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[nubelalifestyle]

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[roguishcat]

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

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

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

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

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader (You)

Word Count: 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

And therein lay the problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I see. May I be of assistance?"

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

Astarion smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion? Are you listening?”

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

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

Gale blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Darling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've never-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

"No. This is plan B."

"I need you to explain your thinking there."

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

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

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I see."

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

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

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

"Start gently. No teeth."

"Wasn’t going to use them."

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

"Don’t think I can anyway."

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

"Okay," you nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean for me?"

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

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

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

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

"Um..."

"Good girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, he'd always ask before biting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion blinked.

"Mine?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’d much rather I do you?”

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

“Is that a real statistic?”

“It might as well be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did- Did I do well?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? Have to?”

“No. I want to go.”

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry," you blurted out.

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

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

"I want to apologise."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Untarnished, unspoilt.

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

"I'm sorry."

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

"I'm so-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💖 Tag list 💖:

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@maeryls-journal

[denisulet]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Dreamlike details from Alessandro Michelle for Valentino Spring 2025 ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

[ninjonnyuszi]

Collection of my paintings 🖌🎨

[kirbyfigure]

🍉🌈can't stop dreaming☁️🧃 @nostalgiaeternaa

[jomadis]

i have SO MANY adoptables/designs from the past few years that I would love to get rid of oml,, gonna dump them here so that they're at least organized!

Most of these have single/transparent files which you'll get when purchasing! And even if you can't adopt, I appreciate all of your support!! ANYTHING UNDER $4 I'M WILLING TO TAKE ART FOR!!! Just dm me!!

Availability (x means taken):

Wasppaw-- x

Hawkbloom-- OPEN $10

Rainwing 1-- OPEN $5

Rainwing 2-- OPEN $5

Zombie Dog-- OPEN $5

Preppy Rat-- OPEN $5

Debil-- x

Angle-- OPEN $5

Beeast-- OPEN $7

Hiker Sheep-- OPEN $2

WoF Hybrid headshots-- ALL OPEN $3

Alien Cat-- OPEN $7

Dilute Calico Kitten-- OPEN $5

Pale Cat-- OPEN $7

Lineless Cats-- ALL OPEN $3

I can take PayPal or Venmo, dm me if you're interested!! <33

[violetjedisylveon]

Solid Ground.

Eda Raises Two Gods AU chapter 19

Summary: Ho Ho Ho and happy holidays. Eda finally has the big talk she's been dreading.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: ⚠️mentions of past trauma, anxiety, panic attacks and child abuse, but it's only talked about.⚠️

A/N: Here's your gift, it's got other gifts inside it. Ngl, this chapter is almost entirely Eda and Enzo talking about therapy and going to therapy and stuff like that so there's not much going on. It's just a lot of talking. The next chapter, the long awaited DSM-5 chapter, will be similarly talk heavy.

I hope you still enjoy it!

Here are some other gifts for you all, Noodle In A Blanket + animatic sneak peek, Celeste The Titan

Eda Raises Two Gods AU Masterpost

________________________________________________________________________________

Today.

It had to be today.

If she didn't do it today she didn't think she'd ever work up the nerve to do it again.

This was for Enzo, her kid needed this.

She could only hope and pray she had the right words for this.

Eda took in a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, then she knocked on the door.

Enzo was curled up in the nest with a picture book. They preferred picture books over written ones since they couldn't read yet. Nibs was happily dozing on their shoulder. They glanced up at her and gave her a small smile.

She went over to the nest with the plate she'd brought and held it out to them, they gave her a confused glance before taking it.

“Mind if I sit with you?” She asked softly.

Enzo nodded. She climbed into the nest and sat next to her kid, Enzo almost immediately leaned into her side. The kid looked so damn peaceful snuggled up next to her, she didn't want to ruin it, she really didn't.

“Can we talk?”

Eda really didn't like the way Enzo froze up, she definitely didn't like the way they pulled away from her.

“I'm not mad at you, I swear it's not that.” She quickly reassured them.

The kid shot her a wary glance but didn't turn to look at her. She let out a small sigh of relief when Enzo settled near her again, although they weren't as close as before.

“I promise I am not mad, I'm just worried. I'm really worried.” She started.

Enzo's ears flicked towards her, he still refused to look at her. She didn't want him to.

“What happened after you fell,” She paused when Enzo flinched, “it was really scary… for you and for me…” Enzo pulled their legs to their chest, shrinking away from her, “it means a lot more than you think, kiddo.”

“You remember how you felt, right?” She asked gently.

The kid gave her a hesitant nod.

