#They find her being a big scented plush very comforting

[plushskunk]

One of my favorite things for whenever I get art of my fursona being more on the plus side is that I can refer to myself as a "weighted plushie" aka the best kind of plushie!

[lovelyney]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯DATING THEM !! FONTAINE GUYS⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHARACTERS: freminet, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley.

SCENT: headcanons

WARNINGS: mentions of nsfw on everyone’s but freminet’s.

FLORIST’S NOTE: wow !! took me long enough ☹️ im so sorry for the wait pookies. also how are we liking this new layout for these ?? ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯2023 !! #©LOVELYNEY

꒱₊˚ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓 !! 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐓𝐒

𖠵𝟎𝟎: SWEET BABY BOY FREMINET I LOVE HIM SM.

𖠵𝟎𝟏: As we know, Freminet's quite shy; he doesn't have much experience with romance, but he tries his best !!

𖠵𝟎𝟐: He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Lyney when he first started crushing on you. . . He kept on asking and asking when he was going to confess.

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Doesn’t like going out very much, but if it’s at the expense of your happiness and being with you, he’ll try and push through.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Bought you a handmade plush of Pers since you always like to cuddle the robotic one while he’s away.

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Loves whenever he sees you wearing his clothes. he’d probably give you his entire closet if he could.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: Has a bunch of pictures of you and him that he keeps hidden in his dressers.

keeps one on him for good luck !!

𖠵𝟎𝟕: I honestly can’t tell if he’d give you a pet name ?? It’d probably be something like “nestling,” “my love,” and “baby/bébé.” (/ Meaning he uses both the English and French ver.)

❝H—Hey bébé. . . If you aren't too busy, would-would you maybe want to accompany me to brother’s magic show tonight ?? I-I could really use your company and I know we haven't been a date in a while. . .❞

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Crafts you all kinds of trickets🫶🫶

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Brings you the prettiest stones and little things that he finds when he goes deep-diving.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Lyney “adopted” you into the family the moment you and Fremi started dating.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: He cringes whenever Lyney calls him a nickname, but he melts when you do it.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Isn’t a big fan of PDA (he’ll obvi hold your hand) but in the confines of his room, he’ll cling to you.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Will sometimes get pouty when you’re cuddled up to Pers and not him.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: Doesn’t get jealous like at all, he’ll just get annoyed and nervous at most.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Didn’t pay much attention to his appearance initially, but ever since you started lovingly thumbing, kissing, and counting his freckles, it’s become his favorite thing about himself.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: I can imagine him liking his hair played with.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Silently protective over you, you know ?? Like he’ll squeeze your hand if he senses someone you’re around is dangerous or unnerving. Or if he wants to leave and doesn’t want interrupt your conversation.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Strangely warm !! He isn’t sure why you enjoy hugging him so much, but never complains, hehe.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: Likes to be both the big and little spoon !! If a day comes where he’s just exceptionally tired, he’ll want to be the little spoon. But if he wants to feel like the bigger person or you need comforting, he’ll be the big spoon.

꒱₊˚ 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘 !! 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀

𖠵𝟎𝟎: I’M 1000% COMPLETELY NORMAL ABOUT THIS MAN, I PROMISE 🤐🤐🙏🙏

𖠵𝟎𝟏: Lyney, as we know him, is very incredibly playful and can be very charming !! He uses this to his advantage.

𖠵𝟎𝟐: Was obsessed with you before you started dating and is still obsessed with you now 😭

𖠵𝟎𝟑: The complete opposite of Freminet. He will not shut up about you to his siblings. . . (Sometimes he might mention you to “father.”)

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Wants nothing but for you to be safe and protected. (Bonus points if it’s in his arms.)

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Going back to the Knave, Lyney might share the relationship you two have with her but won’t give any explicit details about who you are as a means to protect you.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: “Darling,” “gorgeous,” “lovebug/bug,” “my (love)/mi (amour),” “my sweet,” and “sweetheart/chérie.”

❝Thank you so much for coming to today’s show, my love! It always fills me with so much energy seeing you in the seats, staring up at me. . . I ought to put together a show just for you, hm? How does this Friday sound?❞

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Loves to tease you !!

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Does not like waking up in the mornings, especially when you’re lying in bed with him.

loves to hide his face in your neck whenever he’s lying with you.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Loves PDA. He cannot give a single fuck if you guys are in public. If anything, he’s proud to show his love for you to everyone.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Can sometimes be unintentionally flirty with other people without realizing it. Don’t get it twisted, though; he’s incredibly loyal to you.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Many people (of all genders) find him very charming, and as much as that might sting you, Lyney always finds a way to bring you into the conversation to dismiss their advances.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Can be a little feisty sometimes. Examples are: biting your lower lip when he’s kissing you, biting your ear and nibbling on your neck in public, and placing his hand dangerously close to your thigh.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Uses incredibly cheesy pickup lines and one-liners.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: If someone is continuously making advances towards you, then he’ll get jealous.

he’ll walk over to you, put a hand on your waist and act overly affectionate towards you hoping it’ll drive the person away.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Seems innocent (enough), but if he sees you’re upset by someone’s actions, he’ll flip that fatui switch on immediately just to see you smile again.

sometimes asks Lynette and/or Freminet to comfort you while he’s taking care of the person.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: Surprises you by showing up in the most unexpected places in your house.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Hates being away from you for long ): That’s the main reason why he hates arguments between you two.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: (↑) Although he lowkey can be petty sometimes. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟗: His hands are really soft !! Sometimes you’ll gently caress them, and he’ll literally melt on the spot.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Also one who loves to see you in his clothes !! 𖠵𝟐𝟏: Really wants to have matching outfits with you. 🫶

𖠵𝟐𝟐: Loves whenever you dress yourself up !! He just adores seeing all sides of you.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: You have a whole bouquet of rainbow roses from the amount of times he’s randomly pulled one out and gave it to you. . .

꒱₊˚ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 !! 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐔��𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𖠵𝟎𝟏: The most gentleman to ever gentleman, I believe ?!?!

idk man, it’s something with the dragon guys in Teyvat. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟐: I’d like to believe that when he started liking you, the Melusines caught on, because he seemed to always be lost in thought. . . 🤭

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Despite him being absolutely stunning and incredibly smart, he somehow felt like he didn’t have a chance with you. . .

the Melusines and Furina were not having any of that !! they devised a plan where she talked to you, and they talked to him. it all worked out in the end.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Being in love with a busy man has its pros and cons, obviously; Neuvillette always tries his best to balance them out. ☹️☹️

𖠵𝟎𝟓: You guys tried to keep your relationship hidden for as long as you could with how Fontaine loves its drama. . .

and when you it got out (guess how), rumors, whispers everything spread like a wildfire. it was incredibly overwhelming for you, and he tried his best to quiet everyone down and comfort you 😞☹️ you can imagine the weather. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟔: (↑) Some people were muttering how you didn’t deserve him or weren’t “pretty enough” for him, which really pissed him off, but he had to remain civil (for the most part, lolz.)

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Your emotions have an incredible impact on him ?!?! If you start crying or if you’re sad, it’ll domino effect onto him. He loves you so much that it physically hurts him to see you distraught.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: All the Melusines adore you !! They absolutely see you as their other parental figure since you guys started dating.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: (↑) MELTS whenever he sees you interacting with kids. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟎: “Cherie/sweetheart,” “honey,” “my (dear/dearest)” and “my (love)/mi amour.”

❝I’m home, mon chéri. . . I must apologize for coming home later than usual—an issue in the case I’m looking into has presented itself and I went to personally deal with it. Hm, what was that, love? Ah, what was the ‘issue?’ Don’t worry about it, my dear. What matters is that it’s been dealt with. Now, have you had dinner yet?❞

𖠵𝟏𝟏: His trust in you runs pretty deep, so he trusts you when others are flirting with you. However, when people aren’t leaving you alone or are masking their interest behind innocent actions, he’ll get pissed.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: God forbid anyone lays their hands on you. . . Neuvillette doesn’t take people hurting you lightly at all.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: (↑) He isn’t a big fan of people touching what’s his in general, but he knows he (unfortunately) can’t have you all to himself. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟒: (↑) Safe to say, he’s quite territorial. . . He is a dragon, after all. They are quite protective over their treasure..

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Wrio likes to bring you up in conversations over tea !!

𖠵𝟏𝟔: This man has always been head over heels for you. Whenever you two are shopping together, he’ll follow you around like a puppy—always insisting that he holds your bags and pays.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Pretty gentle with you. . . The farthest thing he wants is to hurt you, but sometimes his primal instincts kick in and he can’t help but want to mark what’s his !!

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Spoils the hell out of you. He literally can’t help it. He’ll see something that he’ll think you’ll like or something that reminds him of you and gets it without another thought.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: Really doesn’t like that you can tell his mood based of whether or not it’s raining. . . He hates worrying you.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Furina loves to ask about you !! She thinks you two are so cute together.

𖠵𝟐𝟏: Loves whenever you visit him in his office while he’s working !! He’ll always try and persuade you to stay with him while he works—coaxing you to sit on his lap and such.

𖠵𝟐𝟐: He’s still relatively new to understanding human emotions, so he really appreciates you being patient and helping him out.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: Whenever you’re mad at him or giving the silent treatment, he’ll just look at you with the most saddest eyes ever. Guarantee heavy downfalls until you two make up 💔

꒱₊˚ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !! 𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘

𖠵𝟎𝟎: Literally the almost perfect definition of my type 😭

𖠵𝟎𝟏: He’s smart, cocky, and hot. You’re in for a wild ride with this one 💔👍

𖠵𝟎𝟐: Secretly a deep-rooted hopeless romantic at heart, he just hasn’t had the time to explore that part of him because of his duties in the fortress.

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Like Neuvillette, this man is head over heels for you. It’s just that he’s better at hiding it (most times, anyway.)

𖠵𝟎𝟒: A big teaser !! He loves to get under your skin.

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Can and will protect you at any cost. He loves you so much, it’d kill him inside if something were to happen to you.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: A bit of a sadist, I think. . . He’ll watch you struggle for a bit before actually helping you with something.

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Before you two started dating, Sigewinne kept on insisting he confess to you because of how obvious it was.

Clorinde also gave him shit for it.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: “Baby/babe,” “doll,” “my (darling),” “my (dear),” “my (love/lovely),” “pretty/my boy/girl,” and “sweetheart.”

❝Oh? I wasn’t expecting you to stop by for a visit today, doll—not that I’m complaining, of course. . . Lucky for you, I just finished up all my paperwork for the day, so I’m all yours ~ Wait, what? What do you mean you’re only here to deliver more papers? Please tell me you’re joking, babe. . . Archons sake, please at least stay for tea. I haven’t seen you since this morning.❞

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Roughly smells like freshly brewed tea with a mix of his cologne—it’s a rather comforting smell, actually.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Hates whenever you’re gone too long above ground. He gets grouchy (more so than usual) whenever he hasn’t seen you for a certain amount of time.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Surprisingly like a sloth when you two aren’t at work. . . He loves clings to you, doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you’re at.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: I’d like to think he doesn’t give a shit about what people normally think of him, so he’ll love you on wherever and whenever.

loves to rub his cheeks/stubble against yours despite your whining !! i’m weak

𖠵𝟏𝟑: One of his favorite things about the two of you is your size difference. He finds it adorable his hand can comfortably envelope yours and somehow perfectly fit around your throat. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟒: A waist holder !! He loves to have a hand on your waist one way or another. Whether it be him pressed against you from behind or simply just a hand on your waist while you’re standing next to each other.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Protective and possessive !! Not too much to the point where it’s toxic, I think. He’s just very territorial, and does not like when people get too close to you. He always denies he doesn’t get jealous, but he isn’t fooling anyone.

he doesn’t want your future to repeat his past, so he tries desperately to protect you from those kinds of people.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: (↑) All for marking you in obvious places if he sees this is a frequent thing. . . He’s far from shy with it, as well.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Always prepares an extra cup of tea for you just in case you were to stop by his office.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Nearly suffocates you if you’re in bed facing him—he’ll smoosh your head against his chest so you don’t have a chance to leave.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: People were genuinely shocked when they found he was dating someone !! Some didn’t believe you until Wrio proved them wrong.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Is a mixture between gentle and rough with you. . . He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you or you know, break you.

𖠵𝟐𝟏: He claims he’d be fine if you two broke up but in reality, he’d be a complete mess. (Sigewinne knows this without a doubt.)

𖠵𝟐𝟐: (↑) Pouts whenever you spend too much time with her and not enough with him </3 He can be a literal manbaby sometimes.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: Literally doesn’t know what to do with himself whenever you ignore him or give him the silent treatment.

goes to Clorinde for help if he’s really stuck. which may or may not be proven helpful depending on her mood. . .

𖠵𝟐𝟒: Adores whenever you’re resting on top his chest !! He always says that’s where you belong, lol.

𖠵𝟐𝟓: (↑) Also likes it when you rest on his lap when he’s sorting out paperwork. He claims you “give him the energy needed to make it through the day.”

𖠵𝟐𝟔: The one for you if you have a praise kink and the one for you if you have a degrading kink !! Two birds with one stone, amirite ?? kill me

[larvasmoon]

In a Glass Darkly

Pairing- Fem!AstarionxFem!Tav / AstarionxFem!Tav Word count-8,4k Ratiing- 18+ Tags- Female Astarion, oral sex, biting

Ao3 - Masterlist

Astarion finds a mysterious belt in his bag. Things take an unexpected turn when he tries it on...

It’s a frosty night in Neverwinter, and she is shivering under her mantle, walking by the avenue with his hand in hers. He knows it’s stupid, that his fingers can’t warm her own, and that he is as cold as the snow that comes down swirling in front of their eyes. 

And yet, he keeps holding it.

Greedily. Selfishly. 

His palm presses further in her skin, fingers intertwined tighter, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear or be ripped away from him at every street corner. 

She looks at him from under her hood, nose and cheeks growing red because of the freezing air, smiling so prettily in the bright store fronts.

And like a moth who just wants to share her light, he aches to draw closer.

He bends down, gently cradling her face in his other hand, and presses a firm kiss at the corner of her lips. He lingers there, sheltered from the noise of the busy street, nuzzling against her cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. 

The smell of burning wood, from the fire they’ve lit the night before. The lingering perfume of the rose water he likes to put in her curls when she’s just out of the bath.

I love you so terribly, he thinks, nose pressed right under her ear, as if he wants to inhale all that she is, trap her in his lungs and keep her there, forever. 

A drunk tiefling man bumps into him, staggering and barely standing on his two feet. 

“Oi, find yourself a room will ya? Pfff those horny youngsters,” he grumbles to himself before disappearing in a nearby tavern. 

He’s about to turn around and catch up with the horrid boor when she tugs on his hand, very softly, silently asking him not to make a scene. If she hadn’t held him back, he would’ve taught the man a few lessons, the kinds that would’ve left him all bloodied and cold for the simple crime of interrupting the kisses he was giving her. 

“He’s right, we’re in the middle of the street, Astarion,” she protests, still snuggling in his neck and hiding her face into the thick fabric of his scarf, “Let’s find somewhere to spend the day.”

His arms close around her waist, and he pulls her body flush against his, resting his head on her shoulder, “Just a little longer, darling.”

They have been traveling for a tenday now, walking all the way from Mirabar to Neverwinter, after hearing rumors of the ring of the sunwalker’s gift being in the Jewel of the North. Their journey through the Crag Mountains has been particularly tiring for her. Every day at sunrise, after hours spent on dark steep mountain paths, they would set their camp in some cave or abandoned home. As soon as he'd laid their bedrolls on the floor, she curled up in his arms, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and eagerly welcomed the embrace of Sehanine.

One that would forever be refused to him now.

As he holds her in the middle of the busy avenue, she melts into him the same way she would at night and he knows that she is getting slumberous. When she looks up at him again, her dark eyes are heavy-lidded, unfocused. 

It awakens some primal urge in Astarion to protect her, take her somewhere warm and comfortable, but he doesn’t dare to move yet, simply stays wrapped around her like a blanket. He lovingly strokes her hair, wishing he could give her everything she has ever wanted. 

A big house with a lovely garden, blooming flower beds as far as the eye can see.

A wide bed with heavy blankets and plush cushions, on which he would make love to her for hours and hours.

Warm and delicious dishes on her table every time her stomach starts to growl. 

Little children running around, with the same eyes and smile as her. 

A nice stroll on a warm and sunny summer’s day. 

And yet here he is, dragging her through all of Faerûn, forcing her to flee the sun and walk in the gloom, searching for a cure he has very little hope of finding and letting her use her magic to the point of exhaustion—What has he ever given her, except for doom and pain ? 

