his anger. Rowan let his fingers release, and the orb smashed on the tile flooring.

He already knew could be a vindictive and cruel son of a bitch, but she was going to find out just how cruel and vindictive he could be. Boots crunched over glass, her fate sealed.

taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @inloveallthetime @sstrohma @fightmedraco @daughterofthemoons-stuff @skinny-baby-4eva @feyres-fireheart @helloevilmuffins @panther-girl-124 @starsinyourseyes @natiebug1 @paleidiot @agent-anna @123345566

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #throne of glass x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin x y/n #aelin x reader

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vixstarria · 1 year ago

Text

Something real

I thought I’d play around with an Astarion POV and this is what happened.

Connected with my other headcanon fics, would take place after this one, but before the end of this one. You don’t have to read them for this to make sense though. (But you totally should!)

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV

Comfort, fluff, budding love, banter, humour, Act 1 spoilers, non-explicit, light angst, probably too much swearing

Approximately 2,000 words.

AO3

You were lying alone by the fire, waiting for her to join you, trying once again to untangle the mess this woman made in your head.

What exactly were you, to each other?

Were you just temporary travelling companions having meaningless sex for stress relief?

Or were you lovers in the more literal sense of that word?

And is that what you wanted..? To be someone’s, whom you could call your own? To have something real..?

It should have been simple, except the lines kept shifting and blurring. And needless to say, this wasn’t at all what you had initially intended.

All you knew was, this deliciously ambiguous time at the end of your evenings, when you just talked – this was your favourite time of day.

You were restless with anticipation, now that everyone else had finally gone to sleep or was shuffling around in their tents.

Except she was nowhere to be seen.

You could always slip into her tent, she might even have been waiting for you there now – but then you'd most likely wind up putting on the ‘seductive lusty lover’ mask, and as fun as that was, it’s not what you wanted right now.

You were getting impatient.

You wondered just how undignified and out of character it would be to simply go to her tent and lure her out on some pretense, like the stars being particularly bright, or some similar horseshit. You glanced at the sky. The stars weren’t even visible.

Fuck. ...Well, she’d just laugh at that anyway.

But lo and behold, there she was at last, plundered bottle of wine in hand. You bit your tongue to avoid addressing her with any of your habitual epithets, for which she’d rebuked you on numerous occasions, but she went ahead and did it for you herself anyway:

“Here I am! The wind beneath your wings, the rose among your thorns! The fire in your furnace, the... uh... help me out here, will you?”

“The biting canines in my buttock.”

“There we go! A touch predictable, but no less eloquent for it.”

She sat down, right next to your head, stretching her legs out towards the fire, and gave you a searching and expectant look, not saying anything.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow back at her.

“Well come on, scooch up,” she said with a playful smile on her lips.

You lifted slightly on your elbows and laid your head in her lap.

This is new.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked, waving a wrist, and then the wine in the other hand suggestively at you.

“Not tonight, dear,” you chuckled. “I had quite a successful boar hunt while the rest of you were playing hero in the foothills.”

“Suit yourself.” She took a drink straight from the bottle and stared off into the fire, her other hand absentmindedly running through your hair. You resisted the urge to lean further into her touch.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked after the silence went on a touch too long.

“I would like you to explain something to me.” she said quietly.

You instinctively tensed, your mind racing, wondering what you could have possibly done or let slip.

“...Why in the fuck do you lot listen to and take directions from me? Do none of you realize I’m just a shit-talking clown and have no idea what I’m doing?” the tone of her voice was flat.

...Ah. That.

“This ‘clown’ led us unscathed through a subversive operation in a goblin camp. Mostly via shit-talking. You even convinced one of them to lick your boot!” you shook your head incredulously. “Give yourself credit where it’s due. Do you think anyone else here could have pulled that off?”

I probably could have. Wouldn’t. But could have.

She took a swig from the bottle, considering your question. “Well you definitely could have done the same. You’d just choose not to. ...why are you laughing?”

“Never mind that. Would you like me to take over for you, darling?”

“Good heavens, no!” she grimaced in mock horror. “Just stay at my side, as my moral compass.”

“Your moral compass?”

“When in doubt, I ask myself ‘What would Astarion do?’, and do the opposite. Usually that’s good enough to keep everyone happy and keep bloodshed to a minimum.”

You’re not wrong.

“But gods it’s been exhausting...” she was sombre again. “They all want something, and they all think their problem is the most urgent. ‘We must go to the creche – no, we must go to Moonrise – no, but my heart will explode – no, but I and everything around me will explode’” she was getting riled up, gesticulating with the bottle in her hand. You were worried it would fly out of her grip. She paused to collect herself.

“At least your demands are too insane to entertain in the first place,” she continued with a weary grin. “‘Embrace the tadpole, take over a cult, fight squirrels, commit genocide’” - she did her best to mimic your manner of speaking, then rolled her eyes and took another swig from the bottle.

“Never know where a little thinking outside the box might lead you, dear.” I just want my freedom, whatever it takes. ...And that squirrel was looking at you funny. “And you? What do you want?”

“A hot bath, new lute strings, and a cat to cuddle,” she answered without hesitation.

You couldn’t think of anything better than to emit a very convincing meow.

It must have taken her by surprise - she glanced down at you, eyes wide, before bursting out laughing and scratching you behind the ear.

You hated to admit it, but you were very pleased with yourself, making her laugh like that.

“My pointy-eared feline predator,” she murmured, looking into your eyes and smiling, as she slowly and delicately ran her finger along the edge of your ear, right to the tip, which felt... divine, actually.

This... this was too intimate for someone you just had meaningless sex with, right?

You heard some rustling and footsteps nearby, too casual to be an intruder, probably just someone walking off to relieve themselves.

She jerked her hand away from you, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and actually made a motion as if to get up, before you stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist, still lying with your head in her lap.

“Hey... Hold on... Now you explain something to me. Earlier today, you burst into camp covered in hyena entrails, yelled ‘My star!’, threw yourself on me, legs and arms and all, like some deranged monkey, and made me spin you around, kissing you. ...But this is what embarrasses you?”

“That was putting on a silly act,” she said sheepishly. “And this is...” she faltered, looking for the right words.

Real..?

“Not intended for anyone else’s eyes.”

Real.

"Well everyone can direct their eyes elsewhere, then,” you responded, unable to contain a smile.

It’s real.

...Ahah!

“Oh, and you’re absolutely adorable, by the way,” you added.

She flicked you lightly on the nose and looked away. Was she blushing?

“Anyway. It’s Gale that worries me the most.”

Fucking Gale.

“He said the last artifact he consumed hardly did anything. He doesn’t know how much longer he can contain it. He’s inconsolable.” she continued.

“Perhaps we should all stop worrying and embrace the orb explosion. At least that will mean we won’t have to deal with anything else, ever.” you suggested. This was helpful, right?

“I wish I could do something to help, or at least get his mind off it for a while.”

Of course you do, you bleeding heart.

“And how might you ‘get his mind off it’, exactly?”

“I think we should seduce him,” she looked you straight in the eyes and said in a deadpan manner.

Oh, sliding off a serious topic straight back into fuckery with a straight face, are we? I know that game very well.

“Darling, even without the orb, he would literally explode if you held eye contact with him a second too long. He’s been pining for you since you pulled him out of that rock.” You waved a dismissive hand in Gale’s general direction. “The kindest thing you can do for him is give all your undivided attention to me, so he never has a glimmer of hope.”

Bloody Gale with his manicured beard, puppydog eyes and cooking skills...

“Well, while we’re on the topic, I still think we should seduce someone, to spice camp life up a bit. How about Lae’zel?” she continued.

“Lae’zel would skewer both of us if we approached her.”

...and his warm hands...

“Shadowheart?”

“...You know, I’m pretty sure Lae’zel would skewer us for that, too. Perhaps all three of us, on the same blade.”

...and his ability to find kind and empathetic words in any situation. ...Shame about the orb though.

“What about...” she grinned, “daddy Halsin?”

You exchanged a meaningful look.

