#and to just like. let other people help me with heavy lifting. i mean i throw out my back whenever i bend over or pick up something even

[duncantf]

one thing i will never get over is when i went to my back doctor and i asked him about my constant severe back and shoulder pain and he was just like "oh! well that's weird. can't do anything about it. sorry ! :) we'll never see you again btw !" and then just fucking diagnosed me with chronic back pain and chronic shoulder pain and called it a day

[idiaa-shroxd]

YOUR WRITING IS SO PRETTY I COULD EAT IT. YOU CHARACTERIZE THE CHARACTERS SO WELL TOO!!!

thank you so much!! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ happy you think my writing is very pretty!! and also makes me happy you think my characterization was correct.

when writing for characters always take a bit of extra time to ensure they sound good? thinking about having an actual conversation with them for a minute and what they’d do! ♧ personally a big fan of viginettes since that reveals a lot of a character more than mainstory.

Σ('◉⌓◉’) mini (huge) rant within the tags of the way of my process to understand a character!!

[augustinewrites]

tsumiki asks the question on a rare, relaxed saturday afternoon. with both the kid’s baseball games canceled due to some heavy morning rain, the four of you were taking the time to do some much needed relaxation. 

“how did you guys end up together?” 

satoru lifts his head from your lap, where you’d been plucking his brows. “isn’t it obvious? it was due to my roguishly handsome good looks and sharp comedic wit.” 

megumi scoffs from his spot on the armchair. “i doubt that.”

you press your cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder, laughing. “that’s cute, babe, but do you want to tell them how it really happened? or should i?”

“i’ll tell them,” he volunteers. “because i have been in love with you a lot longer than you might think.”

_____

satoru meets you when he’s seventeen years old. (it’s a stupid age. ‘cause when you’re seventeen, you’re all hormones and ego and think the world revolves around you.) 

so he doesn’t pay you much mind when yaga first introduces you to his little class, because honestly? he’d taken one look at you, fresh out of the countryside with your perfectly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place or a battle scar on your body and was extremely underwhelmed. so he’d brushed you off like lint on his sleeve, because he doubted you’d even survive the year. no point in getting to try and know you. 

that same afternoon, you’d unleashed hell on him with your shikigami and almost broken his nose. 

“i’m sorry,” you’d muttered when you’d forcibly accompanied him to the infirmary. 

“you don’t sound sorry,” he’d huffed. his nose (and his ego) were definitely bruised. 

you rolled your eyes and muttered something that was probably really mean under your breath. he’s about to tell you off when he feels blood start to drip again, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back.

“you’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” you sigh, handing him another folded up piece of paper towel. 

he doesn’t take it, glaring down at you. “why would i do that?”

shoko and geto walk behind you both, highly amused by your bickering. “they’d be good together, don’t you think?”

“if they don’t kill each other first.” the latter chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes you both. 

“if you tilt your head forward, then the blood drips out and not in–”

“why? that’s where the blood is supposed to be.”

“no, it’s not, and if you’d just let me finish what i was saying instead of interrupting me–”

it’s not the last time he interrupts you. it’s not the last time the two of you bicker or the last time he walks with you through the courtyard. days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and even though you’d almost broken his nose that first day, he quickly realizes that he couldn’t imagine you anywhere but with him. 

_____

it’s late when he sneaks out of your room, sunset streaming through the courtyard as he peeks around the corner, on the lookout for any faculty before he dashes back to the boy’s dorm…

…only to run into geto, who’s standing outside. he feels bad for a second, because they haven’t really talked since…well, everything.

but he just flicks his cigarette, grinning in that all too knowing way of his. “what were you doing in the girl’s wing, creeper?”

“nothing,” he lies, but his cheeks are warm, there are butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

his best friend looks at him. really looks at him. “oh, man. you’re so obvious.”

“i’m not obvious, you’re obvious,” he retorts.

geto takes another drag before holding it out to him. gojo shakes his head. “you’re one of the smartest, yet dumbest people i know. so i’m going to help you now, because i think without guidance, you are capable of making extremely rash romantic decisions.”

“that’s not true–”

“it’s very true. like that fact that you’re in love with…” geto nods his head towards the girl’s dorm, grinning. 

he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket when he feels heat crawl up his neck, looking away. “that’s ridiculous. i’m not…it’s not like that. we’re just…hanging out.”

“really?” his friend checks. “because the way that you look at her, i mean…wow. we’ve all seen it. you look at her like you hear tiny forest animals singing whenever she walks into a room.” 

satoru bristles slightly, because he’s not entirely off the mark. 

(but seventeen is a stupid age, and at the time he knew he cared for you deeply, but he didn’t know he loved you yet.)

geto knows though, and just shrugs. “i know you’ll see it someday too.”

_____

“do these shoes go with my outfit?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

gojo shrugs, hardly even glancing up from his phone. “sure.” 

“you didn’t even look!” 

he exhales a harsh breath, tossing his phone onto your bed as he looks up at you. “why are you trying so hard for some guy you don’t even like? i mean– have you even met him?”

“no,” you sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “but me meeting him is really important to my father.” 

he leans back against your headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “why?”

“because a proposal from the kamo clan is a really big deal.” you startle when he sits up so fast that his glasses fall from their perch atop his head. “oh my– what’s wrong?!”

“everything about that sentence. a proposal? as in to be wed?”

“yes, gojo,” you confirm, turning back to adjust your earrings in the mirror. “i was born outside of the zen’in clan, but i have their inherited technique. my dad…all these years he’s worked hard to keep me off their radar so i wouldn’t be stuck there. so i wouldn’t be unhappy like he was. if i accept this proposal and join the kamo clan…all his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.” 

“the kamo clan,” he repeats, shaking his head. he’s not sure why he’s so annoyed. it’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason. “they’re based in kyoto. you’d– you’d have to leave.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but all the unsaid things that he’s been too scared to admit to himself (and especially to you) must be written all over his face, because you hesitate before you step out the door, looking back at him hopefully. 

“have fun,” is all he says instead, pretending not to notice when your expression falls. “i’ll probably be out when you get back, but just text so i know you’re alright and haven’t already been whisked off to kyoto.”

_____

“but you never joined the kamo clan,” tsumiki notes, sending you a questioning look. “why did your dad to change his mind?”

“i…actually still don’t know,” you admit, smiling softly. “he’s never told me.” 

“well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. ‘cause you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” satoru grins. he presses a soft kiss to your lips, but pulls back with a laugh when the kids groan loudly. “on that note, i’m going to start cleaning up.” 

megumi, who’d been silent the entire story, gets up to help, trailing after him into the kitchen.

“it was you,” he says once you and tsumiki are out of earshot.

satoru sets the stack of plates on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at him. “hm?”

“you made some kind of deal with her family, didn’t you? like you did for me.” 

he doesn’t answer right away, moving leftover vegetables into a container. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

besides, that was then and this was now. he’s older and wiser and he knows that he’s loved you since he was seventeen years old.

_____

your father seems taken aback, and not just because satoru gojo was standing in his study, but because of what he was proposing. “excuse me?”

blue eyes land on a photo of you on your father’s desk. you’re cherished here. loved. letting you go must be hard, even if it’s for your own good. “you want to keep her away from the zen’in’s right? if she joins the gojo clan, we’ll make the idea of even coming near her radioactive.” 

“but the only way to do that is–”

“marriage. to me, specifically,” he finishes with an easy shrug, as if he’s merely speaking about the weather. “quick, easy, simple. now you can reject the kamo clan’s proposal.”

your father is a smart man, that much is obvious. he’s kept you out of the zen’in’s grasp for years, even after news of your inherited technique had spread. there’s no way he’d turn down a deal as good as this.

“i have nothing to offer you,” he says now, expression pinched. “no dowry, or things of the like.”

“i don’t need your money,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “in fact, i only have three conditions.”

gojo’s three conditions

[papaya-twinks]

Heyy could u write smth with lando x reader where they're working out together and he's spotting her during her workout and pushing her to the limit keeps saying suggestive shit like "ik u have the stamina for more".

Thx smm hope ur doing good 🫶🏼

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, dirty talk, praise

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - there’s a point in the fic which mentions the weight being the same as the reader (I’ve put a *** the start of the paragraph it’s indicated in, please change the weight to your own weight or whatever you please x)

You’d met Lando in the gym a few weeks ago when he’d helped you with one of the machines, and now ended up going to the gym together. Your sessions mostly consisted of you not truly doing much, a few weights as you watched him and made him laugh instead. “Y/N,” he groaned as you sat on the bench, cracking another joke. 

Lando loved these gym sessions, he loved your company and looked forward to seeing you every time. “Sorry,” you giggled, sitting on the weights bench. “You don’t ever do anything,” he grumbled, “you just sit there and make me laugh, I’m gonna drop for weights one day,”. You plastered a mischevious grin across your face, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“What are you saying, you want me to do something?” you said jokingly, “Me, who’s never picked up a weight since I met you?”. He rolled his eyes at your joking words, walking over to you. “C’mon,” he said, taking your hand into his and pulling you up. “Let’s get you doing something, instead of getting me to break my toes,”. 

In the end, the bench press ended up looking the most appealing, it would’ve be too hard, and then some exercises  without the need of any weight or equipment. Lando helped you down onto the bench, sliding a few weights off the bar, and lifting it into your arms. “Good girl,” he said, your eyes widening at the nickname. 

It could’ve been taken innocently, as an accident, maybe, but the way he said it and the expression on Lando’s face very much contradicted such. You brushed it off as an accident or something, lifting the bar up with ease, your arms only shaking slightly with the weight. “Taking it so well,” Lando muttered, kneeling beside you as you tried not to meet his eyes, not wanting to show just how flustered you got from those words. 

You knew he was doing it on purpose. You could tell. “Few more f’me, then we can do some hip thrusts,” he said, his voice dropping lower than usual. You were gym buddies, sure, but there was no doubt about the slight tension ever since you met. He’d always been so good looking, especially after he’d finish a workout, all sweaty and shining, and the same for you. 

“You’ve got more stamina, keep going for me,” he said, hand on your hips to support you slightly. You lifted the weights, ignoring how your arms started shaking form the heaviness of the bar, his hand drawing small shapes onto your skin. “Done,” he said, lifting the bar back onto the rack. You could easily pass off your flustered red cheeks as due to the exercise, instead of Lando’s words.

You’d teased him equally as much during the past few times, and now you were getting a taste of your own medicine. “Some other exercises,” he walked up behind you, going to the small bench where you’d laid all your stuff. It was the late evening, now, meaning no one was in the gym, most people having dinner, resulting in an empty gym. 

“Push ups,” he said, thinking of exercises as he laid two mats out together, touching each other, very nearly overlapping due to how close they were. Lando got into the position as you followed, copying his stance. Your arms flexed slightly from the aching of the bench press as you leaned down, before going back. “20, then stop,” Lando said, his body moving way faster than yours. 

You finished a few seconds after Lando, sitting back up on your knees as you groaned. Lando chuckled his tongue, watching you rub your arms from the strain, a smirk on his face. “Aw, someone been slacking so much they find twenty push his hard?” Lando pulled a mock pout as you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut it Norris,” you said, going back to the list of exercises he’d pulled up. “Oh look at that,” he showed you the list, “hip thrusts,”. You raised an eyebrow at his tone, but shrugged. “Sure, who’s going first?” you asked. “Mmm, you can,” he said, looking at the rack of weights. “How much?” he asked, weighing up the small weights. “20,” you said, resting your knees straight, as he placed the weight onto your lap. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, the weight pushing down on your hips as Lando knelt beside you, watching. “Do fifteen,” he said, watching you push your hips up. “You’re not going down enough,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he watched your hips go up and down. “Deeper, Y/N.”. Your breath caught in your throat at the words, but you finished the rest of the exercise. 

*** “Your turn,” you said, “which weight?”. He hummed, as if thinking, before pointedly saying “30kg,”. Wow, will you look at that? The 30kg appeared to be missing. Well, hidden very badly behind the rack. “You’re not slick, Norris,” you rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what he wanted. 

“Me? What would I try to hide?” a sly grin coated his face as you rolled your eyes, watching him get into position. Rolling your eyes, you swung your left leg over his thighs, sitting onto his lap and adjusting slightly. You heard him take a shape inhale of breath as you wriggled a bit, his arms resting on the box behind him, knees bent. 

“How many are you gonna do?” you asked, watching as he shuffled beneath you, trying to hide his little…asset. You noticed, definitely, but Lando was just as capable of teasing you as you were him, so you ignored the feeling of his cock against your thigh. “Like, I dunno,” he shrugged, “as much as it takes to get you dripping on me,”. Your cheeks heartened at his words, your hands jumping o cover your face. 

Lando Norris well and truly had no filter. 

You gasped as he moved his hips up into you, his body moving smoothly as he went back down, your body bouncing slightly. His eyes were trained on your chest and the way your tits bounced with each movement, feeling the heat in your core. “Wet, yet?” he asked, a grin on his face as he moved quicker. 

You gasped, the only response going gave as he moved you up and down, his hips ricocheting into your body. The vibrations from his chest as Lando moved added to the feelings, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Now?” he asked, this time, you responded with a vehement nod. “Good,” he said, looking over his shoulder, the gym empty behind him. 

“Perfect,” he grinned, lifting you off of his lap. You watched as he stood up from the floor, sitting onto the work bench, pulling his shorts down as you watched. You were wearing a gym skirt with shorts underneath, the dampness slightly seeping through as you rubbed your thighs together. You couldn’t help the filthy thoughts as be slowly removed his shorts, your eyes widening at the size, his cock springing hard against his abdomen. 

“C’mere,” he said, voice deep as he beckoned you to him, taking your hand and moving it to his cock. “Feels good,” he muttered, letting you pump his cock slowly, his other hand pushing you to your knees. Your hand didn’t stop the movements as you sank to your knees, eyes never leaving his as you let him place his hand on the back of your hand. 

You inhaled sharply as he moved your hand off of his length, taking his cock into his own hand. “Lando,” you gasped as he tapped his dick onto the side of your cheek, prompting you to open your mouth. Your lips parted, letting him slide softly into your mouth, your warm tongue welcoming him well.

