#i couldn't decide which excerpt i wanted from this chapter

[jasperygrace]

RECORD RECOVERY - JOURNAL ENTRY 06

An Immortal Laid to Rest - Draft 2, Chpt 6

Three more statues were evenly spaces along the shoreline. They led to someplace just farther down. Following them led Orias and Vincent to the furthest point of the cape, where a sandbar protruded far into the water. And sitting proudly in its throne of rocks was a massive synagogue. A courtyard stood before it with an Admin’s Moon embedded into the flat rock, and he saw another set of Patron statues surrounding it. Above the building’s entrance was a beautiful stained-glass window adorned by a golden crescent glistening in the sun, soaking up eternity. It was identical to the structure near Trin.

>> Additional text recovered. >> Adding to preview...

Then the earth shook once more and the large wooden doors began to close. He saw the terrified look on Vincent’s face, saw him as he frantically tried to claw at the wall keeping him from getting out. Orias tried to help him, his shade forming along the ground as spikes, but they burned up upon contacting the wall. The doors continued to close, unbothered by either party’s attempt at stopping them. And then they were shut once more.

[peachyjinx]

Sharing an excerpt from "Lay Your Hands On Me", my Professor Loki multi-chapter fic coming out in 2025. I decided to finish writing it before posting, which sucks for me- I want to share it! So here's a little taste, I can't wait till I can share the whole thing with you guys 😘.

LMK if you want to be on the taglist for it! 💚

Loki swiftly walked through his foyer, and with a practiced flick, his keys spiraled through the air, landing with a clink on the small table in the corner. He had spent his whole drive home thinking about Charlotte. His guilt over their confrontation gnawed at him—a subtle sting beneath the surface—but it paled in comparison to the more insistent throbbing in his pants.

The house was silent around him, and he could almost hear the blood pulsing in his veins, each heartbeat a drumroll punctuating the thoughts of Charlotte that danced provocatively through his thoughts. 

He quickly made his way to his bedroom, unbuckling his pants as he walked into the shadows. The dim light offered a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he could entertain these thoughts without the piercing clarity of daylight to cast judgment upon them. He laid down on his large bed with determination to relieve this pressure, this ache that was inside of him. 

She was smart, passionate, and fiery, and he liked it. While at first she irritated him, he now felt his whole body alight with lust. That fierce glint in her eyes sparked something primal within him, igniting a flame where only embers had smoldered for far too long. The way she had bent over and pointed her finger at him angrily had caused an involuntary shudder through him, and a twitch of arousal he couldn't suppress.

"Once," he whispered into the darkness, a promise or a plea, he wasn't certain, as he released his pulsing cock from its confines, the cool air of the room kissing his heated skin.

Would it be so bad if he slept with her? 

You can’t fuck the students. They explicitly told you that when you were in training. 

Loki chuckled to himself as his length hardened more while his large hand stroked it. Of course he'd be attracted to a student. This was simultaneously the best and worst thing that could happen. A temptation, a change in this monotonous life. The hunger within him stirred, a restless beast prowling the confines of his soul. It was desire, pure and unadulterated, mingled with the tang of danger. 

Oh this is bad, he thought to himself with a wicked grin, as he tightened his grip on his needy cock while he rhythmically pumped it.

--

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Love Sea Excerpt: Tongrak and Mahasamut's First Time (Ch 5: The Price I Paid)

"Haha," Mahasamut couldn't help but chuckle.

He felt crazy watching someone work, especially since that person wasn't even acknowledging him.

I gave him such a wonderful service, and he didn't even like it. That hurts.

Mahasamut thought, and laughed out loud.

"Quiet, I'm working."

But then, the man who'd been silent for so long spoke calmly without even turning to look at him. The sound of the keyboard continued, causing Mahasamut to pause mid-laugh, even as his lips curled into a wide smile.

He's quite charming in his working mode.

The still, solemn demeanor and focus that seemed to belong to a completely different person only piqued his interest further, making him want to see more of Tongrak's emotions. But he figured he should probably keep quiet if he didn't want to be kicked out of the room.

The thought made his sharp eyes fixate on the fair neck reddening from sunburn, the fair skin smeared with sand from the beach. But the man himself didn't seem to care. Perhaps only he couldn't help but think about how he wanted to bite into that man's neck, and the taste that he'd savored earlier confirmed just how sweet that fair skin was.

Looking any longer might not be a good idea.

It looked like his VIP guest was alright. He was in a hurry to get back to work and leave his little buddy to wither away. Mahasamut shrugged and looked down at his own body, which was initially soaked with seawater but now almost dry, except for the sand covering him. He decided to get up and head to the bathroom.

Just a quick rinse. The room's owner probably wouldn't mind.

---

---

Mahasamut had barely disappeared into the bathroom when the sound of water hitting the tiled floor echoed out. However, what brought the man in front of the screen back to reality wasn't the sound of water, but the last sentence he typed to finish the chapter he'd left.

He'd solved the problem of how to describe the love in this story.

"Phew," and with that, Tongrak let out a sigh of relief.

While the famous writer Tongrak had many romantic works, few knew that he struggled with writing love scenes, and his solution to the problem was... having sex.

Sometimes, it couldn't be solved with just a warm embrace.

But most of the time, that wasn't very effective. Connor was one of the people whose embrace felt warm to Tongrak, but the problem was that he already had a boyfriend. When stuck or when he couldn't grasp the concept of warmth or love, he'd just go to his best friend, snuggle into his embrace, and some ideas would start to flow. But now, that was no longer an option.

And yes, one of the reasons he agreed to go to this island was because... he was tired of the men in the city.

It was so dull that he thought of changing the scenery for his work.

And then he met...

Tongrak turned to glance at the slightly ajar bathroom door.

After completely ignoring the other person in the room, Tongrak saved his work and shut down his laptop. From slow steps, his pace quickened. He pushed the bathroom door open with force and saw a robust, naked figure standing under the rain shower. Thick, wet hair clung to his cheeks, and one hand braced against the wall while the other cradled... his substantially sized shaft.

As those sharp, intense eyes met him, the cascading water made the man look even more dominant, magnifying his dangerous allure.

The man's expression shifted from fierce to his usual teasing smirk.

Mahasamut didn't even care that Tongrak was now inspecting his impressive lower half.

Tongrak secretly thought the guy must be well-endowed, but he hadn't expected it to be this impressive.Whether it was the size or the shape, the veins that stood out from arousal, it was all something he wanted to look at.

"If you keep staring like that, I'm going to start charging," came the teasing voice, drawing honey-colored eyes back to meet his gaze.

Mahasamut wasn't shy about showing off his body.

The guy was so confident that it was almost sickening.

"Usually, when the money's in, you can consider it done. I already gave you a service, and yet here you are, watching my body for free. I'm running at a loss here..."

Thud!

Tongrak didn't wait for the man to finish speaking. His lead body pushed the broad chest until it hit the wall, also bringing himself under the shower. The slender frame pressed close to the broad chest, allowing the sensitive part beneath his pants to press against the hot flesh, feeling the heat between them, and then...

Tongrak swiftly captured Mahasamut's neck and kissed him fiercely.

A tongue licked teasingly over the irritating lips. Tongrak bit down on the lower lip hard enough to almost taste blood. After that, the pretty one pulled back to look into his eyes.

"How much?"

"..."

Mahasamut remained silent. The only sound was that of water droplets hitting the tiled floor.

"How much for letting me see your body just now?"

"..."

"And how much to sleep with you?"

"..."

"How much would it cost for you to take me?"

"..."

Tongrak then asked the final question.

"So, what's your price if I want to buy you?"

Their gazes locked, neither willing to back down.

Strangely, this time, Tongrak didn't have a hint of his usual complaining demeanor. There was only a serious look in his eyes, like a businessman negotiating a deal.

Yet, this seriousness was... sexy.

The once arrogant man was now eagerly seeking an answer to how much it'd cost to be 'taken'.

"... I'm not cheap, you know." Mahasamut finally replied after a long stare, and that turned the serious businessman into a man of passion.

"Money won't be a problem."

At Tongrak's words, it wasn't just one of them who moved first, but both of them closed the distance as if they'd been waiting for this moment all along.

Lips crushed and ground against each other.

Bodies moved close, leaving no space between them.

Hands intertwined, caressed, and stroked each other without restraint.

It was Mahasamut's turn to flip Tongrak's body, pressing him against the wall while his hot mouth continued to suck hungrily and nip. His tongue invaded deeply, tormenting the other without pause for breath, sweeping and pursuing, attacking and pressing until clear liquid seeped and smeared at the corners of their mouths. The sound of their sweet exchange echoed loudly.

The big man pulled away briefly to strip Tongrak's shirt while Tongrak himself quickly discarded his pants with a swift flick.

"Ah, ha... oh, that's good... so good..."

With just a large hand scooping up the pale leg to bring their lower bodies into close contact, Tongrak moaned in satisfaction. He enjoyed the sensation of his sensitive parts rubbing against the larger, hotter area, the scorching heat nearly burning his flesh at the lower abdomen. He liked it so much that he wanted to pull that large part into his mouth.

But today, Mahasamut had other ideas.

"Hold this for me."