Ha! Well there’s a curious thought. I wonder if he could contain himself, or if he would turn into a bear. How... dangerous.

“Let’s revisit that thought later.” you said pensively.

“Karlach is impossible, of course...” she continued. “That leaves Wyll.”

“Oh please,” you chortled. “Even if he wasn’t depressed over the whole... demonic horns and abducted parent conundrum. He strikes me as the ‘wait until marriage’ type. And he’d want to do the seducing himself.”

“I’m not so sure about the marriage part. He would keep it proper and gentlemanly though.” she thoughtfully tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Multiple extravagant dates to impress his sweetheart before making any moves, the whole shabang. You wouldn’t want him to try to sweep you off your feet?”

“Just me? No no, we are in this together.” you remarked. “And he could certainly afford to woo us both at once, being the son of a duke.”

“Weeks of wining and dining us, waiting for the fires of ‘true love’ to fully ignite...” she said contemplatively, gazing into the fire.

“Smothering us with red roses, romantic moonlit carriage rides and ballroom dancing...” you copied her tone.

“Until finally railing you on a grand piano one day, while I whipped him with a switch,” she said with a devilish grin.

“You absolute uncouth filth!” it was your turn to be taken off-guard as you shook with laughter.

You incredible, ridiculous, mad thing... I would spend another year locked alone and hungry in a tomb, if it meant keeping you alive and safe.

Something in your chest twisted.

Did I really just think that?

Yes, yes I did.

You needed to stop and consider what just came into your head. And give yourself a good slap in the face. But for now, more than anything, you desperately needed to switch your brain off.

You sat up and kissed her, pulling her into an embrace.

“You crazy idiot, what am I going to do with you?” you whispered, briefly touching your forehead to hers.

“Something nasty, I hope,” she answered with a cheeky smile. But there was more warmth than lust in her eyes.

“My tent or yours?” you asked softly, trailing a finger down a bare arm.

“Do you have vials of boar blood everywhere?”

“Yes. Do you have everything you’ve collected, ever, everywhere?”

“...Yes.”

Hoarder. I would give you a whole palace to decorate, just to see what you would do with it.

Sigh... “I guess I could accommodate you for a short while.”

Please stay all night.

On a sudden whim, you swept her up in your arms as you got up, carrying her to your tent.

What in the hells was I thinking?

“Oh!” she gasped, surprised. “My... I don’t suppose you’ve got a grand piano in there?”

“We’ll have to make do with my trunk, I’m afraid.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

None of this was going according to plan.

Fuck the plan.

You felt like a cretin and a fraud as you carried her off. But you’d make it right. She deserved something better. Something real.

And so did you, godsdamnit.