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, holding your head still as he rocked his hips into your mouth slightly, not enough to hurt you, but to give you some sort of restriction, your gags choked round his length. You were hyper aware of his hand running through your hair as your salvia coated his length. He pulled you off of him, going back to the hip thrust box. 

You sat back onto his lap as he pulled your shorts down, pumping his fingers softly inside of your core. “Oh fuck Lando,” you gasped, eyes rolling as he moved in and out of you, his index and middle finger moving apart from each other inside of you, stretching you out almost. 

“Oh shit,” you muttered, clinging to his biceps as he moved his finger, pressing his cock to your clit in the process. He pulled out, quickly replacing his fingers with his dick, letting you sink down. He held you up above him slightly, his hands on your hips as he moved his hips upwards into you. 

Wow, a workout and sex? Crazy. You moaned as Lando slammed upwards into you, his hands holding onto your waist firmly to keep you from bouncing or moving away, the knot in your stomach building up. “So pretty,” he gasped as you clenched round him, your eyes squeezed shut, “such a pretty thing,”. Your moans turned to whines at his words, your hands clinging to his shoulders. 

“Wanna cum for me, yeah?” he asked, eyes trained on you. You nodded vehemently, squeezing his biceps as he pounded into you, his face unforgiving and merciless. “You’re so pretty,” he said, words slurring as his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. “Such a gorgeous girl,” he gasped, “been wanting to fuck you for so long,”. His words were like a double turn on, your high building up with each word, as they got dirtier, filthier. 

“Saw you once and wanted to bend you over so good,” he said, “with your little teasing too,”. You moaned again, your high reaching it’s bursting pointing as you gasped, your orgasm washing over you, Lando’s thrusts getting sloppy as his own high washed over him, his head thrown back. 

Instinctively, you pressed your lips to his neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin, the access he’d given you helping to push him over the edge, his cum spilling inside of you, the thick warm liquid pooling between your legs. “Gonna tell my trainer I did some hip thrusts, he’ll buy it,” Lando muttered, still teasing after all that. 

“Tell him it was team building,” you giggled as he pulled out of you, grabbing his towel and cleaning up your thighs. “What we building here?” he snorted, lifting you slightly to clean your body up. “I dunno,” you shrugged, holding onto his shoulders. 

[ajortga]

my girl

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna is a bit too protective over you after you injure your leg, it's cute.

word count: 1.3k+

based off of request! (idk if i like this)

-

Jenna Ortega x F!reader where r broke her leg and jenna went very protective mode to r and would easily lose her temper whenever anyone tries getting close to r cause r is has a broken leg.. THANK YOUU

-

The light of the hospital casted a warm shade over you and Jenna as she carefully had a hand on your shoulder, making sure you didn’t fall. 

“Stupid nurses,” she mutters, looking at you with worry as you struggle to walk properly with crutches, your right leg limping by itself. "Hey, it's okay," she glances to your leg, rubbing it gently.

The girl looks at you, eyes soft, “Does it hurt?” You try your best to smile, nodding barely as your hands shake on the crutches, “I’ll get used to it, it’ll only be several weeks.”

Jenna’s hands, besides the one she just removed from your shoulder, are filled with bags and backpacks and some stuffed animal hanging out of it, making sure there is nothing disturbing you. 

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing your thigh as she guides you closer to the car, “They should’ve secured the stunt.”

“I’m sorry,” you instantly retaliate, “You’re holding all this heavy stuff, here let me try to help you. That backpack,” you point to the navy bag hung on her back, “I can carry i- No!” She shouts, immediately sitting you down to a bench.

“It’s okay baby, just sit here and I’ll be back okay?”

Before you can respond she’s waddling to your car.

It’s not long before she’s running to you, her sunglasses covering her pretty eyes. She leans down and lets you wrap your arms weakly around her shoulders. Jenna lifts you up, bridal style and manages to carry your two crutches with her.

-

Jenna’s protectiveness immediately shone through, you noticed it within the first couple of days.

Yelling at nurses to get you a wheelchair so you don’t have to limp with your crutches and struggle to open the door, glaring at other people when they get a little too close.

It was embarrassing when you accidentally let go of the book you were reaching for, a little too afraid to ask Jenna for help since you didn’t want her to get a staff. She had yelled at the person who worked there for making it too hard for her girlfriend to reach.

“I fucking swear, if one of your dumb ass books falls on her and I see it, I’m suing you,” she snaps. You two left the store within 10 minutes, you were practically tugging on her arm as she was yelling at the poor lady. Like a child trying to drag their parents to the toy selection. She had carried you out of the bookstore as you mouthed apologies to that lady.

-

“Oh damn, that looks even more Wednesday worthy,” Emma scrunches her nose, gently touching your cast around your leg. Jenna’s rubbing your thigh, cautiously looking at the short blonde-hair. Emma’s always been sweet and gentle, Jenna’s never snapped at her. 

She’s just making sure you don’t get hurt. You can tell from the way she looks at you, at others, eyes flickering everywhere.

Like if they don’t move, then some runaway piano will crash into you.

You comfort her, leaning into her touch. She sighs a little and plays with your hair.

Marker caps pop out as Emma looks at you, “Blue or yellow?”

“Both?”

“Of course,” she softly murmurs, writing silly sweet words on your cast with Jenna.

For a moment, you look at your phone, scrolling through social media and the pictures you have with your girlfriend. You hear a door open and Emma greeting Percy and some other of the cast.

“That stunt seriously got you into crutches?” Hunter asks, looking at your foot, “You’re okay though, right?”

You send him a grateful nod, “Could’ve been worse. But the stunt looks real now, right?” You joke and Jenna giggles slightly.

“How do you manage to fail that stunt? I mean, that’s honestly impressive.” Percy remarks, crossing his arms as your eyes narrow.

Jenna slowly turns to him, her mouth speaking for you, “I think it would’ve been better to have your foot broken. I would’ve smiled then.” Her voice dulls, monotone as she stares daggers at him, before turning back to you and kissing your collarbone.

Percy hums, a little annoyed, “Well, if I did the stunt, I would’ve done it perfectly. People who’d end up in a cast are just clumsy.”

You feel your eyes roll, a huff escaping your lips.

It isn’t long until you see Jenna, fuming, muttering a few inaudible curse words.

The man clasps his hands together, playing with his jacket as he grabs an apple from the apple basket, tossing it up and down.

“Hey Hunter, catch,” he shouts, aiming his apple to Hunter, who’s right in front of you.

“Percy watch it-” Jenna warns.

“Perc, I don’t think we should do it in here, maybe outsi-”

Hunter gets cut off as the apple comes jerkily towards him, with full speed. It’s not even going to his hand, it’s going where his waist is. He immediately steps to the side, and you feel the apple slam right where your leg is broken. You hiss in pain, jerking back as you cling onto Jenna. The pain rings through your whole body as Emma looks at him in shock. She looks at you, trying to gently rub it, “Oh my god, are you good?”

“Baby,” Jenna gasps, your eyes meeting hers as your lip trembles. You don’t have very good pain tolerance, embarrassment floods through you, your ears burning slightly. You hope you’re not crying because an apple hit your broken leg.

“Oh my gosh, do you want me to go back to the nurse?” She sniffs, brushing your hair back to comfort you. She understands your pain, it must’ve hurt like hell. You shake your head and try to distract yourself from the echoing pain. It hurt.

“Whoops, sorry Y/N, didn’t see you there,” he says, his genuine voice laced slightly with sarcasm. You don’t miss it. You almost feel like flipping him off.

Neither does your girlfriend. There’s fire crackling behind her eyes. 

She’s standing up, holding you close before grabbing the apple, scrunching it and throwing it to Percy with full force. 

You think it hit his nose, maybe broke it? Emma smirks, fistbumping Jenna as you curl into her more. 

“Oh fuck Percy,” Jenna gasps, dramatically, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. That was my bad,” she sarcastically says.

"You-" the man is about to retaliate when Jenna lifts the other apple basket next to her, "You wanna go?" She challenges, ready to throw another apple while doing some Street Fighter stunt and bouncing up and down.

"I'm going to throw this whole damn apple basket if you touch her," she warns, throwing another apple at him, he howls. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh fuck!"

She shrugs, lifting you up in her arms. 

Percy is cursing, his nose is slightly bleeding as he screeches like a child and runs to the bathroom. No one goes after him. 

“That was so badass,” says Hunter, watching Percy slam the door.

Jenna watches him with a grin on her face, looking down at you and rubbing your injured leg, “Are you hurt?” Even with all that time, your leg is hurting. You nod, slightly, as she kisses your temple. 

“Let’s get you home, Em, I’m going to head out a little early.”

The blonde nods with understanding, “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Hope your leg is okay Y/N, I’ll make sure to throw the basket of apples when Percy comes out. Maybe I can break his nose again?”

That makes you chuckle as you hold onto your girlfriend, “That sounds good.”

Jenna smiles at you, nuzzling her nose to yours, “Bye, Em!”

Emma smiles to you two, at least every person in the room is holding an apple and eyeing the door. “Bye, Jenna! Bye, Y/N! Love you!”

You three blow each other kisses as she gets to drive you to her apartment.

It’s not long before she’s carefully carrying you, ignoring the way you try to resist and telling her you can walk by yourself. The rest of the night is spent with her in the bath with you, one injured foot resting up while you two are soaked in bubbles. You two end it off with cuddling each other.

“Gosh I love you,” she sighs, “Can’t believe someone would actually go out of their way to mess with my pretty girl.”

You press your finger to her nose, “I should tape a warning sign on your forehead, “Caution, if you touch her girlfriend she will physically hunt you” maybe that would work?” 

She slaps your arm, rolling her eyes, “Maybe.”

“That’s my girl.”

[lives-between-lines]

With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean - poly!marauders x slytherin!reader

─

Summary: Preparing for the dreaded OWLs proves to be a difficult task for one tightly-wound Slytherin. How do Remus, James, and Sirius each offer assistance, and how does she handle it?

Notes: No Voldemort, but pureblood elitism is still very much a thing. Story starts at the end of the Marauders and Reader’s fifth year. I don’t know the most about all the Marauders Era headcanons so I kind of did what I wanted, sorry if you don’t like it. 

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~7.8k

p.1

─

I huffed as I reached for another heavy book on the shelf from one of the dark back corners of the library. I wasn’t in the restricted section just yet, but getting close to it. Between the weight of the other five books stacked in my arm and the height of the shelf I was trying to reach I nearly dropped them all. 

“Careful, there, Princess. Might break something lugging around all those books,” someone said next to me. I nearly jumped as I hadn’t noticed anyone come down this same aisle. 

I shot a glare at him for startling me. It was none other than Remus Lupin, one of those pesky Gryffindors who was constantly fighting me for my space at the top of the class. My glare intensified when I realized who it was.

“Yes, and it would sure be a shame if I managed to drop these on your foot and break something there,” I snarked. 

He looked amused at me. “Whoa, Princess, no need to get feisty with me. I was just going to offer my assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance should I accept from you when you’re just as likely to try and trick me?” Lupin gave me a weary look. Typical of Gryffindors to think everyone is as blindly trusting as them.

“No tricks, Princess, just offering a bit of help,” he said with a shrug.

“Would you stop that? Stop calling me that,” I snapped at him before turning back to the book I needed. Before I could make a second attempt to reach for it, Remus stepped up next to me and I froze. But then he grabbed the book for me and set it on top of my stack then took a step back. 

“Not a fan of your nickname?” He was of course referring to me being known as Slytherin’s Princess. Sometimes I like to pretend the nickname came about because I’m always top of the class, making my house proud, but I know the real reason is because I come from a wealthy, pureblood, Slytherin family and everyone thought me rather spoiled. 

“I am not some simpering girl in need of a man to save her and it’ll do good for the people in this school to remember that.” Despite his significant height, I lifted my chin to Remus Lupin and dared him to say otherwise. 

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, nodding his head and holding up his hands. “But you are Slytherin’s Princess, aren’t you?” His eyes light up in amusement at my frustration. 

My nostrils flare as I hold back my anger. It doesn’t do me any good to blow up at some stupid Gryffindor, not when that is exactly what he wants and I am not in the business of giving Gryffindors what they want.

Instead, I turn to walk away. Take the high-ground as they say. 

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” Remus calls after me, quickly catching up to and following me. “Seriously, dove, I’m sorry. I was only joking. Please, let me help you with whatever on earth you could possibly need all these books for.”

I stop abruptly and turn toward him. “And why should I accept help from someone like you?” I nearly growl at him, barely holding back my frustrations.

Remus looks taken aback by my words. “Someone like me? You mean a half-blood?”

It’s my turn to be startled by him. “I mean a Gryffindor,” I bite out. This was exactly why I couldn’t stand this brutish group, they were always so quick to jump to outrageous assumptions, thinking the worst of someone like me just because I’m in Slytherin.

He looks relieved and confused at the same time, but I don’t really care to help him unpack his complex emotions about the exact reasoning behind why I don’t trust him. 

I dump my books down onto the table I had claimed earlier and began to scour the table of contents in the first one. Uninvited, Remus took the chair next to me and began looking over my shoulder at the book. 

“Can I help you, Lupin? Or are you just interested in being a nuisance?” 

“I’m glad to be a nuisance any day, but as I’ve said before I was actually hoping to help you.”

“And as I’ve said before I’m not looking for any help.” 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Is that this close to our OWLs you’re scouring books for something that you think you’ve missed, but you’ve been at the top of our classes all year, so I highly doubt you’ve managed to miss anything of real importance.” I give him a confused look, trying to discern how he’s figured me out so easily. Except he’s wrong, of course, I did somehow manage to lose the year a specific herb was realized to have certain medicinal properties. “So now I’m trying to answer the question of what does little miss Slytherin Princess think that she desperately needs to know, and will that really be the determining factor in her score on her OWLs?”

I glance around to make sure no one else is listening to me admitting defeat in front of a Gryffindor. “I don’t have the year we began to use hyssop to treat earaches,” I murmur. 