“That thing you felt, it's called a panic attack.”

“A panic attack is this thing that happens when you have extreme anxiety or fear or stress. They can be random and happen without a trigger… but certain things can cause them…” she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

“I get them sometimes… I get really scared of specific things and then boom, I'm having a panic attack.”

“And sometimes I get into a situation where I feel like something really bad is happening again, it's like I'm stuck in that moment or bits and pieces of it, and that experience causes a panic attack too.” She pretended not to hear Enzo's breathing stop for a few seconds and continued on like normal.

“It's a very troubling experience, it hurts, and it's very scary to feel like I'm stuck in such a bad place again.”

She waited a moment, or maybe she waited an hour, for Enzo to soak up the new information.

“did that happen to you when you fell?”

Enzo squeezed their legs closer to him and tucked their head down. Eda gave them their space, she needed to be careful about this.

“It's okay if you did, you can't control that, or having a panic attack.” She said.

Enzo tilted their head but didn't raise it up, his eye snapped open with that yellow glow it sometimes had.

“You don't have to tell me what it was, I don't need to know, all I need to know is if you had a flashback.” She continued.

The single glowing red eye stared at her, filled with darkness and distrust and fear. She met the fearful gaze, not even the slightest bit afraid of the darkness it held. There was only fear beneath that darkness.

They finally looked away. They blinked and the yellow glow vanished. Their body shook as they nodded.

“Papa isn't ever coming back, is he?”

“No starshine, he's not.”

“He's dead then, right?”

“I'm so sorry starshine, I think he is.”

Enzo turned to her with tearful eyes and then the dam broke.

Enzo cried uncontrollably. They might have been saying something, but she couldn't understand it through their sobbing. Eda sat silently and let Enzo cry, she didn't make any move to comfort them yet, he would come if they wanted it.

Her kid did end up cuddling up against her again, she loosely wrapped an arm around them, not too tight but enough to tell him she was there.

She sat with them for an hour before they calmed down enough to say anything.

“How do you stop them?” Their small, broken voice asked.

Alright Eda, don't fuck this up.

“There is this thing that you can do, it's called therapy. A therapist is the person who gives therapy, they spend a really long time learning how to do their job and how to help people with all sorts of things, there's lots of types of therapy.” Eda said.

“You know Gailine's mom, right?”

Enzo nodded.

“Well she is a therapist for trauma, which is really bad things that happen, she helps people understand their emotions and work through them so they can feel better. She's very good at her job.” She explained.

“So the therapist makes the bad feelings stop?” Enzo asked.

“Not exactly, they don't tell you what to do, and they can't solve the problem for you. Their job is to give you the tools and examples of how to do it yourself. They are also someone who you can trust with whatever you want, they're under an oath to not say a word about anything you tell them to anyone.” She gently corrected.

“Have you seen how Clover uses her magic?” She asked, switching over to the part she was sure Enzo wasn't going to respond to as positively.

“She uses the mind magic, right?” Enzo guessed.

“Yeah, Oracle Magic, and she's really good at it but she's a little odd because she uses it through plants, she really can't do it any other way. Her office is full of plants and they all smell really nice.” She explained.

Enzo gave her a fearful look and tightened their grip on her.

“is she gonna get in my head?”

“Enzo, she's not going to do anything without asking permission. You have every right to say no and she won't be mad at you.” She told them.

“And she's not allowed to do things you say she can't. She has a lot of rules she has to follow, respecting privacy is one of them.” She added when Enzo still looked a little uncertain.

They gave her a cautious half smile and relaxed again.

“What else happens at the therapy thing?” They asked, absently pulling at a loose thread on their sleeve.

“Well, it depends on what you need, so its different for everyone, but when she works with kids like you, Clover does a lot of playing. She has a lot of toys, games and activities that you can play with when you go meet with her. She'll play along with whatever games you come up with.”

“She's got a really big garden at her office, there's lots of plants and some friendly animals, and there's a really nice pond that's got lots of water creatures in it, Gailine keeps sneaking wild animals into it.” She said.

Enzo snickered at their friend's antics.

“That doesn't sound too bad.” They mumbled.

“Eh, it's not all fun and games starshine. It's a process that takes time, and in order for anything to get done, you're going to have to talk about some things that might be uncomfortable, you won't have to go into too much detail, Clover just needs an idea of what she's working with to help you.” She warned.

Enzo narrowed their eyes skeptically.

“Like what?”

They were surprisingly not turned off from the subject entirely. I thought that would have shut this conversation down immediately.