I’ll tell her... Just not today.

~~~~~

Next in series - Are you mine?

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #fkn Gale

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oneknightstand-if · 1 month ago

Text

Percy Soulmate Comments

All right, here are all the comments from the Percy Soulmate help post found here. Too many to do the normal screencap thing. Hopefully this will help for all those seeking to become Percy's soulmate (or declare they are) at first sight!

Thanks to everyone who commented.

unhell-of-the-unwise

You must be more than a cuckoo, you also need other required stats, such as pure (atleast 3), will (atleast 7), and as far as I recall, you must have 100% Sweet either on the personality you showcase outside or the one you hide.

unhell-of-the-unwise

-The pure stat can be gained by choosing “innocent” actions, if I’m right. Options can be when having a crush (obvious or hidden) on Adrian and choosing the song options in the Apocalypse topic when you talk with him during club time. One song option will have romantic lyrics, you must choose the innocent option to gain purity. Another option can be when asking Merlin in the latest update if they need to feed during the drive at the abandoned warehouse. Avoid potty mouthed responses and lustful choices, or the Lust sin. -Will is mostly options that oppose Denial, such as “I’ve always wanted to go on a apocalyptic trip!”, it also helps that some of these options also raise cuckoo levels. -The Sweet stat is easier to mesure, given that it’s visible. Obviously, choose positive responses so that it’s 100%, or if you fail to do so, choose 100% Sweet as your hidden persona.

Basically, the PC must be some sort of modern Percival. Forgot to mention, but you also must not be corrupted/possessed, the whole “pure” thing, you know.

unhell-of-the-unwise

Oh, and don’t be a coward, it’s tied to Will options so I won’t further elaborate.

unhell-of-the-unwise

According to the code, there is a hero stat, so I suppose picking the most..positive option when having the react to your backstory helps.

unhell-of-the-unwise

I bid thee farewell as I cease my mindless rambling.

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise Some corrections as I've 'ctrl+f'd through the code and you're mostly right. Pure is gained by: OBVIOUS SPOILERS INCOMING: Never swearing. This should actually score you enough points for the soulmate flag on its own, so long as you don't lose points. However, if you still want to curse in every language known to man, as swearing does not subtract points on its own, there are just enough points to scrounge up to still trigger the flag. In the polo route, you have to Instinctively save Pippa, and not back down even if you fail. In the the fencing route, you can get a point for giving the panhandler your spare change and by not saving Zain but by then applying pressure to the wound. After club, if you are not a Greed MC or panicking, you must go back to Help Merlin after they first appear. Next point appears during 20 questions; when the topic of God and Angels come up, you have to Believe (do not pray). If you are kidnapped by the call, trying to help your burning apartment building is another point. (There's another point opportunity sandwiched in here, but it's by vowing off all swearing, but swearing is fun!) If you don't go into the gas station, questioning whether Merlin paid for everything is a point; if you do go in, simply not taking anything is a point. If you have three points, you have enough. It's lost by being a filthy, self-centered blackguard! No stealing (names are okay)! No harming people to get ahead (don't even think about it) and 1000 poxes on you murderers out there!

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise u_hero is specifically raised in three points atm, you can commit to saving Pippa (you get the point even if you fail), passing the stat check to save Zain, or standing between Adrian and the hellhound after club. You only need one of these flags.

unhell-of-the-unwise

@unbiquitousloser Ah, I see. Thank you for the corrections.

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise Happy to help (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

nekoteus

@unhell-of-the-unwise The hero stat seems to be linked to succesfully saving people in club. So either chase down Pippa or knockaway the sword fragments in fencing club

randomguysayshello

Will>=7, cuckoo>=30,no corruption, don't be a coward, 1 or higher hero stat(the easy way is to rescue your clubmate), have 100 sweetness or your inner mind is sweet, have a pure stat greater than 3 (no serial killers, no pottymouths)

Quick purity guide

Polo club:- chase after enchanter moon(+1 purity), but will be removed by choice:-

★Actually, what the hell am I doing? I drop back to a sensible pace and leg Adrian attemp the rescue instead. (-1 purity)

Fence club:- choice:-

★I pause to give my loose change to a panhandler at the next intersection(+1 purity)

★ Remove my bully fencing glove and apply pressure to the area directly below the artery.(+1 purity)

★Remove my glove and clamp my hands around his neck(+1 purity)

Removed by:- ★Still i remain silent (-1 purity)

If you choose to do nothing, specifically:-

★Still I can do nothing more but stare at all this happening, If you are a cop(-1 purity)

Your Ultimate Secret:- ★Serial Killer(-1000 purity)

Hellhound chase:-

★I wonder if I can trip Adrian without slowing too much?(-1 purity)

★"Adrian we need to help M_pronoun" I,ve no idea what's going on, but feathers or not that M_man can't possibly take on that beast by M_pronounself(+1 purity)

The Tentacle Incident:- If you get molested by those disgusting tentacles, ★"Let go and save yourself!"(+1 purity)

Merlin Loredump:- If you ask a question about gods ★Still I want to believe in them (+1 purity)

Kidnapped:- (I think atleast)

★ "Isn't there anything more we can do about helping now?"(+1 purity)

★Atleast I'm not in the building (-1 purity)

★I stand up in detemination, intent on leaving this RV and returning to help at the apartment complex(+1 purity)

★Oh well. At least iw wasn't me(-1 purity)

★Perhaps this is my true nature after all. (-1 purity)

One option for killer but you are already negative purity(-1000) so what's one more

randomguysayshello

·Opinion on Merlin:- (Total -1 purity) First option:- ★My true opinion doesn't matter. Fully intend to take advantage of this situation. (No change, but unlocks the following choice):- ★I will play nice on the surface and try to manipulate Merlin(-1 purity)

·Opinion of Adrian:- (Total -1 purity) First choice:- ★My true opinion of Adrian doesn't matter. In circumstances like this, it's best to play nice to someone's face for one's own benefit.(No change but unlocks following choice):- ★That's right, I fully intend to manipulate Adrian for my own benefit

·Elevator scene(if the magic dance is still active):-

★I MC_motion my MC_weapon and wave it menacingly in the interloper's general direction(-1 purity)

Security guard scene(if magic dance is still active):-

★I MC_motion my MC_weapon and point it straight at the approaching security guard.(-1 purity)

·In the RV:-

★ I shrug and sit back down on the sofa. In the end, it has nothing to do with me.(-1 purity)

«If you haven't cursed and have a zero pothymouth variable you will get +1 purity»

randomguysayshello

@randomguysayshello ·Dream sequence, specifically the fight with Lancelot:- ★Never mind, fair play and the rules of engagement, I charge straight at him before the match has properly begun.(-1 purity, only if you are a lucid dreamer)

·After waking up, you decide what do with cursing in the apocalypse(at gas station):-

♦IF you haven't cursed ever (zero pottymouth):- ★As usual my mind remain pure and free of any swear words that might fit this exact situation.(+2 purity) •Every other option that indicates you will now start to curse more often reduces purity by 1 point

♦ELSE:-

•Trying to not curse entirely increases purity by 1 point.

·If you stay at the RV:-

★One never knows until they try. I attempt to hot-wire the motorhome(-1 purity)

At the end of the gas station, if you didn't go to shop or had too much fear and ran back to the RV:- ★"You paid for all this stuff right?"(+1 purity)

♦Killer option to reduce purity doesn't really matter

♠If you decide to ransack the whole store:- If purity is greater than one, Purity is set to zero, otherwise -1 purity.

♠If you take zero itmes whilst shopping(+1 purity)

♦If the RV has been sabotaged then, You will get a option to visit a shop:-

★I head off into the small attached shop to see if there's anything intresting in there(no change) ♦Pick a item or all items ★No skaes clerk.No security camera.No problem with me walking out the door with this MC_Purchase(-1 purity)

♣There's the guide done♣

randomguysayshello

@randomguysayshello You only need 3 purity points for one of the requirements for being Percy's soulmate, and according to the code you can still be a pottymouth and have atleast 3 purity.

#oks-replies #oks-info #oks-Percy

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catherinnn · 2 years ago

Text

Jealousy and fears

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS OF SEASON 3

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

summary: this is the scene where Sarah has to flirt with Topper to get him to help them get the cross, but instead of Sarah, reader is Topper's ex and JJ is her actual boyfriend and he has to control his jealousy. Plus, reader has to control her fear of losing JJ when the plan goes wrong.

words: 2.3k

“Honestly, the hardest part is gonna be security, all right? So most of the guys are gonna be at the rail yard” JJ states.

“Alright so, we'll need to find some place and guard it, maybe a little further down the line, like a whistle-stop” Pope responds.

“Yeah” Kiara agrees with the pair.

“You guys are getting ahead of yourselves, per usual. We don't have a way to transport the cross. What you think? On JJ's motorcycle?” Cleo says sarcastically.

“That's not my fault. Alright, all me” JJ responds to her.

“Okay, so other options…” Pope starts before Sarah interrupts him.

“Oh my god”

“Oh my god what?” Cleo asks.

“What” I ask and she points towards some behind me, on the top floor of the bar we’re in. We all turn around to the direction she’s pointing at and we see Topper talking with one of his friends.

“Oh god” I cringe and I lower a little on the chair I’m sited on, trying to avoid him seeing me. Topper was my ex-boyfriend before I left him for JJ. To this day he keeps texting me every day and calling every now and then, he truly didn’t know how to take a hint.