“Is something wrong, love?” she asks, each of her gentle words turning into little vapour clouds in the cold midnight air, “You are frowning again.”

Her warm hands come up to mirror the way he had touched her just before, lightly moving along his brows and forehead to get rid of his sullen expression. It draws a smile out of him, the simple feeling of her fingers following the lines of his face, as if she could shape a better version of him with them. 

A lighter and worriless one. 

For a moment, he almost thinks she could. 

“I have never been better, my sweet,” he says against the skin of her palm, turning his head to the side and laying a kiss there, “Let’s head to the Driftwood tavern, they have wonderful rooms and comfortable beds, or so I have heard. You need all the rest you can get.”

He wordlessly grabs her bag, throws it on his shoulder, takes her hand in his again and sets off. The tavern is not too far away, at a corner of one of the main streets of the Blacklake District. The façade of the old building is inviting, adorned with pretty stained glass windows and arched double doors, warm light pooling out of it and into the snowy streets each time someone new enters the place. 

Astarion makes quick work of getting one of their finest rooms, there is nothing that a few of his charming words can’t buy in this world. He flatters the owner and the great taste with which the place is arranged, swiftly compliments the way she is dressed and the pretty pin in her red hair, until she finally gives him the key to the “Grande Suite” on the highest floor of the inn.

Once they are upstairs, he helps Tav undress and clean up in the large tub of the adjacent bathroom. He gently brushes and braids her hair until she almost falls over, dozing off while he finishes tying her plait with a ribbon. Even in sleep, her hands reach for him, they gently yet persistently tug on his shirt until he lies next to her under the covers. Astarion chuckles and obliges, tucking her under his arm and idly playing with her hair until her breathing is finally deep and even. 

He stays like this for a long time, minutes or maybe hours, slowly losing all sense of time. Behind the closed curtains, the sun is going up and the city is awakening after a long and cold snowy night. People are laughing and chatting in the corridors of the inn, getting ready to leave for the day. Each of the steady beats of her heart against his silent one is a comfort, a grounding melody that keeps him present and tied to reality.

But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot trance. 

His mind is still racing, unable to let go of the idea that he doesn’t deserve her, that all the love she pours into him is like water in a broken jar. It leaks and drips out of every crack and split in his shattered being, wasted on someone that won’t receive it or reciprocate it the way it deserves to be.

After a little while, Astarion silently slips out of her arms and drapes the blankets around her, quietly heading to the main room to sit in front of the fire in one of the armchairs. Gloomy and discontent, he plays with one of his daggers, spins it between his pale fingers time and time again, while thinking about the things he could do to prove his love to her.

He is supposed to be good with his words. He has spent most of his long life sweet talking people, manipulating them into following him back to his master’s palace, but when he is with her, they are never quite enough. All of his “I love you” sound fake and phoney to his own ears, they have no value in the mouth of a man who has said it too many times without actually meaning it.

Each day is different since the end of their adventures. They find new paths to climb up to, new dangerous leads to follow, new places to call their home, but Astarion’s feelings are unwavering. He so desperately wants to find a way to show to her that she is in each and every of his thoughts, even the darkest and saddest ones. Something that would convince her that he can no longer imagine a life in which she is not adored by him. A token of his everlasting love. 

His eyes land on his travel bag, negligently laying against the wall alongside Tav’s. It reminds him of all things he has looted along the way, on all of the foes he has killed and on the many corpses he has stripped of their possessions. There’s a pretty ruby ring he has kept there for a few months now, the perfect size for Tav’s ring finger…and the perfect fit for a wedding ring. 

He frantically rummages through his packsack, laying on the carpeted floor the many trinkets and jewels he has collectionned over time. Countless sapphires or crystals, hand-crafted wooden boxes adorned with little pieces of nacre, pearl necklaces and diamond rings, messily scattered in front of him like he is searching through a pirate’s treasure chest. 

“Ah, there you are, you pretty thing!” he exclaims, happily looking at the way the light reflects on each of the facets of the big red stone it is adorned with.

He can already picture it on her hand, shimmery and red like a drop of blood on her smooth and soft skin.

Astarion is about to put it all away again when something catches his eyes at the very bottom of the bag, something he didn’t even remember having in the first place. It sparkles in the dark, eerily shimmering as though it is not exactly glinting in the light, but rather shining on its own. He hesitantly reaches for it, his fingers skimming across the cold metal of what seems to be a clasp. 

As he unfurls the mysterious object, Astarion discovers that it is a very beautiful belt, a finely crafted accessory, worthy of a duke or a king. The leather band is adorned with a river of rubies and emeralds, of all shapes and sizes, fastidiously sewn in the middle of gold thread embroideries. He inspects it very closely, looking for any trace of the magic he felt earlier, but apart from its undeniable beauty, it’s just one unremarkable belt. 

Another stunning piece of clothing that must have caught his eyes. Nothing more. 

He vaguely remembers the way Tav used to spend hours lecturing him on the caution one has to exert when stumbling upon a new object, something he never really managed to do. He’d steal some fineries on a dead man and recklessly try them on, spinning on himself and making a show of proving that they looked better on him than on their previous owner.

"Please be more careful, Astarion. What if this thing is cursed? What if there’s some spell tied to it? Let me take a look at it before putting it on. It’ll save us a lot of trouble … "

This time is no different, and while she is carefree and sound asleep in the next room, he impulsively tucks his shirt in his breeches and tries the fancy thing on. He happily hums a tune to himself as he pushes the leather band through the golden buckle, completely unaware of what is about to happen. 

It’s barely noticeable at first, a slight buzzing feeling in his limbs that he doesn’t acknowledge, too busy admiring the way the belt hugs his hips.

And then, all of a sudden, it strikes him. Searing hot and electric like thunder. 

A wave of scalding heat that travels through his body, from head to toe.

“Hells!” he breathes, realizing with horror that he truly has been deceived by the accessory's gorgeous appearance, “I need to take this off quickly!”

His entire body jolts, all of his muscles spasming and aching, as he falls to his knees. The world spins and blurs in front of his eyes, and suddenly he is so dizzy that he can’t even sit straight. He slumps to the floor, his legs flailing around when the leather horrifyingly tightens around him. There’s a spiral of fire underneath his navel, a sensation that is neither pleasurable or painful, but somewhere in between. It tingles and it itches, turning and twisting deep under his skin, where the belt encircles his body. Astarion groans, uselessly tugging on it with clammy hands, but it’s all pointless.

Like so many times before, he cannot do anything to save himself.

His eyes turn to look at the closed bedroom door, he wants to scream, to call for Tav, but no sound ever comes out of his mouth.

A veil of darkness slowly falls over his eyes and he feels himself dangerously slipping away, losing consciousness.

**

When Astarion opens his eyes again, he is still lying on the floor, blankly staring at the embers of the dying fire in the hearth.

He quickly gets up before furiously patting his waist to see if the belt is still there.  

And to his horror, it still is. 

What did that thing do to him ? 

As he thoroughly inspects his body, he imagines all the terrible ways in which it could have altered his appearance or violated his physical integrity. 

Giving him a dragon tail.

Covering his skin with countless dark scales. 

Gracing him with an extra leg or arm.

Or god forbid, messing up with his hair and dashing looks!

Nothing feels different at first and it takes him a few seconds to notice the way his clothes don’t fit him anymore. His sleeves are too long, his breeches are tighter around his backside but feel too wide around his waist. Everything sags and slides off of his figure. 

It’s only when he looks down to tie the laces of his ruffled shirt a little tighter that he finally understands. There, standing still in front of the dim glow of the lit candelabras, he can clearly see the way the neckline hangs unusually low on his chest, down to his stomach, generously exposing his chest … Or what should have been his chest. 

Two pale breasts emerge from under the frills instead, round and dainty. 

For a moment, he thinks he is hallucinating or dreaming, that it is merely a side-effect of the crippling fear he felt just a little while ago. His shaky hands glide over them, weighing the supple and sensitive flesh, making it move and bounce against his ribs, until he eventually comes to the dreadful conclusion that it feels too real to be an illusion. Then, he anxiously tugs on the waistband and notices that things also changed quite a bit down in the confines of his pants. 

His manhood is nowhere to be seen. 

“No no no, this cannot be happening!” he starts panicking, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace like a caged lion, “What in the sweet hells am I supposed to do now? I should’ve left this stupid belt where it was!”

Even his voice is also considerably different— higher pitched than it was before but still slightly lower than Tav’s, rich and warm toned but undeniably feminine. 

His eyes frantically dart around, looking for something and anything that could be of use to undo this mess. What if he cut through the leather and forcibly took the belt off? 

Astarion grabs one of his daggers, determined to violently tear his way through it, even if he has to hurt himself in the process. He has already placed the blade against his belly, its sharpness digging both into the band and into his skin, when he hears a hushed sound next door. The wood board creaks and soon, the door cracks open. 

Right when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Tav appears on the threshold, all messy hair and sleepy eyes. 

“Astarion? I heard a loud noise,” she says, rubbing her eyes and yawning, “Is everything alright?”

He quickly turns his back to her and crosses his arms on his chest to hide the evidence of his condition.

“Of course, my love,” he coughs, ridiculously trying to lower his voice and mimic what used to be so effortless, “ I’m sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence before he hears her draw closer, her naked feet silently treading on the floor behind him. Her scent washes over him and he almost instinctively turns around to find refuge in her arms. 

“You are obviously not okay,” she gently says as she lays a warm hand on his shoulder, “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

He grows tense, restless, when she bends over to try and see his face. She is so close that she could see the way he is drowning in his own clothes, or notice the way his voice doesn’t even remotely sound like him anymore.

“Astarion,” she asks again, more insistently this time, “Please, talk to me.” 

He knows that he is only buying time : he won’t be able to hide it from her for long and he doesn’t know how to handle this problem on his own. His lover also happens to be wonderfully stubborn, she won’t leave him alone until she knows what is troubling him.

“Promise me you won’t laugh or get angry, darling,” he finally answers, nervously fumbling with the seam of his ill-fitting night shirt. 

“You’re starting to scare me.” 

He stiffly turns around to face her, waiting for her to scold him for his carelessness.

But, strangely enough, the rebuke never comes. 

Tav’s eyes grow wide at first, she looks him up and down a few times, frantically staring at his chest then at his hips before looking up at his face again. After a few seconds, her gaze settles on his half exposed breasts and she goes red as a beetroot.  

“Gods above,” she gasps, doing her best to look him in the eyes but failing abysmally, “What happened ?”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Astarion thinks, suddenly a little less worried about the whole endeavor. He simply did not expect her to be so … enthralled by his new appearance. There’s a glint in her eyes that he has learnt to recognize. It reminds him of the nights they spent around the campfire all those months ago, back when he was still courting her and back when she still blushed whenever he looked her way. Now, whenever she is giving him that particular look, it doesn’t take long before her clothes are off, and he has his mouth or hands on her. 

“Well, a very unfortunate accident might or might not have taken place while you were asleep,” he giggles, taking a few steps towards her, until he is so close he can smell all the oils she rubbed on her skin earlier, while it was still wet and flushed from her bath.

Notes of lavender and vanilla gently float in the air.

She shakily points at his belt before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me it’s because of this belt that you are wearing. Where did you even find it?”

“I have no idea, darling. All I know is that I forgot I had it in my bag and when I tried the wicked little thing on, ta-da ! It had a little surprise in store for me.”

He dramatically gestures towards his body, like he is a magician doing a trick on a stage and he is the main attraction of his own show. 

“If I’m right, there’s a bad news and a good one,” she solemnly declares, comically stealing a few more glances at his chest before continuing her very serious explanation, “ If I’m right, this girdle is probably a very rare cursed item. I read about it in a book a long time ago, and it completely changes the wearer’s sex. Now, the good news is that it’s not irreversible.”

“So what is the plan? What do we do next?” 

Her eyes follow the motion of his lips while he talks and he wonders if they changed as much as the rest of him did. “Would you like a little taste, my love ?” he internally laughs, ready to give her a long and thorough kiss nevertheless.

“A remove curse spell should do just fine,” she sighs again, quickly heading back towards the bedroom like she is suddenly eager to put some distance between them, “I think I have a scroll in my satchel.” 

He trails behind her and pensively stands near the bed while she kneels on the floor, looking through the few spell scrolls that she always keeps in her little leather bag. 

“There, this should be enough to turn you back to your old self,” she says after a little while, proudly holding the rolled piece of paper in her hand, “Come, I’ll free you of whatever this is.” 

Astarion closes the distance between them and, once again, she cannot help but blush under his gaze. Her little heart hammers in her chest and blood rushes to her face, cheeks tinged with pink.

She is about to unfold the scroll and read it out loud when his hand shoots up to curl around her wrist.

“Wait, don’t use it yet, darling.” 

Now that he knows that there is a remedy, a way out, his outlook on the situation is changing. 

A single lecherous thought is at the forefront of Astarion’s mind. 

Why not enjoy this while he can? He’d be an idiot not to make the most out of it.

He wants to make love to her in this body, he wants her to touch him while he is in this shape, he wants to know what it feels like for her when she comes on his hand or finds release while he thrusts inside of her— 

“Why?” she asks, abruptly bringing him back to reality and interrupting his lewd thoughts. 

When he touches her again to cradle her face in his hands, there’s a shakiness to his movements, a hint of uncertainty in the way he holds her. His thumb tenderly traces her lower lip and he leans to press a small yet lingering kiss there. Entirely chaste compared to the way he would usually entangle his tongue with hers, take his sweet time to savor her. 

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” 

The words hang in the air, like another kind of spell, bold and electrifying. They make her drop the scroll that she had in her hand, and hungrily chase his lips in return. 

“I have,” she says as soon as their mouths separate, puffy from how passionately she threw herself at him,“It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t really think about such things.”

This is not uncommon amongst elves, he knows it. The great sexual freedom of his people extends far beyond such futile considerations, many of the elves he has crossed paths with in his two hundred years of existence were versatile lovers. Seeking pleasure in the arms of whoever caught their eye or stole their hearts : in men, in women, and in all the beauty that lies in between. 

“I know that look in your eyes, I’ve seen it a thousand times before,” his delicate hand traces her collarbone and the soft swell of her bust under the collar of her night shirt, “You want me.” 

Tav leans a little bit more into him, pupils all but blown under the shadow of her long lashes, and something about this all affair suddenly becomes unbearable. 

“Would you please teach me, darling? What feels good,” he murmurs, taking her hand and languidly placing it under his shirt, pressing her palm on his naked breast, right above where his beating heart should be, “I want to know more about women’s heavenly anatomies… and about yours.”

The sensation sends thrills of pleasure down his spine and he lets out the softest of sighs. Her eyes roam his body, unbashful. If she could undress him with them, he is pretty sure all of his clothes would be gone by now. Magically torn off his body by whatever enchantment resides in those spellbinding irises. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, Astarion?” she quietly asks, moving her fingers to gently toy with his nipple under the thin cotton fabric, making him throb in his pants. 

The sensation is unfamiliar, unsettlingly delectable, but he gladly welcomes it, already entrusting her with all that he is. 

He drags her closer by the hips, brushing his lips against her jaw and neck. "I am, if the fact that I’m so turned on I could come right now is any indication.” 

It’s all the answer she needs before she urgently shoves him onto the bed and straddles his hips, like she has so many times before. She only stops to clumsily take his shirt off his back and bare his chest to her hungry eyes. 

“You need to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable, alright? And I’ll stop right away,” she blurts out, barely leaving him enough time to nod before she captures his mouth in a searing kiss again. 

Astarion’s fingers greedily glide through her braid, unmaking it, untying one more long lock of her hair each time her lips hypnotically moves against his. How many times has he thought while embracing her that he will never ever grow tired of the way she feels ? He could be at death’s door, graciously offered by the gods to experience one very last earthly pleasure, and he’d still choose to have her like this all over again. Every single one of the kisses she gives him always simultaneously feels like it’s the first and the last one she’ll ever give him. Unmatched in its glory and desperate in its fervor.

Tav pushes him down in the cushions and he lies under her, deliciously at her mercy. 

Offering his body to her, naked from the waist up, trembling with desire. 

He grumbles when her lips eventually leave him, traveling down his chest instead. She occasionally likes to lick or kiss his nipples during sex, butthis feels entirely different. Her warm palms slide on the sides of his bust, pressing his boobs against her face so she can grace them with a few precise and hot swipes of her tongue. One obscene moan echoes in the room when she takes his nipple in her mouth. 