“At the first visit, she's just going to ask you some questions, you can just say yes or no and don't have to go into anything deeper if you don't want to. And after that she can figure out the best way to help you, but sometimes she might talk with you about the bad things.” She paused to gauge their reaction, he was still surprisingly calm.

“It's very important to remember that she isn't trying to hurt you, but all that stuff has to come to the surface so it can be taken care of, and that stuff is what's hurting you. This is to help you handle the bad stuff.” Eda said.

“A lot of bad things have happened to you, haven't they?” She prompted.

Enzo’s skeptical eyes widened with terror.

“Did you look?!” They shouted, jerking away from her again.

She rested a gentle hand on their shoulder.

“It's very clear to see without any magic, starshine. I see it in the way you act and how you talk, a lot has hurt you. It's still hurting you.” She explained calmly.

“Oh…”

“So what do you think? Do you wanna give it a try?”

Enzo frowned and bit their lip.

“So it's going to be fun and I get to play but it's going to make me feel bad while I'm trying to make the bad feel better?” They wondered.

“Yeah, something like that, Clover will also teach you ways to handle stressful situations so you don't have as many panic attacks. It will help make the flashbacks happen less too.” Eda said.

Enzo's eyes lit up at that.

“It stops the nightmares?! And the blue blood and the bad thoughts?!” They asked eagerly.

Blue blood? He's never mentioned that before.

“Uh, yeah, er, kinda after a while… does that happen often?” She asked gently.

“Sometimes I think things I don't mean to, I don't like it when that happens, those thoughts always make me feel weird.” Enzo answered.

“It'll stop all that?” They asked.

“It will make it happen less, and when it does you'll be able to manage it a lot better than you do now.” She clarified.

“It will feel better, right?” 

“Yes, after a while.” She repeated.

“But it will feel better, right?” Enzo asked again.

There was a strained, cautiously hopeful look in their eyes. They were tearing up again. They rubbed at their teary eyes, mumbling apologies to her and trying not to cry. Eda gently pushed their hands down and cupped his face. 

“i don't want to hurt anymore…” they whispered.

“Oh Starshine…” Eda cooed.

“It will feel better after a while, you don't have to hurt forever.” She said softly.

Enzo broke into a tearful smile and hugged her, crying more out of relief this time. She brought them closer and started humming a soft tune until they calmed down.

During that time, King wandered into her room and the little gremlin must have assumed it was cuddle time since he forced his way into the nest to join them.

Enzo stroked King’s soft fur as they calmed down.

“Is this why Gailine’s mom was coming over so much, cause you were talking about this?” Enzo asked.

“Yeah, sometimes we were talking about this. More times we were talking about other stuff, like old school stories and how old friends are doing or what crazy plant Eibhlín made this time. Normal adult stuff.” Eda said.

Enzo nodded and spent a few more minutes playing with King's fluffy fur.

“… philip always got mad when he was called anything else…” Enzo started quietly.

Eda glanced down at them, the owl beast growled in the back of her mind. This can't be good.

“…he got really mad at me when I called him “Pip” once… I didn't know he didn't like it… he yelled at me for a while…” Enzo trailed off again, she felt them tense under her hands.

“…do… do you get mad when people call you my mom…?” They asked.

“I mean… well it's just… Gailine always calls you my mom… and I never stop her cause I kinda like it… but I'll stop liking it if you don't like it!” they blurted before she could respond.

The Titan clearly had it out for her. She was barely prepared for the big conversation she set out to fail at having, now her kid was asking the other big question that was eating away at her and- wait, Enzo likes it when people call me their mom?

“I don't mind it.” Eda said.

Enzo let out the breath they had been holding since asking the question.

“…I thought you didn't like it cause your face always got red when it happens, like how when you get mad… are you not getting mad?” Enzo asked timidly.

Oh.

“Nope. I'm definitely not getting mad. I'm getting embarrassed.” She said.

Enzo stared at her for a moment then the light went off in their head.

“Like whenever Datura talks about that bird you like so much?!” They guessed.

Right on que, her cheeks started to warm.

“Right now! You're doing it right now!” He pointed out.

“I know starshine.” Eda mumbled.

“Why do you get so red over a bird anyway?” They asked, relaxing into her side.

“They aren't actually a bird. That's just what Datura calls them.” Eda said.

“So who are they?” Enzo asked.

“They’re an… old friend of mine.” she settled on saying.

“Enough off topic questions” Eda said, stopping her kid from prying more into her past.

“Do you think you can go to a therapy appointment? I'll go in with you, if you want me to.” Eda asked.

“I… I think I can… I think I'm ready now.” Enzo said.

