#i love nine tailors so much

[asymphonyofstarlight]

save me gaudy night by dorothy sayers save me

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[teamatsumu]

how GoM react to you wearing their jersey to a game

-> AOMINE DAIKI:

You knew he wouldn't show up to the game, as per usual. But this time would be different.

This time, while you stood over his lazy, napping form on the school roof, you had promised him that if he showed up, there would be a surprise waiting for him.

That caught his attention, as you knew it would. He was skeptical on the inside though. What could possibly be good enough to make him stay for a whole game, start to finish?

He did not expect to hear you scream his name from the stands during warm ups, breath hitching when he caught sight of you in his jersey.

You had put it on over your sweater, grinning wide as you pointed at the number and mouthed ‘surprise’. It made aomine blink and gulp.

You had worn his clothes before, but never his jersey. He felt his skin tingle in a foreign feeling of possessiveness. That was his number on your chest.

Aomine turned around and walked to the coach. “Put me in at the beginning of the game.”

His teammates gawked at him. Aomine? Willing to play? No, not just willing. Eager. This was unprecedented.

You however, were giggling in the stands, knowing exactly what his motivation to play today was.

-> KISE RYOTA:

Kise’s fans often showed up in his jersey number for games, giggling and squealing in the stands and saying his name to get his attention during warm ups. But you, you were different.

For one, you were dating. For another, you weren’t just wearing a jersey with his number on it. You were wearing his personal jersey. Tailored to him and swimming over your small frame.

You grinned when he noticed the jersey on you before the game in the hallway. He bit his lip and hid a smile.

“You wore it for me?” He tilted his head, trying to hold back from cooing all over you. You looked so cute.

“Yeah. To support you. I see all your fans do it.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. It was a big deal though, at least to Kise.

He stepped forward and smacked a sloppy kiss on your cheek, made you squeal and wipe it off in mock disgust. It didn’t bother Kise though. He was on cloud nine just looking at you wearing his clothes.

-> MIDORIMA SHINTARO:

His brain short circuits when he sees you.

Next, a million thoughts hit him all at once.

First of all, how did you even get your hands on his jersey? And how had he not noticed a missing jersey from his closet?

(You were sneaky and crafty usually, so it wasn’t too surprising)

Second of all, how did orange look so good on you?

“What is the meaning of this?” He scowls at you, making you giggle and skip closer to him. Midorima fought to keep a straight face. You were glowing.

“I know you have your lucky object with you,” you eyed the humongous hourglass figurine in his hand. “But I thought it would be nice to have a little extra luck.”

He felt his lips twitch, the muscles of his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized he was about to walk out to court while being so stiff.

He pouted at you and looked away when he caught your teasing gaze, looking away with heated cheeks. “Thanks for the luck.”

You giggled again and planted a kiss on his jaw, turning around to the hall which lead to the stands.

“See you after the game, Shin.” You called back. Midorima allowed his lips to tilt upwards as he watched you leave.

-> MURASAKIBATA ATSUSHI:

I’m gonna say it, he doesn’t think it’s too big a deal.

Not the jersey itself, but he is more affected by the fact that you’re wearing his clothes at all. Because they are huge on you.

You’re swimming in it, dwarfed by the sheer amount of fabric. If he didn’t like the look so much, he would laugh.

But he loved it. Loved seeing you in the stands, perking up and grinning at him whenever he looked up at you and met your eyes.

The white and purple looked great on you, made you stand out in the crowd and put you in the center of his vision. What a view to have during the game.

Him putting in more effort on the court was all because it made you cheer for him and stand taller. He could give less of a shit about the actual game or the end result.

Rest assured, he will be subtly hinting at you to wear more of his clothes, jersey or otherwise.

-> AKASHI SEIJUROU:

Akashi’s actions make it abundantly clear that he is very territorial of you.

You are his. No one else has rights to you the way he does.

Now imagine him seeing you at a game, which he knows is also being attended by his peers, underclassmen, opponents and other acquaintances, knowing you are in his jersey.

His number on your chest and back, his school colors enveloping your frame.

Everyone would know you were his. And that sense of power made him feel things.

His piercing gaze finds you in the stands, the uptick of his lips and the satisfied look on his face was enough for you to squirm. Oh he liked what he saw.

He gives you a harsh kiss in the hall when the game ends, and an approving once over that fills you with glee.

With zero words, Akashi has ensured that you would show up to all his games from now on with his jersey on your back.