Sucking and rolling it between her plump lips.  

It takes him a bit of time to understand that he is the one making that sound, that he is throwing his head back and lifting his hips off the bed each time glides her tongue over his skin. 

How prettily she makes him chant and sing without even getting him out of his pants.

Two dark eyes lift to stare at him. The fluttering flame of the lit lantern on the nightstand eerily reflected in those black pits, ablaze with lust.

His lover shifts on top of him and her long and untamed hair make her look like one of those goddess statues, in the hushed darkness of some abandoned temples, tall and magnificent when their crowned heads reach the sky. Astarion wants to worship her, kneel at her feet in boundless reverence, but she isn’t done bestowing her graces upon him yet. She won’t allow it.

“You’re so beautiful, Astarion” she breathes, admiring her work with a devotion that is not unlike his, caressing his skin like he is made of a celestial material that a mortal like her shouldn’t be allowed to touch, “ Then and now… You always were and always will be.”

The sight of her like this, perched on top of him, disheveled and divine, is almost enough to make him tumble over the edge.

And she hasn’t even touched him properly yet .  

Her thumbs draw little circles on his nipples as she continues to hold his boobs in the palms of her hand. “Look how red and wet they are, so out of place in the middle of all that milky white skin. Makes me want to tease you until they are all aching and bruised.” 

Nails scraping the sensitive skin of his ribs and belly, her hands skim over the belt and settle on his clothed groin. One of her fingers dips down to trace it, rubbing the fabric of his underwear and pants on his sweetest spot. 

“I wonder if you would look the same down here,” she whispers, sliding down the length of his body to lie between his opened legs, “If I licked you again and again and turned you into a quivering mess.”

She has a mouth on her, in every sense of the term. The things she says wrap around his body as he pictures them in his mind, like a sensuous and depraved phantom touch.

“Why don’t you see for yourself, my love?” 

A dangerous smile settles on her lips and in a flash, she leans back and rips his pants down, throwing them somewhere on the floor behind her. She leans on his naked thigh, her long curls draping over his knee, tickling him as she lays tender and featherlight kisses up his leg. It’s sweet and it’s wicked, the way she keeps torturing him with the feeling of her cheek and mouth nuzzling against his skin.

Leaving him wanting more. Never quite giving him enough of her to satiate his hunger.

Astarion starts to squirm, growing impatient under her ministrations, but she seems to be purposefully ignoring what’s under her nose, literally. She chuckles, nibbling and biting his mound as she finally parts him with her fingers. Still making an effort not to touch him anywhere that feels good. 

Dazed and limp with desire, he distantly hears her say that he looks gorgeous, pink and dripping with arousal. 

But it is all starting to be too much for him, he wants her so much it’s painful. All of his muscles tense and contract every time she caresses any part of his body.

“Darling,” he says, half a groan, half a complaint, when she resumes her little game and denies him his pleasure once again. 

“You did this to me so many times, remember ?” she asks, tentatively hovering above the apex of his thighs, “Touching me everywhere but where I wanted you to, making me wait for the moment you would finally kiss me between my legs. I’m merely giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

Every time she talks and breathes right above his pulsating slit, he twitches and moans a little. 

“If you say please, I’ll consider it,” she smirks, unconsciously inching a little closer already.

He grips the sheets in his clenched fists, unable to go on without her touching him in some way anymore. 

“Fuck fuck ” he rumbles, glaring down at her before finally giving in to her request, “Please, darling. For the love of god, please put your mouth on me.”

And miraculously she does. 

He releases one long indecent moan when she finally takes him in her pretty mouth, sucking relentlessly, until the room is filled with wet vulgar sounds. 

The pleasure he feels in this body is a thumping ecstasy, like something taking flight in his lower belly, fluttering its wings in his core. Both the butterfly and the flower lie between his hips, dripping with morning dew when she kisses him with her tongue. 

It’s messy and he keeps waiting for the moment it’ll finally fly away and sore higher, reaching the great and promised euphoria.

If it’s what it feels like when I go down on you, he confusedly thinks, his head lolling to the side when her fingers leave his hips to gently prod at his entrance, I should do it every single day. 

“You said you wanted to know more about a woman’s body. Allow me to show you something, a little place you will adore, hm? ”

She rests the side of her devastatingly beautiful face on his thigh like she did earlier, patiently looking up at him. Waiting for him to say that she can put her fingers inside him, he realises. 

Astarion reaches down, cradling her cheek in his palm, wiping her soaked chin and mouth with his thumb.

“I’m all yours, darling. I always am, do what you will with me,” he huskily says, chest heaving and voice breaking along the edges. 

Tav smiles, so tenderly that he almost wants to drag her up and have his ways with her already. The rest be damned. 

He has no time to delve on that thought before she is back on him again, her index deliciously finding its way in his warmth, pressing inside as she endlessly laps his clit. Then, she adds another finger, creeping a little higher with every up-and-down motion of her hand. Fabulously stretching and filling him up.

There’s a specific spot that she hits after a little while, so far inside it might be not too far from his cervix, that makes him tremble and say incoherent things. 

Sluggishly going on and on about how heavenly she feels; how her lips are heavenly when they press on whatever part of his body; or how her hands must’ve been blessed by the goddess Sune.

Astarion gasps as she latches on him one last time, and suddenly, here it is. 

The orgasmic delirium of his release. 

Nothing rushing out of him like it usually would. Just fireworks inside. A few powerful wing strokes in the gloom of his new anatomy. 

So intense that he doesn’t make any sound, simply convulses time and time again, while she helps him fly through his high a little longer. 

When his mind clears a little, she is straddling him again. Still completely dressed against his naked body, looking at him like he is the most glorious thing she’s ever seen. 

“So how did you like that? Not disappointed?” she says, smoothing out a few of his silver curls and gently caressing his face. 

He giggles like she just said the stupidest of things, incredulously shaking his head. “If I’m disappointed? Darling, that was … amazing.” 

It is dark enough for them to leave the inn and roam the city once again, it has been for quite a little while now. 

But Astarion is not ready to go yet.

It is his turn to give her pleasure now and nothing will stop him from making love to her for a few more hours.

“So amazing in fact that I’m dying to see if I remember what you showed me correctly,” he adds, flipping them around until he is on top of her, “Would you help me make sure of it, my love?”

Her shirt is the first thing he peels off of her, crushing his nose in between her boobs to bathe himself in her scent. 

The one that lies underneath all of her perfume, the primal scent of her skin and blood, the distinct aroma of her body that he would recognize everywhere. In a crowded street. In a room filled with strangers. 

Her pants and underwear slide off her legs as he is already pulling her first moans out of her. 

He is about to slide her legs on his shoulders, ready to feast on her, when she speaks again. 

“Bite me, Astarion,” she says, and his hips involuntarily thrust against the mattress, chasing a friction that is now completely out of reach. 

Her legs open a little wider for him, the veins of her thigh quickly pulsating under the soft unmarred skin. He has never bitten her there yet, it is still a blank canvas, ready for him to leave his mark.  

“Please,” she persists, nudging gently on his head to get him closer to where she wants him to sink his teeth.

Desire has only barely left his body that it is back, stronger than before, as he presses countless desperate and hurried kisses right where he is about to make her bleed. 

“You know I can’t refuse you anything, my love.”

The bite is slow, unhurried, affectionate in its own brutal way, and they both moan when blood starts to rush in his mouth.

These days, he has learnt to take his time when he feeds on her, lingering as long as he can against her, petting her hair, caressing her skin, hugging her tighter. This time though, his touch doesn’t aim to comfort or soothe her.

No, this time he almost makes her come with his hands while he drinks from her. Playing with the hood of her clit until it swells with desire, hungrily watching it pulsate under his finger. 

When his teeth leave her skin, Tav whines, slick and spread in front of his bloody mouth. 

He’s had his fill of her and yet, Astarion still wants to devour her, in more ways than the ones he already has.

Red trickles down from the raw bite and onto her inner thigh. Dripping down on her slit and mixing with the small glistening river that is already pouring out of her.

It makes him shudder, his scarlet eyes glowing bright in the dim atmosphere, staring in awe at the ways she oozes blood and liquid pleasure. Before she has time to move or shy away, he hungrily plunges his tongue inside her. His eyes roll in the back of his head when he tastes her blood and her wetness all at once. She is everywhere, on his tongue, around his fingers, endlessly running down his throat. He vaguely hears her moan prettily again, too engrossed in his task and half-delirious from how infatuating she is. Soon, she comes into his open and sucking mouth again, reverently calling his name time and time again. Her hand tightens in his curls, thighs violently shaking against his cheeks, twitching as he continues to eat her like a maddened beast. 

With each new flick of his tongue she sighs and groans, overstimulated.

“Where is the scroll, my love ?” he asks, kissing his way up her belly, smearing blood around her belly button and chest, until he sloppily finds her mouth again. Making her taste herself on his tongue.

Their breasts press against each other, pillowy and sensitive, and he relaxes further into her. 

How perfectly their bodies mold against each other when he is like this…two sides of the same coin, two mirrored reflections, two works of art traced from the same model. 

“Somewhere on the floor.”

Tav’s touch travels between their bodies, past his hips, until she is drawing circles there once again. She voraciously licks and nibbles along the column of his throat, her fingers rhythmically moving in and out of him while she abuses his nape, deftly playing with this new and sweet part of his body.

“I want to be inside you, darling,” he begs in her hair, out of breath and blinded by pleasure,“ Please, get this damn belt off of me. I want to move inside you until you see stars, I want to make you come on my cock.” 

She lets out a shuddered breath and fumbles in the dark, bending down to look for it. As soon as she finds it, she says the words, loud and clear. The girdle starts to shine again, and she unbuckles it from his hips with shaky hands, clumsily sliding it off his hips and throwing it away on the floor.

The transition to his old body isn’t as scary and spectacular as the transformation was. It’s like an expansion, a big breath taken after long minutes spent underwater, a soothing wave washing over him and his scorched body. He slumps against her with a groan, toes curling against the sheets when he’s finally back into his original form. 

The soft press of her lips on his forehead is the first thing he feels, and the gentle words she speaks against his skin are the first thing he hears, “Welcome back, love.” 

Her wide and wet eyes skim over his features, admiring his face with a fondness that is not lost on him. His heavy and aching length falls against her lower belly, leaking with precum, as they lovingly stare at each other.

“Already hard?” Tav chuckles, smiling up at him in the way that makes the pretty dimples on the side of her mouth more visible. 

“What do you mean 'already' ? I always want you, whenever, wherever. You just have no idea how much—”

Pleasure unexpectedly coils in his belly as she takes him in her hand again, coaxing a low growl out of his chest when she languorously slides her fingers up and down. “Show me then.”

She could make him come like this, just a few of her expert caresses, and he’d reach his climax again. For what feels like the hundredth time of the night. 

It is not exactly what he has in mind though.

Tav moves to unhurriedly fondle his back and hips, caressing every bit of skin while he kisses her long and hard. When her hands land on his ass, she deliciously squeezes.

A renewed invitation to make love to her. 

He doesn’t resist for long, she looks far too beautiful for him to be able to. Hair spread around her on the sheets, a pearly sheen of sweat on her feverish skin, her soft thighs impatiently draping around his hips like a new sort of magical belt. 

The bed creaks under them when he enters her, inch by inch, with a few slow and sensual thrusts of his hips. Deeper and further every time. 

“As much as I loved our little 'experiment', this is still the way I like you the best,” he whispers against her cheek, peppering little kisses everywhere on her face, “Sprawled under me, legs spread open, all flushed and ready to welcome me.” 

A few drops of sweat trickle down his spine as he tries to contain himself, relishing in the way she is tightly wrapped around his length and body. Gods, he wants to move harder into her, find the sweet spot that she showed him earlier and make her sob. 

But she is still trembling after her orgasm, shivering in the afterglow. He keeps an excruciatingly slow rhythm for a little while, up until he feels her growing restless, hips lifting off the mattress and meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own.

“I just thought of another way to put what I learnt into practice,” he says, lewdly licking the shell of her pointy ear to make her twitch and spasm between her legs.

“How?” she asks, a sound that is more akin to a breathy moan than a word.

“Like this.” 

He swiftly slips out of her and turns her flat on her belly. As much as he likes seeing her face while he makes love to her, admiring the way pleasure washes over her when she comes, this is much better for what he has in mind. 

The headboard violently slams into the wall as he settles into her again in one perfect thrust. 

“Ah-ah-Astarion,” she moans into the pillow, her ears and nape taking a lovely pink shade, “What-”

One of his hands snakes underneath her body, pressing firmly on her lower belly and lifting her backside up in the air. He kneels behind her and angles his hips slightly differently, rolling them against her times and times again until he hits that delicious spot inside, the one that made him wail earlier.

So deep that he feels like he is melting away into her skin, disappearing into her body.

She has never made such beautiful sounds before, a string of choked and melodic moans in the middle of which he thinks he hears his name from time to time.

Tav is the first to come, stringing him along towards the edge and screaming “ I love you ” so loud that he is sure everyone in the inn is hearing her.

How scandalous… he thinks, bending down to kiss her back and prolong her ecstasy, loud lovemaking in broad daylight, I hope the owner likes what she's hearing.

They fall on their sides, facing each other again, legs entangled and foreheads pressed against each other. 

“So much for letting you rest…” he jokes, staring at all the little specks of green in her irises, like moss on a forest’s soil.

She laughs, a warm and comforting sound that is enough to silence most of his fears and worries.

“This is resting in my vocabulary.”

Her heart is so loud he could almost believe it’s his own, thumping hard against the blood-stained sheets. Astarion wouldn’t be surprised if loving her made it beat once again some day, she always makes him feel so very… full of life.

Maybe the cure was never in any of the countless realms and cities they have visited, maybe it was in his arms. All along. 

“You gave me such a fright,” she sighs, curling against him, like a little ball of sunlight, “but it was fun, you were so very dazzling with that belt on.” 

“Which Astarion did you prefer, darling?” he laughs, curling one strand of her hair around his finger, “I could put it back on if you liked the other version more.”

She looks up at him to answer, taking his face in her hands and giving him countless little small kisses. On his nose. On his temples. In the middle of his eyebrows. On his cupid’s bow. 

“I love you just the way you are, intensely, deeply, irrevocably,” she says, a light so bright in her eyes they almost look golden, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, you silly silly man. Don’t you ever doubt it.”

Why do you always read into me like in an opened book ? Why do you always say the things I so desperately need to hear ?” he marvels, wondering how a wretched creature like him ever managed to win the heart of a woman like Tav.

“So please let’s sell this cursed thing, tomorrow,” she says, hugging him a little tighter, before chuckling again, “Even if your boobs were truly glorious.” 

“I love you too, darling,” he whispers in her ears, her hips buckling under his hands, “so much that those three little words are never quite enough to express what I feel for you.” 

His thoughts drift back to the ring he left on the floor earlier, the little jewel that would mean more than the countless sweet words he could croon to her.

“There’s something I’d like to give you,” he says, reluctantly loosening his hold on her and getting up, “Just a minute, my love.”

Astarion hurries back to the main room to fetch it, all buttnaked and glorious. He ridiculously searches through all of the little treasures he has left scattered in front of the fireplace earlier until he finally gets hold of it. Anxiously wondering if tonight is the right night for any of this. 

When he comes back, she is still all stretched out and naked in the crumpled sheets of the bed in which he just made love to her. She playfully stares back at him, like she expects him to show her another one of the weird items he keeps in his bag, something that would get them into another sex-crazed frenzy. 

He kneels at the feet of the bed instead and her eyes grow wide and teary. 

“Will you marry me, darling?” he says, voice growing hoarse, presenting the ring to her in his trembling hand. “I know that life by my side isn’t exactly blissful at the moment, that all I can offer to you are run-down tavern rooms and countless nights spent wandering through all of Faerûn but — Would you still stay with me now and forever? I have aimlessly roamed this land for more two hundred years now, enchained and enslaved, wondering what the true purpose of my existence was. And then I’ve met you, I’ve known you, I’ve loved you. And I could go through each and every of the things I had to endure all over again, all the pain, all the sufferings, if only I had the certainty of meeting you on the other side of hell. You make all of my hardships meaningful. You are the light I did not expect to find in all of that darkness.”

A few tears silently fall down her cheeks, her lips trembling as she tries to speak a few times. At loss for words. 

“So will you keep shining down on me or not?” he asks again, and she frantically nods, giving him the brightest smile he has ever seen her make. 

The bed creaks so loud when she hops down from it that he is sure it’s broken. She throws herself against him and he almost falls back on the floor, awkwardly resting on his forearms while she buries her face in his neck. 