Eda gave her kid a light squeeze.

“I'm really proud of you, starshine. You're an amazing kid, you know that, right?” she told him.

“You really think so?” They asked, looking up at her in awe.

“Oh absolutely.” Eda swore.

“Thank you m-Eda!” 

“Excuse me?” Eda asked.

“Nothing! I said Eda! I just said Eda!” Enzo squealed, their face flushing pink with embarrassment.

Eda raised an eyebrow and gave her kid another light squeeze.

“C'mon starshine, what did you wanna say?” she asked.

Enzo squeaked and buried their face in his hands.

“…mama…” they mumbled.

Not that long ago, Eda would have rejected that title instantly. Even a few weeks ago when she had just started to get more comfortable with it, she still wouldn't have accepted it. Hell, just a few minutes ago she panicked that the kid liked it.

Now that they had actually said it, now that it was out there, she didn't hate it as much as she had thought she would. She kind of liked it.

She absolutely knew she wasn't the best as far as parents went. She didn't have the best example for herself and she was a wanted criminal and a cursed witch. That didn't exactly scream stable child rearing environment, but…

Enzo had just called her “mom”, they thought of her like a mom, their mom.

Even if she wanted to, she was in way too deep to back out now. 

This was her kid, she wasn't going to abandon them.

That being said, her face still turned bright red. Emotions were weird.

“Do, um, do you want to call me that?” She asked, clearing her throat with an awkward cough.

“is it okay? I don't want Papa to get sad…” Enzo asked.

“Starshine, I'm sure your dad is happy for you.” She assured him.

A fond smile formed on their face.

“… yeah, he would be…” they giggled.

“So I can call you mama?” 

“Sure starshine, if you want.”

“I want to.” They said.

“Alright then.” Eda nodded.

Enzo beamed and hugged her with an adorable little giggle.

“Thanks Mama.”

“Anytime kiddo.”

XXX

Eda grabbed her scroll, the kids were fast asleep in the nest beside her after dinner and a nice warm bath. King needs a haircut soon. She thought absently as she searched up the name of Clover’s office, “The Garden House, Resources and Services For Healing The Mind And Body.”, she was going to make Enzo's first appointment.

She had already talked it over with Enzo and told them that she would try to get it done some time this week, it really all depended on how busy Clover was.

From what she had been told, the first appointment was easy to make, and all the important information got sorted out afterwards. So all she had to do was make the appointment. That was the easiest part of this whole day.

She submitted her request for a Friday first appointment and put her scroll away. She would tackle that tomorrow, now she was going to bed with her kids.

[lv-tangle-universe-blog]

in case you didn't see...

mostly villain poker world

[loth-cat-nation]

Tooka sighting! The white one is very blob. I love him. 10/10

Fox and some office Tookas! I felt like drawing some animals, and I love these silly-looking critters.

[roguishcat]

The Best Laid Plans

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

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 4k

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

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

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

Tav had a shadow and its name was Astarion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Astarion, is there something you want?"

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

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

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

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

“No, that’s not what I meant, I -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion stopped abruptly and put his arms around himself.

He had to fix this. Somehow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t even look up.

"I'm a little busy right now."

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't have to."

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

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

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

"Care to share why?"

"Not really."

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

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

Ah, finally a little smile for his efforts.

"I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is your favourite thing to eat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Is it so hard to believe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About earlier…” Tav began tentatively.

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Astarion? Are you okay?”

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

Shit.

She was waiting for an answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

Please, don’t ever leave me behind.

“I wouldn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

And yet…

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

“Tav?” He swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Breakfast is ready!”

Saved by Gale, out of all people.

And yet…

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

And yet…

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

💖 Tag list 💖:

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

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

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

(divider by @saradika)

[onika-t-maraj]

…

[ninjonnyuszi]

Collection of my paintings 🖌🎨

[astroellies]

˚༄࿔ jackson ellie and you being so so in love with each other…

warnings! GAY GAY GAY! mentions of smut.

⭐︎ going on patrols together and she’s just smiling like the biggest dork because you’re pointing out how that smell of spring is finally coming back but she’s just watching the tip of your nose move the tiniest bit when you talk.

⭐︎ bathing or showering after patrols and you’re massaging the shampoo into her scalp and she’s about to fall asleep because oh my god what the fuck it feels so good.

⭐︎ ellie being a bit reserved with pda or defining your relationship in public (like how we see her uncertainty with cat in her journal!) and being over the moon when you refer to her as her girlfriend. like maybe you two are at the tipsy bison and you’re talking with some newcomers…

“mhm! my girlfriend, ellie, has been reading me the comics, she’s collected tons of them!”