Mahasamut grasped Tongrak's hand, pulling it to hold the heated flesh that throbbed between them. Tongrak complied easily, but a single hand wasn't enough to contain them both. Both hands worked together to gather their moist parts, pressing his palm against the visibly larger and longer part of Mahasamut. His hips moved with desire, hot breaths touching the broad chest.

Wide eyes shimmered with emotion, and skin flushed from pale to a spreading red that reached the ears. Now, a hot tongue traced and nipped at his fair skin.

"Ah! You really like to bite, huh? Were you a dog in a past life or something?"

It was then that the larger man used his free hand to grasp the slender neck, tilting the flushing face upward, allowing him to bury his face into the crook of a fair neck. He licked at the marks left by previous bites, eliciting a hoarse moan from Tongrak, who couldn't help but ask, even as he was nearly delirious with... excitement.

He liked it when Mahasamut did this to him, bit him like this, nipped him like this.

It wasn't so violent that it hurt, but it was enough to make his body scream with pleasure.

Mahasamut's gaze flickered for a moment, and Tongrak was certain he saw a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Then...

"Woof."

The big man let out a sound that should have been endearing, but it made Tongrak cry out as a tingling sensation spread through him.

The giant dog, burying its face against the slender chest with just the right amount of muscle, licked the tender nipple that stood erect with a flick of his tongue as if savoring a delicious sweet.

Mahasamut alternated between biting and smoothing with licks, repeating the motion until the area felt numb and swollen, the nipples turning a bright red. The voice grew higher with every moan, hips moving, calling for their flesh to rub together.

Now, it was impossible to tell whose slick fluid filled the palm of Tongrak's hand.

"Mahasamut, suck, suck more, ugh, ah, that's good."

Since he'd already given in, why hide his desires any longer?

When Tongrak played with himself, he enjoyed teasing his nipples hard while slipping a fingertip into his behind, stimulating both above and below. Although it was exceedingly rare for him to be without a partner, what he truly relished was the way Mahasamut would incessantly suck and pull at his nipples as if insatiable.

It was a delicious torment, almost maddeningly good.

Meanwhile, a large hand caressed his back, kneading the soft flesh until fingertips sank into the smooth skin, a touch that made the more prominent man want to squeeze even harder.

"Ah..."

If it were just about thoughts, it wouldn't be Mahasamut. As soon as those sharp eyes saw the person in his embrace pushing his body against him, the adorable body trying to grind him like an animal in heat, the beautiful face flushed red, breathing heavily, sweat glistening across the forehead, he too moved the hand that wasn't busy to turn off the water and back to firmly clench the round buttocks.

It was enough to make Tongrak moan with a trembling voice.

"Play with my insides... do it..."

Just the touch of a fingertip teasing the tender passage he'd been playing with earlier caused it to clench, and the person in his embrace begged with a quivering voice, eyes moist as they looked up at him until...

"Uhh..." their lips met with precise heat.

A fervent kiss that escalated the passion to its peak while the adorable person before him pleaded even more.

"Uhh..."

Mahasamut felt the trembling moan in the other's mouth as soon as his fingertip teased the sweet passage. The suction that seemed to invite him in nearly drove him wild, unable to resist until...

His middle finger slid in as the person in his embrace widened his eyes, writhing, gasping for air close to his lips.

Now, Mahasamut wasn't just growling but roaring.

Who gave your body permission to be this sexy, Mr. Writer?!

Now the soft walls were clenching around his long finger, the searing heat gripping tightly, sucking eagerly just like the person in his embrace, as the long finger curled inward, seeking the spot that made the more petit person in his arms twitch.

"Ah, ahh, uhh, ugh..."

As soon as his lips were free, Tongrak let out a trembling moan, his eyes tightly shut, indulging in the sensation of the probing touch moving in and out of his passage.

Seeing that Tongrak could handle it, a second finger soon followed.

"You are really something," Mahasamut growled.

"Why, am I... sexy... or something...?"

The sexy one squinted his eyes open and licked his own lips fervently, his gaze narrowing, but only for a moment, as the two long fingers stirring inside him that initially stuck close together were now... parting.

"Ah, ah, don't, don't- Mahasamut-ah, ah!"

Damn it!

There were a few times when Mahasamut lost his patience, especially with the pretty man before him, biting his lips and moaning unintelligibly, was clenching around his fingers, forcing him to pull his hand out of that soft channel in one swift motion. He flipped the smooth body to face the wall, his strong knees pushing the slender legs to spread wide.

"Put it in!"

Meanwhile, the small body cried out passionately for the loss of the hot part, disliking the sudden emptiness.

He liked how Mahasamut spread his fingers, liked the thrilling discomfort, liked the tightness that almost split him open, liked the long fingers reaching spots he couldn't reach himself. It was enough to make him beg for the other person to tease his sensitive passage once more.

"!"

But at the sound of his plea, Mahasamut would forcefully push three fingers in all at once. It was fierce, raw, merciless to the point of taking Tongrak's breath away. His legs trembled, his hands braced against the wall, his breaths coming in short gasps, unable to contain the rising desire that edged him to the brink.

"Ah, ahh!"

The long fingers almost completely withdrew, then... slammed back in.

Each time, they hammered insistently at that sensitive spot, bringing him close to the edge, his tender part stubbornly releasing drops of fluid.

Mahasamut couldn't take it anymore either.

He wanted to thrust himself into that sweet, inviting hole so badly.

"Condom."

"Hah... in the bag."

No need for further questions. They understood each other well, and then...

Mahasamut yanked Tongrak's arm, pulling him back into the bedroom, pushing the smooth body to fall onto the bed while he himself walked over to the open suitcase.

"The front one," Tongrak called out with a trembling voice.

The tall figure took only a few seconds to find the box of condoms that had... every size imaginable.

Mahasamut quickly grabbed one that fit him, but as soon as he turned back...

He felt the urge to spank a petite body.

Who'd have thought that Mr. Perfect, someone like Tongrak, would be on all fours on the bed, legs spread wide, hands bracing against the soft mattress, exposing every inch of his bare body, even the twitching tightness that was eagerly awaiting?

"Hurry, Mahasamut, hurry," the slender figure urged with a quivering, breathy voice, legs spreading even wider.

Smack!

"Did you just spank... Ahhh!"

Tongrak was about to curse in shock when suddenly, a large hand slapped his soft buttocks. But before he could finish his sentence, the sting from the slap was nothing compared to the intense heat that was pushing in, making him feel unbearably full, almost bursting at his very core.

"Wait!! Wait! You're too big, you... ugh!"

The deep penetration brought tears to the brink of his eyes. His fair hands reached for the strong thighs in an attempt to restrain, but it only spurred the larger man to thrust deeper, causing Tongrak to clutch the sheets, his face digging into the soft mattress, his breaths echoing throughout the room.

It was so tight.

"Can you take it?"

"I don't know, Mahasamut. I don't know, ah!"

At this point, he knew nothing, his mind was completely blank.

But when Mahasamut moved...

"!"

A scream tore from Tongrak's throat at full volume.

The initial pain from the size was immense, but it also meant there wasn't an inch left untouched, not a space left unfilled. Every craving, every tingling sensation shot straight through his chest with each hot thrust... deep... into the deepest part.

"Ah, ugh, huuuh!"

Now, within the luxurious room, there were only the moans and low growls of two men, mingling with the raw sound of flesh against flesh in a strong rhythm. The temperature in the room soared, rendering the air conditioning useless, but why would Mahasamut care when the sight before him was far more captivating?

The stark white expanse of a handsome man's back stretched out before him, beads of sweat seeping out until the hair at the nape of his neck was damp against the smooth skin. Large hands pressed into that back, urging the other to let himself fall flat against the bed, with only the beautiful arch of his hips raised high, allowing him to indulge his desires.

It was so enticing that Mahasamut leaned down to lick the sweat at that smooth neck, something he had longed to do.

"Ugh!"

"Huh, ugh!"

As the hips met each thrust with full force, the soft buttocks pressed tightly against his abdomen. He could feel the intense twitching of the person beneath him, who jerked violently. Fair hands reached out to grasp his thighs and clung tightly, hips tilting higher, while his one large hand braced against the headboard, the other reaching to cradle the lovely, soaked part that signaled that Tongrak... had already climaxed.

"Hah, hah."

The person in his embrace gasped, his body trembling as if consciousness was slipping away in the aftermath of reaching heaven.

Then, a flushed face turned to look at him through tears, eyes still adrift in the blissful moment. This prompted him not to tease Tongrak with a 'You finish so easily, don't you?' Instead, he kissed him to soothe and comfort him.

It seemed Tongrak himself hadn't expected to finish so easily.

"Ah, ugh."

Warm lips pressed against a gentle, comforting kiss, contrasting with the lower body's movements that quickened, urging him on to match the rhythm of the beauty who'd reached the climax before him. And that taught the southern man something new.

With a face contorted in pleasure, a throat filled with moans, and a body twitching below, this person enjoyed him plunging deep even after cumming.

Damn!

The larger man growled low in his throat, eyes blazing with passion. This was almost maddening, but the discovery only made him more curious.

How to kiss and touch to make this person melt in his embrace?