Sobbing, laughing — or both at the same time, he is not sure. 

“Yes,” she starts repeating again and again, choking on her tears, “A thousand times yes, Astarion.”

He kisses long and deep, until she is all out of breath, laughing in his arms like she just had one too many glasses of wine. 

Drunk on love. 

They spend the day and the following night in bed that night instead of looking through the city for the ring of the Sunwalker’s gift, holding each other through the darkest hours, trancing and dreaming about a future that doesn’t seem so out of reach anymore. 

In the sun or in the dark. 

But together, forever. 

[magicalgoblinz]

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[girlkisser13]

hebe cabin headcanons

children of hebe

• the younger they are, the easier they are to trace. this is due to their mother being the goddess of youth.

• they are very forgiving, compassionate, and understanding individuals. they have this aura of kindness that often makes them the best people to talk to about personal problems.

• they’re the innocent one in the friend group.

• they have celestial bronze legos that they scatter in front of barefoot monsters.

• baby faces. all of them.

• they all have naturally clear skin.

• they find "anti-aging" skin creams so amusing. they all the real way to stay youthful forever, and it’s a lot less pleasant than slapping lotion onto your face.

• they 100% run a skincare business with the aphrodite cabin.

• none of them are american.

• they all speak different languages but they’re all able to understand each other.

• it’s the same way babies can seemingly talk and understand each other. even if there are differences, they still seem to share a deep innate language with each other.

• they’re the embodiment of a healed inner child.

• you know those people in the hospitality industry who are, like, scary good at their job?

• like the hotel concierge, or maître d’hotel, or wedding planner who runs the tightest ship you’ve ever seen, and can provide services for their customers that don’t even seem possible?

• those are the children of hebe.

• they’d also make really good servers, bartenders, and plastic surgeons.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is adorned with a variety of fresh flowers, growing in beds around the cabin or hanging in baskets. they also feature hebe shrubs (named after their mother).

• the architecture incorporates playful and youthful design elements, such as carvings of children and decorations of butterflies, and birds.

• small fountains of water surround the cabin, adding a sense of freshness and continuous renewal. the sound of trickling water could create a calming and rejuvenating atmosphere. there is a big one right in front of the entrance that represents the fountain of youth.

• a statue of their mother, hebe, stands near the entrance, she’s holding a chalice as she did in mythology, symbolizing her role as the cupbearer to the gods.

• a wide, welcoming porch with comfortable seating invite campers to relax and enjoy the youthful energy that the cabin exudes. the porch is decorated with cozy cushions and potted plants.

cabin interior

• lots of pastels, stained glass, curtains, but still a very comfortable and welcoming area. they also have a huge vending machine in the cabin.

• the cabin is constantly filled with the scent of blossoms and fresh grass, giving it a perpetually fresh and lively feel.

• since hebe is associated with youth and beauty, there are elegant vanity tables with ornate mirrors. these mirrors have a subtle magical quality, enhancing the viewer’s best features.

• the furniture is cozy and inviting, with plush couches and bean bags. the beds are adorned with soft, fluffy blankets and pillows, making it a perfect place for relaxation and rest.

• there's a dedicated space for physical fitness and wellness activities. this includes yoga mats, light weights, and an assortment of health and beauty products.

• they have a collection of vintage items and keepsakes from different eras. they include old-fashioned toys, games, and memorabilia that evoke nostalgia.

• they have a small fountain in the center of their cabin. the water has minor rejuvenating properties, offering a sense of refreshment and renewal to anyone who drinks from it.

cabin traditions

• every morning, they start their day with a refreshing drink of ambrosia-infused water. i headcanon that the infused water acts as caffeine for them.

• once a week, they host a game night featuring classic childhood games, like tag, hopscotch, and hide-and-seek.

• each member of the cabin dedicates one day each month to perform acts of kindness and service around the camp, helping to spread positive energy and support among fellow campers.

• they have a jar inside of their cabin where they can drop notes about happy moments or achievements. at the end of the summer, they read through the notes to reflect on their growth and experiences.

• regular arts and crafts sessions where they make bracelets, charms, and other small items symbolizing youth and vitality, often gifting these to other campers as tokens of friendship.

divider by @v6que

[steavia]

there is something to be said about the simpler things in life bringing the most joy. grand gestures of appreciation were nice of course, & there have certainly been times in the years gone by when they have done such for their dearest lydia. but in the here & now on this chilly winters morning, nothing warms their heart more than being close to her.

a sleepy merry christmas is uttered as they awaken, stirring little beneath soft bed covers save for snuggling closer to her. they often awoke to being the big spoon, having always clung onto a pillow or something similar during sleep since childhood. a comfort, perhaps, & lydia certainly comforted their soul like no other.

their freckly face weary with sleep hides itself in the mess of her dark hair, & an arm draped lazily over her waist snakes closer. truly, it seemed impossible not to drift back to sleep ... & they very almost do, until they feel her shift & turn. bleary eyes of greens & browns blink open to meet her own sleepy gaze. the very sight endearing them so. enough for them to rise a little & place a tender kiss upon her lips.

" we have something for you. " shifting into a more upright position, attention briefly turns to bedside table, where they open wooden draw & takes out a finely wrapped gift. the shape & feel of it betraying a framed photo.

"do you recall the first time we took a stroll along the beach nearby?" they ask with a stifled yawn while handing her the gift, "the other day i found a camera i thought I'd misplaced." a grin then blooms that reaches their eyes, excited to see her open it, "it's our first photo together! we all thought it'd be a nice present. a sign of how far we've all come, i guess. we wouldn't be here without you."

something more expensive awaits their love later. but for now, in the presence of their dearest, these little positive moments in life warm their heart the most.

lydia awakens in the warm embrace of her beloved, comforted by the warmth and familiar scent, the weight of their arms wrapped around her smaller frame a welcome comfort in the cold christmas air. not that italy gets particularly cold -- even texas felt a bit cooler, but her memories of her own country are blurry compared to things in recent times.

she'd made quite the home for herself and her loved ones in the past several years, her daughter growing up without the struggles that lydia herself had and her partner giving lydia a sense of security she'd always lacked. it's more than just security, though; diavolo, doppio, solido, and the rest... they'd all become a staple in her life, a consistency and a familiarity that she'd never dreamed of having at a younger age. now, she finds herself unable to imagine life without them all.

sitting upright, her eyes are half-lidded, smiling warmly at them. when given the gift, affection blooms in her heart, and she gladly accepts it. "oh, honey... you're so kind. i can say the same for you. i couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life... all of you."

as she opens the gift, a smile spreads on her face, clearly delighted to receive such a wonderful surprise. their first photo together... tears prick at the corner of lydia's eyes and, before she knows it, she's wrapping her arms around her beloved in a warm, grateful embrace.

"thank you so much... really. i can't wait to find the perfect place to hang this up." a kiss is pressed to their freckle-dotted cheek, head nuzzling into the warmth of their shoulder.

"i've got something for you under the tree, too. when you're ready, i'd love to see you open it." the gift contained an assortment of things - artisanal chocolates and a frog plush for doppio, a rather pricey designer wristwatch for diavolo, a cookbook for solido, some fine jewelry for madre, and an extensive collection of colored pencils and a coloring book for s'. lydia could only hope they'd enjoy what she'd put together!

[cadybear420]

speaking of soul soothing -- let's say Evie or Aiden has had the worst day. One that has been unreasonably long, and irritating, and exhausting.

What is their beloved doing to help them relax/unwind/cheer them up? 💖

Talking about it. They're both good listeners, and often they do feel that talking about a situation helps them feel better about it.

Cuddling. Just cuddling with each other is a major source of comfort for both of them. Evie can sometimes be like "life hard and cold, tiddies/booty soft and warm"– resting against his chest is especially soothing because of the sound of his heartbeat (picture this image but with Evie resting against Aiden). Aiden also likes to listen to Evie's heartbeat, but probably his favorite way to be cuddled is being pulled into her lap, being spooned, or anything protective.

Gifts/Objects. Aiden may sometimes find one of Evie's favorite plushies or objects and give it to her to hug, and often it tends to make her at least feel a bit more grounded. And vice versa for Aiden with his favorite plush cat that I headcanon for him. If either had planned to give the other a gift before finding them upset, they'll give them that gift.

I have a headcanon that when Aiden was a little kid, whenever he was upset about something, either of his parents would hum one of his favorite songs to him. Aiden would definitely do the same for Evie when she's upset. For when Aiden's upset, Evie might play one of his favorite tunes.

[REDACTED]

Massage/Bath/Shower. It's very soothing and relaxing for both of them, especially if they bring in something scented like a bath bomb, bubble bath, scented candles, essential oils diffuser, etc.

Rollerskating. Or glow bowling. Or honestly, just anything that's chill and fun. As per canon, rollerskating has been a big one for Aiden, and even though Evie isn't all that good at it, she still loves to go with him.

[believeitseeitdoit]

Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home 

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them 

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this 

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

        “Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

       Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

     “Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

      They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

       Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

      Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

     “SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

     In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

     “Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

     “Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

     “So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

     “Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

     “You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

     He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

     “I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

     Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery.  As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

     Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

       Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

      “And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

     Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.” 

      As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

        “Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

        “Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

       “Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first. 

      Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

       “Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

       Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle. 

      You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

       “Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

       “Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

     “Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

    “My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll​ @iraot​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @tuiccim​  @thebescht​ @makbarnes​

[jimlingss]

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment. 

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by! 

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’. 

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.” 

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod. 

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically. 

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching. 

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.” 

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room. 

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk. 

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater. 

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you. 

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns. 

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body. 

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet. 

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

 When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.

[denkibaby]

💛 Bakusquad comfort item HCs! 💛

💥 Katsuki 💥

Katsuki has a specific blanket he holds dear and loves. He received it as a secret santa type gift back in middle school and even though he's not generally one for soft things, the full sized knit blanket stole his heart within seconds of having it. The colors are pretty muted and dull but that's just how he likes it.

He uses it for all sorts of things, including rolling it up into a pillow, using it as a cushion or even pinning it to the wall when he's getting his blinds fixed. Whatever is happening in his personal life, his blanket is right there whenever he needs it.

While he isn't one to carry a comfort item around with him, for fear of being looked down on, there's still nothing that makes his own alone time special like cuddling up in bed with his blanket and a good book.

⚡Denki⚡

Denki is a stuffed animal man 100%. Always has been, always will be. While he likes to keep up his sort of cool and trendy facade, Denki can never help but stare longingly at the stuffed animals or even try to win them at arcades. To be specific, his favorite is a stuffed puppy which was a gift from Kyoka! He had been short on cash by just a little and she just couldn't watch him mope around over it.

Denki's puppy is small enough to sit comfortably and subtly in his lap. It's got big floppy ears and is a nice warm brown color. The texture on Denki's fingers is what made it become his favorite comfort item. That and it being small enough to carry around.

It is far from uncommon to see him walking around the dorms with the plushie under one of his arms and while he swears up and down he doesn't bring it to class, it's not uncommon to see him struggling to fit the plush into his school bag on big test days.

❤️ Eijiro❤️

Much like Denki, Eijiro's comfort item is a stuffed toy. However, his is just a little keychain plushie that fits in the palm of his hand. During their first Christmas at the dorms, Eijiro happened to get most his shopping done for the season in the same store! Because he had spent so much money there, the store have him the keychain as a little gift.

The plush is just a pudgy teddybear with a bow around his neck and while the boy thought it was a little silly at first, he stuck it on his bag just for fun. The next thing he knew, it became oddly soothing for him to just see his little bear dangling there on his bag. He almost considered going to see if he could buy matching ones for his friends but in the end, decided that he enjoyed being the only one with his special little bear

Eijiro definitely takes the keychain wherever he goes. If it requires bringing a bag, the bear is on it. When he can't bring it with him, it always warms his heart to see it when he gets home again.

🍓 Mina🍓

Mina's is a little odd but very special nonetheless. Her comfort item is a specific hand lotion she's been using since she was little. Her mother had gotten it for her once and immediately she was hooked on the sweet strawberry scent of the lotion. Wherever she goes, as long as she has it with her, she feels at home.

As Mina gets older, she finds it a bit harder to find her specific brand of lotion in stores. If course there are other strawberry lotions, but none quite like her own. Needless to say, she was ecstatic to find out the company sold massive full sized bottles of it online.

Mina always makes sure to refill her travel sized lotion bottle and it is a staple for any trip out of the house. She loves to share it too! She's always happy to let her friends have some and it makes her even happier when they comment on how nice it smells.

📎Hanta📎

Hanta's comfort item is a small vintage tin that at one point held candy inside. He has had it for as long as he could remember and fills it with whatever he needs. Candy, band aids, even face wipes. There's always something new and exciting inside his little box

Hanta honestly didn't even realize the box was a comfort item until one day he lost it. He was so upset about losing his tin. He tore his entire room apart looking for it... It turned out he had just left it in a friend's room but he was still endlessly thankful that they found it.

Ever since losing it, he doesn't ever put it down. You can guarantee at any time, that tin is on his person. Whether it be in his bag, in his pocket or straight up in his hands. He's never far from his box.

[jayaury]

Bimbo Bull

All characters are over 18 and all that jazz.

~ ~ ~

“You’re not uncomfortable. Are you?” the holstaur, Avaline, said.

“Um, no. Only…”

“Yes?” she asked.

Evan looked into the warm eyes of the curvy blonde, her stubby cow horns curling from her bouncy brown hair, and found he couldn’t quite muster an argument.

And… and it had been in the job description. Peachbottom’s holstaurs were the best in the business, and their milk prized all over the country. And as everyone knew, a happy cow makes the best milk.

So it only made sense to hire people to attend to the holstaurs. The milkboys as they were called.

Evan didn’t much like the name. He was out of high school. An undergrad at the nearby college. He was a man in body and in mind, and being called boy rankled him. Especially when it was by such a mature beauty as Avaline. Especially since she considered clothes more of a ‘suggestion’ than an actual requirement.

Still, the pay was good, and both the job and hours weren’t too demanding. He had time to work and to keep up on his studies. Among… other things.

So really, he couldn’t complain. Not even when Avaline asked him to come into her room. Not even seeing her utterly naked, her plump breasts nearly as big as his head, her body perfumed with a scent of rich, earthy cream. Not even when she turned around, and asked him to sit in her lap.

Avaline smiled, wrapping her arms around him, tugging him closer against her, the back of his head and shoulders pressing into those glorious pale tits. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to make my milkboy uncomfortable. I want him to be happy, after all.”

Evan blushed, squirming uneasily. And he wasn’t uncomfortable. Not at all. He was just… very aware of her. Of how she smelled. At how soft she was. At how big and comfortable and warm her breasts were. How full they were…

Were…

“Um… Avaline?”

“Yes?”

“Did you… um… did you get yourself milked earlier?”

There was a long pause. Evan felt a lump forming in his throat. Oh no. No. He’d been warned when he’d been hired. Don’t come near the holstaurs unless they’ve already been milked. An unmilked holstaur is always a risk. She’s liable to think more with her tits than her head. Liable to want to find herself another way of relieving the pressure. Holstaurs hated milking themselves. They always tried to find a boy or a milker to do it for them.

Evan felt a dampness against his shoulders.

“Avaline…”

“I’m sorry, Evan. I just… I don’t like those milkers. So impersonal. So cold.”

“Um, I guess. I wouldn’t know. But um…”

“Oh Evan,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a naughty cow. But I was just feeling so pent up. Then I heard you walking by, and I thought, if I could hold my darling milkboy for a little bit, I’d be able to go and use the milker. I’d be able to take it.”

“Avaline… I’m not sure about this. I mean…”

“Won’t you stay for a little bit? Let me hold you? For me?”

Evan bit his lip, trying to ignore the way her plush tits pressed against him. Her soft words tickled his senses. Her presence wrapped around him as surely as her arms. Her hands stroking him. Soothing him.

Maybe… maybe just for a few minutes. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe that would… would be okay…

“A-alright. But only for five minutes. After that…”

“Of course,” she crooned, nuzzling him, his hair tingling from her warm breath. “Only for a little while…”

Evan sighed and tried to resolve himself to her touch. “Isn’t that nice?” she murmured. “Isn’t that so relaxing…”

“Yeah,” Evan admitted, realized what he’d said and hastily clamped shut his mouth.

Avaline hummed softly. “Mmm. Good boy.”

“Not a boy…” Evan said, though the admission came out almost petulantly.