⭐︎ the two of you sneaking out of jackson with dina and jesse to go swimming in a nearby like and they won’t stop teasing the two of you.

“oh my god you two are so gay.” dina would say with mock disgust. and you can’t even deny it because you are so gay, especially when ellie takes her shirt off and only wearing a sports bra underneath.

⭐︎ waking up next to her in her garage in the colder months and just snuggling up to her for warmth. she tries to rub her icicle feet on your legs until you threaten to get up and go home. this would only make her hold you tighter and grumble something like nooo don’t leave in a raspy, half-awake voice.

⭐︎ pulling ellie to the dance floor at events and her getting all flushed and smiley. staring into her eyes or at her lips because you know it makes her flush harder.

⭐︎ ellie loving the idea of being rebellious and sneaking you in or out of her garage went joel isn’t looking (even if he knows about your relationship). she’d be so silly about it.

whisper yelling, “go now he’s not looking!”

“oh my god ellie you’re such a nerd!” you’d reply at full volume, leaving through the front door.

⭐︎ throwing ellie a suprise party for her birthday at the tipsy bison. it turning out to be extremely challenging because she was insisting that she would rather just stay in for her birthday but you had gotten all of her friends to hideout in the bar for half an hour at this point.

⭐︎ ellie genuinely being surprised when the lights flicker on and everyone she knows is yelling “happy birthday!” and her standing in shock, realizing why you were so persistent about going out tonight.

⭐︎ walking in on ellie (attempting to) cut her own hair and she’s royally fucked it up and now it’s your job to fix it. her grumpy pout in the mirror as you lecture her about just waiting for you to come home so you could cut it.

⭐︎ getting walked in on (maybe multiple times). once in ellie’s garage when neither of you heard joel’s knocks so he invites himself in and ellie had to panickingly throw the blankets over you two. then another time on patrol when dina and jesse came back from scoping out some supplies and they found you on a couch. and then maybe again when maria went looking for you two after a dance and you were tucked in an alleyway.

⭐︎ hanging out at a lake just outside of jackson and ellie’s sketching you.

“why’re you staring at me?” you’d giggle.

“cause you’re so pretty.” she’d reply, just her eyes peaking out from over her journal.

“lemme see what you’re drawing.” you’d say as your sit up.

“no!” she laugh, pulling the notebook away from your grasp.

“ellieuhhh, you’re so lame.”

[goorgeousz]

hi hi hi♥️

it's me again, i have a new idea and it's that last night i was watching again the episode where the girl accuses Jack's teacher of liking Hotch, i think it's episode 9x22🫣

you can write the scene but where the reader and Hotch are together but maybe the boys don't know and when the girl says ' likes Jack's dad' the reader is just like '🤨' a little jealous and that leads to them calling each other 'mine' publicly maybe Jack my beautiful innocent boy exposes them with a witty comment🤓☝🏻

tbh, i had this idea more developed but i didn't know how to interpret it in words,anyway, you can ignore it if you want, i'm sending you love!♥️♥️

xoxoxo

ms. springs | aaron hotchner

ms. springs | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader

summary: when yet another woman becomes interested in hotch, you start to rethink your decision of keeping your relationship a secret. jack solves your dilemma in a second. 

content/tw: secret established relationship, pure fluff with a little spice, jack being adorable, the team being insufferable and supportive, hotch being a tease, jack refers to reader as ‘her’. i think that’s about it!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: heyyyyyy, my love!!!! I was so happy to see you again on my requests, I’m absolutely in love with your mind!! I loved your idea and you do such a good job in describing it, I instantly picture the story in my mind. I’m sorry it took me a long time to post this, I was drowning in WIPs but as soon as I could, I immediately started this one! it was delicious and so fun to write, it turned out longer than I expected… either way, I really hope you like it! Thank you for being so kind and for sending the request, sending much much love!!!!!!!!!

dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist <3

“Yeah. You like Jack’s dad.”  the little girl said, smiling proudly. Your ears perked up at that, like a dog hearing its favorite words.

The other kids had already left, led by Garcia. Aside from this little girl, Jack and their teacher, only you, Hotch and Rossi were at the briefing room.

You and Rossi exchanged a surprised look, trying to hold back a laugh.

Hotch’s eyes widened a bit, and he looked at them with a tight smile, his lips pressed together like he had no idea on what to do, one hand rested on his son’s shoulder and the other shoved deep in his pocket – he had no business looking that good. IJack looked at his teacher unamused, his eyes scanning all the adults in the room. You would find the situation funny – it truly was – if it weren’t for that tingly little ugly feeling on your chest, stealing your words.