That was the thought of the one thrusting his body hard, hands now shifting to lock around Tongrak's shoulders, pulling him close, listening to the sweet moans whispered close to his cheek, and that...

Mahasamut felt the tension, his hands clenched tight, his body taught with strain, and then... he released.

Mahasamut shut his eyes, pulling himself back from the blissful sensation he'd just experienced. When he opened them again, he intended to press a kiss onto those beautifully colored lips.

"If you're done, then take it out."

But before he could act on his desire, Tongrak raised a hand to cover his mouth, panting slightly but... with a cold tone in his voice.

"I need to get back to work. If you're done, then take that thing out already."

The gesture made Mahasamut want to smack the older man once or twice.

Geez... Just moments ago, he was begging for me, and now that it's over, I'm being kicked to the curb.

Part of him wanted to tease a little, but maybe because he'd already gotten more than he expected today, the tall figure clenched his teeth and slowly pulled himself away, looking at the trembling face that was still affected by the fiction that had occurred.

"As you command."

What else could he say when his employer had given the order?

"Do I have to leave right now?"

"Yes, why would you stick around after you're finished? You can go."

"Kicking me out right after we're done, huh?" The big man chuckled.

Tongrak didn't seem to care. As soon as he collapsed onto the bed, he pulled the blanket over himself and commanded, "Take the condom and throw it outside, then lock the door."

"No goodbye hug?"

"Get out."

When teased, Tongrak looked up with a stern voice, making the other laugh softly. He dressed in his sandy clothes from the bathroom and returned with the evidence of their encounter. His sharp eyes glanced at the man lying in the middle of the bed, but before leaving...

"Do you want me to clean up? I have long fingers, you know."

That's when Tongrak threw a pillow at him, still not lifting his head from the thick blanket.

"I told you to get out!"

"Okay, okay, see you tomorrow."

Mahasamut willingly left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him.

When he heard the door close and the lock click, the person on the bed lifted his head again, revealing a flushed face, moist eyes, and messy hair that could only be described as sexy. And the handsome man cursed to himself...

"Damn it Rak, how could you let him do something like that?!"

As his senses returned, he remembered everything he'd said, and more importantly...

"That was damn good."

The sex this time around was exceptional, easily ranking in the top three experiences of his life. It was so good that he'd almost choked to death trying to suppress the desire for another round. Thinking back on what had happened, he brought his hands up to cover his face.

I think I'm in trouble.

---

---

Content Note:

Tongrak demands Mahasamut take the used condom and throw it away in an outside bin. This is a reference to the events of Love Sand.

Khom is confronted by a homophobic former classmate named Jun. Jun had already run afowl of Connor and Khom, but he makes inquiries among the locals who work at the resort and learns that Connor's trash has been full of used condoms, and Khom had been staying with him most nights.

After Connor leaves the island, Jun attacks Khom in front of a crowded market. He loudly outs Khom as gay, a secret Khom religiously kept from everyone, including his family. Jun then beats Khom half to death, with the crowd only standing there watching, some making faces at Khom.

Mahasamut finds Khom in the hospital and helps him flee to a college dorm Khom has on the mainland. He also tracks down Jun and beats him severely, then forces him to crawl to Khom's parents and beg forgiveness.

Tongrak is very aware of what Khom has gone through, and in the Love Sea show as well as novel, you see many gestures by Tongrak to obscure or hide his sexual relationship with Mahasamut, such as when he tells Mahasamut to throw the used condom away in a public trash can. He knows using the in-room trashbin was what led to Khom's attack.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm: A Matt Murdock x Reader Series

PREVIEW

Masterlist | Series Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Doctor!Reader

Set during: Daredevil Season 1

Summary: Two years ago, you fled across the country, leaving your past far behind you. Dedicated to helping those in need, you only barely escaped the shadows that haunted you. But you managed; you changed your name, acquired an entirely new identity and a New York medical license – all for a chance at a new life. You somehow managed to get a job at Metro General in Hell’s Kitchen, rented a new apartment and made new friends. The person you claimed to be did, anyway. Everything was going well. Too well. Until one day, you run into Matt Murdock. In an instant, the safe haven you built for yourself starts to unravel, and you find yourself forced to face the very life you tried your hardest to escape.

Warnings: Angst, domestic violence, implied/referenced child abuse, substance abuse, canon typical violence, injury, mental illness, strong language, eventual smut, Black Suit, medical jargon (but I’m not a doctor), Reader has a fake name that is used for a big portion of this story ("Olivia Carter"), no y/n

A/n: I've been watching a lot of medical dramas lately to cope with the drama of life. This is how this idea came to life. I couldn't help myself. As mentioned in the warnings, Reader has a fake name due to her history, but it still a reader insert. I use "you" and she/her pronouns when referring to the Reader. So you can either see her as an OC or as yourself. I hope you guys enjoy this little gem! See more information below.

18+ for EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DNI!

More under the cut.

ONE: Night Shift (coming December 1st)

Excerpt from Chapter 1

[…] Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—he can’t get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. […]

-> Story Aesthetic

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know! I do separate ones for all of my series because not everyone who filled out the tag list form wants to read an entire series. So, this will be tagged separately and only those who want me to.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1 

Series Masterlist           Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol). 

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed. 

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt. 

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that. 

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options. 

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.” 

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall. 

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past. 

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run. 

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone. 

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him. 

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them. 

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch. 

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself. 

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine. 

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour. 

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.” 

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being. 

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.” 

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man. 

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.” 

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.” 

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life. 

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while. 

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.” 

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them. 

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head. 

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off. 

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit. 

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack. 

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?” 

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something. 

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.” 

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar. 

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly. 

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.” 

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw. 

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears. 

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story? 

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you. 

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment. 

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime” 

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood. 

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention. 

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped. 

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you. 

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him. 

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before? 

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it. 

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?” 

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said. 

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming. 

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“ 

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch. 

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned. 

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box. 

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed. 

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment. 

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.” 

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin. 

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.” 

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight. 

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe. 

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.” 

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.” 

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits. 

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter. 

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned. 

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes. 

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.” 

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze. 

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.” 

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?” 

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.” 

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.” 

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner. 

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground. 

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta. 

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth. 

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.” 

“Culinary school, huh?” 

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.” 

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?” 

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted. 

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall. 

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.” 

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.” 

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home. 

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile. 

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes. 

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven. 

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder. 

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed. 

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her. 

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.” 

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin. 

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile. 

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way. 

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response. 

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?” 

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it. 

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.” 

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?” 

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged. 

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.” 

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze. 

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation. 

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct. 

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes. 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.” 

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over. 

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.” 

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile. 

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why. 

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him. 

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy. 

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!” 

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes. 

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal. 

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself. 

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.” 

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?” 

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.” 

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life. 

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his. 

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.” 

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle. 

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you. 

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her. 

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely. 

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods. 

“I’d uh…I’d like that.” 

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye. 

You were definitely going to be the death of him. 

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance. 

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever. 

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me. 

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec. 

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though. 

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous. 

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.” 

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly. 

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs. 

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism. 

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown. 

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled. 

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him. 

“Fine. Yours?” 

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled. 

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.” 

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?” 

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected. 

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one. 

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh. 

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?” 

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.” 

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl. 

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

[starful02]

Life is wild sometimes. I made a small decision almost a year ago, based on a recommendation of one of the most positive individuals to ever grace my life so far, and I firmly believe that it has changed the course of my life. The decision was to sign up for a class about fantasy writing and publishing that my university was offering, which is the exact genre I so desperately want to have a career in (I want to be a writer you see). That fall I took the 8 week class and it happened to be taught by none other than the absolutely wonderful, utterly amazing fantasy author Alex Rowland (aka @ariaste). If you asked myself or any of my peers, we will happily tell you that this class was one of the comfiest, kindest, most encouraging academic experiences we have ever had and that it has changed our lives. Anyone who has taken at least one creative writing class in their life will tell you of the horrors that ruthlessly plague them and all sorts of traumatic incidents endured. This class was a soothing balm to a disheartened soul with trampled ambitions. You might be wondering where I'm going with this? Well, when you take a class with an author, they tend to gush rather happily about their work. It did not take long for me to know in my heart of hearts that I NEEDED to get my hands on Alex's latest book, A Taste of Gold and Iron (aka ATOGAI). And when I finally got the perfect chance to read it a little over a month ago, when I tell you, it was chapter five when I became undeniably aware that this book had snatched my heart and I would gladly let it have it for the rest of my life. If I hadn't already bought all of Alex's books on a strong hunch that I would absolutely, completely and utterly fall in love with ATOGAI, I would have definitely right after I finished that chapter. This is inarguably one of the best books I have ever read, checking all my boxes (including ones I didn't even know I had). I don't think it's possible to praise it enough because it deserves it all. The wait I endured before I could read it was so worth it and I will be forever grateful for the sheer chance that it and it's author entered into my life. It shattered my high expectations and I will never be the same and couldn't be happier about it. Now, I still have to read the other books that Alex has written (and I will savor them like a piece of the finest of desserts and I haven't the slightest doubt, despite that I tend to be more on the quiet side, I will be absolutely mouthing off about them to anyone who will listen), but I want to specifically highlight their upcoming book, Running Close to the Wind (aka RCW). Because I was in their class and a part of their Discord, I have been treated to several chapters of the book and I can very firmly tell you that you need this in your life. It's terribly funny, utterly vibrant, very queer, full of gremlin chaos and pirate shenanigans, all good and wonderful things, right? I knew I needed it in my life half way through Alex reading chapter two to us. It comes out in June of this year and I so highly recommend you give it a look see. You can read an excerpt in the link below!