“Is that topper?” Pope asks and JJ rolls his eyes.

“Yup” Sarah answers.

“Why is he like, everywhere?” JJ says.

“Maybe he’s following you” Kiara tells me joking.

“Perfect. Hey, Sarah.” Pope starts.

“What?”

“I bet you topper has a way of transport the cross” he suggests.

“Actually pope's right. He does have a rig” she confirms.

“No” I say already knowing where they’re going with this.

“Yes”

“No, absolutely not”

“Yes, come on, you already got him whipped anyway so why don't you just take one for the team?” Sarah suggests.

“Wait, tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are” JJ speaks.

“She could flirt with Topper a bit so he would give us his truck to transport the cross” Sarah confirms and he clenches his jaw in frustration.

“Come on JJ, you know it would work” Kiara tell him.

“Why does she have to be the one doing it?” he complains.

“He’s not gonna agree if we ask him, but if she does...”

“Sarah said it, she’s got him whipped, not us” Kiara explains.

“What do you say?” you ask him.

“I’m not really excited about the idea of my girlfriend flirting with another guy who’s literally in love with her” he jumps.

“I thought you would understand. Think about the circumstances, it’s about the treasure” Pope tells him.

“We can handle JJ, just go talk to him” Kiara says to you.

And as you go up the stairs and greet Topper, they all stay at the bottom of the stairs, close enough to watch but not so close that Topper would see them.

“I can’t watch this” JJ starts, “Actually I have to watch so I can go break his nose if he oversteps”

“Shut up and pay attention” Kiara demands.

“I just can't believe you're here, I texted and called. How are you? You okay?” Topper says.

“You know, Top, things are a little tough right now” you answer.

“Yeah, tough how?” he asks. You look over his shoulder to see your friends watching expectantly the scene. JJ has a straight face, clearly not enjoying this, you weren’t either.

“We’ve been after this… family heirloom of Pope’s which is why we were gone and we ended up losing it, and unbelievably there might be a chance that we could get it back tonight, in Wilmington” you start explaining and he looks at you with all of his attention nodding at every word you say.

“Okay, how can I help?”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that” you play dumb a little so it wouldn’t be too obvious why you were here.

“No, seriously”

“Topper, I feel like if I ask you I'd be- I don’t know, it’s just- you're such a giver, Topper, you're such a helper”

“That's just how I am, that's just the way I was raised. And either way, remember when I said I would do literally anything for you? Remember that?” he says.

“Yeah”

“I meant it” he says confidently and you start to feel bad about taking advantage of him. You look over his shoulder again at the group where you see JJ signalling you to hurry up. “When I say something I mean it”

“We could… really use your truck” you finally ask.

“My dad's truck? Oh my god, he would literally kill me, he’s like super careful with it"

“So are we, we're super careful”

JJ grimaces in annoyance at her.

“We’ll take such good care of it”

“You put me in a tough spot, I- I know I said I would do anything but…” he hesitates so I move closer to him, start caressing his shoulder softly and we share an intense look where I try to hide my fear of him trying to kiss me, or JJ having enough of this and punching him for getting too close. Or both, really.

“I'm so sorry about everything. I totally understand, you have no reason to help us” I play dumb again.

“Why do I feel like I'll regret this?” he says with a smile. I give him a big smile and hug him excitedly. I can see the guys celebrating quietly and JJ rolls his eyes and shakes his head trying (and failing) to hide his smile.

After arranging the plan right we all go to our places. I go with Topper and Sarah on the truck, JJ and Kie go on his motorcycle and Pope with Cleo go on the train.

Before getting in the car, JJ, Sarah, Kie and I wait for Pope to give us the signal that he is on the train.

“What’s taking him so long?” Sarah complains. We can see Topper pacing around the truck nervously, JJ gives me a look making fun of him and we both laugh. A few minutes later we see Pope up on the train and giving us the signal to move to the next part of the plan. JJ gives him a thumbs up.

“That’s it, we’re green” Kie confirms and then suddenly we hear the train horn blaring.

“What's happening” I ask confused.

“You hear that?” JJ asks too and we can hear brakes hissing and metal clanks

"Train's moving, train's moving" JJ confirms now.

“Shit, shit”

“Hurry up”

I run to the truck. “Hey” Topper says nervously.

“Do you have jumper cables in there?” I ask him.

“Do you have an idea that I am here involved in illegal activities?”

“I'm not even close to being okay with this”

"It’s not that illegal"

"Okay"

“Jumper cables? What are we- what we doing with these?”

"Topper, if you don't wanna go, its fine. We’ll take the truck"

The rest of the guys show up behind us.

“Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay ending up in federal prison” Topper says.

“If it gets to that, yeah, I'll do it for pope” JJ responds and I laugh with him. I get the cables from the truck and give them to JJ, he looks at me as if he’s asking me if I’m ready, and I nod at him.

After JJ and Kie get the traffic-lights to go red, the train is stopping. That’s our signal to drive to the train.

"What the hell are we doing right now, this is ridiculous" Topper complains. And then we get next to the door where pope was signalling us to park next to.

"Right here" Sarah and I go out of the car and up the train to help. "How’s it looking?"

“Still searching” Cleo tells us.

“You see it?” Pope asks her.

“Hey, this one says Cameron” she answers.

“This is it, this is the cross, this is it!” he jumps exited.

“Hey, hey, what are we doing here?” Topper shows up and asks us.

“We'll put this in your truck bed”

“That's gonna scratch the paint!”

“No, no, it's fine” I say even though I have no idea.

“You’ll be able to get a thousand paint jobs after we do this” Pope tells him.

“This thing right here?” he asks.

“Just help us spot it”

We start moving the heavy box with the cross in it towards the car.

“Topper help me!” I shout.

“Just push it this way, my dad's gonna kill me” he complains.

“Guide it, hurry up, let's go”

“Don't mess up the cross” Pope warns.

“Don't mess up the truck” Topper warns too.

“Stop! Hey, stop!” we hear an officer shout at us.

“Shit, we gotta go”

“Hold it right there!” He shouts again.

“Cops! Come on”

“The cops are coming, let's go!” We get the box on the truck and we get in the car.

“Push it, Chewie!” Pope yells from the back.

“Go!” Sarah tells him. He starts driving.

“How the hell can you live like this? You come from a good family” Topper tells me.

“Just drive!” I respond. He drives and passes the train.

“We got somebody on us” Topper warns.

“That’s JJ and Kie” Sarah confirms. JJ moves the motorcycle right next to the car.

“JJ! What is he doing?!” he asks me.

“I don't know” I say.

“Topper, keep going straight!” JJ shouts.

“Y'all be careful. Alright?”

“Topper hold it steady” I say.

“I'm trying!”

We see Kiara getting up on the bike and Pope trying to grab her.

"Kie! What are you doing?!" She jumps into the truck and Pope grabs her.

“Oh shit”

“Oh my god”

“Are you good? Did she-did she make it?” Top asks. I nod not being able to get words out from the adrenaline mixed with fear. I see JJ stopping the bike behind us, in front of the police car.

“Okay. Maybe he's just trying to get rid of the cops” Topper comments.

I can't take my eyes off of him, fearing his impulses until he throws a rock at the police car braking the window.

"He did it! They’re chasing him!" Pope shouts.

“Topper stop! Stop the truck” I ask him.

“I'm not stopping the truck”

The guys shout at him to stop the truck.

“We're going to get JJ!”

“Come on man!”

“I'm not going to jail for him, no chance!” He shakes his head.

“Stop the truck, please” I ask him quietly, my voice breaking. He sees the fear on my face and he agrees.

“All right, all right, damn it”

“Turn around”

“I'm not- I'm not going to jail”

“Topper look at me. They’re gonna arrest him, we can't leave him behind”

“Damn him, damn” He turns around and drives.

“Go faster, you need to go faster”

“I'm trying, I'm risking my whole life for this shit”

“It’s gonna be fine”

“Turn left!” Pope directs.

“No! I'm getting out of here” he states.

“Topper!” I take the steering weal off of him and turn it left.

“No way, he's up on the overpass” Sarah says and the next thing we see is the motorcycle falling off of the overpass right in front of us, getting absolutely destroyed. We all gasp we get out of the truck to run and look for him.

“J!” I say panting, “J! Where is he?!”

“Shit!”

“no, no, no, no”

“JJ?!”

I start crying. “Where is he?”

“Maybe he's up on the bridge” pope suggests.

“No, no, no” I start sobbing.

“I wish I could say I did that on purpose,” I hear his voice behind me. I get up and he looks right at me. “But that was the gnarliest power-slide I’ve ever done”

“You're alive!!” Pope shouts and hugs him. “Dude!”

“I know, I'm surprised too”

“Shit that was gnarly” Topper says.

Sarah pushes him and starts hitting him on the chest “Oh Jesus, Oh God” he complains. She hugs him tight. Kie goes after her and warns him that’s she’s going to kill him while she hugs him too.

“This is really nice and all but we should really get out of here” Cleo says.

“Yeah, yeah, let's roll” Topper agrees.

I don’t listen to them, I look at JJ with tears falling from my eyes still, I get closer to him and he looks at me waiting for my reaction.

“Don’t... don't ever do that again” he manage to say. He lowers his head without his eyes off of mine, his hands come to my waist but before he could get any closer we hear a cop shouting down at us.

“Hey, hey you kids don't move”

He grabs me and we start running to the truck.

“Stay right there! I said stay right there!” the officer shouts again. We get on the car quickly and Topper starts driving getting us out of there. Later we realized it was all for fucking nothing because the cross was fake, there wasn't any cross on the box.

After reassuring Pope that we will find the real one and thanking Topper, JJ and I go to my house where I sit on my bed grabbing my head trying to process everything that just happened.