“Of course not. My mistake. My man. My big, strong man. So handsome. So brave. So strong willed. He’d never fall for a pretty cow. Never be enthralled by her big. Milky. Breasts. No. He’d be so strong willed, he’d be able to drink his fill and keep his self-control. Such a strong man could…”

Her words tingled in Evan. Yes. Yes, a strong man would be able to… to do that. He felt more comfortable at that. Smiling a little in pride.

“And you’re such a strong man, Evan. You’re not a weak boy. A silly milk boy who’s too afraid of a holstaur. Who’s afraid to milk her big breasts. I know you’re stronger than that. I bet you could. I bet you could drink my warm milk and not fall for me. Not be enslaved by my breasts…”

Evan gasped as he felt her hand in his lap. Yet strangely, he didn’t feel the need to move it. Of course not. Why would he? As she rubbed the bulge of his cock, that was fine. She liked big strong men. And he was a man. Not a boy. Not her silly milk slave.

“Oh Evan,” she murmured. “Do you want to try?”

“T-try?” he breathed as her fingers kept rubbing his bulge.

“Yes. Try milking me? Milking your big cow?”

“Oh,” Evan said, gasping as her thumb rubbed the sensitive tip of his cock through his pants, his body warm, his head foggy with lust and warmth and sensitive pleasure. “Um. Oh. I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Such a big strong man doesn’t need to fear a big titted cow. Does he?” Avaline purred.

“N-no. Of course n-not…”

“Then is there a problem?”

Was there? Evan felt like there should be. But at the same time, he was thinking of those breasts. The ones pressed against his back. So big. So plump. So milky and needy and the hand on his cock stroking and teasing. His breath coming in and out. In and out. Hot. Heavy. Eager. Soft.

“Just a little,” Avaline murmured. “Just to… take off the pressure…”

He could… he could do that. Just a little bit. He could resist. “I… okay…”

He felt her smile as she kissed the top of his head. Her hands left his cock and Evan slowly turned around, straddling the holstaur’s legs, and looking straight on into her breasts.

Oh fuck. They were so big. He’d seen them daily, of course. But right now, right in front of him, they seemed so much larger. So plumper. So heavier and milkier. He swallowed as he saw beads of milk dribble from her plump nipples.

“Mmm,” Avaline moaned, hefting the orbs of her breasts. “Oh my handsome, strong man, I’m so… so pent up. Please. I need you. Please…”

Evan was entranced. Enthralled. His hands moved as if on their own accord, hefting those plump orbs, his hands sinking into her titflesh. Avaline moaned softly, her long lashes fluttering, her breath hitching with purest pleasure.

“Oh…Oh Evan. Please. My big, strong bull. Don’t… ah… don’t tease me… Please…”

Evan pressed her breasts together, fairly feeling how heavy and pent up they were. His mouth was so dry. He was so thirsty. That he hadn’t been minutes ago no longer mattered. He needed it. He needed… needed…

He was leaning forward. Her breasts filled his vision. He forced himself to stop, hesitating at the last moment, on the edge of a precipice he sensed more than saw. Staring at those plump nipples. What… what was he…

Gentle hands touched his head. Eased him forward. Pressed him to Avaline’s milky tits. His mouth opened on instinct. Took a budding nipple between his lips.

And sucked.

“Ooooooh,” Avaline moaned, shuddering in purest pleasure as he began to drink. Began to suckle. “Goooood boy,” she moaned.

“Mmm,” Evan murmured.

“Oops,” she giggled. “Of course. You’re not my silly bimbo boy. You’re my big strong bull. You’d never fall under my thrall. You’d never be enslaved to my big tits. My sweet milk. My handsome bull is far too strong for that. Far too clever.”

Evan relaxed again. That’s right. He was a bull. A clever bull. A smart bull. A bull wouldn’t be enthralled to a hosltaur’s milk. He smiled dreamily as he guzzled her cream, moaning softly as warm languor spread through him like perfect pleasure.

“Mmm. That’s it. Such a good bull. And what do bulls do with their pretty cows? That’s right. They fuck them. They just rut and moan and pant as they fuck their pretty cows. Because bulls only think with their big cocks. Don’t they?”

Did they? Evan wasn’t sure, but his cow said they did, so it must be true. Especially when he felt her hands on his pants again. Teasing them open. Her fingers wrapping around his cock, making him moan hotly as she began to stroke him, thumb teasing along the underside, fingers moving up and down. Up and down.

“Mmm. What a big bull I have here. Such a big cock. Such an eager cock. Does my bull want to fuck his cow? Of course he does. His cock is so eager for me. And bulls think with their cocks. Their silly cocks. They just can’t help it. A pretty cow comes by, shaking her big breasts, letting him milk her, and he just can’t help but want to fuck her. Want to cum all his silly bull brains out inside of her. Isn’t that right?”

It must be right. It was so right. Everything was so right. Evan moaned, nodding dimly, panting hotly.

“Good bull,” Avaline moaned, easing him out of the chair, onto the floor, never taking his lips from her big breast. Letting him milk her like a good bull boy. He was panting beneath her, moaning, whimpering, not because he was hers. Not because he’d been enslaved by her tits. But because he was a bull. And bulls whimpered and moaned in just the cutest ways as their cows straddled their waist, lowered herself, and filled her with his cock.

“Ooooh,” Avaline moaned as her depths swallowed his manhood. “Yessss! Oh my big bull. That’s it… ah… that’s a gooood bull. Mnnnn. Fuck me. Fuck me deep! Oh fuck. Fuck! Oh yes. Goddess yes! Fuck me, stud. Fuck me with your big bimbo cock. My big bull boy. My handsome bull. My pretty boy. My boy. Oh yes. Yes! Fuck me! Fill me!”

Evan could barely hear her. Barely understand. And yet her every word seeped into his addled mind. Filled his thoughts with love. With pleasure as her depths squeezed and massaged his cock. As her big hips swallowed him with every bounce.

Bounce.

Bounce.

As her breasts filled his vision. Her milk his mouth.

Milking her.

Moaning.

Moaning like a good bull.

A handsome bull.

A silly bimbo bull.

“Yes. Yes! Cum in me. Cum your brains out! Cum your bimbo brains out my bull. Yes! Yes! Ahhhhh!”

Avaline cried out, shuddering in purest pleasure, her pussy squeezing, massaging, coaxing his cock as she came.

“Mmmmm!” Evan moaned into her breasts, beyond resistance. Beyond control. He shuddered as his orgasm whipped through him, pumping his cum into her. Pumping his thoughts. His will. His mind. His silly useless mind. Filling it with her. With love. With being a good, brainless bimbo bull for his milky cow.

Avaline moaned softly, settling atop him. She smiled down at him, and Evan gazed up at her, his eyes hot with love. With adoration for this glorious creature. The most perfect woman. The most wonderful cow. She giggled, gathering him up against her.

“Mmm. How does my bimbo boy feel?” she asked sweetly.

“So… ah… so good,” Evan moaned. “Good boy. I… I’m a good bull. Good... Good bull…”

Avaline giggled. “Such a good boy,” she crooned, her hips beginning to move again, riding his cock anew, making him mewl and moan. “And a good bimbo boy, oops! I mean bull,” she giggled. “A good bimbo bull just loves his cow so much, doesn’t he? Why, he’d never want to leave, would he? He’d want to stay with her. A good bull. A handsome milker making sure his lovely cow is all spent. That he’s gotten his full of her milk. Wouldn’t he?”

“Oooooh,” Evan moaned as her pussy squeezed and milked his cock. “Yessss… Be a good bull. Goooood bull…”

“That’s my bull,” she giggled. “And of course, my bull will get his fill. We can’t have him being able to think naughty thoughts like leaving me. Can we?”

“No,” Evan moaned as she lifted him to her other breast. “No,” his lips murmured as they latched on to that other nipple, and found another bounty of rich cream from his cow.

Avaline giggled, gasped, moaned as her bimbo’s soft lips milked her. As he nuzzled her breasts. So soft. So sweet.

Such a perfect bimbo bull…

[queenshelby]

A New Life

Part Four: A Day at the Zoo

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,790

Warning: Fluff, Self-Esteem Issues, Body Image Issues

The following morning, Cillian picked you and Max up from your house at 8 o’clock after having borrowed a car seat from Cian.

‘Thank you for taking us to the Zoo, Cillian’ Max said excitedly as Cillian helped him into his seat.

‘That’s alright buddy’ Cillian said and you couldn’t help but be a little bit excited. Whilst you never liked going to the Zoo, you liked the fact that you and Max got to spend the day with Cillian.

He had a fantastic sense of humour and Max really seemed to like him which put you at ease quite significantly.

After Max and you sat down in the car, Cillian opened two of the windows slightly and told you that he had put some sickie bags and wet wipes into the glove box for Max just in case you needed them. Another thing he remembered was that Max often got car sick and he certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it. In fact, he was quite well prepared.

To your surprise, Max did well in the car and was fascinated with some of the gadgets, including the TV screens in the back.

‘Made it without Max getting sick. That’s new. Thank you for taking it easy around the corners’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘You are welcome’ Cillian said before helping Max out of the car and picking up his plush bunny toy which had fallen to the floor.

‘That’s one well loved rabbit’ Cillian observed as he looked at the rather old and half destroyed fluffy toy and you explained to him that Max had this bunny since he’s been a baby. In fact, Cian had bought it for him when you were still pregnant with Max.

***

After twenty minutes, two cinnamon donuts and a take away coffee, you finally arrived at the tiger enclosure.

‘I can’t see, I can’t see’ Max said somewhat disappointed as the tiger was roaming around from the left to the right and he was simply too small to look over the larger children in front of him.

‘Sweetie, you are too heavy for me to pick up’ you said as Max pulled on your t-shirt and began to pout.

‘I can put him up on my shoulders if you want’ Cillian suggested, ensuring that you would be okay with it before saying anything to Max.

Of course, you had no objections and Max was quick to climb onto Cillian’s shoulders so that he could see the tiger, still walking from the left to the right and roaming around his enclosure.

‘Max, careful!’ you said worryingly as he was clinging onto Cillian’s hair but Cillian didn’t seem to mind.

Taking you by the hand for a brief second to pull through the crowds, Cillian moved over to the left slightly to give Max a better view and you followed him while watching Max smile with excitement.

‘Have you counted how many stripes he’s got?’ Cillian then asked your son.

‘Too many for me to count Cillian’ Max laughed before Cillian told him about the tiger, reading from the sign in front of him and asking Max questions in order to keep him engaged.

You were truly surprised how well Cillian and Max were getting on and how patient and engaging Cillian was with him.

‘Elephants next?’ Cillian asked as, eventually, the tiger went into his little cave for a rest and Max nodded.

Without Max getting down from Cillian’s shoulders, you both walked towards the Elephant enclosure.

‘Can you tell me what sounds an elephant makes?’ Cillian asked and, when Max and Cillian both pretended to be elephants, you couldn’t help but laugh.

The entire day was a blast and, for the first time in a long while, you and Max both felt comfortable being around someone new. It felt like you both had known Cillian for a long time and you were quite impressed by his character.

‘What a lovely family’ you then heard all of a sudden as one elderly women in the crowd walked past you and, whilst Cillian wanted to correct her, you simply said ‘thanks’ and laughed.

***

After your day at the zoo, Max fell asleep in the car fairly quickly and whilst you were keen to take up Cillian’s offer to have dinner in town, you didn’t think that Max would be up for it. He had a big day.

‘I am not sure if Max is up for dinner in town. He’s tuckered out completely’ you said, looking back towards him.

‘I figured that he would be tired after all this walking around’ Cillian chuckled ‘But, if you want to, I can cook something at your house instead and we can watch a movie with Max’ Cillian offered.

‘You can cook?’ you asked since no man had ever cooked for you before.

‘You seem surprised’ Cillian observed, causing you to laugh and nod before accepting his offer.

‘I suppose spaghetti would be winner, right?’ Cillian then asked and you nodded again before asking a question which you have been pondering on about for the entire day.

‘You are so good with Max. How come you never had children?’ you asked before telling Cillian that he didn’t have to answer this question if he didn’t want to.

‘My ex-wife never wanted children and I had to accept that I suppose’ Cillian explained.

‘How long were you married for?’ you then asked.

‘Ten years. But we were together for fifteen. I had one relationship after that, but it was a disaster’ Cillian chuckled and you talked about his marriage and why it ended before Cillian carefully and quietly asked about Max’s father.

You told Cillian that he had died in a car accident when Max was only two years old and that Max didn’t remember much about him.

‘We had our differences but were determined to make it work for Max. We were high school sweethearts and met when we were 16’ you explained, thinking back to all the irrational choices you made in the past.

***

An hour later, you arrived at your apartment following a small detour to the local supermarket.

‘Cillian is making us spaghetti’ you said to Max while you helped unpack the grocery bags.

‘It’s my favourite. Can I have lots of cheese please?’ Max then asked and, of course, you nodded before telling him to play in his room while you were going to help with the food.

Cillian pre-prepared the food for later with your help before you all sat down together and watched a cartoon movie which almost sent Cillian to sleep. His eyes kept shutting closed as he leaned against the large cushion on the L-shaped lounge and you had to give him a nudge now and then to make him stay awake.

Luckily, Max lost interest in the movie after thirty minutes and asked Cillian whether he wanted to see his dinosaur collection.

Sure enough, Cillian was very interested in dinosaurs and, after they managed to give each of the toys a name, you played two games of UNO before serving dinner.

‘This is much better than mum’s spaghetti’ Max observed, causing you to pout and Cillian to apologise.

‘It is pretty good’ you observed before thanking Cillian for cooking and taking you both to the zoo.

‘We had a fantastic day, didn’t we Max?’ you said and Max nodded and yawned at the same time.

***

‘I probably should drive home soon’ Cillian said after you cleaned up the dishes and Max had changed himself into his pyjamas.

‘Do you want to stay for a wine and watch a more interesting movie after I put Max to bed?’ you then quickly asked, hoping that you wouldn’t sound too desperate.

‘I suppose I could leave the car here and pick it up tomorrow’ Cillian then said, not intending to drink and drive and you nodded in agreement.

Cillian’s house was only 20 minutes by foot from your apartment and he could easily call a taxi or sleep on your lounge if he didn’t want to walk.

‘Can Cillian read me a bedtime story then?’ Max asked, clearly having overheard your conversation.

‘If that’s alright with your mum, I sure can’ Cillian offered which prompted Max to quickly find a book and his favourite bunny toy.

Listening to Cillian read a bedtime story to Max made your heart melt once again. Not only did you think that Cillian was an incredibly kind person who was good with children, but also was he rather attractive.

Quite to your surprise, you adored the small wrinkles around his eyes and the few grey hairs on his head as his hair was growing out on the sides.

Then, of course, there were those deep blue eyes and razor-sharp cheek bones and you wondered what your mind was doing to you, feeling some sort of attraction towards a man who was clearly much older than you.

***

‘Thank you for reading to him’ you said when Cillian came back into the living and you tugged Max into bed and gave him a goodnight kiss.

‘That’s perfectly fine Y/N’ Cillian assured you before sitting down while you poured two glasses of red wine.

‘So what are we watching?’ he asked and you suggested to put something on which has him in it after Cian told you that one of Cillian’s shows was on Netflix.

You had only just signed up to Netflix when you came to Ireland as, frankly, working on TV made you less interested in watching it during your spare time but, now that you were taking some time off after having resigned as a host from one of Australia’s design shows after your ex’s constant publicly stunts, this has changed.

You hadn’t seen any of Cillian’s work yet and you certainly didn’t know much about him. Unlike he did with you, you haven’t resorted to Google yet to find out more, wanting to paint your own picture about him and not being influenced by media.

‘Absolutely not. I hate watching myself’ Cillian chuckled before suggesting a different movie on Netflix. His comment made you laugh.

‘I get that. I hate watching myself too’ you chuckled and, after he turned on the movie, it didn’t take you long to get comfortable together on your small sofa and you quite enjoyed sitting so closely next to him.

As you were sitting next to him, you couldn’t help but notice the scent of his aftershave which was musky but yet fresh and sporty. Glancing over towards him without him noticing, you quickly got mesmerised with his freckled skin and you couldn’t help your eyes from wandering further down, observing his neck and the small area of exposed skin above the neckline of his t-shirt.

Clearly, he had a little bit of chest hair. Or was it a lot? You were curious as you thought that, the way it extended above the neckline of his t-shirt looked quite sexy.

Your fixation on Cillian’s skin and scent, however, soon came to an end when you received a text message from one of your closest friends in Australia.

In her text message, she linked an article from an Australian tabloid and, whilst you knew that you should probably ignore it, you couldn’t help but click on the link.