[oikasugayama]

You can't escape from chuuya 😜 the same as with dazai with the reader with a short skirt nsfw I wanted the most chuuye😠

fiiiiine, fine. Have Chuuya smut that's twice as long as the Dazai one ;)

MDNI, NSFW, fem!reader in a short skirt, 5k of filthy dirty nasty smutttt, name calling, brat taming, spanking, daddy (only once), fingering, cum eating, blow job, all sorts of shit ok. MDNI MDNI MDNI

You’re always professionally dressed at work. Members of the Port Mafia are paid handsomely, so you can all afford to dress to the nines, even for a simple day in the office or a dangerous tryst out in enemy territory. Like many of your coworkers, you prefer a polished, businessy look when conducting Port Mafia business. You have a closet full of perfectly tailored pantsuits, mostly in black though you do keep a few fun colors should you get the chance to wear them. 

On your days off, however, you’re more or less unrecognizable to your coworkers thanks to the difference in your business style and your personal style. You’re not just fond of bright and pastel colors, you’re obsessed with them. The girlier, prettier, and gaudier a piece of clothing is, the more you love it. You’re inspired by Harajuku, and pastel goth styles, as well as some frilly vintage vibes now and again. You even have a small collection of colorful wigs you like to wear out sometimes when an outfit calls for just the right one. 

One of your favorite outfits includes a black tube top, a cropped pastel pink cardigan that hangs off one shoulder, a black and pink plaid mini skirt over some fashionably ripped fishnet tights and a chunky pair of black platform boots. You like to accessorize of course, and typically go for a pastel pink dog collar choker with a heart pendant, chains hanging across your waist and down one side of your skirt, dangly earrings, and several rings. Depending on your mood, your makeup is either very sharp and black, or very soft and pink, and if you choose to wear a wig, its color is the opposite of the makeup you chose.

On the day you accidentally run into several of your coworkers in a bar, you’re in a pink wig with black eyeliner so sharp it could cut a man. 

You’re not surprised that they don’t recognize you. At work you have very plain, naturally colored hair, typically smoothed back into a bun, much like Higuchi and Gin do. In a plain black suit, it’s hard to show off your style. Besides, you wouldn’t want any of your fun clothes getting ruined in the line of duty. And it’s not like, on the rare occasion you hang out with your coworkers, that you’ve had time to go home and change. Typically if you go anywhere with them that isn’t for work, it’s just to lunch in the middle of the day, or to a bar at the end of a shift. They’ve never known you to look anything except professional.

This leads you to want to have a little fun with them all, to see how close you can get and what you can start saying before one of them catches on that it’s you.

You walk past the group a few times on the way to the bar or to the table you’re perched at. They don’t say anything about you at first, and they’re not talking about anything important from what you hear. On your third trip past, however, you do catch one of them mentioning you, and you use your ability-- which allows you to focus your hearing on anything you so choose within a certain radius-- to eavesdrop from across the loud room.

“--same chick has walked by like 5 times already,” Tachihara says.

“Are you sure?” Gin asks.

“Why does it matter? We’re in public,” Higuchi says. “People are going to walk by.”

“I know it’s definitely her because, I mean, look at her. Of course I noticed her.”

You pretend like you don’t notice when several curious heads turn your way.

“God, she’s hot,” Chuuya says, whistling under his breath. “Fucking Christ, those thighs.”

“Hey, I saw her first,” Tachihara says, while the others roll their eyes and tell the two to quiet down.

“I’d offer to share, but if I get a piece of that ass, it’s fucking mine.”

“Jesus Christ, Chuuya, you’ve had too much to drink already.”

“We’ve been here 20 minutes, I’ve barely had one glass!” he says defensively.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance if you’re so interested?” Akutagawa asks, disinterested but amused at the notion of Chuuya making a fool of himself.

“Nah,” he says, waving his hand at his group. “A hot piece of ass like that you’ve gotta chase a little. I’ve gotta buy her a drink, maybe, then ask her to dance later, then lay on the charm.”

“You’re a real ladies man, Chuuya,” Tachihara says sarcastically.