Since you had no idea what to do with your hands, you started to collect some of the materials, unable to watch the scene with a steady face like Rossi did.

“I’m not sure…” the woman chuckled, trying to turn the situation around, but the girl wasn’t having any of it.

“When you talk about your cat…” she started, cutting her teacher’s words short, proudly showing off her profiling skills “...you talk real, real fast ‘cause you really like your cat. You talked real fast today, not like with the other dads.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to draw attention. Hotch was a mix of shyness, amusement and confusion, politely holding back a smile. The woman glanced back at him, her eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and embarrassment, her blushed cheeks giving her out – if her student hadn’t already.

“Thanks again, Mr. Hotchner.” she said quickly. Just like the little girl said – that stubborn little voice in your head pointed. “The kids had a great time.”

“You’re welcome.” Hotch mumbled, his eyes dropping on the floor and his cheeks just as red as hers. You squeezed your eyes at the scene.

Ms. Springer hushed out the door right after, guiding the girl with her, her heels clicking so fast against the floor you were surprised she didn’t stumble.

Rossi waited less than two seconds after they left the room to sigh loudly, moving from his statue position to look at you and Hotch amused – here we go.

“Probably had to go feed the cat.” he said, ironically. You huffed out a laugh, changing a fist bump with him before he left the room too. Hotch didn’t answer, only smiling back at both of you before dropping on his knees to talk to Jack. You finished tidying up the briefing room and let them talk, something about hot dogs and hamburgers – nothing about Ms Springer and her crush.

“Why don’t you go find Morgan, huh? I have some things left to finish, but you can invite them all to dinner later.” he celebrated, running out of the room, leaving only you and Hotch behind.

You pretend not to notice him approaching you from behind, proudly sticking up your chin while you organize the (already tidily organized) shelves.

“Hey.” he starts, his hands finding their way to your shoulders. Your body immediately relaxes under his touch – traitor –, not even worrying if people might walk in.

The two of you had been in a serious relationship for the past few months now, but kept it a secret. At least at work, no one on the team knew yet. At first,you just wanted to test out the waters before you let everyone know, but when the time came, you just kept pushing back. 

It was just too comfortable to keep it a secret. Holding hands when no one could see it, stealing kisses behind closed doors, hidden visits to each other's hotel room during cases (until Emily almost caught you because of a lost sock), pretending to arrive at the same time when you quite literally woke up next to him… Your relationship was a little bit of sunshine in the middle of all the storm of the job. You wanted the team to know, they were your friends, your family. But it was so difficult to pop that little bubble of happiness you two fought so hard to create, that it just had to wait a little while longer.

And it was a joint decision, you both wanted this. To keep the secret. It was easier, fun and delicious.

Until things like that happened.

You weren’t a blind trust kind of person, but you hadn’t a single doubt that Hotch loved you, just like you loved him. You respected and trusted each other in more ways than one, so that sick feeling on the pit of your stomach had absolutely nothing to do with him getting with Jack’s teacher. But the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

Aaron Hotchner was an attractive man. That wasn’t an opinion, it was a fact. Being around him as much as you did (being his coworker and his girlfriend) got you used to watching women of all kinds of ages try and get their way with him. Family of victims, paramedics, officers, firefighters, witnesses, non-witnesses, people who pretended to be witnesses just to be questioned by him. Point was: people wanted him.

They never stood a chance, though. You got used to it, but Aaron was an expert. He dodged flirting like a professional, turning them down without a beat, not being blunt about it but never leaving any room from any misinterpretation. 

You didn’t have to worry about it, but there was no logical explanation that could shoo away the ache on your chest from the fact that you couldn’t even brag about being his girlfriend, not-subtly walking around with your hands wrapped around his arm, shoving on everyone’s faces how much he loved you.

Although you knew it was a completely understandable feeling, you were stubborn enough to swallow it back, trying to look cool and unbothered by it. Because in true honesty, even if you could do something about it, you wouldn’t. He handled it just fine, and Ms. Springer was in no way shape or form disrespectful – except for that longing look on her face that made you want to poke her eye out with a pen. But you were mature, really. You weren’t going to say anything about it.

“Hey, heartbreaker.” it slipped out of your tongue before you could hold yourself back. You bite your lower lip immediately, shutting your eyes close in desperation. Oh, so mature.

Hotch, on the other hand, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Quite the opposite, you heard him chuckle behind you, his breath fanning on the nape of your neck from his position behind you. Son of a bitch.