JJ moves around my bedroom doing the same. “You realize it was all for fucking nothing, you- you had to flirt- I had to watch you flirt with that idiot for fucking nothing” he complains. I look at him as if he’s crazy.

“You do realize I thought you fucking died for a minute there, and all of that was for nothing too. I don’t fucking care about Topper! I thought I lost you, JJ!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry baby, I got down there as fast as I could and then everybody started hugging me and I just wanted to get to you, and then that fucking cop came. I’m sorry, I’m sorry it all happened that way” he hold me tight. “I love you, I’m sorry”

“I love you, I don’t know what I would have done without you” you try not to cry all over again.

“I’m fine, okay?” he asks and I nod, he kisses me and the rest of our night goes on holding each other tight as if it was the last time. Luckily, it wasn’t.

#jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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pumpkinpatchmaniac · 29 days ago

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ARCANE SEASON 2 ARC 3 SPOILERS‼️‼️

I noticed this while watching episode 7: “Pretend like its the first time”, not that small of a detail but:

(I’m sorry if it is incoherent i just really needed to get this out.)

During the innovative party scene where Ekko dances with Powder, the song that plays is ”ma meilleure ennemie” by Stromae & Pomme, which translates to ”my best (female) enemy” which clearly refers to Powder, or Jinx.

In the intro begins a small chant where they say

Je t’aime, je t’attends […]

Meaning “ i love you, i am waiting for you” which clearly explains Ekko before coming to terms that Jinx no longer is Powder, since he fell inlove with Powder he keeps waiting for Powder to come back. This mental dilemma of having to accept that even if its the same body, same face its not the same person anymore, which is later supported by the first chorus where Stromae sings

La pire des bénédiction, La plus belle des malédictions

“The worse of all blessings, the best of all curses”, Powder was the best thing that happened to him while Jinx was the worse thing which makes this relationship with her- this connection, both a blessing and a curse.

But what made the scene more interesting was when they danced and the part

Mais ma meilleure ennemie, c'est toi [but my best enemy, that is you.]

Fuis-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [flee from me, the worse is you and i]

Mais si tu cherches encore ma voix [but if you keep searching for my voice]

Oublie-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [forget me, the worse is you and i]

I know we all wanted Ekko to stay in that timeline and be happy with Powder but remember season 1 where- whilst every Jinx or Vi centric episodes always began with a flashback, the Ekko centric one started from the present. Indicating that Ekko forces himself to always look forward than trying to let the past get to him. For exempel in - please correct me if i’m wrong, season 1 episode 5 when Vi said that she should’ve been there to help Ekko, he only says ”that’s is a good way to drive yourself crazy”. He immidiantly shut down any thought of what could’ve been, indirectly forcing Vi to think about the present. Especially afterwards when Vi talks about getting Powder back when Ekko has already fully acknowledge that there is only Jinx. All of this makes him being in that timeline more difficult for him since it is exactly what he wanted to avoid, being stuck in what could’ve been.

Dancing with Powder just engraves this furthee into him, this is unhealthy for Ekko since it’s the relation ship between him and Jinx. As to reiterate ”if you keep searching for Powder’s, voice, stop, it will just drive you crazy”

Also to refer to the pre-chorus!

First one:

Tu sais c'qu'on dit [you know what they say]

Sois près d'tes amis les plus chers [stay close to your dearest friends]

Mais aussi [but even]

Encore plus près d'tes adversaires [even closer to your adversaries (i.e antagonists, villains)

And the second one

Je t'avais dit : "Ne regarde pas en arrière" [i have told you : “dont look back]

Le passé qui te suit te fait la guerre [the past will follow you and take you to war]

(This is pretty self explanatory)

Additionally, before the kiss scene where Ekko says “can we pretend like it’s the first the first time”, further insinuates the whole, “this is my present even thought it’s a part of your past”.

TL:DR

This scene hurts

(Authors note:

I know it is not a small detail and not that significant but i really wanna acknowledge how every part of the Arcane series have a significance into the story. And honestly i needed to vent. It was so fun last night watching the scene and hearing ”le pire, c’est toi et moi” and just go ”oh, word?”. I am not French but i studied it so it just felt good from that POV too.

Edit: i was not aware that Arcane gets critizied over how litteral the songs are to the scene but i still stand by my point about why i really liked the song and this scene specifically)

#arcane powder #arcane spoilers #arcane #spoilers #arcane arc 3 #arcane arc 3 spoilers #ekko arcane #mysweetboyekkoilovehimsomuch #didimentionthatiloveekko #i started watching arcane because i saw an edit of ekko and then the bridge scene clip so i appreciate the more Ekko we got this season #the third arc was my favorite #music analysis #soundtrack #riotmusic #riot games #stromae #pomme #netflix #timebomb

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addicted-to-dc · 2 years ago

Text

Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara X Spider!Reader - Twice Bitten

I just saw Across the Spider-Verse and I NEEDED to write for Miguel. Just DAMN it was so nice to see my fav spider grace the screen.

This will most likely be a series, maybe friends to lovers, but we’ll just see where this story takes us.

(Part 2 out now!)

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, fighting, angst. typical spider stuff. Slight spoilers for the movie?? Nothing plot related.

1,400 word count. Enjoy!!

Okay, maybe you’ve introduced yourself one too many times, but this time couldn’t hurt.

You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the one and only Spider-Woman who thwips and quips all over New York, protecting innocents from bad guys. It’s a rough job, you’ve lost more people than you can count, but you always get back up. Being good, and doing good is in your DNA. You can’t stop now, not even when your body refuses to listen to you.

It comes out of nowhere as you swing towards a reported disturbance, your spider-sense warning you too late when something hard slams into your chest. Your web disconnects, sending you crashing into the nearest rooftop.

You force yourself to recover, lifting your hand to see black ooze spreading all over your body. Your eyes widen, recognizing the symbiote instantly. It spreads all over your body, seeping into you as your body seizes. Your body meets the ground once again, your screams morphing into something monstrous. The roof below you cracks under the pressure of your strength, even more so as you feel pain shock your entire body. It feels like you’re glitching, your atoms falling apart and being put back together in a matter of seconds.

Forcing yourself up, you grab onto the symbiote, uselessly attempting to rip the creature off of you. With another scream, you feel a final snap. Your body freezes, your mind at a standstill as you feel something invade your mind.

You’re not my spider, but you’ll do.

You gasp as the symbiote bonds even further to you but stops when you resist. The glitch happens again, making you fall to the ground once again. Something is wrong, extremely wrong.

“Get. Off. Of. ME!” you scream, finally getting a grasp on the symbiote and pulling. It feels like you’re pulling a piece of yourself with it. You stop, groaning when the pain subsides. Your hot breath in your mask nearly makes you pass out, but you’re able to stand once again.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your thoughts run wild as the symbiote nestles itself further into you. It can’t be your symbiote, no, that one is locked away for good.

You can feel the symbiote react to your thoughts, but you have no time to recover when you suddenly slam into the ground. You take the hit like a champ, opening your eyes to see someone in a red and blue suit. His claws dig deep into your chest as he roughly places a device onto you.

A high-pitched noise emits from the device, causing the symbiote to scream. Despite the device, it remains bonded to you. You writhe in pain until you manage to rip the device off, accidentally sending your attacker flying off the roof. Your legs nearly give out on you as you stand, but you remain strong. You always get back up.

The figure returns, swinging back onto the roof with a neon red web. You raise your fists. Another wannabe spider? You feel your emotions blow up, your mind clouded as you try to figure out what is going on.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here for the symbiote,” he says with raised hands. “Let me help you.”

He’s not going to help you. He’ll rip us apart.

Anger floods your system as you lunge forward, attacking him blindly as he narrowly avoids your attacks. He plants another device on you, then another. They both go off at the same time, briefly separating you from the creature. It gives you enough willpower to stop fighting, but your body doesn’t let up.

“I c-can’t stop,” you whimper, trying to hold yourself back as your fist meets his face. “Please, end this.”

He lands a punch in the center of your chest, sending you flying. Another device goes off, but it still doesn’t work. This symbiote won’t let you go.

It takes everything in you to stop moving, your muscles straining against themselves as you grasp onto your head. The symbiote urges you to give in, to let them take over until you finally feel a hand on your shoulder.

You move to push him away but feel a sharp sting in your neck. Gasping, your hand moves to find purchase on him, but your arms limply fall to your sides. The symbiote finally detaches from you, glitching until it moved into one of the traps he set on the ground. It pops up, trapping the creature.

The pressure lifts, only for you to realize that it was his teeth that just did that. You weakly turn your head to look at him, your blood on his lips as he pulls away. Your body aches in more ways than one, feeling yourself slowly begin to burn. Soreness seeps into you, making it difficult to even move a finger. You haven’t been like this since you were first bitten by that spider all those years ago.