Remus’s face seems to fall at my admission. “That’s what you’re so concerned about? A minor herb’s medicinal use? Not even that, you already know that, but what year that was discovered? That is such a niche detail, there is absolutely no way Sprout asks us that.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously Sprout’s not going to ask us about that, it’s Binns that I’m worried about,” I explain. Although I really shouldn’t be giving my enemy any help in preparing for our upcoming tests. I was just as desperate to best him on these tests as I’m sure he was me. 

“Binns?” He asks, outraged. “Binns would never ask about that in a million years.”

“You don’t know that, no one knows that. We had a lecture on the history of medicinal herbs, hyssop was one of them.”

“And so you really think that from that one lecture he’s going to ask us when hyssop was discovered to help with earaches?”

“I was reviewing my notes and I had written down the year but it got smudged.”

“You’re actually a raving lunatic,” Remus tells me. He looks around the library like he might get up and leave, but then he turns back to me. “I realize these are the most important tests of the year, but I think you have way overestimated the difficulty of the questions that will be on them.”

“And I think you can never be too safe.”

We hold each other’s gaze for several moments. Remus finally blinks and then sighs. “Confound it all, fine. Hand me one.” He holds his hand out expectantly. 

I stare at him, confused. 

“Well? Are we going to look for this blasted year or not?” I blink out of my stupor and hand him one of the books I had grabbed. 

We sit in silence for a long while, pouring over the texts. The only sound in this part of the library is us turning pages. The first book I look through doesn’t contain my answer, and neither must the book Remus has. Although I am tempted to go back later and double check he didn’t find it and not tell me in an effort to trick me. 

After I get through two more books and Remus goes through three, I can’t stop myself from asking the question that had been nagging in the back of my head the entire time. 

“Why exactly are you helping me? Surely you’d much rather be focused on your own studying.”

Remus slowly pulls his attention away from the book in front of him. He blinks at me and then furrows his brows. “Sorry, I know you said something, I just didn’t quite catch what,” he admits. 

I can’t help the small laugh at his honesty. “Why are you helping me? I thought you’d want to be studying for your OWLs.”

“I am studying for my OWLs,” he replies, tauntingly. I roll my eyes at him. 

“Come on, you know what I meant,” I push. 

He shrugs and I think that’s going to be all the answer I get, then after a pause he says, “you’ve intrigued me. I’m curious now to find out when we started using hyssop for earaches.” There’s something about his tone that’s off, but I mark it down to him just teasing me. “Besides, I’m already plenty prepared to get a perfect score and take my spot at the top of the class.”

I laugh at his taunting. “Clearly not prepared enough if you’re not well versed in the history of hyssop,” I tease back. 

He gives me a winning smile and something in my chest stutters at it. I must just be unsettled by his obviously false flattery. 

“Can I ask you something in return?” He asks after a moment. 

I consider him, then reply, “I don’t promise to answer, but you’re welcome to ask.” 

He smiles again and this time it feels like my heart has been squeezed just a bit. “Well I suppose that’s fair. But are you always so…” he trails off and I get nervous at where he’s going with this. “Well, are you always so intense about knowing every little detail?” He finally finishes. 

It must be relief that floods my veins when he doesn’t ask anything backhanded or rude. I actually give him a smile before glancing down at my lap. 

“I have to be, don’t I? There’s one way to stay where I am and it’s by rigorous study,” I admit. 

“Is it really so important to stay at the top that you have to obsess like this, though?” 

I think back to what happened when I would slack off with my studies at home before coming to Hogwarts. I can’t help the way my face falls at the memories. 

“I suppose it might not be so important to a Gryffindor, but success is a high priority in Slytherin,” I finally respond. It seems when I don’t know how to react I lash out, although Remus is lucky to have caught me in a good mood as I let him off rather easily. 

Nonetheless he still looks a bit dejected by my response. I feel a bit bad for shutting him down when we had been starting to get along rather well. 

“We should probably focus on the matter at hand, though, if we ever want to find our answer before curfew,” I say, returning to the book in front of me. 

“Right…” Remus murmurs. Part of me expects him to leave at that point, after all that’s when everyone else does. He surprises me when he stays and doubles down his efforts. 

I open my mouth, to say what I’m not entirely sure. I close my mouth again when I realize that I want to apologize. There’s no way that Remus wants some half baked apology from me. 

Time passes in silence, the both of us occupied with our search, but my mind keeps wandering to the way I had snapped at Remus. I didn’t understand why he had sat down to help me, but I shouldn’t have antagonized him for asking a simple question. It wasn’t his fault that the answer wasn’t so simple. 

I can’t help stealing glances of him every few minutes, which significantly hinders my speed in reading my book, but Remus doesn't seem to notice and I can’t get myself to stop. This means that I notice almost immediately when Remus freezes suddenly. I try not to react, not wanting to have been caught looking.

“Holy shit!” He nearly shouts, someone nearby shushes him loudly, but he’s too busy jumping out of his seat to mind. “Oh, Merlin’s beard I actually found it!” He whispers loudly this time and pumps his fist. Standing at his height above me while I sit next to him I have to strain my neck to look up at his face, but it’s such a beautiful sight with how excited he is.

“You mean you actually found the year?” I ask, matching his excitement.

He nods enthusiastically at me then points to the line of text that contains the answer we’d spent hours searching for. “Yes, yes, look! It’s right there.”

We celebrate as quietly as we can and I quickly jot down the information into my notes. 

“Oh, thank you, Remus! You’ve just saved me probably three hours.” I stand to join him. It’s then that I finally check the time and realize just how close it is to curfew. “Ah, shit,” I murmur. “We should turn in for the night. I don’t fancy having a run-in with Filch tonight.”

“Let me walk you to your dorm?” Remus offers.

“What? It’s nearly curfew, you’ll risk getting in trouble with Filch. No, I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to my dorms for the night,” I reply firmly. 

“Don’t worry about me, dove, I can handle myself. Let me walk you to your dorm.” This time Remus sounds more like he’s telling me than asking me. Nevertheless I nod in agreement and we make our way to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. 

On the way down, Remus teases me lightly about how obsessed I must be to dedicate so much effort into finding such a small detail. I tease him back about him being a nerd for helping me look for the answer. It’s lighthearted and easy and part of me thinks I could get used to having Remus as a friend. Another part of me questions what it would look like for me to be friends with a Gryffindor and whether my parents would approve or not. Then the first part kicks the second part for being such a self-obsessed ass. 

Just outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room I wave goodbye to Remus and wish him a good night. I try not to blush when he calls me “dove,” and dart into the safety of the common room. 

─

The next few weeks Remus seems to make it a habit of running into me in the library when I would otherwise be alone. In the past I had tried studying with Narcissa or Andromeda but the pair of them had bad habits of wanting to chat while I wanted to actually study, so my time in the library had previously been spent alone. 

Remus was different, though. He understood my desire to focus on the material in front of me and not whether or not his hair was looking frizzier than normal. 

Before I knew it I had come to rather enjoy his company. It felt almost reassuring that there was someone else who was similarly interested in studying, but wanted to do it with me. Somehow it was like studying at the same table as him made studying that much better, even if nothing of substance had changed. 

─

On a Saturday morning, a couple weeks before we were to begin taking our OWLs, I went out to the Black Lake just before the sun rose. I had slept fitfully, getting more and more nervous for the tests ahead of me. There was so much pressure to do good on these, I didn’t know what I would do if I were anything less than perfect. 

I don’t know why exactly I came out here, I just knew that I needed fresh air. Without much else of a plan, I sat down at the trunk of a tree and pulled out my wand. I practiced a couple small charms and transfigurations on the branches and rocks around me. 

“I’d say that rock doesn’t stand a chance against you, but I’d like to know what it did to deserve such treatment in the first place.”

I dropped the spell I had been using to propel the rock in the air and it fell swiftly. There likely wasn’t anyone in the school who I would not have been shocked to see, but I was especially shocked it was none other than James Potter. He’s a fairly popular boy my age in Gryffindor, mostly known for his outspokenness and disruptive behavior. If my memory serves me right, which it always does, he’s actually friends with Remus Lupin.

“What are you doing out here so early?” I can’t help but ask.

“I could ask the same of you,” he points out. I finally take him in at that moment. He’s wearing loose shorts and an old Gryffindor quidditch t-shirt that he’s cut the bottom half off to show off his athletic build. His curly hair is a mess atop his head, but I get the notion it’s always like that. When I meet his eyes I’m struck by how blue they are that I can notice even with him standing several feet in front of me. I can’t help but think to myself how pretty he is. He gives me a dorky smile, as if used to the attention but still not sure how to respond.

“Couldn’t sleep so well. Thought some fresh air would do me some good,” I finally answer, not acknowledging how I’d just been looking at him.

“Some fresh air and tormenting rocks?” He teases.

“Is that all you think we Slytherins do? Torment everything?” I huff. 

His face twists at my response. “No, no that’s not what I meant at all. It was just a joke, most people laugh at them.”

I sigh and lean back against the trunk of the tree. “I’m sorry, I’m just a bit on edge,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I feel the urge to open up to this next to perfect stranger.

James takes a few steps closer and I tense up, but he just takes a seat next to me under the tree. “What’s got you so on edge?” 

“Is that another one of your jokes? The OWLs obviously.”

“Oh, right. I suppose those are coming up soon.” He pauses and tears some grass in front of him. “What’re you stressed over those for?” 

My brows pinch together and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “They’re only the most important tests of the entire school year, of our entire schooling career thus far! These will determine our entire futures.”

It’s James’s turn to look at me like I’m crazy. “They’re just another test, though. And I really don’t see how they’ll determine our entire futures,” he says plainly. 

I scoff and roll my eyes. Leave it to a Gryffindor to blow off something so important. 

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole thing about being perfect in every subject and staying ahead of everyone else, so I’ll make you a deal.” I turn to him, my interest piqued. “If you do any less than perfect on each of your OWLs, I’ll turn all the professor’s hair purple,” he offers.

My jaw drops at his suggestion. “What on earth would that accomplish?”

“Well I figure people won’t be talking about what grade you got on your OWLs if they’re too busy talking about Dumbledore with a lilac beard,” he’s laughing even as he says it. I laugh, too, at that image. 

“Make it bright pink and I’ll help you,” I reply through giggles. 

James gives me his award-winning dorky smile and I can’t tear my eyes away. 

“Seriously, though, I’ll bet you’ve already gotten perfect scores on every other test this year, there can’t be anyone else more prepared than you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, not used to outright compliments that weren’t also an insult. My gaze falls to where James is still fiddling with the grass. “A bit antsy, are you?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’ve been trying to work on that. I actually came out here to go for a run, it helps me burn some of my extra energy before the day so I can focus a bit better.”

I can’t imagine wanting to start the day by burning through energy, I often woke up with barely enough to make it through the day. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to be keeping you. I can go back inside if you want to run by yourself,” I offer and even before I finish talking, I’m pushing to stand up. 

“No, no you’re fine!” He’s quick to reassure me. “Please, stay. Actually if you want you could join me, it might help you clear your mind.”

I consider for a moment before deciding to agree. There couldn’t be much harm in it, it was still at least another hour before most people would get up for the day and I didn’t have anything better to do. 

While we run I can’t help glancing over to James, who’s clearly in his own world.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, slowly illuminating our path. At one point the sun is behind James when I steal another glance at him, and the way the light catches on his features makes him look like a real life angel.

James proves to be right, the run did help me to clear my mind. When we stop back where we had started I’m feeling significantly lighter than before, even if I am breathing significantly heavier. 

“That was… fun,” I am slow to admit. “Thank you, Potter.”

“Anytime, darling.” He gives me another goofy smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like, I come out at the same time everyday.”

“I just might take you up on that.”

─

I don’t know what makes me do it, but I take James Potter up on his offer every day for a week straight. I quickly come to enjoy the ritual of it, waking up before dawn, sneaking out of my dorm, getting the fresh air and clearing my mind before the day. 

James’s presence was a reassuring one, even if we didn’t always talk much. I had the sense that he would listen to anything I needed to say and offer encouragement. 

As our OWLs loom ever closer I come to rely on our runs to center me in the mornings more and more, but I also question how long James will continue to let me join him. He never says anything to indicate he doesn’t want me to join, though, so I take him at face value and keep meeting him under our tree every morning. 

─

The night before we’re to start our OWLs I find myself unable to sleep for even a minute. Of course this wasn’t a problem for my dorm mates who had fallen asleep at least two hours ago. 

I toss and turn, thinking that maybe if I could just get comfortable I could get to sleep. Of course I have no such luck. Eventually I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. 

I don’t have to worry about being too quiet as I climb out of my bed, pull on a jumper, and slip on my sneakers. I’ve mastered this routine from sneaking out for my morning runs. 

Two years prior Narcissa was sniffling and sneezing her brains out, but didn’t want to wake Madam Pomfrey for medicine. Andromeda insisted we could take care of her ourselves, she just needed a good, hot cup of tea to clear her system. I never knew where she learned it, but she showed me a way to slip into the kitchens undetected. She then showed me which cabinet to find the herbs in, and also which herbs were the right ones. And then she showed me how to use the kettle. 

It was amazing how much better Narcissa was able to sleep after she finished her cup of tea, and the next day she was right as rain. I quickly became obsessed with the simple magic behind a “good cup of tea” and asked Andromeda to tell me everything she knew about the different recipes and ingredients. When her knowledge proved to be rather limited I went on a rampage in the library until I was satisfied─ a good two weeks later. 

My plan was a simple blend to help me sleep and settle my nerves. Chamomile and cinnamon was sounding particularly tasty, although I was considering whether I might like lavender with rosemary more. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice at first there was already someone else in the kitchens. Thankfully when I did I only jumped a little. 

Confused, I stared at Sirius Black as he took a kettle off one of the stoves. He gave me an amused look in return. 

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He guessed.

“No, I’m quite afraid not.”

He gave me a sad smile in understanding. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cup,” he offered. I can’t say why I listened, but I did. Maybe in a moment of weakness before a highly stressful event I didn’t care that I didn’t know him much, I just wanted to let someone take care of me. 

“Any preference on what kind?” He asks.