When you opened the link you couldn’t believe your eyes. Clearly, your ex-partner had shared your last holiday pictures to a water theme park in Australia’s Northern Territory and they were far from flattering.

Cillian immediately noticed that something was wrong and paused the movie before asking you whether you were alright as tears had built up in your eyes.

‘My ex is making my life miserable’ you huffed out before telling Cillian about the unflattering pictures and comments from the tabloids.

According to the online magazine you should have chosen your outfit better to hide your scars and the publisher criticised that you were hosting a design show while, according to him, you obviously didn’t care much about your own appearances.

‘Can I see?’ Cillian asked and, whilst you were almost ashamed to show him, you did, knowing that it was on the world wide web anyway.

You saw Cillian’s eyebrows rise as he read through the article before, suddenly, he started laughing.

‘What an eejit’ he chuckled and you looked at him somewhat confused.

‘Irish for idiot’ Cillian clarified before carrying on. ‘Look, these people obviously have nothing better to do than to criticise humans for being human. You wore a bikini on a water slide. Seems logical to me. I mean what else would you wear when you visit a water park in a country where it’s so fucking hot?’ Cillian said, handing you back your phone.

‘That’s not the point Cillian. My ex knows how self-conscious I am. He continuously used to put me down and, ever since my emergency c-section when I had Max, I have been trying very hard to hide my body. Obviously, I was right to do so. I mean look at this shit now’ you said rather upset.

‘Y/N, you need to stop being so hard on yourself. You are a very attractive woman and any man out there would be lucky to have you. Despite, from what I just saw, there is nothing wrong with your body. You are stunning. You’ve got a few scars, so what?’ Cillian said reassuringly while taking your hands into his.

‘And a little baby weight I never managed to get rid of’ you chuckled and, whilst you knew it wasn’t really a big deal, you felt as though, being in the public eye required you to look perfect at all times.

‘You are perfect Y/N. You really cannot let this stuff get to you and you should tell your friend not to bother sending these things to you either’ Cillian said, knowing very well what reading bad press feels like.

‘So, you actually don’t care when you read something bad about yourself?’ you asked, not realising how much press Cillian had to deal with in comparison to you.

‘I gave up caring about twenty years ago’ Cillian chuckled. ‘You should too. It feels better that way’ he then said and you couldn’t agree more. You knew you had to care less but, the truth was, you had realised that this life wasn’t for you.

‘That’s why I gave up TV and advertising. I just want to concentrate on writing and the other things I’ve been working on’ you explained before changing the topic to something more pleasant which was your upcoming theatre date and trip to Kerry.

When you mentioned your upcoming trip to Kerry, Cillian told you that Cian invited him and Laura as well and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘So, Laura…do you like her?’ you asked.

‘She is nice I guess. But, I honestly am not interested in a relationship or dating right now’ Cillian told you before advising you that he would have to head home soon. He had an early start.

***

By the time Cillian had left it was already 9 o ‘clock and you decided to have a bath and then head into bed as well.

For a minute or two, you pondered on about the article that had been published in Australia but, then, you remembered Cillian’s words. You had to ignore them.

Instead of dwelling on about them, you felt as though you wanted to know a little more about Cillian. Until this point, you had refused to google him but you realised that you didn’t even know his surname nor did you know how old he was and you certainly didn’t want to sound weird, asking him or Cian those things.

You tried your luck putting the words ‘Cillian’, ‘Actor’ and ‘Irish’ into the search tab as, surely, there couldn’t be too many actors with his name out there.

To your surprise, his name and pictures of him popped up immediately. You didn’t have to do much investigation and you were quite shocked to see his extensive filmography.

Even more so, you were surprised by the fact that he had just recently turned 45.

‘How the fuck can this man be 45 already?’ you asked yourself silently and couldn’t help yourself flicking through the many pictures.

Going through them one by one, you realised again how handsome he was and whilst you were certainly attracted to him, the fact that he was rather famous turned you off and made it much easier for you to turn off your attraction towards him. At least so you thought.

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[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Got some aftercare headcanons for Cygate, Shadowstriker Rodimus, Drift with fem reader after an intense intimacy?

Ohohoho indeed I DO! We support healthy and loving intimacy on this blog 1000%

Cygate

·After anything bordering on intense or highly passionate sexy times, these two are equally insistent on caring for you, though their methods are admittedly quite different. Tailgate is more focused on affectionate fussing; he wants you to be comfortable, and has a sort of mental checklist of tiny details to ensure you're alright. Cyclonus is more intent on being tenderly supportive, asking you softly if you need anything and acting as a strong, protective presence for you to feel safe with. It's actually an excellent balance between the two of them.

·For the physical activities done to help you relax, one in particular is chosen by Tailgate on the regular; warm baths. One can hardly blame him for how he enjoys being in a tub with all three of you, but you certainly benefit as well. The sweet smelling soaps chosen by Cyclonus and the warm steam of the bath just melt away your tension to the point you're almost asleep by the end. A soft washcloth helps to ensure you're clean as well, and neither one especially minds if you do doze off while being scrubbed. They both find it absolutely adorable.

·Cyclonus will insist on straightening the bed before sleep, allowing Tailgate a chance to hold and cuddle you while he does so. The mini is typically bordering on sleep himself at this point, so you're inundated with sleepy affirmations of love and adoration as he nuzzles you all the while. Cyclonus will ensure you're both good and sleepy before carrying you to the now neat and tidy bed, where he is careful to arrange everyone in the most comfortable way possible. Should you still be awake, you'll catch his soft expression of love as he confirms you're indeed well and ready to get some sleep after an exhausting but rewarding round of intimacy.

Shadowstriker

·Though brash and dominant in almost all things, Shadowstriker enters a state of methodical calm after hardcore interface, enough that she appeared to be in a trance the first time you saw this play out. However, she's still the dominant in this stage, by which she means all the work is on her. You won't be moving a finger. She's more than strong enough to carry you to the washroom for a warm shower or bath, and will gently wash you clean before bundling you up in some soft towels. Expect some soft kisses during all of this.

·As she prefers to wind down a bit more, she'll set you on her lap to watch some vids or just cuddle and talk, all at your discretion. You'll be able to feel her holding you close the entire time, keeping you warm and safe as she allows you to decide upon the topic of choice. Do you want to talk about Cube? The events of the day? How Soundwave is adopting every mini he gets his hands on? It all works for her, and you'll find she's a wonderfully devoted conversationalist.

·Once you're relaxed and ready to nod off, she'll take you to bed, but will insist on breaking out every pillow she owns to form an incredibly plush nest of sorts. Setting both of you up in the center, she'll encourage you to sleep in her arms, and she'll praise you as you fall asleep for the incredible job you did. Gentle kisses to your forehead and a careful massage of her digits over your shoulders will make staying awake simply impossible. For all her tough talk, you'll find her expression as you doze off full of total adoration.

Rodimus

·Our beloved Captain is very insistent on taking your time after anything remotely intense in the berth, so he'll encourage you to go as slow as you like and take as much time as you need. Tiny kisses all along your face and little whispered adorations will be non-stop the entire time, as you'll find him to be immensely sappy in the afterglow. If you want cuddles, he'll go above and beyond to snuggle you with all he's got, with particular attention paid to forehead nuzzles.

·He's got a ton of super soft and plush blankets on standby, and he'll take out all of them if you request it. At your behest he will happily swaddle you and relax for some more cuddling, and he's very big on watching some feel good movies while doing so. Just being extra soft and lovey is his go to for coming down after anything remotely intense. It's hard to be at all tense in his company when he's so focused on making you relaxed and happy.

·As a final bonus, he always keeps sweets around for extra pampering. They're small and not messy to ensure everything stays clean, but he is more than happy to unwrap them for you and pop them into your mouth. He'll even make sure to get your favorite flavor.

Drift

·The afterglow might just be his favorite part, because getting soft and tender and intimate is his favorite. He'll keep the lights low and sounds to a minimum, but he will have sweet scents from lightly scented candles in the room. He wants you to feel not just relaxed, but totally at ease in his arms. This means no lifting a finger as he reduces you to a contented and stress free pile of satisfied happiness.

·The primary method of his choosing is a bath, but it's nothing short of extraordinary. There are petals, candles, fancy soaps, and the whole thing is temperature controlled for maximum relaxation. You might just feel your eyes grow heavy as soon as he gets in with you. Sweet smelling soaps will wash you clean as he either talks softly or stays in comfortable silence at your request, and his careful hands will gently hold you close to him the entire time. When you're finished he has a few extra large and plush towels to wrap you in to dry.

·Before you doze off, his little ritual includes one final step for maximum relaxation. A careful massage will work out any lingering tension, and if you so desire he'll gladly use a bit of lotion to help his hands move more smoothly. He'll never mention where he picked up the skills, but frankly it feels far too good for you to care, as he's always able to work a kind of near magic by the time he's done. The last thing you'll hear before dozing off in total bliss is a whispered "I love you", and the last thing you'll feel is the soft warmth of blankets being lain over you in bed.

[cosmiclatte28]

Waist (Yuta x you)

in one sentence the whole story revolves around studying is a WAIST of time haha see my pun? slap the author right now anyways ... 

here is a flirty but super caring Yuta boyfriend scenarios! 

@yutahoes and all the yuta lovers out there, who agrees that Yuta has a very pretty waist?? or is it just me?

a/n : kissess and waists, and yes there are some mentions of body shape insecurity, don’t read if you’re uncomfortable read other work instead :D

here we go, all scenes are for fanfic purposes, nothing is harmed during the making of this story (except my brain cells)

“Come here and lie down, you've been studying for too long.” Your boyfriend's sweet honey voice lures you to join him on the comfortable bed.

You toss your head to look at him, glancing away from your textbook and sigh “Yuta, you know I have this midterm coming up next week, right?”

He nods “And I have been waiting here for four hours.”

You open and close your mouth “Four hours?”

He nods “And like 17-ish minutes.”

You sigh “Great I spent that much time and still have two more chapters to go.”

Yuta sighs “You've read enough sweetie.” He taps the empty space next to his “Come here,”

You shake your head “No. You're tempting me to stop learning. I need to pass the class.”

Yuta frowns “I am so comfortable here that I don’t want to get up and pick you up… come. Before. I have to get you by myself.”

You taunt “Come and get me then.”

That earns you a long whine from your manly man, he whines and still lays down on the bed “Nah, too lazy to move. I'll just keep on calling you.”

You manage to read one more chapter before almost giving up from Yuta's constant distraction and name calling.

“(Y/n)~~~” you remain unfazed

“Love?” you had to hide your smile

“(y/n)channnn" he sing song In his japanese accent, you have to hold yourself from blushing coz you love when he speaks Japanese. “Baka.” He mutters to himself.

You didn’t stir until he mentions “Yak yeobbo…. Stop ignoring me.”

You give up finally, marking down your page and stretch your body as you stand up from your chair. Yuta's smile enlightens when he sees you finally closing that book.

“Who are you calling yeobbo?” You smirk to Yuta who already looks so excited to crush your bone with his hug. Instead, you walk away from your chair and walk to get yourself a drink and use the restroom.

“Where are you going?” Yuta already push himself half seated. You giggle “Toilet. Just wait, I'm not going anywhere.”

“;Be quick! The bed is cold without you.”

“So demanding and annoying.” You yell in a sing song tone as you enter the toilet.

“Your demanding and annoying handsome prince.” He still has the audacity to reply you and you can only shake his head.

After you finish your night routine and turning off the lights, you finally descend to the bed where Yuta has been sleeping on.

He gently opens the blanket so you can go inside, and he shuffles to the side. You let out a satisfied moan when your body touch the warm side of the bed.

“Warm right?” Yuta smugly asks you as he winces to the cold part of the bed. You nod your head and turn to face him. Yuta’s body warmth is still on the bed when you go in, and now he is laying down next to you on the cold part.

Your bed is not big, in this small apartment you rent near your college, you sometimes wonder how Yuta likes sleeping over. Well yeah you cannot come into his dormitory and barge in to sleep on his bed, his roommate won’t be happy with it. So, Yuta has to be the one coming into your apartment.

“Thanks for being my bed warmer,” you giggle and press a kiss to Yuta's cheek.

He smiles and engulfs you into a hug. Your nose pressed tight into his sturdy chest. His cotton pajamas smell fresh laundry to you, and you breathe in the scent of musk and mint you missed from your man.

Yuta buries his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of sweet strawberries of your shampoo. You fit your body into his, no matter what the occasion is … cuddling with Yuta always makes you feel safe and loved. It’s as if he is a mold made for you to snuggle perfectly. His height and your height, your fit and his big shoulder everything just matches.

You smile when you feel his large hand automatically snake into your waist. Pulling you even closer than before and you find your hands already loosely holding his small waist.

“Yak I'm jealous of this small waist,” you pout, and that pout is only centimeters away from Yuta's lips.

He lovingly caresses your waistline, sneaking his fingers under your clothes. You gasp when his calloused cold fingers touch your skin, but soon your body warmth blends with his and Yuta traces random lines on your skin.

It's a habit Yuta suddenly developed after two years of walking with you. You did not realize when it actually started, you just know Yuta loves skin ship and he's been slipping fingers into your clothes which you don’t mind because he asked your concern beforehand. Slowly you got used to it, sometimes at lonely nights when he is away, you find your finger mindlessly sticking into your side waist as if pretending Yuta is doing that.

You stare into the galaxy planted in his eyes and cannot help yourself from feeling a burst of happy emotion. You lean in and press a kiss on his lips. Yuta doesn’t ask for more, not for now.

His focus is on your glowing face, the same pair of eyes that always look with adoration to Yuta. The tired eye bags that show how hard working she is in achieving her dream and Yuta has to acknowledge he loves that part of her.

Yuta sighs and with his other hand, takes a strand of hair away from your face. “Jealous of my waist? Why? Yours is perfect already. I love your curves.” He whispers as his fingers still graze and ghost over your skin.

You feel shiver run through your spine and shudder “Is it? You like it?” you ask a reassurance from him.

Yuta puts a hand over your neck and nods his head “Like? I love it so much! You fit wonderfully in my hug it's perfect! Don’t think of torturing yourself with the silly ideas here.” He playfully presses a finger on your forehead.

You giggle and tighten your hug on his waist “Still everyone will be jealous of this waist!”

He kisses you quick to shut you up and pulls back after a while “Hey we shouldn’t be jealous of what others have. If you want to play it that way… I'm jealous of your lips. Coz they're always so luscious and tempting! You don’t know how hard I have to hold myself back from kissing you when you lick and bite your lips while studying.”

You laugh “Did I? Did I do that while studying?”

Yuta smirks and brushes his thumb over your lips “I wonder how they still remain soft and plush even after you bite them! I was worried you'd hurt yourself. Look, when you're focused and stressed you always bite your lips!”

You unknowingly lick your lips again and bite them, a habit too when you're excited of something, and Yuta catches that

“Teasing me princess?” his hands already found their way back to your hips and when you nod your head shyly, Yuta doesn’t need a second command to kiss your lips.

“You're perfect as you are! Don’t be worried about unnecessary things, I love you and that won’t ever change.” Yuta says after breaking the kiss. Both of you staring into each other, finding trust and comfort while gasping for air.

“Stop biting that lips or they'll bleed honey,” Yuta presses his forehead to yours. You chuckle and nod

“I love you, Nakamoto Yuta,” you carelessly bite your lips again and Yuta's eyes flicker with fire %

“Guess we need to make a rule for that, for every bite you'll get my kiss.” He winks and proceeds to take your lips into his one more time.

The cold night no longer feels cold. Despite both of you having to wear thick socks and hide under thick blanket because the electric cost of a heater is too much, you can sleep comfortably tonight. Thanks to Yuta's body heater and his intense passionate kisses you share in this beautiful night.

end

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 7 (finale)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: This is it, the last chapter of my second series! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get this out, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading this little story, it’s definitely been more challenging to write but I love these two a lot and I’m grateful for the love you’ve given them❤️

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: mentions of blood/injury, angst

Masterlist

The stack of papers lands in front of you with a resounding smack. 

At first your stomach drops and you feel the blood leave your face, but the feeling is quickly replaced by one of disbelief. “Suspended?” you read the words aloud, appalled at them. It’s not so much that you’re surprised, but the principle of the matter that sends anger through your veins.

“Temporary suspension, agent,” the ambassador clarifies, crossing her arms. “And it’s just from being out in the field. You’ll still have work to do here. You’re lucky it’s not more than that.”

They’ve gotta be fucking kidding.