And if you too decide that you need this book in your life, go preorder it and then come join a Discord full of awesome queer pocket people that are also terribly excited for this book to be in our hands! I will also be posting fanart of ATOGAI and RCW if you also want to keep an eye on this little habitat of mine. :) Either way, best wishes and happy reading!

[mikashisus]

while u guys wait for the next chapter of thus always to tyrants, here’s an excerpt from chapter 2 that i rlly enjoyed writing! :))

"Are you not going to join him?" He questioned suddenly, turning his head to look at you.

You glanced to where he was pointing, only to see that Barbatos was staring at you as he sang. He only broke eye contact when a patron cheered next to him, causing him to excitedly sing the next verse.

"What do you mean?" you replied. You had an inkling of what Ragnvindr was implying, but you had to be sure first.

He scoffed softly. "I think we both know what I mean. Just look at the way he looks at you." He pushed your chin, turning your head to face Barbatos once more.

Sure enough, the bard was vying for your attention again. However, he looked away from you almost immediately, a pink tint coating his cheeks. He was embarrassed that he had been caught.

You laughed, somewhat in disbelief. "I don't see how he could—" you stopped short as Ragnvindr sent you a smirk. You gulped, shaking your head.

"He's—“

"A god?" he finished your sentence, raising a brow. You nodded. A soft chuckle left his lips. "And why is that stopping you?"

You couldn't think of an answer to that question. Instead, you simply shrugged. Barbatos ultimately wanted you to see him as human— something he was without even trying to be. It was easy for a god like him to mingle with humans, and the more you learned about him, the more you started to realize just how beautiful he really was.

“He’s taking an interest in you,” Ragnvindr continued. “You should welcome it with open arms. Unless, that is, you don’t want it.”

You didn’t know what you wanted. Everything was piling up on your shoulders all at once, and it was beginning to take a huge toll on your mental state. And there was only so much that alcohol could do to stop it. You knew that eventually you’d snap, because the pressure kept building and building.

Deciding to stay silent, you watched as the man across from you pieced everything together. You didn’t even need to say anything, he already understood, and that scared you. The only other person who was able to understand you like this was Diluc.

The song ended, the obnoxious cheers from the crowd hurting your ears. You were brought out of your stupor, watching as the humble bard on the stage took a dramatic bow and gratefully accepted a few mugs filled with wine.

author’s note: chapter 2 is still very much in the works. it will be extremely long, which is why it’s taking me so long to write it. i hope u guys will be satisfied with the end result! <3

[nelkcats]

Romance is (Not) Dead

Little excerpt of chapter 3

Remember the complete story is in Ao3

"So how are you doing?" Jason questioned trying to hide the laugh behind his hand, that obviously wasn't working very well for him, or maybe he didn't care that Danny knew he was laughing, in which case, rude.

"I'm a fucking swan" Danny raised his wings in frustration, annoyed by his companion's amusement "And I'm not even the right color!"

The halfa had never seen a black swan before, although Dani had shown him pictures of some swans she'd encountered on her travels, apparently they could be very docile or extremely aggressive as the situation required. In this case, he felt very aggressive

"If it makes you feel any better, I think you're a very pretty swan" Jason said, holding back the urge to stroke his wings "and you're the right color, for a black swan"

Although Jason had doubts as to why Danny was that color. If he was right and they were in the story he thought, then originally the swan was white, and there was a completely different swan that was the main nemesis of black color. But that was impossible, the ghost wouldn't put them into a non-existent fable, would he?

On second thought, he would totally drag them into a never-before-told story just to see the end result.

He decided not to think about it for the moment, preferring to assume that Danny was stuck as the protagonist of the story and not the antagonist. The black swan did not have a happy ending, and it was never explained if there was a way to break her own curse.

She was quite an odd character, only appearing for a few minutes to ruin the Swan Princess happy ending, but Jason had always thought that maybe she didn't mean to ruin anything, and was just jealous of not having someone to dance with.

Loneliness is harmful enough, he wouldn't be surprised if the black swan only wanted love like the white one, but seeing that the only way to get it was to take it away from her counterpart, she did what he thought was best for her.

Or maybe he was just overanalyzing a dance. In his defense he couldn't help it, it was Cass's favorite dance, she performed it once a year and always requested the presence of her entire family.

The story was so popular that it became a book, and then a movie, but technically it started out as a dance. Jason wondered which of the three had taken Ghostwriter as his inspiration for the current situation.

"That doesn't make me feel better! Black swans even exist!?" Danny looked at him in disbelief, at least it seemed like he was listening to him that time "whatever, we have to figure out how to break this curse"

"I'm pretty sure you just need a kiss" Jason said, avoiding spouting all the information Damian had told him about black swans

"Actually, just leave me like this and release me when you see the Ghostwriter, there's a game I wanna play with him" Danny said after he thought of an excellent solution to his current problem.

"Which is…?" Jason questioned narrowing his eyes. He was suspicious that Danny would resign so quickly and he didn't believe one bit that the emotion showed in that sentence was positive.

"Untitled Ghost Swan Game" Danny said with a bit of sadism, feeling proud of his idea.

[paprikadotmp4]

WIP game ♡

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence / excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

tagged by the lovely @disniq (coughs ages ago coughs) thank you bb i love these!! this was actually really hard to do tho, holy moly

word: CAPE

C

from sladedaddy x sugarjayby, my jayde wip for sladerobin week that is not getting done in time 😭 (i'd add more but the rest is in bullet points 🤣):

"C3-C4," Deathstroke manages to say before passing out.

A

from chokehold, aka the wip where khoa and jason are fuck"buddies" because they both have the hots for bruce:

After he'd seen Batman and decided to strap a bomb under his car, to finally be rid of the man who'd haunted him since he could think past green. Bruce had been a ghost hanging over his head, choking him with his presence, the miasma seeping into his pores. Ghostmaker had been a revelation. Jason knows death intimately, and although she is the closest thing he's ever come to being at peace, he's never welcomed her with open arms. If it were up to him, they wouldn't meet for a long, long time. She'd come to him again that night at Ghostmaker's behest, with all the hits that met their mark and the single, beautiful slide of a blade through flesh and bone. It had been brutal and obscene, the ease of which he tore into a boy half his age like it was a game. Jason wasn't innocent anymore; he had blood on his hands through no one's choice but his own, and yet he knew Ghostmaker was dripping with it, savoring its taste, not drowning in it like he was.

P

LMAO this is actually from the same sugaring fic that above C excerpt is from:

"Please. I think you know I'm not just any 'boy', Wilson." He stresses Deathstroke's name in blatant challenge. Slade just narrows his gaze at Jason. Then: "The Bat's second bird," he says flatly. His grip tightens around Jason's throat; Jason gasps in pain before his air is cut off completely. There's a glint in Slade's expression that's almost curious. "I heard the clown killed him." But Jason couldn't answer the question even if he wanted to, red-faced with wide, watering eyes… and hard and aching in his pants.

E

from bruised and bloodied chapter 5, which hopefully i'll update soon:

Everything from Roman taking out one of the Gotham underworld's boogeymen to the fact that he'd hired Deathstroke to do it—to the fact that Slade is training Jason—it sounds like some kind of twisted, fucked up fairytale. Everyone knows how this story ends: with Little Red Riding Hood taking step after step into the wolf's maw herself. Jason remembers the weight of the gun in his hands earlier, the force of its recoil and the deafening sound it had made in his ears. He wonders if that's enough to get out of Roman's grasp, or if he'll need some huntsman to save him; he worries about whether anyone even can save him, be it Nightwing or Slade or even Batman himself. He thinks of Gloria and figures it could be worth dying to try.

tagging: @gavotteandgigue @amaraangelicus @bittercape @sasheneskywalker @setsailslash and anyone who wants to do it!!

your word is: WRITE

[mikkeneko]

This is just an excerpt - the whole chapter isn’t ready to post yet -- but I’m actually pretty pleased with the dialogue in this scene. Most of the content of this scene was originally just in narration, but I decided it was boring, pulled in Shang Qinghua and had them bicker while Shen Qingqiu is getting ready. These two really are a lot of fun together.

Also thanks to @cerusee​ for the suggestion of who Shen Yuan might have cosplayed as!

---

Shang Qinghua really was not sure why his presence was required in this situation. Cucumber-bro seemed to want a spotter, or something? Which, you know, he was a bro, Shang Qinghua would help him however he could, but he didn't have an awful lot to offer when the task at hand was disguising yourself in women's clothing.

"You okay back there bro?" Shang Qinghua called out to the man producing ominous rustles from behind the privacy screens, feeling like he ought to at least show willing.