“Hmm, I was debating between chamomile with cinnamon or lavender with rosemary,” I say. Then, because I can’t help myself, I proceed to list off my many thoughts on the benefits of each ingredient and what might best suit my current situation. 

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice that Sirius has made a decision for me and already started steeping the herbs in the water. I’ve somehow veered off onto what might make a good combination if Sirius was having a headache, or if his headache was caused by a cold and he had other symptoms what could help with that. 

To his credit, he never once interrupts or even looks bored. In fact the entire time he seems to regard me with mild amusement, and I begin to get the impression that everything he encounters in life amuses him. 

I don’t even stop rambling about tea when he sets my cup in front of me. After taking a sip, I start to tell him how very fond I am of lemon balm, then pause when I finally realize the cup of tea is already made. 

For the first time since Sirius asked what kind of tea I wanted, he is finally given a chance to say something. “Are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Ravenclaw?”

I scoff at his suggestion. “Don’t be absurd, Slytherins can be just as studious as Ravenclaws, we just typically hold our cards a little closer to our chest.”

“Right.” He nods. “This was you holding your cards close to your chest?” He then questions.

“Well it’s not like there’s any great secret behind tea. And besides, even if I haven’t been able to sleep I am quite tired.” A yawn escapes me just then to prove my point. “Narcissa always complains about my tendency to ramble when I’m tired.”

“Why would she complain? I found it rather entertaining,” he says, lightheartedly. Even though his tone has a hint of joking to it, I feel like he’s being honest. 

I give him a small smile before taking another sip from my cup. It’s still quite hot, but the flavors are still strong. “Mmm, this is quite delicious,” I compliment. “Is it chamomile with… rosemary?” 

Sirius gives me a proud grin. “Ten points to Slytherin,” he jokes. A smile falls on my face. 

“What have you made for yourself?” I ask, glancing at his cup. 

“Vanilla and rose.” 

“That sounds lovely. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“James’s mum makes it for us all the time. Do you want to try a sip?” He offers. I nod quickly and he passes over his cup. Sure enough it’s a delightful mixture. I tell him such and he tells me the measurements so that I can make it for myself. 

“So what’s keeping you up on this otherwise peaceful night?” Sirius asks.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I groan. He looks at me dumbly, confused as to what the obvious answer might be. “We start our OWLs tomorrow,” I scoff. 

“Merlin, you can’t really be this stressed about it.” He sounds disbelieving, though I’m not sure why. 

“I can and I am,” I say, matter-of-factly. He rolls his eyes and turns to begin putting away the tea kettle. “Why are you up, if not because of the OWLs?” I then ask.

“Not for any good reason. Have always had trouble sleeping,” he says, but the tightness in his voice, and the way he tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear tells me there’s something else he doesn’t want to share. I can’t fault him for that, though. “Which of your OWLs do you feel most prepared for?” He asks after a moment of tense silence. 

It throws me off for just a second. Most people want to know which test I’m most nervous for, want to know what area I’m weakest in, where the chip in my armor is so that they might strike there. I consider for a moment, not wanting to say something that I end up bombing. Eventually, I decide on my favorite subject. Sirius seems to accept that answer without pushing any further, so I turn it on him. 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he answers almost immediately. “I want to be an auror,” he brags. 

I roll my eyes at the proud smirk on his face. “Of course you do.”

“Well? What do you want to be?” Sirius asks as if expecting a lame answer such as archivist. 

“My parents want me to be an alchemist,” I reply in what I would guess is a lame answer.

“That’s great for them, what do you want to be, though?” Looking into his eyes at that moment feels as if he’s staring into my soul. 

“I… I don’t know,” I mumble slowly and my brows furrow. I can’t help but look at my cup of tea, half empty at this point. No one had ever asked me what I wanted before, not when it came to something so major. It was always assumed I would follow the path my parents laid for me. 

When I find the courage to look back up to Sirius he has a sympathetic look on his face. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snap.

In return, Sirius’s face pinches in anger. “I wasn’t looking at you any type of way,” he defends.

“Yes, you were, you had this look on your face like you were sad for me,” I accuse. “Don’t be sad for me.”

“I’m not sad for you─”

“Good, because you have no reason to be. My life is great and everything is perfectly fine.” The way I say it even Sirius can tell that I’m trying to convince myself more than him at this point. I let out a frustrated sigh. I want to say something about how I’m a great witch and I’m meant to be an alchemist, but another voice in my head whispers to explain how I really feel.

“Look,” I start, then trail off. 

“It’s complicated,” he finishes for me. “I get it. I’m sure you know about my family, you know I get it.” His voice is so soft as he talks to me, as if I’m a frightened animal. But despite my flaws I am still a Slytherin, and I do not appreciate being treated like a frightened animal. 

“Leave it to a Gryffindor to be so self-absorbed they assume everyone knows their tragic tale of woe. Maybe instead of staying up late to make tea and trying to relate to girls you hardly know you should work on your form for your smokescreen spell.” The words spill out of me before I even consider them. I don’t even take the time to be shocked at my outburst. Instead I storm off. 

“Yeah, you’re one to talk about self-absorbed, Princess!” He shouts at my back. I nearly flinch at the nickname, but keep going out of the kitchens and straight back up to my dorm.

─ 

The morning before the first day of our OWLs testing I follow my same routine. I wake up early to run with James, and he tries to ask if I’m feeling alright, but I brush him off and neither of us acknowledges the way I push myself harder on this run than I ever had before. 

After our run, I go back up to my dorm to shower and get ready for the day. My dorm mates still haven’t caught on yet that I’ve started getting up hours earlier. They do ask if I’m feeling flush and press their hands to my forehead, though. I shove them off with a grumbled, “I’m fine,” and shove my things for the day into my bag. 

In the Great Hall I can hardly stomach a plain slice of toast, but I just manage to get it down with some orange juice. I feel a bit queasy, but today is too important to pay that feeling any mind. 

On my way to the first test of the day, I think back to Remus’s reassuring words from our study session the night before. 

“Look, I know trying to reassure you that you’ll do great won’t get through to you, even if I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Remus says softly, almost hesitantly. “Instead I hope you know that it will be okay if you aren’t perfect.” My heart hits my stomach and I drop my quill. I start to shut down, prepare to lash out. Why would he say that? He thinks I won’t be perfect? 

“Maybe other people will have different opinions, but I will still be your friend and I know that everything will turn out okay for you.”

Oh. My heart flutters back to life. We’re friends? 

For once in my life, I do not lash out at someone for trying to get closer to me, for saying something honest that I wasn’t ready to hear. 

I give him a sad smile. “Thanks, Remus.” I pause for a long moment. “I’m glad you’re my friend,” I whisper. Then, because I’m not sure how to proceed after that, I stiffly turn back to my notes. Remus, ever the gentleman, goes back to his book and doesn’t push me any further. 

I don’t think anyone had ever told me before that it was okay to be anything less than perfect, but his words become my mantra for the day. 

“It will be okay if I’m not perfect,” I think to myself as I walk into the classroom. 

I take a seat next to Narcissa. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

The professor instructs us to start. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I read over every question three times. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I double check each of my answers. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I finish the last question. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

I walk up to the front of the class and turn in my test. It will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

As I leave the classroom I’ve almost convinced myself that it will be okay if I’m not perfect. 

My stomach begins to churn and I walk straight to the nearest bathroom, into one of the stalls, and promptly begin to lose my breakfast. I hear the door open behind me when I’ve stopped heaving. 

“Think you’ve found yourself in the wrong bathroom, Princess,” someone says mockingly. Footsteps come closer to me. “Oh shit, are you okay?”

I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall door behind me, so I’m able to turn and see Sirius Black. Again. I give him a horrified look. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing in the girls’ room?” I nearly shout at him.

“Actually you’re the one who’s walked into the boys’ room,” he informs me. I give him a disbelieving look until he shifts and my gaze falls on a line of urinals behind him. My face blushes profusely and I stare at Sirius, mortified. He gives me a pitying look. “It’s okay, pretty girl, you’re clearly not feeling well. Stay there for a moment.”

Still in shock, I stay put. I hear the sink running for a moment, then Sirius comes back with a damp towel. He hands it to me to wipe my face. 

“Thanks,” I murmur. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he replies. With a tender hand, he helps me to my feet when I’m ready. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey, then.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. It must’ve just been something I had at breakfast,” I lie. 

Sirius gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve clearly worried yourself sick and we both know it.”

I don’t reply as I follow him out of the bathroom. My plan was to start going in the direction of the hospital wing, then double back to the library to keep studying. Sirius’s plan was to follow me.

“I’m more than capable of walking myself to the hospital wing,” I say tersely. 

“And I’m more than capable of walking with you. I’m glad we’ve determined our abilities for this excursion.” 

I shoot him a glare that would scare off most other people. Sirius doesn’t even blink at me. My new plan: ignore Sirius as he insists on walking me to see Pomfrey. 

“How did you feel about it?” He asked after a moment. 

I don’t respond. 

“I personally thought some of the questions were a bit repetitive, like I had to explain myself multiple times.” 

I stay strong. 

“But maybe that’s a bad sign that I didn’t do as good as I thought.” 

Just keep staring straight ahead, he has to shut up eventually, I think to myself. 

“On the second question─”

“Would you just shut up already?” I snapped. I was stressed enough over how I did without reliving it with someone I didn’t even like. 

Sirius holds his hands up defensively. “Someone’s cranky,” he says with a laugh.

“I am not cranky, I just don’t particularly care to discuss the test with you.” My eyes roll of their own volition. 

“What should you care to discuss then?” He asks. 

“With you? Not much.” Maybe if I can discourage him enough he’ll grow bored and wander off. 

“It’s a bit of a trek to the hospital wing from here, though, and I’ve found conversation to be a great way to pass time.” Of course, I should know that Gryffindors are not so easily discouraged.

“I’ve found that there’s no reason for you to walk all the way to the hospital wing with me.” 

“Wow, are you like this all the time?” He finally snaps back.

“Like what?” I pretend to be ignorant. 

He scoffs at me. “Rude, Princess. Are you always so rude?”

I flare up at the nickname. The way he says it, it feels like he knows I don’t like it. 

“Nobody asked you to pester me,” I say. 

“Most people would consider this an act of kindness, not pestering.”

“How unfortunate for you that I am not like most people.” 

“It would do you a bit of good to learn something from them, maybe you could start with some manners.”

“I’m perfectly well mannered, thank you very much. You’re the one who didn’t listen when I told you I was fine to walk by myself, and you’re the one working yourself up by staying with me when you could bug off to literally anywhere else.” With that I begin to speed up to leave him behind.

Sirius actually stops for just a moment, as if really considering my words. Then he rushes to catch up to me. “No, I want to know what’s so bloody great about you,” he says. 

I give him a strange look. “I never claimed for anything to be so great about me.”

“Maybe not but you sure act like it, so tell me: what is so bloody great about you? What makes you so special that you think yourself better than everyone else here?”

It’s my turn to stop in my tracks. “Who the hell said I think I’m better than everyone?”

“No one has to say it, Princess.” The way he says Princess feels like venom on his tongue. 

I want to hit him. Punch him in the face and give him a great bloody nose. I want to hex him. Maybe knock him off his feet. I want to scream at him. Scream that I don’t think myself better than everyone, that I’m just an imposter pretending to be perfect all the time. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect.

Tears start to well in my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was eleven and my family was getting ready to drop me off at Hogwarts for the first time. 

“Do not cry, darling, it’s unbecoming,” my mother says to me. “Soon you will be sorted into Slytherin and prepare to continue your family’s legacy. You must show strength at all times, even if you do not feel it. We can not be perceived as weak.”

A single tear snakes out of the corner of my eye and down the apple of my cheek. I look down and it falls to the ground by my feet. Another tear falls, and before I know it I am fully crying. I start to struggle to breathe. 

When I look back up to Sirius he looks terrified. He must think he’s what’s made me cry. The truth is it’s the last five years that have built up to weigh on me continually. It’s the way my life was gilded and no one had ever cared to look below the surface until a few weeks ago when Remus Lupin offered to help me study. Until James Potter offered to go for a run. Until Sirius Black offered me a cup of tea. 

My quiet tears begin to turn into choked sobbing as I realize how sad my life really was, that these three Gryffindors had shown me a kind of genuine caring that I hadn’t known could exist. 

Hesitantly, Sirius takes my hand to lead me over to a nearby bench so I can sit down and try to collect myself. It takes several minutes for me to control my breathing, and several more for my tears to subside. I finally look down to notice that I’m still holding Sirius’s hand, that I’d actually been holding it quite firmly. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse, as I release his hand from my grasp. “You were right. Everything is so very complicated.”

Sirius gives me that same look he did last night, and I realize. He wasn’t sad for me, he understood me. But how was it fair that he would get to leave, when his brother and I were left behind with our authoritarian families? Selfishly, I think maybe he could show me the way.

I sit there, lost in my thoughts, for a long while. Sirius stays with me. Eventually the bells toll to indicate it was time for lunch. When I glance up at Sirius, he’s already looking at me. 

“Can I make you an offer?” He asks. 

I grow weary at his words. “I would suppose that depends on what the offer is.”

“Well, your eyes are red and swollen and you’ve got mascara tracked down your cheeks,” he starts and I grow horrified as I realize what I must look like. There was no way I could go into the Great Hall looking like the mess I surely am. He lets out a small laugh at my expression. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll grab us some lunch from the Great Hall. We can meet in the south courtyard.”

I was amazed that even after I’d been so mean to him, he would still be so kind to me. 

“That would be quite nice actually. Thank you,” I reply softly. 

Sirius gives me a swift nod, then helps me to stand up. We go our separate ways, me to my dorm to wash my face and apply some fresh mascara and concealer, and Sirius to the Great Hall. 

─

I’ve just sat down in a corner of the courtyard for a couple minutes when Sirius shows up. I try not to look too shocked when James and Remus appear with him. Of course, I knew they were all friends, they went galavanting around the entire school proclaiming themselves marauders, but I’d never interacted with all three of them together. 

It suddenly occurs to me that they likely share a dorm, and very well could have planned this all to be some grand prank on me. But they had all seemed so genuinely kind to me until this point, and I was so tired of constantly second guessing everyone’s intentions. I decided that if this were some prank I would let them have their fun at me, then show them the real wrath of Slytherin. 