“I knew it.” He teased, before leaving a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear, smiling so hard he barely managed to close his lips on your skin “Honey, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” it was the truth. You weren’t worried – annoyed, jealous, possessive, bitter? Sure. But not worried.

“Really?” his hands found your hips, turning you around to face him. Your eyes squinted at how amused he looked.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not enjoying this.” you muttered and he laughed, actively throwing his head back.

“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. But it’s fun to see the tables turned.”

You grimaced at him “What are you even talking about?”

He arched an eyebrow at you “All the men I have to endure bashfully flirting with you in front of me. And having to shake their hands afterwards.” you roll your eyes “It’s nice to see a change in scenario.”

“Oh shut up. Women flirt with you all the time and I have to—�� he presses his lips together to try and stifle a laugh and you realize you walked right into his trap “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

“I believe you.” he doesn’t – and he’s completely right in not doing so.

Instead of admitting it and just moving on, you just step closer to him, flashing him a smile that makes his heart beat faster.

“I’m not worried in the slightest.” you drag your fingernail against his chest, dragging it down until the hem of his pants, hooking your finger on his belt hoops “Is actually flattering when other women flirt with you. Makes me proud that they want what’s mine.” you stop mid-track, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, your eyelashes batting in a dramatic way “Aren’t you mine, Aaron?”

He knew what you were doing, right from the start. But he felt for it, like he always did. All logical thinking flies away from his brain whenever you flirt with him like this. So he cleared his throat, nodding pathetically.

“I am. You have nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled, pushing away from his chest and walking away “You already said that. Plus, Ms. Springs have nothing on me.”

“Ms. Springer.” he corrected, making you stop on your feet, turning slowly against him. You squeeze your eyes in his direction, realizing he was teasing you.

“That’s a dangerous game, Hotchner.”

He laughed, approaching you and giving your backside a playful smack before walking out, leaving you stunned on your feet “You started it”.

Oh, it was on.

After that, there wasn’t much work to do. Apart from some reports here and there, time went by quickly, and next thing you knew the team walked out together, organizing the carpool to the dining place Jack chose. All nine of you sat up at one big round table, you finding your rightful place – not that anyone knew – by his side.

He pulled out your chair for you, just like he always did, as soon as he settled Jack down on his other side. Aaron was a gentleman, you all knew that. So that’s why no one gave you a weird look, they were used to this. But that was just the beginning.

Since Jack was there and that was a big change in scenario, he was the center of attention. The team made jokes, asked him questions and told him stories. They were so caught up with the young boy in front of him, and trying to entertain him, their profile skills didn’t notice what was going on with you.

Even though you played it cool on the briefing room, the Ms. Springer situation did bother you. And you were, in fact, being extra touchy with him. Pulling your chair closer to his, touching his arms when speaking directly to him, getting a fry from his plate without asking first. Things you usually didn’t let yourself do in front of the team.

And being the loving, respectful and enthusiastic boyfriend that he was, he just let you. Not daring to say a word about the way you lingered closer to his side, or laughed too loud at one of his jokes. Of course, the twinkle on his eyes and the smirk playing on his lips giving in that you would be hearing about it later.

In your defense, he wasn’t being any better: always making sure to fill your glass up, handing you napkins and the ketchup bottle before you could even think of asking. It got to the point where while he shared a story with Emily, who sat right by your side, he even rested his arm on the back of your chair, with the excuse to make himself be heard better by her.

Eventually they started to notice, though. Alex noticed your proximity when she asked you to reach for the mayonnaise and your arm brushed against Hotch’s because of how close you were. Then Reid and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances when you referred to Hotch as Aaron, which none of you usually did. Rossi cleared his throat after he called your boyfriend’s name twice but he was too busy smiling at something you were saying to listen. Morgan arched an eyebrow when you left to the restroom, squeezing Hotch’s shoulder on the way. And JJ almost choked on her hamburger as he leaned his head back to watch you walk away, eyes glued to your backside in awe.

But Jack really sealed the deal for you.

“So, Jack, what did you think about career day today?” Rossi asked the boy, who (instructed by his father) finished swallowing his hot dog bite to answer.

“I loved it. My dad won.” everybody on the table laughed.

“It’s not a competition.” Hotch pointed out, despite the proud smile dancing across his lips.

“Shut up, you won.” you nudged his side, earning a laugh from both Jack and Aaron.

The two of you seemed to be so lost in your whole little bubble, neither realized the exchange of mischievous glances between the team.

“Jacky, be honest. Was my cave the best part of the tour, yes or no?” Garcia tried.