"I'm fine," Shen Qingqiu's snappish voice came back from the other side of the screen. Honestly, Shang Qinghua didn't even mind, that was just kind of his default state. Resting bitch voice and everything else. "It's not the first time I've had to navigate women's robes."

Shang Qinghua choked on a melon seed. "What."

"Not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter," Shen Qingqiu said irritably. Rustle, rustle. "I went to ChinaJoy in 2011 as Mei Chaofeng."

Now it had been a while since Shang Qinghua was plugged into China's geek scene, but, "You went to a con dressed as a woman?"

"Of course not! Weren't you listening?" Rustle, rustle. "I went to a con dressed as Mei Chaofeng."

Shang Qinghua thought about it for a moment. Then he just had to ask: "2008 Mei Chaofeng, or 2003 Mei Chaofeng?"

"The genuine Mei Chaofeng from the 2003 version, obviously." Even from behind the screen, he could hear that eye-roll. "Got second place in the cosplay drama division, too."

"I feel like I'm learning all sorts of new things about you," Shang Qinghua mused, crunching on another melon seed.

"Honestly the whole trip was a nightmare," Shen Qingqiu continued his villain monologue from behind the screen. "The nails were a pain in the ass and I had to leave it in the hotel the second day, and the whip got confiscated by con security. Also a bunch of guys tried to hit on me and even after I told them I was a man, they still tried to keep hitting on me!"

Every new part of this conversation was like a punch to the face but you know what, Shang Qinghua had no trouble believing that last part. It honestly fit right in with Cucumber-bro's everything since the transmigration.

"And don't think your readers didn't notice that the Blind Baroness of the Hissing Depths in chapter eight hundred was an obvious ripoff of Mei Chaofeng. You aren't subtle." Shen Qingqiu came out from behind the screen, adjusting the drape of the skirt one last time. "How do I look?" 

Shang Qinghua gave him a careful once-over.

Okay, so, Shen Qingqiu had definitely landed on feminine; aside from his height (which he couldn't really change) there was very little left that evoked the image of the Xiu Ya Sword. Without the bulky layered robes of a Peak Lord he did strike a much smaller, less imposing figure; the robe was distinctly feminine in style, and the silhouette was passingly female. There was enough drape above and below the cinched waist to suggest padding that wasn't actually there, and long wide sleeves made the hands look dainty. A veiled hat topped out the ensemble.

Cucumber-bro definitely didn't look like himself, but despite that "Uhh, you don't look anything like Liu Mingyan, bro." Aside from the fact that 'her' face was covered, there wasn't much about the new outfit that was identifiable to the War God's little sister.

"That's fine," Shen Qingqiu dismissed the concern, taking off the weimao for the time being and folding it under his arm. "I'm not going in disguise as Liu-Shizhi, I'm going in disguise as Liu-Shizhi in disguise."

Shang Qingqiu stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to make that make sense. "Okay," he finally said.

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. "Qi Qingqi read me the riot act at even the notion of me ruining the reputation of one of her girls and you know what, she had a point," he admitted. 

"Bruh."

"If 'Liu Mingyan' gets spotted going in or out of the Master's Chamber, she'll be in trouble! Much better if I just look like some anonymous girl from a distance," Shen Qingqiu explained. "Then, when I get in to Binghe's presence, I can slip some hints, so he'll know it's her."

"But... it isn't her," Shang Qingqiu felt obligated to point out. "It's you."

"Yes but Binghe will think it's her," Cucumber bro said with his usual one-track laser-focus, "and he'll be appropriately grateful, and then once he gets out of prison he can catch up with the real Liu Mingyan, and if that doesn't jump-start their relationship I don't know what will."

Shang Qingqiu took a moment to privately reflect that Peerless Cucumber had always been a diehard BingLiu shipper, and it seemed even transmigrating into the work itself hadn't changed that. Shang Qinghua didn't have the heart to tell him that the main reason he never wrote explicit sex scenes for Luo Binghe and Liu Mingyan was that the character of Liu Mingyan had been based on an actual college classmate of his. Having a real person to associate the character with was bad enough, but that particular classmate later turned out to be exclusively into women, so it felt a little sour to write "her" boning a dude. 

Honestly, given what he'd seen of Liu Mingyan in this world so far, he kind of suspected she might go the same way as her real-life inspiration.

But he could hardly admit that to his number one hater. "Cucumber-bro, don't you think that it's a little creepy for you to be playing romance sims with your disciples?" he said instead. 

"I don't want to hear 'creepy' from you!" Shen Qingqiu snapped. "Not when you were the one who wrote all those tasteless barely-legal papapa scenes in the first place --"

"Characters!" Shang Qinghua defended himself. Alright already, everything was his fault, he knew! He'd been just! writing! fiction! "They were characters! They were words on a page!"

"Anyway," Cucumber-bro went on, mercifully cutting short what could well have derailed into an hour-long haranguing session. "I know I don't look like Liu Mingyan, the point is that I don't look like me."

Shang Qinghua blinked. Checked the wording. Looked again. "Like Shen Qingqiu, you mean?" he clarified.

"That's what I said," Shen Qingqiu huffed. "Anyway, this whole plan hinges on me not being recognized. If Binghe realizes who I am, this will all be for nothing. He'll be angrier than ever."

"Yeah, I think you're good." Shang Qinghua flashed him a double thumbs up. "If I didn't know better, bro, I'd swear you were really a woman."

"Good." Shen Qingqiu fiddled with his cuffs some more, in a nervous rustle, and Shang Qinghua got the impression he was somewhat less blase and breezy about facing Luo Binghe again than he was letting on. "Now I just have to get down there."

"How are you planning to do that?" Shang Qinghua asked. "I hope you're not counting on me to distract the guards or whatever. Guo Qingchen has his scariest disciples guarding the Penitent's Stair and I'm pretty sure they'd rather run me through like a fish than desert their post just because I asked."

"Of course I'm not counting on you," Shen Qingqiu sniffed. "And anyway that would only work once, and I have to be able to come and go. I'm not going to take the Penitent's Stair."

"No?"

Shen Qingqiu took on a sharp, self-satisfied smile. "I'm going in through the Whispering Caves."

"Bro. Bro." Shang Qinghua almost fell out of his chair. "Do you know what's in the Whispering Caves? If you get lost down there I am not coming after you. Even I don't know the way through there!"

The Whispering Caves had been introduced in the "Name of the Rose" arc and was the part of those chapters that Airplane Shooting To The Sky was most proud of. It was a subterranean labyrinth, a naturally occurring death maze. Floating qi-rich mists inside the deep underground caves had a disorienting effect on most hardy travelers. The further one traveled through the stone maze, the more their sight would slowly darken, while the maddening whispers tickling the edge of hearing would grow louder and clearer with every step. No one knew what became of those travelers who lost their way in the maze; the few who made it out to tell the tale had been lucky enough to do so before their vision deserted them completely.

In the book, Luo Binghe had found his way through the maze of enchanted caverns -- and to the prison where his new beloved-of-the-week was being unjustly imprisoned -- by capturing a pair of Blind-Bat-Winged-Fairy-Dragonets, winning their trust and loyalty, and setting them loose at the mouth of the maze. The Blind-Bat-Winged-Fairy-Dragonets were unaffected by the magics of the cave, and Luo Binghe managed to follow them through the maze to his new wife's side before the magic had been able to close its grip on him. But given that Blind-Bat-Winged-Fairy-Dragonets were creatures of the Abyss, they would only let themselves be handled by someone by demonic blood, which let out both of the Peak Lords. Besides, there weren't any in this region.

"I didn't expect you to, thanks for nothing." Another eye-roll. "I know the way. I mapped it out my first year at Cang Qiong, just in case... just in case."

Shang Qinghua sputtered. "What do you mean, you mapped it?"

"I mean I mapped it!" Shen Qingqiu looked insufferably pleased with himself, despite the waspish tone. "I went in with a flask of vision-replenishing draught and a ream of graph-paper and made a chart. It took me most of a month, but I wanted to make sure I could go somewhere even Binghe wouldn't be able to follow me."

Holy shit. Shang Qinghua had to salute the dedication, even as he boggled at the scope of the task. But, he supposed if anyone would have been able to map out a labyrinth in excruciatingly tedious detail, who better than the fan who'd once set a record for most wiki-edits made in a 24-hour period? 

"Hey, any chance I can borrow that map?" Shang Qinghua said finally. Now that the Protagonist was back on the board, it was only a matter of time before his own ticket at Cang Qiong ran out. "Just. You know. In case."

"Make your own," Shen Qingqiu said with a sniff, re-donned the hat, and swept out the door.

[doctorhelena]

Summary: A mix-up with one of Howard's spy lipsticks leads to Peggy and Steve spending an unexpectedly candid evening at home.

Rating: R

Words: 15k

Chapters: 1/1

Note: This is my extremely late @steggyfanevents Steggy Secret Santa 2023 gift for the amazing @theawkwardterrier. I'm so sorry it's late, but as usual, it ended up considerably longer than I expected!