You stare into his red eyes, unable to read them as he lifts you up. He removes your mask, finally allowing you to breathe the fresh air. You flinch as soon as a bright light flashes, a portal of sorts opening in front of you. The symbiote goes in first, then the two of you.

Your eyes close and your body goes slack. As soon as his feet meet solid ground he’s running. His movements jostle you awake. You must be hallucinating because you see hundreds of… you? Different spider suits flash around you until you’re set down on a cold table.

Your neck burns even more, forcing you to roll to your side as you curl into a ball. You feel the heat spread through your body, your muscles so tense you think you’ll snap them. That’s when you feel it.

Your muscles growing in size. Your teeth expand to sharp canines. Just as someone goes to restrain your arms, your hand slams into the table and claws cut through the metal like butter. When one of your arms were finally free, you shoot a web and pull yourself away from the group. One of them goes to move forward, but the blue and red one stops them.

You greedily suck in air, sticking to the highest point in the room as you recollect yourself. The red and blue one dismisses everyone, keeping his eyes on you as everyone filters out. You finally catch your breath, confusion clouding your mind.

“What did you do to me?” you ask, shuddering when your new fangs made speaking awkward.

He removes his mask, letting you see those red eyes again. They’re hypnotizing, reassuring you that he means no harm. He crawls up the wall slowly, closing the distance as he gently examines his bite mark. He’s lost in thought, running through different possible explanations that could shed light on why the hell his venom… changed you?

“I don’t know,” he replies, dragging his fingers along the bite. “It’s nearly healed already.”

You hiss when his fingers trace over a sensitive spot, your hand instinctually grasping his wrist. He doesn’t say a word as he opens your fingers, comparing your new claws to his. He removes your gloves. You don’t protest, especially when your new talons have ripped them to shreds.

His claws retract back into his hand and he begins to gently trace his fingers in your palm, “They go away when you’re relaxed.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m freaking the fuck out,” you quip.

Your body betrays you, taking in his immense warmth as he gently brushes against your claws. They finally disappear as if nothing was even there in the first place. Your fangs do not change.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding your hand tightly. “It was the only way to-”

“All a part of the job,” you chuckle, your fangs on full display as you flash him a gentle smile.

His eyes immediately hone in on them, his index finger lightly tracing the point, “You’re just like me? My venom has never done this before.”

“Maybe I’m just that special,” you mumble tiredly. “Didn’t expect to get bitten twice by a spider.”

A small, tense laugh escapes from his lips. He watches as you doze off, nearly falling off the wall until he gently guides you to the ground.

“What’s your name?” you mumble out, sighing when you feel a soft bed against your back.

“Miguel,” he responds, placing a blanket over you.

“You owe me dinner,” you mutter before letting your exhaustion finally win.

You always get up, but you’ll do that after a quick nap.

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x spider!reader #spiderman x spider!reader #across the spiderverse fanfic

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weirdkpopgirl · 8 months ago

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Adoration | Mark Imagine #7

Title: Adoration

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff

Warnings: none really :)

Word Count: 612

Author's Note: Lol this idea came to me after seeing a clip of Mark on a video call fansign, where he was telling the fan that he's currently watching Queen of Tears. This made me so happy because I've also been watching the drama and feel so passionately about it. Anyway my mind started to wander and this little scenario came out of it. I tried my best not to include spoilers of the show in the story though. Thank you for reading and hope you like it ^ ^

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Frustration brewed in your eyes, as heat rose to your cheeks, while your heart was pounding. Your fingers curled further into your palms, as unkind words traveled to the tip of your tongue. Yet, before they could be vocalized, the dark-haired man on your left said them instead.

“No, but why did he do that though?!” Mark yelled, throwing his arm out in a gesture to the screen.

A part of you wanted to laugh at your boyfriend’s reaction to the final scene playing out on the television before you. Since the premiere of Queen of Tears, you and Mark have been avidly following the series together. However, you were a few episodes behind due to Mark’s busy schedule and your commitment to watching it together. It took considerable restraint to avoid looking at spoilers on Instagram or YouTube.

On the other hand, the equal measure of anger within you overpowered any sense of amusement. A louder-than-intended sigh slipped past your lips.

“Ugh, I hate Yoon Eunsung so much for trying to ruin Haein’s family,” you fumed, gripping the remote. “I swear, I just knew he was going to use that tactic to sabotage them too!”

Mark leaned back on the couch, echoing your dissatisfaction. “I know right? You were so on point though with predicting that it was gonna happen.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy that I was right!” you exclaimed, sounding as if you were almost about to cry from annoyance.

Any hint of exasperation Mark was feeling simmered down, as you continued to vent about the episode. Now that he observed you passionately recounting every prediction you made about the characters’ actions that had had occurred in the episode. Your hair was slightly tousled, and your hands gestured animatedly, emphasizing your frustrations. This was a rare sight from someone who was usually so composed and reserved.

Your shoulders slumped when you caught the distraction in his eyes, prompting a look of confusion from you. “Mark, are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“No, I am babe,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’ve just never seen you this fired up before.”

Your expression softened, and the flush on your cheeks transitioned to one of embarrassment. His comment brought to mind your tendency to get overly passionate about certain things that provoked you.

“Sorry, I just got so worked up,” you mumbled, sheepishly brushing a loose lock of hair out of your face.

However, Mark was quick to pull you into his arms. “Don’t apologize, I think it’s endearing.”

His embrace was so warm and loving, it felt like he was wrapping you in all the adoration he had for you. Yet, it made you just want to hide your face in his hoodie because you were still flustered.

“Well I’m grateful you’re more reassuring than Baek Hyunwoo is,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Seriously, I’ve never seen so much miscommunication in a relationship before.”

You felt your boyfriend smile, pulling back slightly to stroke your hair. “And I’m glad you’re not as closed off like Hong Haein.”

“Hey, she has every right to be—” you started to protest, before catching yourself.

Mark nearly convulsed with laughter as he crashed you into another hug. “Ah, cute!”

Feeling embarrassed once more, you lightly smacked his shoulder, though it did nothing to stop the boy from gushing over you. But you couldn’t help but smile too, finding warmth in the moment. Both of you knew that the upcoming episodes of this drama would only bring more stress. However, at least you could share your frustrations openly, while all Mark could think about was how infatuated he was with you.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

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caitsboobs · 4 months ago

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My predictions for Arcane season 2 ***SPOILERS***

So, I have a theory about Ambessa, Caitlyn, Vi, and Jinx that's based on the leaks. I can't wait for the rest of the season, and while I'm a bit ashamed of myself for watching the leaks, I can't help but analyze them. If you don't want to see my predictions about what might happen AFTER season 2 episode 5, \*\*DON'T\*\* read below! You've been warned!

_______________________________________

*Your last chance to avoid spoilers*

I told you....

So, we know that Vi and Caitlyn part ways in Season 2, and Ambessa will use Caitlyn's grief to fuel her desire for revenge, aiming to access and weaponize hextech. Caitlyn is smart, and while we know she'll eventually start to suspect something, she'll be too blinded by revenge to fully realize who's pulling the strings. Ambessa is also cunning, and despite her relationship with Mel, we can see that her manipulation of Caitlyn may have originated from ideas planted by Mel. Ambessa saw an opportunity in Caitlyn, but I think she miscalculates a bit.

I also believe this scenario will foreshadow what will happen between Vi and Caitlyn. I've always seen Vi as the voice of reason in Arcane, the one person who could eventually be the bridge between Zaun and Piltover. This may draw Ambessa’s attention and cause her to consciously target Vi. (If you saw the leaks, you can see the only moment they met, there was some tension in the air when their eyes met) She needs the war to achieve her goals, so I don't think Jinx will be her primary target. Instead, Jinx will serve as a symbol to keep the conflict going, while Ambessa focuses on eliminating anything that could serve as a "bridge." So, my prediction? Ambessa will somehow capture Vi and present Caitlyn with a choice. This is crucial because Ambessa is likely assessing whether Caitlyn would make a suitable long-term ally. Can Caitlyn make the tough decisions Ambessa believes a leader should? How will Ambessa accomplish this? I think she'll try to have Caitlyn execute Vi, killing two birds with one stone—removing Caitlyn's "humanity" and giving Jinx another reason to try and destroy her.