The three of them quickly set up a small picnic and begin lighthearted conversation. James compliments the way my hair looks today. Sirius teases James for the way his hair looks everyday, although I would argue it flatters him I don’t say that aloud. Remus gives me a knowing look as the two begin bickering. 

Spending time with the three of them is easy, and feels right. Like it was always meant to be the four of us all together. None of them mentions my earlier breakdown, or even anything to do with our tests. I wonder what Sirius told them before they all came out here. Whatever it was, none of them shows me any judgment so I can guess he must have skipped over my rude behavior. 

I’m sad when the bells ring again to signify the end of lunch. We clean up our area of the courtyard, then head back inside. Over the course of my time with the boys I feel my spirits lifted significantly, feeling much better and ready to face the next two weeks of tests. 

It will be okay if I’m not perfect, I think to myself again, and this time I really do believe it. Because even if I’m only just getting to know Remus, James, and Sirius, I know that they are my friends and they’ll be there for me.

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — bakugou hates feeling jealous. but you make it worthwhile.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader. absolutely none. sfw. / note. katsuki is a cutie patootie.

jealous bakugou is something else. he doesn’t think he’s all that possessive of you at all - he doesn’t care if your outfit is skimpy or if you have guy friends. bakugou regards himself as very secure in his relationship with you.

until he hears what guys have to say about you. then he gets a little crazy.

it’s an open day where he’s helping a group of lackies and hero interns with integrating into his agency and it’s pretty innocent at first. kiri and deku are doing most of the heavy lifting with talking with the prospective sidekicks and heroes (katsuki is very content with the extras he has already). he’s already kind of distracted by seeing you this morning - you offered to lift a hand and do some extra work around his agency for today due to the unusual amount of people scoping his place out and why would he pass on an offer to see you around his agency all day?

unfortunately for katsuki, it means that he’s being increasingly more distant than he usually is and the interns can feel the disgusted energy emitting from every fibre in his body. it’s not like he’s trying to hide it though - what a waste to have you come to his workplace and only catch glimpses of your hair and your scent.

“kacch- dynamight? what do you look for in a sidekick who wants to potentially join this agency,” asks izuku, pulling his friend out of his thoughts. katsuki looks at the crowd of young, probably high school kids and they basically cower under his gaze. he recognises a few of them from other, unimportant events he can’t seem to specifically recall. god, he wants to bite back at them but he shrugs in annoyance.

“don’t piss me off and do as you’re told. simple as but it seems like you lot would still f-”, deku quickly interjects katsuki and yells out, “okay! let’s take a quick 10 minute break! just have a look around and we’re free if you have any questions you want to ask!”

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

“what is with you today, kacchan? you’re more… insolent than usual,” asks izuku slowly, watching the expression on his blond’s face meld into a face of indifference.

“maybe it’s the fact that i don’t care about these idiots who’re just making a goddamn mess of the place. i don’t need more extras to fuck shit up f’me,” bakugou grumbles. kirishima pats his moody friends on the back and goes to speak when-

“well at least the rumours about dynamight are true. that guy is a fucking mood killer,” says some guy standing in the corner of the reception area, who looks to be a sidekick and is accompanied by other unknown up and coming ‘extras’ as Katsuki woukd put it.

“tell me about it. the guys here fucking suck. for once, i’m wishing that we were stuck with the female pros instead. have you seen uravity? she’s sexier in real life,” pipes up some other guy and the rest holler and hoot.

the three pros look at each other, with bakugou looking at kirishima and deku with knowing, smug eyes.

“i’m just going to interrupt their conversation-” says kirishima, attempting to walk over until another lackey pipes up.

“but have you seen y/h/n? what a woman. shame she’s not in her hero suit. what i would do for a woman like that,” grunts some pathetic looking guy. he’s spindly and limp and looks akin to a wet noodle.

it doesn’t stop katsuki from seething though.

kirishima and izuku slowly turn to look at their friend - who’s practically steaming in his hero uniform. all katsuki can see is red and violence - which isn’t really unlike from what he normally sees but it’s different this time. this time it’s about you.

he sees the group of gross, teenage boys point to where you’re standing: you’re leaning over the receptionist desk and just from the behind can katsuki appreciate how beautiful you are. you’re wearing a short black turtleneck dress with orange accents (you told him that you wanted to wear his colours to his agency) and in any other setting would katsuki run his hands over you and compliment and kiss you till you were shying away from him.

bakugou knew that you got unwanted attention, regardless if he was standing by you like a rabid guard dog - you were gorgeous and you knew that. he also knew that you could hold your own against a hoard of horny teenage losers and you would never look twice at them when you had him. still, that logic went out the window when he could see the same group of kids leering and pointing at where your thighs met the bottom of your dress and he wanted to kill them.

kirishima got wind of this just by looking at the blond’s expression, “please don’t blow up the place - they’re just dumb kids! think about how hard we worked for this agency,” pleads kirishima.

“he’s too far gone,” izuku sadly laments as they watch bakugou stride on over to you and ignore both the men’s pleas and bargains. he aggressively pushes past the disgusting collective of eyes and they break apart in shock at his intrusion through them.

you’re, however, too enamoured in your conversation with his assistant and mina- you’re looking at a pinterest board and he wants to bite you for being so cute in front of everyone. it makes him even angrier that those extras would ever think that you would give them more than a side eye and a polite wave.

you feel katsuki before you see him - his uniform-clad arm holds your waist between the desk as he slots himself into your conversation.

“so what’s this about? whatcha talking about?” katsuki asks and mina and his assistant giggle at his intrusion while you roll your eyes and turn yourself sideways to look at him.

“i would tell you but mina and akako might kill me,” you tell your boyfriend, resting a manicured hand on his chest. akako, bakugou’s assistant, laughs and nods her head:

“sorry, dynamight, our conversations are sacred. might i add your timetable tells me that you’re due to take the interns on a practice patrol in less than… 20 minutes?”

katsuki narrows his eyes at this and you chastise akako for poking at him, “leave him alone! i want him here,” before resting a hand on his stubbled jaw and scratching at his face. katsuki’s eyes close at the sensation and he opens them to take a good look at your face. the stupid kids are still a embittering thought in the back of his mind and in any given situation, he would never do this. but sometimes bakugou’s heart goes against his common sense and this was one of those times.

he leans down to slots his lips over yours and presses a gloved hand into the small of your back and you smile into the kiss while a few “awwhs,” emit in the background. bakugou opens an eye slightly to see in his peripheral vision that the gaggle of the limp-faced sidekicks are looking at him in a mixture of shock and fear and embarrassment. he also sees kirishima and izuku grab them up to guide them out of the room.

when you break from the kiss to brush at the hair on the nape of his head, he mumbles, “have i told you how much i love that dress on you?”

you giggle a little and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, “a few times. but you can keep telling me if you want. ‘s not like i’ll get tired of hearing it,” you whisper to him and it’s like you’re the only people in the room. he’ll tell you about what spurned this on another day. in the meanwhile, he bask in your attention until he has to go and entertain those useless jerks. it’s not like he’s going to employ any of them.

bakugou would say this is a mission accomplished in his book. yeah, he’s a little jealous and possessive. but with the way you look at him, he finds himself caring less and less about what others have to say about you.

doesn’t mean he won’t try knock them in the side of their head if the time calls for it.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[diejager]

could you write something for stepdad alejandro and dbf rodolfo?🩵

Cw: stepcest, praising, worshipping reader, fluff, barbecue, cheating, tell me if I missed any. Note: I stuck with the “canon” age, meaning Rudy and Alejandro are in their late 30s or early 40s.

Mexican summers were always warm - warmer than what you were used to when you were living farther up - with it’s blazing sun and vivid fauna that seemed to glow under the heat and clear blue sky. Thankfully, the air wasn’t stale, neither dry nor humid, but a equal temperament with a soft breeze that cooled the sweat that clung to your skin. You hadn’t dared wear anything other than your bikini when you stood in the busy backyard barbecue your mom and your stepdad had decorated and filled to have guests and friends alike over in the mids of a beautiful July. Unlike many of the older women who covered up in a dress or loose pants out of traditionalist convenience, their children - a cousin or a friend, young adults who were as rambunctious as you - were unabashedly prancing around in thin-strapped bikinis and low trunks, all happy to take in the warmth on their bronze skin. 

Some people you knew, others you didn’t, Alejandro often invited his ragtag group he called Los Vaqueros to every barbecue if he could, his bright and joyous smile lifting the corners of his lips while he flipped the spiced beef kebab he left marinating yesterday. You couldn’t say you knew them very well, boisterous and proud people, but you were familiar with his right-hand man, sweet Rudolf who seemed to loved pampering you as much as he adored you. A man of softness and tender praises, the rough texture of his fingers carefully holding your hips, massaging the fatty rolls and whispering compliments, affectionate confession about how pretty and perfect you were.

“Muñequita, ” Rudy mumbled, pulling you towards him by your waist in open affection, letting others see how close he was to you, arm wrapped around your back and cheek pressed to yours, a smile lighting up his face with every flustering words he let slip down his tongue, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lashes fluttering from how close his lips were to yours, his minty and warm musk filling your sense as much as it drowned out all your thoughts, “Why?”

He chuckled at your flustered and glazed expression, your lips pulled in a small and adorable pout while you clung to him, leaning your weight into his side as if you attempted to stand closer and closer to him despite being wrapped up in him arms:

“Ale and I were thinking of taking you out. That new restaurant you mentioned? We managed to reserve a table.”

“What?!” You turned to stare at him, gaping admiringly, “I- How’d you even do that? I’ve tried so many times and they always seem to be booked!”

“Well, Ale pulled some fa-”

“Honey!” Your mother called out to you from her side of the garden, surrounded with friends near the food table, “Could you go down and get more beers?”

“Of course, Ma!” You clambered out of the pool, water dripping down your thighs while you patted yourself dry, “Sorry, Rudy, I’ll be right back.”

You caught him smiling at you before you slipped through the kitchen door, carefully stepping down the basement-turned-man-cave’s stairs to get the beers out of the fridge. Finding the right pack, your bent down to rummage through the back to reach it when you felt hands grasp your hips. You jolted, eyes wide as you peered over your shoulder-

Only to see Alejandro’s shit eating rain, wild and blazing, smirking down at you with his crotch pressed to your ass. You swallowed thickly, watching the corded muscles of his arm flex and his swimming trunks hanging low, a bit of trimmed hair peaking out to tease you. 

“Thought I’d come down and help.”

Your body burned under his lidded gaze, thick and heavy, weighing you down with a churning in your core,

“Seems like more than just help.”

He laughed, a low bellow that rocked you forward, his shoulders shook and eyes gleamed so brightly, but mischievously. He was like the sun, hot and boisterous, and Rudy the ocean, all embracing and calm.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[latenightdaydreams]

Can I request masked serial killer köing X female reader? Like he kidnaps her , impregnates her and she has to find a way out to escape and get help.

Of course! As always MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!⚠️🚫

SerialKiller!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

🚫MASSIVE TRIGGERS FOR SENSTIVE TOPICS🚫

Your mental health is more important than smut, if you have to skip please skip🩷 There are nicer stories in the master list if these topics are not for you. Have an amazing day/night🩷

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, mentions of killings, non-con, impregnation

1.7k word count

🚫

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There have been reports on the news lately of bodies showing up, mutilated. There has been no official person of interest, but people had reported on seeing a masked man late at night. Most of the victims have been men, but that doesn’t mean you felt safe as a woman. You tried your best to not be out late or alone, but you can’t always control things.

The closer at your job had called off, leaving you alone late at night to do all the duties by yourself at the small local grocery store. There are only twenty more minutes till closing time when a man walks in wearing a baggy hoodie with the hood up. His body is absolutely massive as he ducks underneath the door to enter.

As he approaches, you realize he has a mask on his face, only showing his pale blue eyes. He carries a heavy vibe with him as he lingers only a few feet away from you as you’re stocking shelves. At the moment, you have to push your fear aside and treat him like any other customer.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

Your words hang in the air as he doesn’t reply, his eyes never leaving your own. He shifts slightly, putting his hands into the pocket of his hoodies. “Just looking…” His Austrian accent is thick, as his voice comes out raspy.

“Okay, we close in twenty minutes; just in case.” You smile, trying to push away the unsettling feeling that’s heavy in your gut.

He slowly just turns and walks away, no response. You watch him as he turns into another aisle and disappears from sight, allowing you to let out a deep breath you’ve been holding. There is nothing you can do other than continue with work.

The time passes by, and the man never comes to the register to check out. You just assume he left when you weren’t paying attention. It happens. Thankfully, it’s time to close, so you lock the register, then lock the front door. As you walk, you turn off the sale floor lights and go into the breakroom to get your purse out of the locker.

König walks quietly, following you closely as you go to retrieve your personal items. It’s cute how you’re so oblivious to your surroundings. He’s been watching you for a few months now, but he can’t hold back anymore; you’d make the perfect pet to breed.

Completely unaware of the man waiting for you, you turn off the lights, leaving yourself in almost complete darkness. Before you can even reach the back door, hands wrap around your mouth and waist. You’re lifted from the floor as you get light-headed from whatever chemical is in the palm of his hand.

Hours later, you wake up in a concert room with a chain around your neck anchored to the floor beneath you. Your vision and thoughts are hazy as you continue to wake up, your body shaking from the cold; all of your clothing stripped away leaving you naked. With all of the adrenaline rushing throughout your body, you tug at the chain with all of your might, trying to free yourself, but it doesn’t budge. The room is empty other than the thin mat that is underneath your body and a staircase in the corner. 

Heavy footsteps walk down the stairs, drawing your attention to the man from the grocery store. His hoodie is off and he has a balaclava covering his face, those same eerie pale eyes glaring at you. Slowly, he approaches you and kneels to be eye level with you. With his left hand, he reaches out to caress your face. You jerk away, wanting to flee but the chain doesn’t allow much movement.

“Please don’t kill me.” You whimper in fear, sounding completely helpless and pathetic.

“I’m not going to kill you, Maus.”