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

A ringing phone in 1949 was a far more common thing than it had been in 2023, but that didn’t stop Steve from worrying whenever theirs rang while Peggy was out, even though he knew perfectly well that nobody who worked for the SSR had any idea that Peggy even had someone at home to notify if anything should go wrong.

He hadn’t fully considered this particular consequence of retiring from the top-secret line of work that Peggy was still very much in the thick of. He knew, of course, that she was very, very good at what she did, and could absolutely take care of herself. It was just - well, he guessed he just missed working with her, missed knowing at least the general outlines of what she was doing out there. Their relationship had always been professional as well as personal, and now he wasn't part of that world anymore.

Before Steve had left on his journey to return the stones, Bucky had teased him that he wasn't going to know what to do anymore when he couldn't Google things, but in truth he did miss the casual ease of text messaging a lot more than he'd expected to. Maybe that was part of it. Even though he and Peggy had never actually had the benefit of anything like it, he'd been in the 21st century so long that he wasn't used to everyone being routinely unreachable.

Of course, it wasn’t that they never talked Peggy's work life. In the four months since Steve had arrived on her doorstep, they'd actually spent a lot of time discussing some of the intel he’d brought with him, and making plans for how they could use it to greatest effect to prevent the worst of the disasters of the original timeline. Steve's role was going to be more the guy in the chair than the guy with the shield (although clearly still the man with a plan, Peggy had teased him), but he was still involved. But as to her day to day work at the SSR - and even the finer details of her other side project, the development of SHIELD with Howard and Phillips - Steve was mostly in the dark.

He hadn’t realized how much it would bother him. Or maybe it was just that he still hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to do all day while Peggy was out saving the world. He hadn’t really planned that part out when he’d decided to come back and see if she’d be interested in making a life with him - which she very much had been - and, now that he'd recovered from the bone-deep exhaustion he'd arrived with, he was feeling a bit at loose ends. 

He reached the hallway and answered the phone, his relief at hearing Peggy's voice lasting only until he processed what she was saying. “Darling, it’s me. I’m in a little trouble. Don’t ask me to explain just now.”

“Wh - ”

She cut him off. “Not now. I'm sorry to ask, but Mr. Jarvis isn't available, and I need a lift as quickly as possible from someone I trust implicitly. But I’m all right for the time being and it’s snowing quite hard, so there's no need to drive like a maniac.” She gave him her location, a phone booth a few blocks north of the White House, and hung up before he could ask any more questions.

Well, Steve thought wryly, this was more how he'd imagined his life with Peggy was going to go.

Read the rest on A03

[ficyorick]

"the original ending to the ch3 looked like this. before the very painstaking edit process the whole HL-on-Butchers-lap scene was WAY more... you know. more handsy. i decided to downplay it considerably bc I felt i was jumping the gun too early and im glad i did, i prefer butcher more tortured about the whole thing"

Would you ever consider posting this version on your tumblr? It seems interesting though i agree it would probably be too early

hi anon! i wish i could but unfortunately this wasn't the case of me just cutting out a bit and moving it to "deleted scenes" folder, this was a thorough re-edit, meaning i had to change multiple parts, multiple sentences or just a few words there and there... basically a lot of small changes that aren't as easy to save as a whole scene getting cut . the best i can do is post some excerpts that are from the pre-final edit version of the chapter which is after some editing already :( sorry if there's errors or even editing comments from me to me HEHE i tried to remove all of them

Butcher put out another cigarette in his old drink and patted Homelander’s knee then his own. 

"C’mere." 

"No." A whine. 

"Come sit on my lap." 

"Sssicko." 

Butcher grabbed his arm and pulled him with force. Another hand on his hip, the cheap costume rustled underneath his grip. Homelander made another undignified noise but he was so pliable, it felt like moving a big pillow on top of him. He was straddling his thighs, hands hanging loose from his sides, far away from Butcher. His eyes were closed as if he couldn’t stand to look at what was happening now.

"You’re ssso sick." Homelander protested but he could only sway back and forth.

"What did you say to her?" Butcher asked, looking up into his face. His heart was beating fast now. The main event. 

"Who…" 

"Becca."

"Oh Jesus…" Not this again, said Homelander’s tone. He took a deep breath. "Just do it…" 

"Do what." 

"I dunno, whatever it is you’re going to…." The colorful mess in his lap was slightly swaying back and forth, unable to find balance. Then all of a sudden, he tried to get away but Butcher grabbed him by his hip again, forcing him down. A little gasp: "You’re sick. Sssick." 

"Are you scared?" Butcher asked through his clenched teeth. 

Homelander shook his head but something wet clung to his lashes anyway. 

"I’m not gonna hurt ya." Butcher’s hands moved from the hips to his thighs. A strangled keen from Homelander. "I just want you to feel what she felt." 

He shifted his palms further in, moving to the inner side of the splayed, costumed thighs. Homelander tensed up, as much as he could while pumped full of booze. Only one of his eyes was open, peeking at him underneath clumped lashes. He was breathing fast. Butcher huffed out a hot breath of his own that couldn't stay in his lungs anymore. Homelander flinched as if the sound itself was enough to send him into a panic. The palms on his thighs moved up and down, going deeper, further up, with each shifting movement. Butcher absent-mindedly noted that the hands pressing into the cheap fabric didn't even feel like his anymore. The swaying man on his lap was still now, leaning back unnaturally. He was still watching him with just one eye, the other one blind to everything that was happening.

"What are you thinking about?" Butcher asked, no tone, no inclination to his voice. Just a neutral command. 

"Wish I could… choke the life out of you." Homelander confessed.

Butcher kept his hands where they were, his fingertips pressed into the spot where the thighs met the pelvis. He wasn’t sure if Homelander could even feel his touch through the foamy muscle padding, but judging by how frozen he still was, he could feel it. Every second of it. 

"Okay." Butcher canted his head. "Go ahead. Give it a try."

Homelander didn’t move but Butcher heard him inhale. 

"I mean it. Do it."

Suddenly, a pair of clammy hands was closing on his throat. A familiar Homelander snarl rang out above his head. The grasp on his neck didn’t obstruct his breathing in any way, it was struggling to even fully squeeze at him. All it did was make him laugh in a slightly strained way. HLs hands cant even fully close around his throat

"C’mon, put your back into it." He groaned out.

Homelander sunk his fingertips as deep as he could, putting on claw-like pressure. That, he could almost feel. 

"There we go, good lad." Butcher grunted and smiled at him.

"Want to kill you so bad." Homelander whined out, his breathing devolving into an open-mouthed panting. "So, so, so bad." 

"You can’t. Not anymore." Billy laughed. His hands moved from Homelander’s thighs to the wrists. He could feel zip-tie scars underneath his palms and he swiped over them with pride. 

"So bad…" Homelander’s grip was waning, there was no strength left in his drunk arms. He kept slurring words out, just one eye open, his pupil completely blown out: "Kill you so fuckin’ bad… rip your head off… then crush… it."

Butcher grinned, wild-eyed. He was untouchable and the scared little cunt in his lap couldn’t even do anything to fight back.

A hiccup interrupted them and just like that Homelander's entire body wobbled and he collapsed to the side like a felled tree, letting go of Butcher’s throat. 

"Fuck…" He complained. 

Butcher shoved the limp legs off his lap and got up from the couch. Homelander’s knees were on the floor now and he stepped away from him like he was on fire. Homelander was face down on the green fabric, looking like a doll abandoned mid-play, its limbs bent at weird angles.

"You can’t do anything anymore, cunt." Butcher fumbled for his cigarettes, basically smashing one of them into his mouth and lighting it up. He had to do something with his hands, his limbs were like a live wire now. One puff, two puffs. Fuck. 

_____

there was more stuff that i removed... there was actual groping i cut out, i think the choking scene had HL moving closer to Butcher, huffing and puffing at each other and then during the bathroom moment Butcher had more sexually charged revelations about how vulnerable and utterly his HL is and how THAT was making him even more into everything that was happening but i chose to replace all of that with Guilt.

[flowercrowngods]

find the word (tag game)

tagged by the ever lovely @finntheehumaneater and @mentallyundone, thank you lovelies 🤍

🌷 rules: search your WIPs and attach a snippet to share. tag however many people you want, and give them 5 new words to search their WIPs for

🌷my words:

1) ache, tear, sob, grip, and scream (finn i'm kissing your heart) 2) heat, shut, insane, tight, over (pb you're insane for this 🫶)

incidentally, i can pull all these excerpts out of my current wip, which is i'll try. i'll try. (but i couldn't be better) chapter 12 that i'm finally working on again!!! so that's cool.