“I feel like the lab really made an impression.” Reid chimed, holding his finger up with a lopsided grin on his face. Morgan snorted.

“Right, weirdos. We all saw how their eyes lit up in the gym.”

Jack, much to everyone’s please, laughed loudly to each and every joke from the team members. They absolutely loved the kid, and it was a breath of fresh air amongst all the darkness they deal with on a daily basis to be around that kind of innocence and joy.

“Now, tell us. Do you want to be a profiler when you grow up?” Alex asked, wiggling her eyebrows expectantly. All eyes turned to him, excited and curious.

Jack pressed his lips back together, his eyes darting at each one of them, like he was calculating and weighing every pro and con of being a profiler. Stopping at his dad’s face, he nodded to himself, finally getting to a conclusion. He looked back at Alex and answered, point blank.

“No.” their reaction was priceless. Some laughed, some frowned in a fake disappointment, one of them sat back, worrying he was such a bad parent that the mere thought of being somewhat close to what his father is was unbearable for Jack.

“Mhm, agreed.” Garcia nodded, jabbing Derek’s side with her elbow like she heard the little boy say how much she was better than them. “But why’s that?”

Jack shifted on his seat, looking like he was about to give a lecture “I really like reading Harry Potter before bed. And profilers only read work. I wouldn’t like it.”

Everyone at the table laughed – even Aaron, who finally looked like he could breathe again –, and you understood immediately. Aaron, more often than not, had a file on his bedside table, the endless amount of paperwork following him home, and sometimes, when Jack asked his dad what he was reading, he just answered “Work. It’s boring, you wouldn’t like it.” and apparently he took these words way too seriously.

“Oh, sweetie. I fear that’s just your dad.” JJ explained, giving Hotch a pointed and amused look.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Jack just pressed his lips together, shaking his head in disagreement. He then, faster than you could ever think, his eyes fell on you and he pointed his chubby little fingers at your figure, like he was accusing you of first degree murder.

“She does it too, I’ve seen it. They even read together.” he explained, and your mind went blank.

It was like a bomb had dropped. A big fat juicy gossipy bomb, but still. You watched everyone’s reaction before your brain even registered what just happened. Spencer’s eyes darted between you and Hotch like he was rewatching every last interaction to see what he missed. Derek had a wolf-like smile on his face, and you already knew you were going to listen. Garcia looked like a life version of the heart eyes emoji. JJ and Alex looked like they were about to start jumping on their seats and cheering. Rossi looked proud and smug, and Emily had her mouth and eyes wide open, so much that if she tried a little harder you were sure they would pop out of her head.

All while Jack took another bite of his hot-dog, the corner of his mouth sticky with ketchup and mustard, incredibly unaware of what he just had done. On the other hand, you and Aaron stared at each other with wide eyes, not sure on how to act. There wasn’t any way you could avoid the topic now, was it? Absolutely not. And no one would believe you if you came up with a lie, even if you were creative enough to think of an explanation to why Jack saw you and his dad together in bed reviewing case files that didn’t involve the words ‘secret relationship’ in it.

“My, my.” Derek broke the silence, the weight of his smile dripping on the tone of his voice. You knew that there was no way back, but your mind just went blank.

Surprisingly, Aaron made the first move. His astonished expression melting into a wild grin, his shoulders shaking with a laugh that was almost just as surprising at Jack’s revelation. Infected by his laugh and the beautiful sigh of his dimples, you laughed too, letting your head fall down to his shoulder, your hair shielding your blushing face. You felt him connect his lips to your forehead in a long and gentle kiss. ‘I love you, we’re in this together.’

Your little bubble was finally popped by Garcia’s cooing, instantly followed by the rest of the team’s reactions. There were laughs, amused accusations, heavy (not too heavy, there was a kid there after all) teasing, bribery (Emily and Morgan offered desserts to Jack in order to get more answers), threats of dismissal (Hotch’s reaction to that. He wasn’t serious, though. At least not too serious) and mainly, love. They showed you and him so much support, love and genuine happiness, you started to wonder why you didn’t say anything sooner.

Until later, while all of you walked back to your cars, Morgan and Garcia pulled you to the side, followed by two very eager JJ and Prentiss. He clapped his hands together in front of his torso, and looked at you with a smirk.

“You don’t have to say anything, just tell me when to stop.” and started to slowly pull his hands apart, his eyebrows wiggling at you teasingly.

And then, you remembered.

[queers-gambit]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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[nethompson]

5x7 randomness... Some of the 5"x7" artworks I've created using various art mediums and subjects.

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