König withdraws his hand from you and just looks over your body for a moment, enjoying the goosebumps that cover you and how hard your nipples are in the chilly room. He stands, undoing his belt and undressing himself from the waist down. A sense of dread fills you as you’re completely helpless in this moment.

“Please no—”

“Bend over. Face on the mat.”

König’s emotionless voice commands of you, cutting off your pleas to not be touched. What you don’t understand yet is that you’re his now, you don’t have the option to deny him. The look in your eyes is defiant, making König smirk under his mask; he will have fun breaking you. You simply don’t move, just looking at him.

“I said bend over.” König approaches you aggressively, grabbing the back of your head and forcing your face into the mat.

A small yelp leaves your throat as your face hits the ground harshly, the thin mat not providing much cushion. Your rear is in the air, as you use your hands to try and push yourself up. König slaps your ass hard, leaving behind a stinging feeling.

“Stop struggling, Maus. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”

König looks at your heart shaped ass, eager to feel your pussy finally after all this time. He places his legs on either side of yours, essentially trapping you. With his free hand he slaps his cock against your ass, looking as your supple flesh bounces in response.

“Stay still and I won’t hurt you.”

You close your eyes as you feel König press the tip of his cock against your pussy, slowly pushing the tip in. His hand pressing on your face gently slips off and glides across your soft skin, enjoying how you feel under his hand. You look so beautiful defenseless in front of him.

Both hands grip your hips as he pushes himself in deeper, feeling your walls wrap around his cock like a warm welcome. A loud groan leaves König’s lips, thoroughly enjoying how wet and tight you are. You sense up, only making it better for him.

The sound of his hips bucking into you and slapping against you echoes in the empty room. Small painful moans flee your lips as his cock shoves all the way in, hitting your cervix wall in a painful rhythm. Your hands grab at the mat beneath you in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Meine kleine Hure, beg me to fuck you harder.” König digs his fingers deeply into your flesh, leaving bruises. “Call me Master.”

There is no other option other than to comply, you don’t want to think about what a man his size can do to you when angry. Loud pleas leave your mouth, begging for your new master to pound your tiny cunt. A deep soreness that gets worse with every thrust begins to develop inside of you. You lift your body up in an attempt to ease the pain, but he pushes you back down so your face was back on the mat.

“Please, it hurts too much.” You try to beg him to stop.

“Good.” He slaps your ass once more, moving his hips even quicker as he pulls you back to him.

Tears pour down your face as you begin to whimper from the pain, only serving to please König. His heavy balls that repeatedly slap against your clit tighten. Every plea for mercy from you is like music to his ears. You’re going to be so fun to breed, your pussy is perfect.

König’s hips stutter as he moans loudly, burying himself deep inside of you. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you. A disgusted feeling waves over you as you listen to his pleasure, you wish you were anywhere but here.

Months pass and you have no idea. There is no window or way for you to track your time missing. You’ve not been reported missing yet due to your age, the cops can’t prove you were taken and you're old enough to disappear if you’d want to; yet all your friends and family know this isn’t you. To König, this all has worked out perfectly. No one is looking and you’re here with him. Your tiny belly begins to swell with life inside; his offspring.

All of the recent events have caused you to dissociate, not even noticing your body change. The days of your life now consist of staring at gray walls or beginning face down as König takes what he wants from you. Today, König walks down with a metal bucket and a pink box in his hand.

He sits the bucket next to you as he tears open the box and pulls out a pregnancy test. Pointing to the bucket, he demands you to pee and take the test. His eyes watch you like a hawk as your legs tremble from being so weak. Your eyes gaze at the small window on the test, hoping to see only one line so you don’t have to bear this monster's child.

Two lines. Two pink little lines confirming you’re pregnant. König snatches the test from you as you kneel there looking frozen. A loud joyous noise leaves him, erupting from deep inside. He gets on your level and wraps you in a deep embrace. You don’t hug him back, your arms limp at your side as you try to figure out what to do next.

“You’re going to look so beautiful pregnant.” His hand began to move up to your stomach, caressing the tiny bump that formed before sliding up and cupping your breasts. “I can’t wait to see you swell with milk.” König presses his lips painfully against yours in a dominant kiss. He pulls back and gazes at you with a dead look in his eyes.

“I have some things to do, but I’ll be back.” König stands and leaves you, not remembering to take your potty bucket as he usually does.

You remain quiet as you watch him go upstairs. Once you hear the door close you grab the bucket, looking at the thin handle, thin enough to maybe fit into the lock and free you; or even to use as a weapon. In a hurry, you bend the metal on both ends to slip the handle out.

König is on his phone, looking at baby cribs and prenatal care for you when he realizes he forgot the bucket. He sets the test down along with his cellphone and he turns to go back down to the basement. His steps are slow as he is on cloud 9; his little pet is pregnant!

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Take it slow (Gale Dekarios x Reader)

synopsis: Gale and you share a tent for the night. The forced proximity is the perfect circumstance to explore each other more.

warnings: drinking, smut adjacent, reader is the first person to be with Gale after Mystra, heavy petting, dry humping, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to my darling @legitalicat for beta reading and also for listening to my honestly unhealthy Bg3 obsession. I love you💕

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The whole party sits around the campfire, drinking, celebrating another small victory. Spirits had been down lately, so this was more than needed and a night of light-heartedness feels only appropriate. You sit around in a big group until well into the night, when the first folks start retiring, leaving only a handful of people. Among them Gale, who after wishing everyone a good night, comes back to join you rather quickly. Garnering a few questioning looks.

“It seems like I am out of a tent for the night.” He explains his sudden return, one hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

You are about to ask what happened, when from the side Karlach loudly gives her own opinion.

“You should share a tent.” She laughs and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The suggestion garners a few drunken snickers around the group, but it also serves well to make your cheeks grow warm at the thought of sharing a space with the wizard for the night. Your nervous demeanour only furthers their giggles.

Gale however quickly lifts his hands in a defensive motion. “It´s quite alright. I don´t mind sleeping with- I mean sharing a tent with you. If you do not mind it either.”

His slip of tongue immediately produces more heat on both of your faces and gives the others a hard time not to burst out into roaring laughter.

“I do not mind it at all.” That secretly you had wished for this moment for a while now goes unsaid, though when he helps you to your feet your eyes linger on each other´s for just a second too long to still be platonic in nature.

Gale leads you away from the amused group by the hand and holds open the tent for you to enter before him.

Now alone with the wizard the tension in the rather confined space grows thick. The two of you lay stiff beside each other on the considerably too small bed roll, desperately trying to find something to say to lighten the mood somehow, to make each other more comfortable. Luckily for you, as you lay there so far away from the campfire, the cold seeps into your bones and makes both of you shiver.

“Would it be alright if I laid closer to you? Just to fight the cold a bit.” you ask in a croaky voice. Your fingertips drumming against the ground with excessive energy.

“Yes, yes naturally.” Gale replies fast, almost all but pulling you into his arms.

 Silence settles yet again as you lay your head on his chest, though it feels a bit less stiff than before. The scent of black tea, parchment paper enters your nostrils, accompanied by an undercurrent of sea salt and something citrusy to all mix for a scent that is so uniquely Gale. You can feel his chin rest against the crown of your head and instinctively bury your nose further into his chest. His hand runs up and down your arm with feather light touches, to warm you some more. The laughter from outside subsides to leave only the singing cicadas behind and the tension inside shifts to something much more than not being used to being so close so suddenly. Until you break under the weight of it.

Your lips tingle as they finally brush against his neck. Your heart is beating on your ears at how exciting it is, leaning in to repeat the motion over and over again. Sucking and nibbling at the skin ever so lightly. Gale’s skin warms up under your ministrations and his adam's apple bobs under a heavy gulp. Right as you pull away, he lets out a shaky breath. However, the two of you can't stay away for long, crashing your lips together. Hands grabbing at the other´s cheeks, necks and hips, anywhere they can reach for purchase. Your lips press together hesitantly at first, yet as they grow surer in what they are doing, stay slow, but crushingly passionate.

“Gods you’re such a good kisser.” You rasp against his lips. “I will never get enough of the way you taste.”

There is not a single trace of your initial bashfulness left as the kiss lingers longer and longer. Your hands wander over Gale´s arms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat drum against his chest to match the rhythm of your own. His fingers hook into your pants as your hands claw into the collar of his shirt pulling you into his lap and each other close until there is no air left between you. Nor is any breath in your lungs. The kiss is the only thing keeping the two of you alive in this moment. Savouring the sweet remnants of wine on his stained lips and the feel of their softness.

A guttural moan falls from his lungs, getting swallowed by you immediately. “Keep tasting me then.”

It's something he doesn't have to tell you twice. While you continue to breathe life into each other, you let your hands wander over the fabric separating each other’s bodies. Roaming the length of it repeatedly before they dip underneath. You gently drag your nails down his sides and back. Not enough to leave a sting but for a shiver to follow along with them. Ending with your hands running over the bulge between his thighs.

“Wait…” The wizard suddenly pulls away to stop you by laying his hands over yours.

You pull back as well at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering open to gauge his reaction and the cause of the sudden stop.

The sight of his tousled hair, the shiny, swollen lips and the flushed skin. The heavily moving chest, in the dim light it's all so intoxicating.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly, taking hold of his hands and guide them to rest against your chest.

It takes a while for him to collect himself. “Yes, quite alright. I am not used to people touching me like this anymore. I…”

The frustration coming from him is palpable in his aura, but you on the other hand are filled with relief that he isn't shutting you out.

“We can take it slow. There is no harm in that.” You cup Gale's cheek in your hand and nudge his nose with yours.

A shaky sigh escapes his lungs in response to it. “I´m sorry. I must be so boring. You are probably used to more adventurous partners. You must think I don't want you now.”

“Hey, hey listen to me. There is no need to apologize. It is so exciting just to be with you. It is true I want you so much, but more than that I want you to be comfortable. So, if you do not feel ready to go all the way just yet, l am fine with that.“ While you coo at him reassuringly, eyes set on his, your fingers run through his beard.

He leans into your touch, practically purring at the soothing motion. He can´t help but nuzzle further into your palm. “Do you truly mean it?”

You don't mean to chuckle at him while he is being vulnerable, but the way he looks at you with those wide, dark brown eyes, you can't fight back the sound.

“Yes. Of course I mean it. I could never live with myself knowing I forced myself on you.” A chaste peck finds its way from your lips to his temple.

Gale seems taken aback by your understanding, though the confusion in his face doesn´t stay for too long.

“I have an idea. How would you feel about being the one to guide my hands over your body until you feel more comfortable with them wandering on their own?” You purr, biting your lower lip in excitement at the prospect of exploring him more.

His eyes glow up at the proposal and he slowly nods his head. “I think I would like that very much.”

Your hands, still holding his, find Gale´s chest, resting against it without moving. That alone has his heart beating faster an embarrassing amount, but so does yours as his own digits carefully begin to guide them. Shaky breaths mingle, your eyes stay on each other securely, meanwhile you feel the soft indigo fabric and the contrasting rough silver accents under your palms. Roaming over his upper body once more, caressing his neck and running through his hair. Every now and again your lips meet his to share a kiss or to press some chaste affection to his jawline or the column of his throat, which draw soft whimpers from both of your lungs. It gets the warmth in your stomach to swirl hotter than ever before and when you least expect it, Gale leads you underneath the shirt again. The feel of his still heated skin is exhilarating, but he still has a surprise left for you.

Gale lightly lifts one of his legs and flexes the muscles to rub against the bundle of nerves at the apex between your thighs, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, Gale…” You breathe out, beginning to tremble just as much as he does. “That feels so good.”

The wizard is only able to hum in agreement, too focused on your fingers carding through his chest hair and teasing his nipples under his guidance. In search of more stimulation, your hips begin to move on their own. Rubbing your pleasure centre against his thigh, ready to stop at any moment. Yet as you do so, Gale groans and meets your stagnant motions. Your lips meet once more and just like this kiss your movement against each other´s bodies grow heavier and more passionate fast.

Before you know it, the wizard has left your hands at his hips to lay his own on yours to guide them instead. A tight winded knot builds in the pit in your stomach quickly, prompting your hips to grow more erratic.

“I am so close.” Gale barely manages to part barely far enough to moan into your mouth and is immediately met with the sentiment being very much reciprocated by you.

“I want to reach my peak along with you.” You whimper right back, desperate for the release that is threatening to take over the two of you.

The confession alone makes Gale´s hips falter and the hardened length in his pants twitch before erupting with his climax. A drawn-out moan fills the space that was otherwise only filled with your heavy breathing and pulls you right over the edge with him, your body weakly collapsing against his chest, while you bathe in the glow of your shared pleasure.

“Perhaps this might not be the perfect moment to confess this, but I think I have been in love with you since the moment I pulled you out of that portal.” You whisper weakly, eyes falling close at regular intervals already.

“On the contrary I believe there is no better time for this confession. I have felt similarly for a long time as well now. Though I have never dreamed of speaking my feelings out loud.” Gale answers in just the same quiet, intimate tone.

[automeris-io-moth]

Reunion

That morning Hero felt particularly tired. 

Perhaps Villain had noticed early when greeting them at breakfast, such was the reason the servants were fetched to help them shower, help them dress and eat, fed by hand as if not humiliated enough by then, trapped by the fact they were indeed unable to lift the cutlery. 

Perhaps it had been Villain’s doing. Perhaps it had been the tea, perhaps it had been something else. 

Later, Hero was taken to the main hall of the former gubernatorial palace right in the heart of the city, where a wood and gold throne laid. Hero had once, long ago, made a joke about Villain compensating for something with such a cartoonish display of power, but then they had no energy to obnoxiously repeat it, as they did every time they entered the place. Mockery was one of the few things Hero had left after all. 

Yet, that day they could barely keep their head upright, a foggy sense of nausea crepting up their throat, a heavy weight pushing them down from the top of their head kept them glued to Villain that morning, head laying on the other's shoulder as Hero laid across their lap, their enemy's hands stroked up and down their arms and back, warming them from the coldness of the room. 

"Let them in," Villain's voice boomed across the hall, the echo remaining a second longer. 