Will Ambessa succeed? Probably not. I think Caitlyn will ultimately draw the line at Ambessa’s manipulation when it comes to Vi. She may try to distance herself from Vi, convince herself that Vi is an enemy but Caitlyn is an empathetic character, and she’ll eventually realize the meaning behind "What are you shooting for?".. Ambessa’s plan will fail because Caitlyn’s love for Vi is stronger than her hatred for Jinx.

My further and wildest prediction? I think at some point, Caitlyn will even be willing to team up with Jinx to save Vi from Ambessa.

Also, I’m pretty sure, as Amanda said, there's a reason they didn’t show the full scene between Caitlyn and Vi before the council meeting in Season 1. I think their kiss in Season 2 is not their first. We'll get flashbacks of what happened back then... So yeah, they definitely did something before.

As I discussed this theory with others: Yes there are clearly noticed cracks in Ambessa's plan even in the leaked episodes. Caitlyn clearly doesn’t trust Ambessa as much as Ambessa would like. "The Blade cuts both ways" (And there is Mel, but we can't know if she will be back in time) So, Ambessa might try to push Caitlyn further to the edge by doing something to her father, or perhaps someone from the undercity might unintentionally trigger Caitlyn’s dormant desire for revenge. We also saw a metaphor for this in the episodes of Season 2 when Ambessa stirred the embers of the fire while consulting with Caitlyn. I think she was forming something in her mind.

Thank you for reading all of this.

#arcane leaks #arcane spoilers #arcane s2 spoilers #Arcane season 2 spoilers #Arcane leak spoilers #arcane theory #Caitvi spoilers #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #caitvi

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genshin-impact-unofficial · 1 year ago

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Naughty Little Secret Pt.3

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Bonus Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

(Part 1) Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma (Part 2) Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, Lot more cussing in this one, Use of the word dick but not sexual lol, All these boys dont know how to regulate emotions, Bullying scaramouche, fluff-ish?, Spoiler: Xiao wants to be dominated! Notes: (repost)

Scaramouche

You worked your ass off to rise up in the Fatui ranks. Not everyone could handle the cut throat atmosphere that you had to endure day in and day out. But still, it really takes a special kind of self-loathing to accept the position as the right hand General of the Balladeer. It’s almost like he enjoys making your life hell. You endured it simply because you’ve come too far to let that little brat ruin it all.

“General Y/N, be ready to leave at dawn.” The harbinger stated to you, lounging casually at his desk, appearing not to have a care in the world. You turn around slowly and don't even try to hide your annoyance on your face. Your hands were already literally and figuratively full of paperwork that you had every intention of completing before this point. You take a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose to keep the growing migraine at bay.

“Yes sir, where shall I prepare us to go?” You ask calmly, it was not worth it to get snippy with him this early. He would surely only take it as a challenge.

“Hmm... I feel like exploring the ruins of Mondstadt.” The man shrugged, glancing over at you to see your reaction.

“Mondstadt?!?! That’s a three day trip sir. Are you-” You stopped yourself when you saw the devilish grin on his features. This was exactly what he wanted. “Orders received, I’ll inform the convoy to be ready at dawn.” You stated sharply and swiftly turned to exit the room. What a dick. You were no stranger to these impromptu expeditions. Chances were, Scaramouche really did have business to attend to at the destination. What never ceased to boil your blood, was the fact that he loved to withhold this information from you until the very last minute. You packed light and awaited your next orders like usual.

The first leg of the journey was incredibly dull since you had refused to travel in the same wagon as Scaramouche. Even when he went out of his way to push your buttons during stops, you would only give him a short reply and walk away. It was quite annoying to the harbinger. Having nothing to entertain himself with left the Balladeer in a terrible mood. By the time camp was set up for the night, he stormily resigned to his quarters immediately. Scaramouch’s belongings were already left on his sleeping cot when he entered. It was no doubt set up in advance to avoid risking anyone getting on his bad side. He opened is bags to retrieve his intelligence reports.... but the contents inside were unfamiliar to him. What an incompetent crew!

“I’m going to have someones head for thi-” His agitation ceased when he read your name written neatly on the ledger inside the pack. About time...something interesting. Without any regard for your privacy, he flipped through your notes. Ugh, you could be such a bore sometimes. You were his favorite play thing, but above all else you were also a diligent attendant. There was nothing but concise notations on work matters inside, so Scaramouche tossed it aside and searched further into the bag. His next finding was a book, seemingly a fiction novel with a bookmark indicating you were still in the midst of reading it. Boring.... The man thought while mindlessly skimming through the pages.

The cool night breeze hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps all over her body. Only the scorching warmth of his hands could be felt as they explored her every curve. The lewd sounds of their passion rang throughout the trees and her legs began to tremble in pleasure as he- Scaramouche immediately slammed the book closed with far too much force and threw it back into your bag. He didn’t even bother zipping it up before storming outside.

You had just finished your duties for the night. It took twice as long since your infuriating boss just had to throw a tantrum and go hole himself up in his quarters. Your tent was luckily also set up and ready for use. Maybe you would even treat yourself to a little reading, that is if you didn’t pass out from exhaustion as soon as your head hit the pillow. You didn’t think twice before opening the bag atop your bed. Huh? This isn’t-

“Y/N TAKE YOUR STUPID STUFF! ESPECIALLY THAT FILTHY PORNOGRAPHIC BOOK OF YOURS!” Scaramouche was bursting into your tent and just about whipped your bag at you. The boy’s expression was incredibly uneasy, his bright angry blush could be seen from Celestia. On one hand, you were positively furious that he had the nerve to snoop through your things, but on the other hand you examined the sight of your flustered boss.... now that was new.

“It’s not porn...” You forced down your utter embarrassment and rolled your eyes at him. “It’s just a little romance novel, don’t tell me that’s what’s got you so utterly nervous? Did you need someone to guide you through its contents?” You asked in a low sultry tone while taking a couple slow prowling steps towards the harbinger. His eyes were now as wide as saucers, bewildered, he stood frozen in place.

“You’re being ridiculous.. I don’t - How dare you assume-” Scaramouche tried to form a complete thought, or maybe a threat, but it was painfully obvious he had lost his ability to think straight with you leaning in so close to him. Personal space was getting awfully scarce when you saw the Balladeer’s eyes flicker for a fraction of a second to your lips and back. You grinned wickedly, deciding it was time to put the helpless boy out of his misery.

“Well then!” You suddenly clasped your hands together, leaned back, and shoved Scaramouche’s pack roughly into his arms. “Since you’re all set, then out you go.” You smiled cheerily, spinning him around and kicking him out of your tent without a second glance. “Nighty night, see ya in the morning sir.”

Scaramouch stood rigidly outside your tent, face burning, utterly disheveled, and reeling from the interaction he had just had. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the thrill of your attention or from how absolutely fucking livid he was at you.

Itto

You weren’t an ‘official’ member of the Arataki Gang per say, but you were no stranger to their big goofball leader. Itto had slowly wormed his way into your daily routine and he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The oni and his friends were a blast to be around, but you just weren’t the type to run around causing mischief. You worried that you would just end up being a killjoy. Instead of being a stick in their ever-exciting mud, you settled for hanging in the background of their antics and just reveling in their positive energy. You even brought your own entertainment so you wouldn’t be a bother to them.

Itto on the other hand, had been dying to recruit you into the gang since FOREVER! You were so cool and smart all the time! But every time he offered you a spot, you politely declined. Damn! That just made you even cooler! He wouldn’t quit here though, it just wasn’t in his nature to give up on something so important. Itto gathered his boys and hashed out their next plan. Impressing you with their mad skills didn’t seem to do the trick. Maybe.... maybe they needed to impress you even HARDER! The gang chattered in excitement, an extravagant burping tournament already forming in their little heads.

“OR how about you try to appeal to Y/N’s interests?... Ya know, like trying to get to know them more?” Shinobu interjected before their tournament plan actually got momentum. Itto contemplated her words for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah yeah! You’re onto somethin’ Shinobu!” Itto praised. “I gotta show them how well we get them! Then Y/N will be begging to join the gang!”

“Ok well... I don’t know about-”

“Come on boys! We got some work to do!” It was too late. Itto was charging full steam ahead before his second in command could get another word in. The oni had to play it cool the next time he saw you. If you caught wind of what they were trying to do, it might ruin the whole plan. The whole operation was considered a “Super-Top-Secret-Arataki-Gang-Stealth-Mission”. It was all so brilliant, but the only problem was.... how was he supposed to figure out your interests without asking you?

You were always so thoughtful, like when you make the time to listen to Itto rant on and on about his latest and greatest plans. He just wanted to listen about your favorite things too! Itto hardly took his eyes off you as you settled into your usual spot to read. That’s it! He’ll get into reading! That way he could talk book stuff or something! All he had to do was read all the books you read. Easy!