🌷 your words: heavy, heart, breathe, chest, hurt

🌷 tagging: @cxwzkeys @skiddit @aphroditestummyrolls @tboyeddie @aringofsalt @steddieas-shegoes @henderdads @sevenpumpkins @cheatghost @klausinamarink @subbaculture

snippets under the cut

ache

Ice and despair wove around the migraine pains that wreck through him like bolts of lightning, and keep him on the ground. The searing pain gets buried beneath a bone-deep ache of frozen skin along unmoving limbs, forcing Steve to realise just how tired he really is. How he can’t keep his eyes open much longer — but it’s fine, he decides, because the world above him, around him, beneath him, is made of blackness anyway, the treetops barely standing pit against the night-sky anymore. 

tear

Easy kid. Like hell! Try, he wants to say, to scream, to fucking tear into him. Try, and tell me it’s easy!  “Steve,” he says then, and it’s not so easy now, huh? “Steve, you’re safe. Sit down. You’re scaring her.”  Jaw clenched, fists balled, body rigid, the words take a while to reach him, to trickle through the haze of anger and destruction.

sob

Anger and tension leave his body, the blazing flame extinguished by a single tear on a too-young face, and he crouches down with a choked-off sigh the same instant that she starts towards him, falling into his arms with a heart-wrenching sob. Nothing in the world can make you get used to a little girl crying into you, sobbing and clinging to your cold, wet, soaked clothes, and Steve feels his heart tearing in two again and again until there are a million pieces that are not for him to piece together again. He holds her through it, presses her to his chest with weak arms, his skin tingling with the warmth still only just returning to him — but flooding, too, with red-hot guilt and shame and the need to apologise forever and ever. 

grip

He can’t make out Hopper’s eyes in the dark, but he looks up anyway, pretends he can see them.  “Hey, kid,” the man says, quiet and slow. He’s got a tight grip on the door knob, and even the darkness isn’t enough to hide how unsure he looks.

scream

But the arms around him are firm, uncaring of the scream lodged in his throat and the heavy boulders of guilt and grief and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you so deep in the pit of his stomach, it’s a miracle the world doesn’t cave in beneath him. 

heat

Because El is crying, and Hopper is cursing under his breath, cursing him and stupid fucking teenagers.  Let’s just be stupid teenagers.  The world comes back with crashing force, and Steve shoves away from the heat, away from the table, feeling seconds away from bolting again. From punching again. From screaming again.

shut

But that was a month ago. They’re different people now, it seems.  Steve says nothing, lets the anger boil beneath his skin, lets the fire grow bigger and more powerful by the second. Where before he was sure he was about to snap, about to tell Hopper everything because he was exhausted and tired enough to just let the questions come as they would, he’s now shut that part of himself away, locked up and safe from Hopper’s stupid accusations. “But you will if you don’t tell me–”

insane

“Owens told me everything only began right before the girl left, and he had nothing on you, so there’s… There’s not really a way for you to know all that. To just, just expect it. To know where things would go down. It doesn’t make sense to me. But, frankly, nothing does anymore.”  Another sigh. Then he’s crouching down, almost at eye level with Steve even in the dark of the room.  “You said– Yesterday, you said you’re going insane. Remember? Well, I think I’m right there with you, actually. And I think I need some answers.”

tight

“Hey, kid,” the man says, quiet and slow. He’s got a tight grip on the door knob, and even the darkness isn’t enough to hide how unsure he looks.  “Hi.” Steve’s not sure where they stand. If Hopper will throw him out now. If he’ll throw more accusations at him, or if he did a little more digging on him and present him with a file that’ll self-destruct in five seconds or some shit.

over

He smiles as he lets her warmth wash over him, not entirely sure if it’s a memory or a vision before he realises that She‘s here. It’s real, she’s here!  He sinks into her warmth, not quite awake enough to listen to her rambles about something or other, just happy to have this. To have her; her scent in his nose, the woody notes of the perfume he gave her for her birthday sitting pleasantly in his nose, her hair tickling his cheek as she’s murmuring something, fighting sleep, pretending to be wide awake even though Steve told her to shut up and sleep three, five, ten minutes ago already.

[georgie3116]

RE// MCU - Black Widow: Nemesis

> Please enjoy an excerpt of my Wattpad FanFic. This excerpt comes from Chapter 3 when Jill Valentine finally meets the Black Widow. Find a link to the full (in progressed released story).

********

Jill began to crawl away the smell of gasoline filled her nose and she's only free of the wreck just before the car explodes, more pain shot through her muscles as the explosion pushed her into the road.

Jill looked up in horror as the creature continued to walk through the flames of the inferno, the plastic wrap covering its face began to melt away and Jill swore it would be a sight that would remain with her for the rest of her life.

Its face was a living nightmare a contortion of inhuman flesh, a giant mouth, and oversized teeth

"Hey, fuckface" a female voice yelled distracting the creature from its original prey.

Suddenly a rocket was launched in its direction which the creature catches with its tentacle that protruded from its arm, annoyed it threw the explosive into a car with ease as it narrowed its gaze recognising the red-headed Avenger perched on the roof of a police car with a very big rocket launcher aimed at it

"AVENGER" the creature growled with anger, this B.O.W had been infected with a primary objective 'Kill S.T.A.R.S’ but also a complex threat assessment matrix and unfortunately for Natasha Romanoff it recognised her as a threat to its objective and its existence.

Before the B.O.W can react against her she fires another 'her last' rocket at the creature catching it right where the Black Widow had aimed it to go, the creature collapsed in a flaming heap keeping it down for good, at least that what Black Widow hoped.

Natasha ran to the woman laying in the street discarding the now useless rocket launcher, Jill stared up at her rescuer in awe, an Avenger here in Racoon City, the infamous Black Widow had saved her life

"You- you're an Avenger" Jill stuttered her words, she mentally kicked herself for being such a gibbering mess in front of her all time favourite hero,

Black Widow gave Jill a small smile, but Jill couldn't help but notice that the red heads smile never reflected in her eyes

"The names Natasha Romanoff and I'm saving you" Natasha placed Jill's arm around her shoulder so that the injured S.T.A.R.S officer could lean on her for support,

Jill had to admit the woman was a lot stronger than she looked "Come on let's get you some place safe" she painfully raised Jill to her feet, the two women quickly fled the scene although Natasha quickly looked back at the burning body of the B.O.W in the street 'And stay down' Natasha Romanoff thought to herself.

Chapter 4

LOCATION: The Streets of Racoon City

"Whe-, where are we going" Jill asked as the red-headed Avenger continued to carry her, Jill's proverbial knight in shining...Kevlar?

Natasha doesn't answer Jill's question instead she moved quickly with the S.T.A.R.S officer hanging over her shoulder for support and looking back occasionally to ensure that they hadn't been followed

"I think we're in the clear" Natasha let go of Jill allowing the woman to catch her breath "I hope so" Jill gasped clutching at her hurting ribs, a series of loud gun shots caught both of their attention, a loud explosion soon followed.

Black Widow suspected that it was the U.B.C.S officers she had sighted earlier, given the cops experience with Umbrella she decided that it might not be a good idea to tell her that unfortunately they were going to have to work with the Umbrella mercenaries.

"I saw some soldiers a few blocks down protecting civilians from the Zombies, hopefully they might have somewhere we can find sanctuary for a while" Jill nodded it was a good idea, she quickly became aware that she had been staring at the beautiful Avenger,

Jill felt mortified at herself for being so rude "Let me guess you want a picture" Black Widow smirked causing Jill to cringe

"Sorry, but I've always wanted to meet an Avenger"

Natasha's lips formed a thin line, she didn't like the 'almost celebrity' status that came with being an Avenger and certainly didn't feel like she deserved any admiration, Stark on the other hand lives for the attention, she however was no hero

"Hey, I'm a person just like you" Natasha insisted although it was a lie, she hadn't been a 'person' for a long time now.

"I don't think there's anyone like you Ms Romanoff and for what it's worth you're my favourite Avenger" Natasha smirked at Jill's attempt of flattering her, she didn't need to bother the officer with details of why no one in their right mind should idolise her.

Jill painfully straightens her aching spine stretching her sore arms "So... are there any other Avengers coming to the rescue?" Black Widows gaze dropped slightly

"No, I'm afraid not. The others are currently held up in Wakanda, news of the attack won't reach my teammates in time to come to our aid" Natasha Romanoff was different from her team, the Wild Card, the outcast, the mystery.

However, Natasha Romanoff had proved time and time again that she deserved her status as one of the founding members, since her method of ask questions first, punch later made her the ideal Avenger for S.H.I.E.L.D to pass this mission off onto

"That's a shame, I could sure do with a Thor or a Hulk right now" Natasha smirked again, her smirk was as sharp as glass

"Yeah, you and me both" Natasha supported Jill again as they made a beeline towards the sound of gunfire.

"Everyone, follow my men!" yelled a male voice most definitely a soldier Natasha thought as she made a quick assessment, he certainly had the build of a soldier, but his hair made her pause a complete fluffy mess on the soldier's head,

she wondered if the hair was an intentional fashion statement or just poor upkeep.  

The soldier suddenly took notice of the two women 

"Hey ladies its not safe on the streets!" he yelled and seeing that one of them was injured he approached to help, that was until he noticed that one of them was the Black Widow 

"Oh wow, we had no idea an Avenger would be in the city" both Natasha and Jill simultaneously rolled their eyes.

***

[love-kurdt]

wip (william's imminent peril) wednesday muahahahaha

from now that we don't talk: 1 ! y'all, i'd never imagined writing so in-depth from will's pov (i'm definitely more of a mike kinda gal, i mean... it's kinda concerning tbh) but lo and behold: this absolute monstrosity of an excerpt! i couldn't figure out which part to post without taking away too much context so... i decided to post the whole thing. anyway. this is about 1/10th of chapter 1.