The old wooden doors creaked open, uneven steps entering the room, as if being rushed, and Hero hid their head from the sharp noise. 

"What do you think I should do, love?” Villain asked the Hero this time, pressing their lips against their hair  “Four intruders wandering around, trying to enter our home to steal god knows what.” 

And Hero tried, tried to twist their head to look at the people standing before them, distinguishing them on their knees, half aware of the number mentioned, half aware of their factions, of what they wore. 

Half aware that they knew them. 

“I told you, Leader,” one said, a whisper too sharp to fulfil its purpose of being discreet “they sold us out.” 

“Shut up, Teammate, what about that?” The called answered, face straightening and, for a moment, Hero could swear they made eye contact “What are you looking to prove with this display, Villain?” 

Villain huffed a laugh, turning Hero’s head back to them  “Come on Leader, do you really think I put this show just for you?” 

They had, Hero thought, Villain usually preferred if they weren’t seen. Just for their eyes, they had once said, when they were, as that day, too out of their mind to talk back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“I would never hurt them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they answered, hands pulling them ever so close to their chest, curling if only lightly to embrace them “I’m not like you.” 

“We never…” 

“Yes you have,” they answered “I’ve seen every scar in their body, and I’m responsible for only one. Don’t lie to my face please.” 

“They knew what they were doing! It was for the greater good,” Teammate answered this time, sweat dripping from their forehead to the blood, taking the dirt with it. 

“Such a funny concept is the greater good. I can assure you it holds no meaning to me, there is nothing greater than keeping what's mine close and unblemished, and you have scarred it, sadly.”

With a hand on their hip, and the other on their neck, Villain twisted Hero’s head slightly to the right, where their team knelt, eyes glazed, barely open enough to discern their shadows, they could see one turn away from their unintentional stare. 

“So what would a fitting punishment be,” they asked in the air, looking down at Hero “I accept suggestions, my light.”

_

Masterlist

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 2 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: I wrote both this and the first one in one night, in the car on the way home from watching the movie. I was gripped, and there was nothing on AO3 so this was my only respite from getting nout from the general public. Enjoy, I was very tired when I wrote this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 680

Warnings: kind of suggestive (literally just flirting for two seconds), very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

That run had gone a lot smoother, her sister able to get the sensor set up without going into a panic attack that Javi conveniently doesn’t notice. 

He better just be completely ignorant of how panic attacks look, or else he’s ignoring her sister. 

And she’ll have to kill him. 

But then they drive into town, and it’s horrible. Houses completely wrecked - there’s barely a main road anymore but they make do. 

Before they’d even parked, she pulled her belt out and shoved the door open. 

Hurrying over to help lift a beam off an older woman. Suddenly being much more aware of the cut on her arm - damn tornado throwing shit everywhere. 

It’s Scott’s fault. Javi had put them together and it’s clear the man doesn’t like her in the slightest. So even after they’d put the sensor out, he had her driving and was stressing her out the entire time about the tornado despite the fact they were driving away from it.

Once she was out, she joined the people helping any survivors. 

Nearly running into Dexter, who laughed happily at seeing her and threw a heavy arm over her shoulder. Tugging her along to the team. 

Lily and the others - whose names she definitely knows - were handing out free shirts. Along with water and food. 

With a small nod, acknowledging what’s happening, she takes off at a brisk jog back to the car. 

Making sure Scott isn’t looking as she pulled the door open and reached in. Nicking the first aid kit from underneath the passenger seat and pulling away with a grin. 

Then the door closes by itself with a slam and she jumps, whipping to face the man of the hour himself. 

Tyler Owens, leaning against the car as if he owned the world and he was merely allowing her a place to stand upon it. 

“Sorry ‘bout that Alpine, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No big deal.” She can still feel her heart stretching against her ribs, letting her know she was scared shitless. “Thought you were Scott, I have a feeling he’d throw a fit if someone took something from the car without him knowing.”

Lifting the first aid kit with a grin, she went to walk around him. But he just softly kissed his teeth, quickly looking around to make sure no one was watching. 

Taking a gentle hand to her bicep, he guided her back to the car. Leaning her onto the door and stepping a little more into her personal space. Bracing a hand above her on the car roof and leaning in, flooded with thoughts of her in his cowboy hat all over again.

It’s kept him pretty distracted all day.. and all last night.

“Thought we’d have a quick conversation, now that we’re here.”

“Oh~ and do you frequently flirt with people after a natural disaster, or is it just me?”

Patting his chest, she walked away again and he let her. Knowing wherever she was going with that first aid kit was much more important than his flirting. 

Only just more important, but he’ll let it slide this time. Besides, he needs to get back to looking for that puppy. 

Leaning on the hood of the car, he watched her walk away, something gnawing at him at seeing the stain of red on her arm. Not the one he’d grabbed; but she should’ve said something. 

Unfortunately, head and heart don’t usually have control over what comes out his mouth. 

“Only you Alpine! No one else is pretty enough to distract me from the storms!”

Lifting her hand up, she didn’t bother looking back, clicking the button to lock the car and set the alarm. 

His pressure on the hood immediately setting it off and freaking him out. 

Hearing her laugh he looked around again, extremely glad that no one else had seen anything. Smoothing his fingers through wet hair and going back to looking for that puppy. 

He’ll take her a beer later, get back on track with their flirting when he has the upper hand again.

Want more?! Good!

[theemporium]

I’m so stupid I sent the blues lagoon with prompt 36 and I forgot to say with Max Verstappen 😐

there is no 36 so i assumed you meant 26! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

26. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

.

Max took pride in the fact he never let the outside voices get to him. 

He had always been thick-skinned, always able to block out the countless comments and opinions of the media and the public. When he was younger, it was a tragic reality that none of them could say anything that hurt more than what his father said. As he got older, the truth of the matter was that he didn’t care about the opinions of anyone except those who were helping him race. 

The team behind him—the engineers and strategists and analysts—were the people he would listen to. They were the people who would give their opinions because they knew the car, they knew him, they knew the world of motorsports. 

And he knew how the media liked to paint him. He knew they needed a villain and he fit the role well despite never auditioning for such. He knew that nothing he would do or say would change it, so he doesn't bother with it.

But everyone has a breaking point, even villains. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

You blinked, lifting your head from the book you were currently reading to look at your boyfriend instead. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you and his head looking down. He had been there since he got out of the shower ten minutes earlier, his hair still wet and the collar of his shirt damp from the dripping water. 

“What?”

“Just…all of this shit,” Max muttered, letting out a heavy sigh with his shoulders tense and his body stiff. 

You frowned, placing your book to the side and pushing the duvet off your body so you could shuffle towards him. “What do you mean?”

“Every little fucking thing I do, they need to comment on. And I know they are biased but, fucking hell, they could at least try to hide it better,” Max grumbled, his words bitter and annoyed, but his exhaustion was also loud and clear. “I know I shouldn’t care. And I don’t. Not really but…you’d think they would have a day off every once in a while.”

Your frown deepened as you settled in the spot behind him. You wrapped your arms around him, your chin hooked on his shoulder and his body sagging back against yours with comfortable ease.

“I say something, they complain. I stay silent, they complain,” he continued, his hands moving to cover yours and squeezing softly. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can stand. I’m a person too. I have fucking feelings. I’m not a robot like they assume.”

“They are intimidated,” you murmured, pressing a soft and reassuring kiss on the base of his neck. “As much as they try, they know they can’t always target your driving because you’re talented so they need something else, some other way to get under your skin.” You paused before continuing. “They are a bunch of spineless dickheads.”

Max snorted, his lips twitching upwards. “Yeah, they are.”

“Want me to fight them?” You offered, playful and teasing and your smile widened a little when he laughed.

“No,” he murmured and squeezed your hands again. “I prefer you here, with me.”

“Always,” you promised and hugged him tighter.

.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

dewdrops deserted in the carnage 

the wistful wyvern, chapter four

a/n: we're mostly getting angsty in this chapter, buuuuut also just a little bit slutty at the end. just a little sprinkling of spice.

summary: “please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, violence, weapons, the death of a horse, crying, only one bed, jealousy

word count: 3398

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“I mean, I knew that your dad was a crook, but One-eyed Ollie? That’s your father?” 

Letting a heavy sigh seep from your lungs, “unfortunately,” you didn’t bother throwing a glance over at the warden riding beside you.

“How did I not know this?” 

“Only the most important people know,” you shrugged, as the king had kept up his promise to keep your past secret. 

“Oh, geez, thanks, snow,” Bucky huffed, taking your comment to heart, “glad for the assurance of where we fucking stand.” 

Twisting your neck, you glanced over at him as his stare was now firm on the road you travelled down, “…fine,” you exhaled, “what do you wanna know?”

Meeting your gaze, his curiosity then began to overflow, “what’s he like? What was your childhood like? Did you know him well?”

“Uh, well,” an awkward chuckle briefly billowed out of you, “let’s just say, he wouldn’t win any awards for his parenting skills. His idea of bonding with his kid wasn’t to teach me how to fish or farm. He taught me how to lie and steal from innocent people. To be honest, I don’t even know if he ever really saw me as a child, more just a tiny impressionable human being that he could mould into the perfect addition to his team…” 

Staring over at you, he asked, “were you there back then?”

“No, that was a little before my time,” you cocked your head as you frame rocked with each of Zenna’s steps, “if I’d already been a part of the only successful attempt there’d been in all the history of Obelón at breaking into the vault in Ingorn’s palace, then I wouldn’t need to go seek help from my father after swearing I’d never even acknowledge his existence again for the remainder of my days.”

Pursing his lips, his gaze then flicked away from you as he uttered slowly, “…so, have you ever stolen anything from me?”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed loudly through the amused smile that somehow bloomed on your lips, “Buck–”

“Have you?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, “of course not.” 

“Really?” he tilted his head before turning his attention back towards the road, “your fingers never had a moment where they itched too much to resist–,” and as he spoke, you begrudgingly fulfilled his request and swept out your grasp, snatching up the coin purse at his belt right as his body’s swaying gave you an opportunity. Though as soon as you’d swiped it, completely unbeknownst to him, you threw it back in his face and the pouch struck his bearded jaw, “ow!” before it tumbled down into his grasp. 

As his eyes lifted from the purse up to shoot a glare in your direction, you just huffed, “there. You happy? I stole something from you. Now can we please just–” 

But the rest of your banter got cut short as a rumbling abruptly shook the earth beneath you. Both of the horses reacted, getting a bit spooked at their sudden unstable footing. 

Without any further warning, the dirt before you split open as a huge ankheg burrowed its way out. 

Skittering forth with its many legs, the insectoid creature ferociously jumped your horse, causing her to tumble over as the monster snapped its large mandibles at her. Tumbling to the grass, all the air got knocked out of your lungs from the impact. 

Coughing and reeling from the fall, you swiftly unsheathed a couple of daggers and tossed them just as Bucky too sent a few bolts flying as well, both of them sinking into the monster at the same time. 

Unfortunately, the ankheg hadn’t been alone as a few more then crawled out of the hole and attacked you both. 

One skurried on top of you as you were still dazed on the ground. Its long branch-like antennas swayed above its head as it screeched a clicking call over you.

The bulbous sack that protruded right on its throat throbbed as green acidic saliva began to drip out of its mouth and down its mandibles, scarcely missing your head as it sizzled against the grass.

Fiddling for a blade, you sucked in a shaky breath when you discovered there weren’t any left on your person. 

As it pinned you down and you used all of your might to keep it at bay, your glance first fluttered to your partner for help, only to discover that he too was in over his head. Your frantic eyes then flickered around, searching for anything you might be able to defend yourself with. 

And just above your head, there lied a solid rock. 

Bending your legs, you pressed your boots up against the ankheg’s hard scales, using everything you had as you slipped your right hand out and stretched it to the stone. Only your fingertips grazed it at first as it wasn’t quite in your reach. Straining till a scream forced its way out of your lungs, your grip then finally succeeded and wrapped around the rock. 

It stunned the creature slightly when you knocked the stone against its head, enough to grant you the upper hand and slip out from under it. 

You didn’t know how many times you repeatedly brought the rock down upon the monster as you lost yourself completely till you were kneeling above its smashed remains, heaving for breath, with its dark green viscera splashed across you and dripping from the stone still glued in your grasp.

The grunt of Bucky dealing the killing blow to the one he was battling didn’t manage to snap you out of your trance. But when the dying sounds of your horse cut through the blinding adrenaline within you and found your ears, in an instant the rock tumbled from your grasp.

Twisting around, tears swiftly blurred up the image of Zenna suffering on the ground, her brown-speckled stomach split open and blistering as her innards spilt out of her. 

“No, no, no–,” you shakily scrambled to your feet, but already knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

The only thing you could do for her now was end her pain. 

Bending down, you pulled one of your daggers out of her killer’s corpse, still lying right beside her. 

Your hands were shaking so hard that you nearly dropped the blade. Every muscle in your body locked up as you tried to kneel down beside Zenna. 

Then, as tears streamed down your cheeks and dropped to the blood-stained grass below, a hand suddenly appeared and slipped the weapon out of your hand. 

Blinking up into Bucky’s blue eyes, he quietly uttered, “I’ll do it,” as he tightened his fist around the hilt of the short blade. 

As he sank down onto his knees, you turned around and shut your eyes. 

When her suffering sounds were no more and the road grew quiet, an onslaught of tears violently burst out of you. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky wrapped his arms around you before you tumbled over. Twisting slightly, you curled into him, welcoming his hug as your sobs melted against his armoured chest.

“You ready?” Bucky asked softly in your ear as he sat behind you on his ebony mount. 

Staring up at the intimidating dark stone fortress of Yoslor Penitentiary, you let out a low breath, “no.” 

Sometime in the decade since you’d been imprisoned here, your father had finally been caught. For what exactly you weren’t sure of, but the night that the king had pulled you aside to discreetly inform you, was the first one you’d soundly slept through, perhaps ever. 

Even though the last very thing you desired was to lay eyes on your dad once more, you still slipped off of the stallion but a moment after Bucky did. 

You were both let in without much fuss after stating your stature and your business. Guards led you through the prison, passed some of the cells, and escorted you to a chamber, not unlike the one you’d been in when you had talked to the king and your whole life had changed.