“All due respect, ambassador, but I don’t understand,” you grumble.

“Agent,” she leans forward and puts her hands on the desk. “You took classified intel and used it to locate a target without permission to do so. You then proceeded to track him down by yourself and damn near compromised the investigation by doing so.”

“Compromised the investigation?” you repeat her words incredulously. “There wasn’t any investigation. No one was doing anything about that asshole—he would’ve gotten away with the murder of multiple innocent lives, scot-free, if I hadn’t done anything.”

“The relationship we have with the Colombian National Police is...delicate, as you know. There are protocols that we stick to when it comes to the narcos—I would’ve thought you understood that. In pursuing him on your own without the government’s go-ahead, you put yourself and us in murky waters.”

Your mouth is tense and it takes everything in you not to get up and storm out. Whose side are they on? You’re trying to help the case against these assholes and this is what you get for it? Bullshit.

“I advise you to be careful in future, agent,” she continues. “The shady business that Murphy and Peña tend to get into—it’s very unlike you, and I wouldn’t recommend treading those same waters. We had to pull some strings to keep your ass off the hook, and it’s not something we’ll do again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you mutter under your breath, pushing the papers back in her direction as you stand up to leave.

~

It’s a cruel form of mockery, the way the ambassador drops another stack of paperwork in front of you onto your desk. A lesson, so-to-speak, as she hands off the irrelevant bullshit to you and walks away without a word. Not that you’ve been able to pay much attention to your work, anyways. Your partners are out in the field for the day, something you didn’t care to inquire about. You chuckle humorlessly at the irony of Steve and Javier going about their business while you’re forced to sit on the sidelines. You take a big gulp of your coffee, which is lightly laced with liquor that doesn’t seem to be strong enough to get you through the day. Sitting back in your chair, you force yourself to release the tension you’ve been holding in your shoulders and jaw.

When it’s finally time for your break, you dip out to your usual place to pick something up before taking it with you to the benches outside the embassy. You have a feeling this spot is going to become a regular one for you. It’s just open enough to let the occasional breezes provide some relief from the glaring Colombian heat and anything that’s brewing in your mind. 

You’re well aware that, at best, all of this is a mild repercussion—a slap to the ego, nothing more. But for some reason you’re frustrated enough that you have to force back tears from your eyes, and you can’t put a finger on why.

For a while you amuse yourself with the idea of leaving all these assholes behind—not that there’s much else for you here. You’ve given up a lot for this job—parts of yourself, that’s for sure. It never seems to give anything back. If regularly putting your life in danger isn’t enough, you have to deal with the condescension from the higher-ups and their ideas of what’s right or wrong. But ultimately, you're not here for them. You have a job to do and you'll keep doing it, just like you always have, until Escobar goes down.

"I'm doing my fucking best," you tell yourself out loud, a reminder above all else.

It’s almost time for you to go back when you hear some familiar footsteps sauntering towards you, Javier’s figure appearing as he takes a seat beside you. The bench creaks as you shift in your spot, making room for him. In all of today’s mess, you’ve almost forgotten about what happened—and what didn’t—last night with him.

You caught his eye a few times while at the desk this morning, but nothing else. It’s been awkward—somewhere in between deer-in-the-headlights and regret. Steve looked at you with pity, and there was a bit of that in Javier's eyes, but something else as well. Mostly you've been dodging any mentions of last night, reverting back to the usual state of pretending nothing happened at all. It's been the same, exhausting back and forth between two people who can't seem to figure themselves out. 

You don’t turn to face him, nor does he try to look you in the eyes as he leans forward in his seat, putting out the cigarette he’s been holding.

You run your hands down your face and shake your head. “I don’t want to do this right now, Javier,” you tell him, your voice softer than you want it to be. 

Several moments pass before Javier can find any words to say. “I know. I just—I’m...sorry. About the suspension,” he mutters, his voice rough and disconcerted. And everything else, too, he thinks to himself. “It’s fucked up,” he mutters under his breath. It's like you're both walking on eggshells, avoiding the bottom of the iceberg. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not by my standards, anyways,” he continues.

You turn to face him, a hint of feigned amusement in your eyes. “Are you worried about me, Javier?” 

Javier feels his chest constrict, just for a second. “Me? Never,” he jests, and the air between you weighs a little bit less. You both let out a soft chuckle and turn to face the vast, open field in front of you again. You can't tell that there's a part of him that aches, despite his best attempts to suppress the feeling. You’d pushed him away, but he could never hold that against you. He’s not often alone, not when he doesn’t want to be, but that doesn’t make a person any less lonely. Some people deserve to be alone with their sins.

He keeps a good-sized distance from you on the bench, too far for his own liking but close enough that he has to physically resist the need to reach out to you. He doesn’t want to bring up last night any more than you do, but he hates that he hasn’t been able to think of anything else. It wasn’t until he’d left your apartment that he realized he was in deeper than he wanted to be.

“You know, I—” you start, clasping your hands together. You finally turn to him, and he mirrors you. “I could never stand the way you did things. But I...I want you to know that I get it now.”

Javier ponders on your words, but remains silent. After a moment, he sighs and nods. You fall silent as well, but the two of you exchange awkward glances, unsure of how to even address what happened last night. So you don’t.

“I know that this wouldn't be a big deal for you,” you add after a minute. “Really, it’s not a big deal to me either. It could be worse. I don’t know why…” But you know exactly what’s bothering you.

“Things will be back to normal soon enough,” Javier tells you. What if he doesn’t want them to be? You nod once, and Javier wishes he could believe the words himself.

With nothing else to say, you sit there quietly in each other’s presence for a few more minutes, neither of you in any hurry to go back in.

~

You open your eyes to a mostly dark room, vaguely aware of the cool surface of the pillow on your face as you roll over onto your side. You rub the sleep from your eyes and then your neck, which is stiff from a bad sleeping position. The streets of Colombia are still quiet outside, so all you hear is the humming of the AC in your bedroom. You’re barely conscious but you already wish your head was as silent as your surroundings. It’s funny how you’d grown used to sleeping in a bed that’s too big for one person, the space next to you cold and empty as it’s always been. You never really noticed it before. But for some reason you slept next to his warmth just once and now find yourself unable to handle the coldness anymore. 

It’s been a week since your encounter with the informant, and since your...situation with Javier. The plush padding of the mattress and rough covers do little to bring you comfort as you let out a quiet groan, shoving the blanket off yourself. With only a ringing silence to keep you company, you can’t help but think of yesterday night, when the man of the hour showed up unannounced and semi-inebriated at your door. You feel as though you could sink further into the bed and just disappear for a while, and honestly, you wouldn’t mind it.

~

“Javier?” You whisper, putting your gun back down on the shelf. “It’s almost one in the morning.” You’d answered the door cautiously after hearing three soft knocks, not expecting to find Javier standing there, leaning against the door frame.

“I...wanted to see you…” he mutters, and he hopes you don't catch the faint scent of alcohol. He doesn't know what made him turn the hallway to your door when he'd gotten home, but when you opened the door it was too late to change his mind.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, stepping forward to guide him back to his own place.

“Almost,” Javier answers with a tilt of the head. He's a little buzzed, but it's not enough. There's been a lot of 'almosts' lately. You. A partner he had no choice but to work with. Almost the most infuriating person he knew. Almost tolerable. Almost a friend. Almost… He's tired of almosts.

He observes silently as your eyes flick to the ground then back up to him, sensing your apprehension. "I'm...sorry," Javier stands up straighter. "I don't know what I…I'll leave if you want," he sputters, turning back toward his apartment. 

You stop him by gently touching his arm, sending a warmth into his chest that he blames on his currently hazy state of mind.

"No, you can come in, if you'd like...I should get some water in you, anyways" you tell him.

He drops his shoulders and slips his hands into his jean pockets, nodding. You open the door wider and gesture for him to enter, locking it behind him. He trods towards the living room and plops himself down on the sofa as you fetch him a glass of water before joining him. You're careful to leave a small space between you and him on the lumpy seat.

You watch as he takes a sip, waiting for him to say whatever he needs to.

The dim incandescent lighting draws attention to the ever-prominent dark circles under his eyes. It’s probably been a long time since the man’s had a decent sleep, not that the same struggle doesn’t follow you as well. "You look like shit, Javier," you comment playfully when he doesn't say anything. 

He scoffs, taking another sip of water and resisting the urge to light a cigarette right now.

“About the other night…” he starts, then trails off, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“We really don’t have to talk about it,” you tell him, gently. You reach out to touch his arm, but quickly take it back. Or maybe it’s you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Javier notes the way you’re holding your arms close to yourself, rubbing your hands together nervously. An anxious tic you always resort back to. People don’t change, but his feelings about them might have.

“No, I—” he starts again. “I think you were right. We shouldn’t be doing any of this,” he goes on, his tone soft. He’s a goddamn liar, and he knows it. 

“But you’re here anyways,” you reply. It almost sounds like a question, the way you say it. “It was my fault for…”

“No,” he cuts you off. “You deserve better than someone like me.” 

“Don’t fucking say that, Javier,” you snap at him, sitting a bit straighter. 

“The things I’ve done…” he shakes his head, not meeting your eyes.

“We’ve both had to do a lot of questionable shit here,” you continue. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand before. But I meant what I said the other day, about why you do things the way you do. I may not have agreed, but I understand now.”

Javier only looks at you, having nothing to say to that. “Sometimes I think we’re hurting ourselves more than anyone else,” you add, thinking out loud. “Besides...you’re not the only one with issues,” you muse. “Like you said to me once, we’re fucked up. Look at me, I don’t know how to not be alone…” you trail off, warmth rushing to your face as you hope that he won’t remember any of this in the morning. But that’s a false hope, and you know it.

Javier listens quietly, wondering at what point it was that he started to understand you, too. His mind might be foggy, but the alcohol seems to make other things clearer for him.

You’re not alone. “You have Murphy and me,” Javier shrugs. “Fuck those other assholes.”

"I'm not used to anyone needing me," you whisper.

"I need you," he admits before he realizes he's said it out loud. 

His breath hitches but he tries to play it off. "I mean, we—" He gestures with a hand but forgets he's holding the glass, so it falls onto the tile floor, both of you flinching when it shatters into many small fragments.

Javier swears, instinctively reaching down to pick up the pieces without thinking before you can stop him. One of the larger shards nicks his skin and he swears again as some blood starts to pool on his fingers.

"Fuck, Peña," you hiss, grabbing a cloth off the table and pressing it into the cut. You immediately become aware of his large, warm hand resting against your own.

Hurriedly dabbing at the broken skin until the bleeding slows, you look up to find that his eyes are on you and not his fresh cut. He looks at you like the blood on his hand is the last thing on his mind. Holding his gaze for a few moments, you swallow quietly and avert your eyes, gesturing for him to hold the cloth down with his free hand while you get up to go grab the first aid kit.

When you come back, Javier mutters something about being careful of the glass that’s still on the floor. 

“I’m not an idiot, Javier,” you tease.

He chuckles dryly, looking down at his hand as you sit back down and open the kit.

"Alright, let me see." You hold out your hand and he places his in yours as you remove the cloth to examine it. 

"Always so careful," you mutter as he flinches when you dab the spot with alcohol. You turn his hand over, checking for any pieces that might've gotten stuck.

Javier can't stop focusing on the way your soft hands feel on his rough, calloused ones. His head is throbbing, not only from the alcohol but also from a racing mind and a pulse that’s loudly pounding in his chest. You're about ten times gentler than he was when he'd insisted on changing his own dressing after the gunshot incident. Almost as gentle as you were the night you'd stayed with him in bed.

“Sometimes I’m glad I got shot,” Javier says suddenly, so quietly that for a second you think you misheard him. You finish up applying the bandage, peering at him curiously.

“Why’s that?” you humor him, hearing the slightly inebriated unsteadiness in his tone.

Javier feels his eyelids getting heavier, but his mind is still somewhat alert.

“You’re less infuriating now,” he mumbles, his words starting to blur together. You smirk at that, raising an eyebrow at him. It looks like you’re almost as reckless as he is now.

You don’t know how else to respond to that, so you ignore it.“There,” you say, letting go of his hand. “Just like new.”

Javier whispers a quiet thanks and rubs at the bandage, his mind a bit foggy as he looks at you. You look flustered, lost in some thought. It’s silent for long enough that the tension in the room becomes sharper than the shards of glass.

You nod once, brushing your hands together before standing. “Let me get all of this cleaned up,” you tell him as you take everything with you back to the kitchen.

You’re only mildly surprised when you return after a  few minutes to find Javier with his eyes shut on the couch, mouth slightly agape and his arms splayed out against his sides. You huff and shake your head in amusement, turning to grab the knitted blanket from the other sofa. You shake it out, gently placing it over him and tucking it over his shoulders. He shifts subconsciously, already fast asleep as you bend down to clean up the glass on the floor. Before switching off the lamp you smile softly at the sight of him. You could send him home, but this is probably your only chance at getting him to sleep. It’s rare that anyone gets to see a resting, relaxed Javier Peña, and this is probably as close as it gets.

Before you head back to your own room, you readjust the small pillow at his side, should he fall over to an uncomfortable angle overnight. You set a new glass of water on the coffee table and suddenly become aware of the feeling that your apartment feels less empty now, like the deafening silence that’s usually in your home has become replaced by something you never thought you’d find here. This feeling that's been in your chest this whole time, the one you've been trying so hard to push away, makes itself known every chance it gets.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper, the admission barely loud enough for you to hear.

~

Everything that Javier’s ever done, he’s done by himself, if at all possible. And then he deals with the consequences alone. This has always been intentional—if the blood is on his hands alone, then only he can see the worst things in himself. No casualties except the good intentions that might’ve been there before.

The moving vehicle runs over a pothole in the road, the jolt bringing Javier back to the present assignment at hand. It’s just another run-of-the-mill one, some sketchy location to check out, but it feels like he’s been in this car for hours, trapped with no reprieve from his incessantly tireless mind. Trujillo navigates from the front seat while Murphy is seated next to him in the back, muttering something about his plans later this evening. The middle back seat is empty, sans-you, and Javier ruminates on how there was a time where he would’ve begged for such a situation. 

He and Murphy are pissed on your behalf, too, but it’s just a short term thing and they’ll have to make do with Trujillo until you’re back. He lets out a quiet huff and Murphy looks at him, brows raised with a knowing expression. Javier shakes his head, brushing him off, and stares back out the window. Even with the AC on blast in the car, there’s no escape from the heat of the afternoon sun. He swipes at the beads of sweat on his forehead, impatiently waiting for this assignment to be over with. 

“Ay, Peña, why so glum?” Trujillo jeers from the front. “At least it wasn’t your ass on the line, for once,” he remarks.

Javier and Steve’s heads both snap up. “Fuck off, Trujillo,” Javier shoots him down, wiping the grin off his face. 

A wave of guilt suddenly floods through him. He’d inadvertently put you in danger multiple times, and now your job had been compromised, too. Maybe the latter wasn’t entirely his fault, but when he found you with the informant and saw the look in your eyes, he recognized it as something he often saw in the mirror. And you deserve better than to sleep with the monsters in his bed. 

He’d known exactly what you were doing when you’d pushed him away, but he still let you do it, for everyone’s best interest. Still, there’s a small part of him that didn’t want you to. Javier is far from deserving to have something like that, something good, where the demons might quiet down just a bit. But it’s a calming thought nonetheless.

After his semi-drunken talk with you the other night, he’d held on to a small fragment of hope that you might change your mind about everything. He remembers the conversation vividly, especially the parts of him that had been made bolder by the liquor. 

Murphy casts a glance at him again, probably wondering what the fuck has been wrong with him. Javier doesn’t know himself. Somewhere between getting shot and now, something’s been different for him. He’s always been cautious to let anyone in for too long; his home has always been a dark place with room for just one. He never thought you’d be the one to sneak up on him like this. 

Right from the beginning you’d wanted nothing to do with each other, which, considering how much he couldn’t stand you anyways, he had been perfectly content on keeping it this way. 

Even from your first day as partners, you'd clashed with each other on just about everything. Things were kept professional, of course, but there wasn't much beyond mere civility. Going off the fact that you were nothing like him, Javier kept a distance. One less thing to stress about. He nearly laughs at the irony of it now.

Javier knows he’s still the same man as he was back then. People rarely change. But one infuriating, stubborn person might have helped him see a different side of things. He’s hardly ever thought of himself as a good man, but when he’s around you, he starts to let himself believe it.