The next day, Itto scoured high and low at every bookshop in for the title he saw you reading. He got some strange looks from some of the shop owners, but in the end he found it! He ended up selling a couple of his Genius Invokation TCG cards for the mora, but it would all be worth it in the end if it meant you would become their newest member. The oni was so excited he couldn’t even wait for the boys. He ended up sitting right outside the bookshop and cracking open the volume. Itto flipped around the pages, his version of ‘speed reading’ as he calls it, until a specific passage stuck out at him.

He sunk his teeth into her supple skin, and latched onto her neck. Red and purple love marks littered her needy body. Big rough hands gripped at her thighs, sharp claws claiming them for his own. The next sound was that of tearing fabric for her undergarments were no more. His mouth watered, it craved her, and he would restrain himself no longer.-

“Boss! Did you find it?” Itto was startled when he heard his gang arrive.

“Uhhhh HEy! Nope! Not a thing.” He said shutting the book and shooting to his feet. “Wow look at the time! I- uh... I got to go eat supple. I MeAN GEt SuPPER. Hahahah I A GOtta gO ByE!!!” Itto could hardly control the words spilling from his mouth. He took off running, leaving the gang utterly confused.

Itto struggled to sleep that night, unable to grasp the thought of you reading those graphic depictions all the time with a straight face. The next time you encountered the oni, it was transparently obvious that something was very wrong. Itto’s signature loud and confident personality had done a complete 180. He refused to look at you... like at all. You feared you’d done something to offend the big lovable goof and you decides this had to be sorted out right away.

“Itto is something wrong?” You had to resort to cornering the man to get him to talk to you. It was a humorous sight to see, you blocking the path of a huge oni that could easily barrel through you. Of course, the moment Itto’s eyes met yours, a fresh blush began to bloom across his face. He broke, instantly coming clean about everything.

“WeWantedToHaveYouJoinSOSoSoBadWeTriedToFindOutMoreAboutYouYourBookIsFullOfSomeDirtyScenesAndNowIDontThinkIWasSupposed-” Itto spoke impossibly fast and you couldn’t understand the flustered jumbled mess at all. You placed a comforting hand on his arm, encouraging him to take a deep breath. After giving him a moment to collect himself, you prompt him to start again but slowly...

“The gang and I really like when you’re around. We want you to enjoy being around us too. So I thought if I, uh.... ya know. If I figured out what you were always reading about, that I would learn more about you. I just ah... didn’t expect the um...”

“You read my...” You paused, the pieces finally slotted together in your head. “Oh archons! Uh actually, you can just leave me here Itto. I need to find a big rock to go die under now.” You said absolutely mortified. It was your turn to not be able to look for friend in the eye ever again. Covered your cheeks that were sure to be red as the oni’s horns now.

“What? Hey, come on now Y/N.” Itto jumped to action and like a switch he was immediately trying to cheer you up. “It’s not that bad! The rest of the gang doesn’t know a thing, and I promise my mouth is locked shut! I swear, oni’s honor!” He held one hand in the air and the other over his heart. “How about I tell you a secret? That way we’re even and no one has to be embarrassed, yeah?” Itto suggested. He leaned down to meet your eye line and to offer you a sweet smile. “Let’s see, ooooo I got it! So one time when I was practicing my mad skills on the beach my great sword slipped right out of my hand, the handle hit me straight on the noggin. Knocked me right out for hours.” You couldn’t help but giggle a little, it did sound very Itto after all. Seeing you smile spurred him to continue. “That’s not even the worst of it! When I woke up, bunch of salt water leaches were latched on my neck and chest. I couldn’t let the boys know, I have an image I gotta keep here. So when they asked me about the marks... I may have told a little tiny lie that they were hickeys.” Now you were struggling to breath with how hard you were laughing at the ridiculous story.

“Okay okay I feel better. You win.” You hold up your hands in playful surrender and Itto’s triumphant smile was once again where it belonged. It reminded you why you loved his company so much.

“Of course I win! They don’t call me the one and oni for nothin! HAHA!”

Xiao

Reading mortal ‘light novels’ was something relatively new to Xiao. He may not be able to see why you love it so much, but he respected seeing the passion in your eyes while recanting the epic fictional battles. It was endearing enough that the yaksha agreed to read some of the suggestions you made for him. The strange nuanced situations sometimes confused Xiao, but you were always happy to break it down logically for him. It had become a pleasant pass time for both of you.

“Y/N I finished this one.... It was good i think.” Xiao handed you back the book you had lent him.

“Pfft, you think? Did you like the story?” You chuckled, amused.

“The last one, I liked that one more.” The adeptus stated decisively. Xiao would never speak negatively about your interests. But... sometimes he opted to change the subject instead.

“Ah, you have good taste.” You praised him, the excitement was evident from your expression. “I just finished the squeal yesterday! It should be on the desk over there, you should definitely check it out!” Xiao nodded and couldn't help but be amused. He grabbed the top book off your desk, not caring in particular if it was the correct one. The trivial plots were not his reason for doing any of this anyway. He would never tell you, but it was so he could in sit here beside you and just be content in your company. He didn’t know many people comfortable enough to spend hours together in silence. It was a relief not to be required to fill it with idle conversation. Xiao settled in the chair next to you and absentmindedly began to read the repetitive lines of words. Just like the volumes before, he began to see the plot set up to follow the same tropes and struggles all over again except, huh....

He sat obediently in front his charge, and it was as if her power hungry gaze could swallow him whole. She wanted to control his every breath and moan while she had him here. His heart, body, and mind belonged to her to do with as she pleased. Her orders were direct and clear and he would always desperately follow. When he dis as he was told he was always rewarded by her noises of ecstasy. The sound of it sent a pleasant shiver down his own spine. He lived for this, for her, and he would serve her until she was nothing but satisfied-

“Xiao are you alright? You look feverish.“ Xiao tore his eyes from the pages and locked onto your concerned gaze. He was lost. How was he supposed to handle the thoughts swirling in his head? Your book was so... lewd. How could someone like you read? Did that mean you thought of.. “Xiao?”

In a split second, the yaksha was gone in a puff of black smoke. You were left alone and baffled by what the hell just happened. Was something wrong? He usually explained before leaving suddenly, or at least had the decency to say goodbye. You thought over and over in your head, but it all became clear when you spotted the abandoned romance novel on the chair. Ohhh no.

It had been two weeks since your interaction Xiao. It only took a couple of days before you were able to push past your humiliation and call out to him. You waited.... but It became clear that the adeptus was avoiding you. Even your trips up to Wangshu Inn proved fruitless time and time again. Was this guy being serious right now? The remaining feelings of embarrassment and annoyance had completely dissolved into fear by the second week. You began feeling worried that your friend may have just completely dropped you, or was out there hurt. The weight of it all was eating away at you. You finally made the decision that you had to know for sure.

“XIAO!” You yelled off the rooftop of the inn. “I know you hear me! If you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, at least tell me to my face! I won’t force you to be my friend, but at least be honest! Please, I just can’t take this!” You call out loudly into the wind. It would look absolutely mad to any passersby but you didn’t care anymore.

“You’re being absurd.” Xiao’s voice muttered, appearing without a sound on the rooftop.

“Xiao! I’m so glad you’re o-” You almost were so excited to see the boy again that you started to step forward without thinking. Remembering the situation, you restrained yourself. You wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable. It was obvious from his avoidant gaze and rosy complexion that he was just as uneasy as when you last saw him.

“Who’s telling you that I want nothing to do with you. It’s nothing but a lie.” Xiao stated seriously. Blush or not, he seemed offended by the accusation.

“No one said anything. I assumed as much since you’ve been ignoring me for weeks! What am I supposed to think Xiao?” You explained to him frustrated. You perhaps still felt a little hurt, but you didn’t realize how much. Not until you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes. “It’s hurtful to go from having a best friend, to meaning nothing to them.” You cross your arms and try to blink away the tears threatening to fall. Xiao is the one to step forward next, clearly processing what you had just said and barely coming to a realization. Fuck, this guy can be so dense sometimes.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have hurt you while I was only thinking of my own shame.” His voice was soft and earnest. “Please believe me when I say, I never wanted to stop being close to you. And please allow me to resume doing so.” You smiled, of course forgiving Xiao without hesitation. But not without conditions.

“I forgive you... But as my best friend, you have to promise not to tell a living soul about that book. Not a peep, nothing! I’m talking, take this secret to your grave.” You beam up at him, officially declaring him your best friend for the first time.

“R-right of course.” Xiao’s composure stuttered once again, a fierce blush returning to his cheeks. “I promise, not a word...”

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