After you’d both taken a seat at the central table, not much time passed before, like a haunting nightmare, the voice of your father began to rumble on the other side of the closed door.

“Oh come on, gents. You can tell me who my visitor is,” your eyes fluttered shut a moment at the familiar sound, “or do you want me to guess?”

Blowing out a slow and agonising exhale, you gathered yourself right before the door burst open and in tumble your father. 

Though he was a bit slimmer now, had lost more of his hair, as well as the new accessory of heavy chains that restricted his movements, he still looked exactly the same. 

“Well, well, well…” a bright grin split apart his lips, flashing you a few of his golden teeth, as the guards tossed him down into the opposing chair and secured his chains, “my baby dewdrop,” he stared at you with the eye not scared over and covered by a leather patch, “I heard you got out.”

“Hello, Olliander,” you greeted coldly, keeping your spine straight. 

“Oh, come on, no need to be so rigid,” the chains jangled loudly and he gestured with his hands, “get over here and give your pa a big hug.” 

“Please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

“And what would I get out of this little arrangement?” 

Staring back at him, you swore you felt steam begin to billow out of your ears, “you would get to help your daughter, finally do something reminiscent of good, after running and making me take the fall when I’d thought you’d only set me up to be the decoy.”

“Look, dewdrop, it was a different time back then, the authorities were hot of our trail!” he tried to diminish your statement, “someone had to go down in order to save the rest of us.”

“So, you thought it should be your own kid?” you seethed, leaning forward in your seat ever so slightly. 

“…well, you’re tough, I knew you’d be able to handle it,” he tilted his head, “and just look at you now! If I hadn’t made that decision, then you’d never have this fancy new life of yours.” 

“Don’t you dare,” the little restraint you tried to keep a hold of snapped, “don’t you fucking dare take any of the credit. You didn’t do a single thing, my entire life, you never did anything that didn’t benefit you,” your pointer finger extended accusatorially, “so, I’m not asking you, I am telling you, you will give us the information we need, or else I’ll make sure your life here gets a hell of a lot more miserable than it already is.” 

The room fell quiet, not even Bucky dared to move before your father eventually let out a heavy sigh, “…what do you wanna know?”

“The vault in Ingorn’s palace, the one made out of hellstone,” your fingers dug into your thigh beneath the table as you spoke, “how did you do it?”

The one-eyed criminal then began to laugh, “seriously? You wanna break into that? I mean, you’re good, dewdrop, almost as good as me, but come on, with how rusty you must be these days, that is just insane–”

“Just tell us how you did it,” you barked. 

“Alright, fine,” he exhaled and rested a restrained arm against the edge of the table, “well, first of all, the lock on it is a thing of beauty, you can’t just tickle her open like a lady with a few lockpicks…” 

“You know, when you said that you knew a place in Erasild where we could stash our stuff, this isn’t what I imagined,” you stared up at the building before you, before shooting a glare in Bucky’s direction, “a brothel? Seriously? We don’t have time to pause everything just so that you can get laid.”

“Hey, this is business, not pleasure,” he stated, then playfully added before heading inside, “but if you wanna get that stick out of your ass, I’m sure some of them would like to help.”

As you entered behind him, the warmth radiating from the establishment swiftly thawed the evening chill that had settled in your bones. Navigating through the clusters of small tables, gently lit by candlelight, a trio of bards in the corner caught your ear as they strummed out a smooth ditty as a part of the sensual ambience. 

A voluptuous woman then sauntered out of a backroom with a casket of clinking wine bottles in her grasp. As she sat it down on the bar with a loud thud and her gaze then flickered up to spot your travelling companion, her face lit up into a bright smile. 

“Ah! Darling!” she immediately walked up to him and threw her arms around him. Pressing her lips to his cheek in a loud peck, she then pulled him back at arm’s length to get a good look at him, “what has it been, like three years? I was starting to think you’d died on me.”

“It's good to see you too, Helen,” a warm chuckle rumbled out of Bucky, before he then twisted back towards you, “let me introduce you,” he held out an open hand in your direction, “this is Warden Y/l/n,” you bowed your head softly as she found your eye, “snow, this is Helen Raye, owner and proprietor of The Sapphire Chateau.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam,” you offered her a tight-lipped smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she purred, letting her gaze study you a second before her plump lips parted once more, “so, will you be wanting to share your entertainment tonight, or do you want someone all for yourself? There is this girl that came to me a few years back that I know you’d just love,” your eyes couldn’t help but grow wide as Helen battered her eyelashes up at Bucky, “she can’t just bend herself into a pretzel, but every other shape imaginable.” 

“Uh, some other time, Hel,” he declined with a polite smile, “we’re not really here for that.”

“Oh,” she breathed, though still smirked back at Bucky like she was about to ravage him. 

“We just need a place to set off a few things, let Echo stay, just for a little bit while we go pay Ingorn a visit.” 

“Ah, you must be going to that fancy ball they’re throwing! I’ve no idea what the occasion is, but business has been booming the past few weeks as all sorts of lords and ladies have passed through on their way down to the capital.”

Sharing a glance with you at the new information, Bucky then fibbed, “uh, yeah, we–… we are.” 

Twisting her frame, Helen then waved down a lanky boy behind the bar and said, “I’ll have Jeremy take care of your horse,” you watched as the lad zoomed out to do his duty, “and if you want somewhere secure to store your items, you’re welcome to use the little safe in my room.” 

“Thank you,” you uttered. 

“Do you have any rooms available?” Bucky asked as Helen manoeuvred around the bar, “a hot bath would be nice before we head out again.” 

“Uh,” her vision fluttered down behind the counter where a few keys hung from small hooks, “I have one room unoccupied,” she held up a dangling key, hooked on her curved finger, “it’s yours if you want it.”

And before you could protest about how this didn’t line up with the limited time you had to work with, Bucky had already snatched up the key, “thanks.”

“Room eight,” her teeth lightly caught her bottom lip, “your favourite, if I recall correctly.” 

If his back hadn’t been turned to you, the flush that then crept up on Bucky’s features would have been noticeable to your eyes even in this low light, “it–, uh, yeah, thanks,” he then cleared his throat, “the soap and such still in the same spot?”

“It is.”

“Great,” he exhaled, then turned to you, “I’m gonna head up first, get cleaned up,” his feet already began to carry him towards the staircase in the corner, “you mind ordering us some food? I’m starving for a proper meal.” 

“Uh, sure,” you uttered, still a bit stunned as you now found yourself without a buffer, “so, what kind of food do you serve in this establishment?”

“Let me get you a menu, love,” Helen headed into the back for a moment, only to return with more than just a pamphlet of culinary options. As the list slid over the bar towards you, her palm also insistently pushed a small glass vial containing some dried herbs in your direction. 

“What–,” heat began to rise in your cheeks as you read the small label. It was athrire, the herb commonly brewed into a tea and utilised as birth control, “oh, no, thanks, but I don’t need this.”

“You’ve been on the road for a while, and from how I know that man, you’ve probably run out by now,” she winked and pushed it right back to you as you tried to return it. 

“No, it’s really not like that, we’re not–”

“Darling,” her hand enclosed momentarily around yours, “just take it.”

When you’d found the room, Bucky was so fresh out of his bath that you nearly caught a glimpse of something as he buttoned up a fresh pair of pants. Droplets still trailed down his inked physique as he turned at the sound of your entrance. 

If his painstakingly slow work at covering his drool-worthy body up again hadn’t been enough to make you more flustered than a bashful bunny, the discovery that the room only had one bed sure did the trick.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still managed to. 

And when you stated that you’d just sleep on the floor and let him have the plush mattress all to himself, Bucky argued teasingly that you’d slept under the stars together countless times before. 

But that had been different, oh so very different and he knew it.

As he disappeared to get your food, you grabbed a quick bath. The view of the night sky from out of the balcony doors relaxed and distracted you long enough that you had to scramble at the last moment when Bucky returned, knocking on the door before you shrieked for him to stay on the other side just a moment longer as you rushed out of the tub. 

After the warm meal was scarfed down and a dozen yawns had escaped your lungs, you found yourself in a place you never thought you’d actually get to be. 

In bed next to Bucky. 

You were afraid to move. Just laid there like a statue, your stare darting from the constellations clear out the tall window, to the small Zondür alter in the corner of the chamber. 

But eventually, you heard your hushed tone fill the room, “so, Helen…”

“Hm?” Bucky hummed from his side of the bed, “what about her?”

“She seems nice,” your gaze bore a hole into the ceiling. 

Hearing him shift beside you, he said, “well, she is.” 

Feeling his gaze upon your silhouette, you didn’t dare to twist and meet his eye, “…so, how many of the other people that work here do you think are nice?”

A short chuckle then bubbled out of him, “snow…” before he teased, “what are you trying to get a personal recommendation or something?”

Your mouth then flew open as you shot him a glare, “no, I just–,” letting out a loud groan, “forget I said anything,” and you frantically turned your back to him, “go to sleep.” 

“Helen is very good at what she does,” he casually informed you through his amused smirk, “she hires people who are very good at their job, people who are very nice. You’d be in good hands with any of them.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to–,” you stammered, nearly twisting around to bash his mass in the moonlight, “just shut up, please!” but he just laughed. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[fev3rish]

I have a bit of a heavy request, so I totally understand if you decide this isn't one you want to do for whatever reason.

But it'd mean a lot to see Kenji comforting a reader going through a loss of a parent

SPARK. kenji sato x reader

you can always rely on him to keep your flame lit, and your spark alive.

cw. comfort (this fic is practically me speaking through kenji), loss of a parent (referred to as ‘they’), kenji loves you.

notes. this was recently requested and i jumped to write something for it. i am so, from the bottom of my heart, sorry. my love, i know no amount of sorrys will ever fix the loss of a parent, but i’d just like to tell you that in some way, and somehow—they will always be alive. they have touched hearts, people, places and objects and in them—their memory thrives. they have made an impact, on you and on other people. their memory will not die; because it will not be forgotten. and you will be okay, sweetheart. you might not feel like it right now, but you will be okay. it may not go away, infact—the pain might stay forever. but that is not something to be scared about. of course, the pain is scary—but pain is pain. and you are you. and you get stronger every day.

you feel so many things, but you can’t name even one of them. it’s a feeling you never can pin point, one you aren’t even sure you’ve felt before—but if you could describe it, you’d say: inexplicable. it’s arrival was unprecedented, and it’s gnawed on you ever since.

but you did what you could.

it was hard the first few weeks, but then eventually— you had to live on. you went about your routine as normal, with each usually easy task more strenuous with each day that passed. trying to move on, trying to move forward, trying to forget.

you could never forget.

you had so much to say, so much to do, so much to give—and you never got to do any of it. it left you devastated, but you’d rather be damned than let it show. you knew they would’ve wanted you to be strong.

you wanted to be strong.

you tried to be strong, to lift up the world yourself even if it felt like the whole sky was falling down on you—but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t bother, you didn’t want to; a sky without them living under it is a dull one. a boring one. it isn’t worth it. nothing seems worth it, anymore—nothing seems just right. you try not to let it get to you. it does anyway, so you try not to have anyone notice.

kenji does anyway.

he throws off your pristine routine and in extension, throws off your means to distract yourself. kenji pulls you into bed thirty minutes before you’re even supposed to brush your hair—and you haven’t brushed your hair yet—and that just throws everything off. that tips the scale too much. kenji sees the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes, and he takes your face into his hands and swipes away at each tear that threatens to pour lower than your chin. you want to tell him to stop, to tell you to stop; you can’t cry. you have to be strong. you must be.

kenji just wants you to grieve.

this time, you lay on his chest—your face buried in his stomach as you soil his shirt with your tears. kenji does not mind, because you are his love—and he holds you dear. you are a beacon of light; you are a candle with a strong flame. but candles can dim, too, and their flames can weaken. but kenji does not mind.

“sweetheart, baby, precious, precious—“ he coos, “listen, baby—i’m..” he licks his lips, hoping that what comes out of his mouth next will help you in some way—“i’m… not good at this type of stuff.” he admits, trailing off before he looks at you with a newfound fire in his eyes. it’s a fire similar to yours, which is fitting—you were the one that sparked it. yet, in the face of it all—and in a situation like this, it is his time to help you strengthen yours.

it is something he bears with courage.

“death… comes for all of us. it’s inevitable. but death isn’t really death, isn’t it? i’m gonna sound corny but—”he places a hand over your chest, where your heart is. “they’re there. it’s ‘you love them,’ not ‘you loved them’ for a reason. they’re still there. they’ve left an impact on you—a lasting impact. so long as it lasts, so will they. they’re still there, baby. just—just not here.” his voice is soft, the most comforting tone he can muster. he presses soft kisses to your cheek, and each time he does, he tastes the salt of your tears. it breaks him, but he can only imagine how broken you may feel. “you’re definitely going to be okay, baby. listen to me.” he prods, “you’re strong. you’re being strong right now. even if you’re crying. and you may not be okay right now, but you will be. you definitely will be. and i’ll be here for you through it all.” he concludes, before he pulls you into a tight hug.

as you calm down, you look at the window, where the sunset’s—remnants of pink, orange and yellow—a pretty sight to see, and one you wished they could’ve seen, too. kenji looks where you look, and he smiles. “i see they’ve taken up painting, huh? it’s beautiful.”

your lips come up into a teary grin, and kenji runs a hand down your hair—brushing through it like you were supposed to do yourself. you keep your eyes locked onto the sunset, and you realize what you had failed to all along.

you may have not been able to hold up the sky by yourself, but that didn’t matter. they had been doing it the whole time.

your boyfriend looks at you, admiring the view. he sees your face, and it’s obvious you just had quite the epiphany—but it is not his place to pry. it is only his place to protect. he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but kenji takes a hold of your face. his hands caress your cheeks reassuringly.

kenji holds you like he’s doing his damndest trying to keep your flame lit—one hand on each side of your face— and that’s because he is.

you look back at him again, and instead of the coldness the tears would’ve left on your face—kenji thinks you just feel warm.

yes, everything will be okay.

in time.