He’s a man who can find company if he wants it. Someone to let off steam with and then move on from, left alone with himself. But for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to be anymore. Javier’s spent many nights lying in a newly-empty bed, playing with the idea of not facing the darkness alone. Of having someone’s warm presence next to him under the covers of a heavy night. Until lately, he hadn’t realized that it’s not just anyone he wants by his side in that cold, vacant space, but you.

~

It’s been another long, tedious day at work, so you’re eager to finally get in your car and make your way home. You’re one of the last to leave the office, as usual, even if you don’t have any need to stay after-hours. 

It’s not as hot this evening, but the forecast said there would be rain later tonight so the air is still disgustingly humid, the moisture sticking to you as soon as you step outside the embassy. The clouds have already started coming in, so the sky is a dark grey smearing of hues. Your shoes clack on the concrete on your way to the car, but your heels don’t ache the way they do when you’ve been out in the field. As strange as it is, you don’t mind the way your body aches after a productive day, so you miss it. Your muscles are tense, but it’s not from being at your desk all day. You slam the car door shut behind you, noting the circles under your eyes in the mirror before sighing and starting the engine.

When you finally make it back to your apartment complex, you decide that you don’t want to go inside just yet. The frustration has long since left you, but now you’re just...exhausted, from more than one thing. You need somewhere to just breathe, and start walking towards the small park next to the apartments. You don’t mind the fact that the storm clouds are getting darker, a small rumble of thunder sounding off in the distance. You round the corner and step off the concrete path towards a grassy area with some park benches. There aren’t many trees here and there isn’t much to look at, but it’s a nice place to sit and think, so it’ll do. It’s here that you allow yourself to completely immerse yourself in everything that’s been on your mind. 

You’ve always weathered things on your own, especially here. There’s too much risky business that goes on for you to complicate things by involving anyone else. The more blood and damage you see, the more you’ve been able to convince yourself that your decisions were for the best. You never expected this to be complicated by one Javier Peña. You’ve been doing your best to ignore your feelings, but sometimes that’s more exhausting than facing them headfirst. There’s been many nights where you’ve had your emotions gutted raw by the things you’ve seen and done, but it’s never occurred to you that you’re not only one who’s carried it alone. Not until recently, anyways. 

Javier has always been one to not let anyone in. You’d never considered that he’s a lot like you. He’s reckless about his ways, albeit passionate. You’ve always thought of yourself as hesitant; reserved until you can think things through. But you’ve kept people away, too, and maybe that’s been reckless in itself. It’s hard to keep people close when you live a life like this one. But it’s been a while now that you’ve known you wanted more, that it wouldn't be anymore dangerous than what you already do. You can only hope that you haven’t fucked things up permanently with him.

You fidget with the buttons on your cardigan, unclasping then clasping them, just about ready to head home, when a loud crack of thunder interrupts your thoughts, sending with it the onset of the rainfall. With no cover, you ought to run back, but you opt to stay put instead of running from the storm. The rain starts to pour, slowly, until it becomes a steady downfall. You feel it soak your hair first, then your shoulders as the cold wetness absorbs into the fabric of every layer of the rest of your clothes, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It drips down and covers your eyelashes and you have to blink them away in order to see. You don’t know how long you’re there for, but the rain continues to fall gently and you close your eyes, savoring the nice change of weather as it coats your hair and skin. 

After a while longer, you feel the pouring stop and open your eyes, expecting to find a calmer sky. Instead, you find Javier standing over you, holding an umbrella that’s barely big enough to cover you both. 

The expression on his face is unreadable, but he takes a seat next to you, not leaving any space in between your bodies this time, the warmth of his skin calming against your own. He holds the umbrella in one hand, the other brushing the curls out of his face as he meets your eyes, a barely-there but reassuring smile on his lips. 

Something about this moment makes you feel all the more vulnerable; exposed. Still, you know that you're safe, at least in this very moment. You give him a tiny smile in return, holding back a shiver. Explanations don’t seem to be needed as you sit silently, only paying attention to the rain falling into puddles in front of you and the way you’re tucked neatly against him, both of you devoid of any tension for the first time in a while.

Wordlessly, you lean onto his shoulder, resting your head on him. Not a single word is spoken, but nothing has to be said when you both already know. The rain continues to hit the umbrella with soft patters above you. You stay like that for a while, simply existing in each other’s presence, until Javier softly nudges you. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he tells you. You nod and follow as he walks with you back to the complex, arm-to-arm but not touching otherwise. Once you get to cover, he shakes out the umbrella before closing it, along with some of the water droplets that landed in his now-messy hair.

You’re cold as soon as you step inside, the air chilling your wet clothes and hair. Both of your shoes squeak as you make your way down the hallway. He stops when you approach his door, which is closer to the entrance than your own.

“Do you want to come in?” he murmurs softly. It's not often that you find Javier Peña unsure of himself, but his voice is telling. You think on it for a moment, but it’s without hesitation when you nod again.

He unlocks the door and you follow him in, shrugging off your damp cardigan. He tosses the keys on the counter and turns on the lamp, then looks you up and down. You’re soaked from head to toe, with your hair plastered to your skin.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back,” he says, quickly walking to his room. You walk over to the living room and shuffle on your heels as you wait for him to return.

When he reappears he’s already changed into a dry shirt, and comes over to you with a thick towel in hand. You hold out your hand for it but he ignores the motion, moving closer as he delicately wraps the towel around your head, gently dabbing the dampness out of your hair. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time, looking at you with an intensity you haven’t seen from him before, not even the last time you’d been this close to him. Delicately, he pats the towel along your face and neck, wiping away the rest of the droplets of rain. You feel your breaths getting shaky but you don’t look away. His lips are slightly parted as he removes the towel, tossing it aside without breaking eye contact and stepping closer, with a hint of hesitation. He’s inches away, holding himself carefully in front of you, close enough for you to feel his warm breaths on your cheeks.

There’s a mutual understanding as he glances down at your lips then back up to your eyes, and Javier softly places an arm around your waist, pulling you in against him and closing the space between your bodies as you set a hand on his chest. It may be in your imagination, but you can feel his heart pounding, too. His other hand hovers timidly over your cheek before moving to rest on the space beneath your jaw as he leans in even closer, still looking into your eyes as your own heart threatens to race out of your chest. 

Practically the only things not touching are your lips, his and your patience both wearing thin until there’s none left.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, running the pad of his thumb over your cheek.

“Yeah,” you whisper in response, nearly breathless.

You hear him swallow before he gently presses his forehead to yours, his eyes half-closed. “You’re not going to run away again, are you?” Javier teases, but his voice is hoarse, the words cracking a little as they leave his lips. You can’t think straight, simply shaking your head and letting out a quiet chuckle.

Every time this has happened before, you’ve felt the heated, maddening desperation in the room. But when Javier finally presses his lips to yours, it's just one small kiss at first, then a pause, before he kisses you again, softly and carefully, more than you’d ever thought was possible for him. His lips are warm against your own, which are still cold from the rain. He keeps a hand resting along your back, holding you flush against him as you feel him relax fully into you. You run your hand through the curls of his hair, his breath warm on your tongue as his lips move against yours. 

He moves his hand from your face, breaking the kiss with a smirk on his face. His breathing is quickened, both of you left winded. Your knees have gone weak; you hardly know how you’re still able to stand.

“You know, the bosses wouldn’t like this, but I guess you don’t mind—” he chuckles as you grip his shirt tighter, pulling him closer to you.

“Shut up, Peña, I—” his lips crash back onto yours before you can finish the sentence. He kisses you fervently, all-consumingly, but he’s far from being rough. Javier doesn’t like to take his time with anything, but when your whole body is curved against his like this, he wants all the time in the world.

The soft kisses become slower until you finally break away from each other, try to steady yourselves. Javier places one last kiss to your lips before resting his forehead on yours again. His eyes remain closed as you reach up and tenderly stroke his cheek with your thumb, feeling the way his jaw is completely relaxed.

He finally opens his eyes, trailing the backs of his fingers down your cheek to your jaw. “Will you stay tonight?” he asks, still catching his breath.

"If you can manage not to injure yourself this time," you mutter playfully.

Javier chuckles, gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

"You are infuriating, agent," he whispers, keeping himself close to you.

"So are you," you tell him, a smile on your lips.

Javier rests his forehead against yours, moving his hand back to your cheek. 

For the first time in a long time, Javier knows he’ll rest through the night.

~

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[oftenderweapons]

Introducing the girlfriends: the looks.

Hello puppets! In this post I’d like to show how I imagine the OC Girlfriends in terms of face and looks, mostly in terms of fashion.

I won’t state how many times my self esteem abandoned the conversation as I made this post, so let me do a disclaimer before I make y’all suffer with me (sorry). These pictures come from my Pinterest board called “Simply incredible people”, which contains mostly photos of people that have very unique facial traits and that I use for reference. Now, ALL OF THESE ARE MODELS. They were photographed BECAUSE after hours of makeup and hair and clothes chosen perfectly for them, a set made up specifically to enhance their good looks, a fair bit of photoshop and unfairly good genetics they were put in the position of being beautified. Don’t think that these gorgeous folks are The Thing: I picked them because of specific reasons explained under each picture, and in my opinion all the guys are pretty far from dating perfect young women with perfectly symmetrical features and flawless complexion and... all of that. However, yes, in my mind they date regular, “unbeautified” versions of these women. If your self esteem can’t handle disgustingly beautiful models, then please, don’t open the “read more”. Also, you’re absolutely free to keep imagining your ideal girls and not check out this post, no hard feelings ✌️😘

However, if — like me — you are incredibly attracted to girls with pretty unique facial features, then do open. If you’ like girls, I’m sorry, you might have one (or more) new crush(es) after this post.

Now, all of the girls have Asian traits — because according to my plots and headcanons, (which you can find in my masterlist) the guys have always met their s/o while in Seoul/Korea and also because I’ve always imagined the girls Asian. However, I’m not saying that they like these specific types or looks, or that they’ll end up with a person with traditionally Asian traits: I am simply assuming in statistic terms. Also, since I write memberxFem!reader, they’re obviously all girls.

I only know two of the people inserted here (that is Vixen and Kitten). I might have accidentally inserted someone famous, however that was not my intention. Also, the girls have been chosen exclusively for facial features: there is no shipping going on between real people here.

After this lengthy introduction, let me move on to the real deal.

In case you need my masterlist, here it is! (Remember to vote for next prompt!!! Link in bio 🥰)

Enjoy✨💜

Vixen - (Namjoon)

— The face —

Baby face: yes

Doll lips: yes

Very intense, borderline scary, November-baby glance: yes.

This is Vixen, with her baby cheeks, her sharp, refined looks and a doll-like face that mixes innocence and seduction. Top that with deep red lipstick and artsy jewellery. Her eyes show ten thousand different feelings and her face is suitable for acting, being extremely expressive: every little sensation and emotion can be found in a quirk of the mouth or an arching of the eyebrow, a little curl of the nose or a pursing of her lips.

— The Look —

Total black winter look, basic and classy, thigh-high boots for her long legs, simple, plain bags and purses, and finally a long coat to keep her warm over her dresses usually characterised by a high neck and a generous slice of leg. But don’t let that fool you: her favourite looks are oversized sweaters stolen from Namjoon’s wardrobe — that obviously fit like dresses on her —, fluffy woolen tights or stockings and comfy shoes when they go on breakfast dates, but also thick jumpers, large jeans and comfy sneakers when they go for walks and bike trips.

Angel (Seokjin)

— The Face —

Traditional Korean Beauty: yes

Big eyes: yes

Soft pink lips: yes

Angel is the definition of Korean Beauty, looking young and innocent. She could easily have the face of an idol, with the purest of charms. And her cute bangs... yes.

— The Look —

Even though her job requires a total black look, which often means pretty flats, black trousers and a turtleneck, in her free time she likes wearing preppy looks, with lots of plaid prints and cute dresses that match Korean standards, with not-too-revealing necklines and a skirt that hits just above the knee. Match it all with cute, warm coats and small bags.

Kitten (Yoongi)

— The Face —

Intimidating look: yes

Angular jaw: yes

Plush lips: yes

Kitten has angular, almost aggressive facial features, characterised mostly by the rectangular shape of her face and her jaw, and quite jutting cheekbones. She has a rough, tough beauty which can be difficult to understand but absolutely charming to observe.

— The Look —

Another one with total black, but unlike Vixen, who likes coloured clothes once winter ends, Kitten keeps the black look all year round, inserting tiny splashes of colours with accessories and jackets. Expect a lot of turtlenecks and blazers for her work attire, but also fancy shirts for more elegant occasions, mostly silk blouses that offer a generous view of her bosom.

Giggles (Hoseok)

— The Face —

Strawberry blonde: yes

Freckles: yes

Too cute: yes

I’ve always imagined Giggles with a mop of messy reddish-blonde hair, may it be natural or dyed. I know the combo is pretty rare; still, she’s a fictional character so... a girl can dream.

— The Look —

A vintage mess of prints. She messes around with flowers and stripes and plaids and colours. You could most definitely spot her in a crowd. Even when she’s working (remember she’s a vet), she has very colourful scrubs and bright coloured clogs/nurse shoes. Overall too cute and tiny for her good, her being so small makes it easy for her to shop in the children department and find even more coloured, fancy prints.

Princess (Jimin)

— The Face —

Overall cute: yes

Gaze to command a photo shoot: yes

Borderline scary both in terms of beauty and power: yes

This small girl has the power to supervise everything, you can read it on her face (remember she works for a fashion magazine and organises photoshoots). Sheer calculating, organising force. And with a gaze like that, ready to make you wither and die were you to deny her, you see specifically why I chose her.

— The Look —

Smart attire, comfortable flats or slippers to dash from a place to another. Comfy, fashionable, practical. She’s always on a rush from an appointment to the other and she uses bags big enough to hold a skirt and a pair of heels in case she needs more elegant attire for a last-minute evening appointment in fashionable clubs and restaurants. She’s more than happy to play Barbie for Jimin, letting him choose how to dress her.

Lace (Taehyung)

— The Face —

Louder big dick energy than your ex: yes

A neck to die for: yes

Eclectic charm: yes

Honestly, I think Lace is too particular — strange even — to find someone who could possibly embody her. What made me pick this specific woman was her very incisive choice in clothing and accessories, but I’ll update her sooner or later, I think. As me and my friend said: you don’t find Lace, is Lace that finds you. (Also, if anyone has a Lace to suggest, please send links 💖)

— The Look —

Black tight dresses, all the time. Tight pencil skirts and anything that screams Fifties housewife; lots of robes, unusual cuts and premium fabrics — she is a designer and lingerie maker, after all. She doesn’t follow trends, she makes them. She is literally one of those people who looks good even with the most hideous, unfashionable things on. However, the moment she wears a silk slip dress, her power intensifies by a few thousand times — do not expect Taehyung not to get weak in the knees. In the house she’s absolutely comfortable wearing a robe with nothing underneath — and sometimes she doesn’t even tie it close. Taehyung is perfectly okay with that.

Candy (Jungkook)

— The Face —

Biggest smile: yes

Cutest lil nose: yes

Very squishable: yes

The small happy bean is a very gentle bean too. She is a graphic designer and a cartoon artist and it shows in her whole being, even in her facial features. I imagine her hair not too long, soft and wavy — though the most valuable asset to Jk is their scent. And look at those sweater(shirt) paws!!! Adorable.

— The Look —

First rule of Candy and Jk’s relationship is “my flannel shall be thy flannel”. Their wedding rings will probably be flannel shirts. Candy likes to pull them off with oversized sweats or coloured jeans. She also wears oversized sweaters — probably stolen from Jk’s wardrobe — together with leggins and mid-calf socks, especially since her workplace is not too strict with dresscode. She likes oversized and layered fits, using light cotton shirts and tank tops in the summer and fleece/flannel shirt and warm woolen turtlenecks in winter. Comfort always comes first. Expect her to use biker shorts and giant T-shirts and bulky shoes in the summer on her spare time.

An extra — since I’m sooooo gay for these two

Sora Choi and Yoon Young Bae are the two models that I immediately spotted respectively for Kitten and Vixen and the fact that they posed together made me super soft (I literally fell in love with both of them). Oh also!!! Yoon has posted on her insta the sweetest picture of her with a snow bear and it was like... a sign, but also so endearing and I’M SMITTEN, HEAD TO TOE IN LOVE WITH THIS SMALL CUTE LIL POTATO. She’s a cutie and Sora has the prettiest smile I swear to God I’d give the world for these two. *bisexuality upgrades*

Did you imagine them differently? Are there any of the girls that match or challenge your ideas? Leave your impressions in the comments!!! 😚☺️