When Will first moved to California, it had taken him two months to fully unpack his boxes. And he knew why. He didn’t want to be there. He’d left a part of himself behind in Hawkins— a part that grieved him in reciprocal. He’d seen the expression on his best friend’s face through the passenger side mirror as he stood with his bike in front of the old house; he looked lost, confused, and hurt. Will could definitely relate. Being uprooted from the only place he’d ever known and dropped into an unfamiliar, blistering hot, suburban town in California didn’t provide him with much motivation to unpack. Unpacking, to Will, meant the Byers’ big move became real. Unpacking, to Will, meant that it was permanent. Unpacking, to Will, meant that he’d eventually have to start his new life, at a new school— high school— without his best friend by his side. Well, on the other hand, at least he and Mike could still talk over the phone.

Will could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call to Will for the entire seven months that he and his family were in Lenora. Mike did not send a single letter, either. And El was too busy building a shoebox shrine for Mike to realize that her brother was practically falling apart because of their thriving relationship. So Will started unpacking, each box representing a call and letter El received instead of Will. His clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and his art supplies finally found a place next to his bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of his lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, it was petty, but Will was angry. He deserved to be angry, damnit. He was angry at Mike for abandoning him, and he was angry at himself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about their friendship.

His mood hadn’t changed much when they’d initially arrived back in Hawkins. He watched from afar as Mike continued to pursue El, who had clearly resigned from their relationship the second Mike referred to her as a superhero following the incident at Rink-o-Mania. About a month into the Vecnapocalypse, Mike had told Will that he’d finally broken up with El. Will was secretly elated; the torture fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that Will had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and his sister, his back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. They had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but they hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. They were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Will and Mike had changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. They’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. They’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close and Will was just about to lean in as well, giving into the deepest desire he’d ever had in his life: kissing Mike square on the mouth. In typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a shit ton of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, Will couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost them everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, Will was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so Will kept Mike at a distance from there on out. They never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again. Once he’d moved back to Hawkins for good, unpacking went fairly quickly.

Things got even stranger when a few years had gone by, and the Party had made it out of high school in one piece. Then Will found the letters. When he’d confronted Mike about them, he was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something Will should have been expecting that entire time. Which, first of all, he had no fucking idea, and two, he’d just been going along with all the flirting because he’d assumed Mike was merely using him for practice for when they’d inevitably go off to college and find real significant others. But Mike had made his stance on their relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving Will feeling breathless, thoroughly kissed, and blindsided.

There was no way Will could have fathomed that this was how his time in Hawkins was going to close out. He’d been looking forward to the time in his life where everything could just be normal for once; he’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on Will that he wanted the two of them to spend the rest of their lives together, and that threw Will for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving Will Byers even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was Will trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare? He’d believe it, honestly; when he mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of their relationship (including the almost-kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, the reality that Mike probably would have just let Will leave without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting Will know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. By the time Will escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained down his face due to crying for literal years back to back, Will knew for sure and certain that he couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. He was done.

He’d been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated it. He’d spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; he’d been working at Melvald’s with his mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as he could for his new car– which he’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. Joyce certainly didn’t complain; she loved having Will around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before he moved to the Windy City.

Will realized, as he sat on his mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of his dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel his unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in his life. And oh, after the summer he’d just had, did Will desperately need a change. This particular change, Will decided, would be good for him. He was out of Hawkins, at his dream school, about to begin studying the subject that he loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw him off. Will grabbed a marker out of his pencil case and marked off the date: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. Will could feel it.

[hiddenbysuccubi]

Chapter 6 excerpt: the dance. Changed to 'you' format.

Everyone pitched in to set up and decorate camp for their gathering. A night of music, magic, drink, even debauchery. There were some who insisted on being moody, like Wyll and one of the Tieflings; Ikaron. No matter. You were going to enjoy yourself. You'd even borrowed a modest dress for the occasion from Bex, and were quickly downing a pint of ale as you watched and cheered on Rolan’s magic display. You hadn’t been to a party in… you couldn't remember how long. Damn. You'd been so young the last time, comparatively.

Refilling your mug you started on your second drink as you wandered around. Everyone was there, there were even children running around and playing games in the sand. Scratch, who you'd rescued just earlier, barked happily and wagged his tail as he jumped around the children. It was good that the Owlbear cub hadn’t joined your camp yet, the poor thing would be overwhelmed and run away. Then there was Halsin regaling Shadowheart with old stories while Lae’zel and Karlach compared battle techniques. You smiled, watching them all. Happy, too, to find that Gale was also occupied, entranced in a lyre performance given by Alfira. Volo was with them as well. And Astarion…. Astarion was on his own, getting drunk.

A little tipsy and fueled by alcohol, you decided to sidle up to the broody vampire. “So,” you drawl, “are you tired of being venerated yet?”

Astarian side-eyes you without lowering the bottle he has to his lips. “Yes.” he says as he finishes drinking. “It’s oh thank you Astarion for saving me, I’ll name my baby after you . How good and heroic you are- I can’t stand it! And you, you just keep offering to help! And I’m going along with it because!” at this he throws his hands up. “Because I don’t know why!” anymore, he laughs in a not so hinged way. Wobbling while setting down his bottle of Esmeltar Red, which immediately falls over onto the ground. Ignoring it in favor of wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Astarion leans in close, his gaze darkening. “I’ve had enough of being good, lover. Let’s get out of here~”

You can smell the wine on his breath, pulling yourself away with a cautious giggle. “Having fun?” you ask, nervous all of a sudden.

“I am, surprisingly.” Astarion answers. No deceit in his words. “It’s easy to. When I’m with you.”

“Uh." you squeaked, "huh.” fully turning the color of a ripe plum. “I’ve got to go check on… something.” you lie.

Astarion can hear the lie clear as day but he lets you go. Only stopping you to question, his tone betraying his vulnerability and hope, that “you will come to my bed.”

You nod before bolting. You figure you just need a moment to cool down by the waterfront, away from the crowd. Maybe you're not wrong that Astarion is warming up to you, but you can't afford to be fooled. This was still a man who would throw you to the wolves if it came down to it. This was still an Astarion who was sleeping with you, guarding your health, just to ensure his own skin would be protected. He used you to make you want to save him first, look out for him first. A ploy. An effective one, you could admit to yourself. Knowing that he needn't have bothered. You had just gotten too comfortable in this world, high on having successfully completed the game's first big quest. That was all.

---

You didn’t know how the lute had wound up in your hands. Finding yourself by the fire again, a small crowd amassing out of innate curiosity. Even Wyll had come closer to see what would happen. Suddenly not feeling the liquid courage which prodded you out, you swallowed hard as Alfira gave a confident nod in your direction, Karlach whooping. “Go on then, play it!”

You looked over and caught Astarion watching you. Could feel his suspicious yet amused gaze, hotter than the flames.

You stared right back, not breaking eye contact as you opened your mouth and began to strum. “Blood of my blood, dripping with love. I bring you a thing (that) you need most,” your voice gradually growing stronger, no longer wavering. Moving away from a head voice to your full bellied and more confident countertenor. You squint but can't tell if Astarion’s facial muscles are twitching at your words or if it's your imagination, so you close your eyes, focusing on the sway of the music and the anti gravity lightness fueled by the alcohol in your system. At some point, Alfira had begun to accompany your lute with a steady tapping on a nearby drum.

"You know I live to keep you safe, no better way that I can see, to, spend all the time while you're asleep." you implore Astarion to understand, with your words. "You know I live to be seen through.” Some of your audience begins to pair off, dancing slowly together. You note them and smile, before finding your way towards the elf. “I wanna be here and nowhere else. Rationing off bits of myself, so I can crumble at your side….”

“Lover, ah. Dear.” Astarion hisses awkwardly through his teeth. Keenly aware of every pair of eyes on them. “What are you doing?”

You roll your eyes at his drunken embarrassment, pushing your words mentally though the link you both share. 'They already know about us. I promise we’ll sneak away after, just dance with me?'

“Yes, yes,” he grits out, taking your elbow with one hand and twirling you with his other hand on your back, guiding you as your own hands are occupied with playing the lute. 'I’m going to fucking kill you.' he answers. At least you have a sense to look remorseful, he commiserates to himself as you continue playing and singing. As he holds your eyes, allowing you both to become lost in the moment. Far be it for him to stop a Bard from fucking Performing.

You barely hesitate before singing on, “Here is a heart, here is a heart. I made it for you so take it,” you croon, heartfelt, as you dance gracefully around each other. Your own steps obvious and unrehearsed, Astarion's effortlessly showing in his footwork that he had once been a noble. One who had danced at many balls, possessing a childhood of etiquette training. “Battered and braised, grilled and sautéed, just how you like it.” you breathe, ending the song "...like it". Bending at your waist in a small bow as the echo of the music drifted off. Unexpectedly, Astarion reciprocates. Dropping low into a sweeping bow himself, he takes your right hand from where it rests on the lute’s strings and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. Followed by turning your hand over to place another, more delicate, kiss to the inside of your wrist.