The conversation gradually turns to something else. You let it drift away since your focus isn’t exactly on them anymore, it’s suddenly on the pulsing desire burning in your crotch. “Holy shit,” you think. “Chuuya wants to fuck me so bad he’s making stupid ass plans for it.” Honestly, he could hit it any day of the week if he’d just ask, but he’s never seemed too interested in you at work. “This is what does it for him, I guess,” you think, downing the rest of your drink. You then decide to grab his attention again by stretching a little, arching your back and raising your arms over your head to make your cropped cardigan and your tube top expose a bit of your belly. It’s not a lot, but for someone already desperate to see more of you, it works.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, eyes on you. You make eye contact with him and wink, and when he smirks instead of looking away, you run your hand up your thigh, pulling your short skirt up even higher. His eyebrows raise, giving you a look like “oh yeah?” and you smile. 

“His move,” you think, using your other hand to twirl your empty glass around a little bit. Chuuya excuses himself from the group and goes to the bar quickly.

You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

It’s then that the worst thing happens. Higuchi’s phone rings, then Gin’s, and Tachihara’s, and Akutagawa’s, and Chuuya’s, and yours. It’s an emergency alert from the PM. You’re all being called in, and you need to be there fast. You’re only a couple of blocks from the office. All of your coworkers will be there in less than 10 minutes. You don’t have time to go home and change. You have to go right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss under your breath, getting up and rushing for the door before the others do. Maybe if you get out ahead of them they won’t notice you--

“God dammit,” Chuuya groans. “I was just about to get her a fuckin’ drink.”

“She’s running out, too,” Higuchi points out.

“It’s weird that she’s going in the same direction as us, right?” Tachihara asks, unsure.

“There are a lot of other things out this way, dumbass,” Chuuya says.

Then you take a left, and the group takes a left. They get closer, and you try to walk faster.

Then you take a right, and they take a right. Then you approach the PM headquarter building.

“What the fuck?” Chuuya asks, rushing forward to try to stop you at the door, but you rush inside as soon as the door opens a crack.

“Hey!” Tachihara calls, rushing in after you. You hit the button to call an elevator, but realize the only available one is several floors away. You’re cornered. The jig is up.

Fuck.

“Heeeey,” you say, slowly turning around to greet the group as they gather. “Any of you know what the emergency is? I’m wondering if it’s about the Detective Agency’s involvement in our failed gun import. I was just telling Akutagawa-san yesterday that I had a feeling they’d end up losing the guns to some other organization stealing them before the Detectives could decide whether to turn us in over it.”

“Oh my god,” Higuchi gasps.

“It’s [Y/N],” Gin says.

“What?!” Chuuya and Tachihara both say, and Akutagawa is the only one to stay focused.

“It likely is exactly that,” he says. “Your foresight is spot on as usual.”

“What’s with this outfit?!” Higuchi asks, feeling your cardigan and grabbing the hem of your skirt. “It’s so short! Why are you dressed like this? You were at the same bar as us!”

“This is how I dress on my days off,” you answer honestly, shrugging. The elevator doors finally open and you all start to file in. “And yes, I’m well aware we were at the same bar,” you say, glancing at Chuuya as he shuffles past you. His cheeks blaze and his eyes lock onto the ground, refusing to meet your gaze.

So that’s how it is.

The emergency meeting goes on for two tense hours. It’s exactly what you and Akutagawa thought it would be about, and your group, as well as other Mafia and specifically Black Lizard leaders and members discuss action plans, potential repercussions, and viable reconnaissance missions. When Mori finally announces that you all deserve a break and that you’re meet again in an hour, you’re the first to get up and leave the room, feeling embarrassed to be in a work situation in your fun outfit.

Several footsteps follow you into the hallway, but they all patter off in different directions after a turn here, a turn there.

Only one set of steps follows you into the stairwell. It’s quiet, with very light steps, but you know it’s there thanks to your impeccable hearing.

The same footsteps follow you down two floors, three, four, five…

You feel like you’re being chased, but you think you know exactly who it is, and so the chase is more exciting than it is scary.

You finally get to the floor that your office is on and leave the stairwell. You walk quickly to your office, go in but leave the door cracked, and to test your theory that you’re being followed, you “accidentally” drop your phone after walking a few feet inside. You slowly bend over, letting your short skirt rise up over the curve of your ass, completely exposing your fishnet-covered ass and black thong to anyone who may be standing at the door. You grab your phone slowly, give a cheeky shake of your butt, then stand back up.

Your office door clicks closed behind you, and the lock engages loudly.

“That show for me?” Chuuya asks. You turn to find him leaning against your door. A quick glance down shows you that he’s already at least half-hard in his pants.

“Who else?” you ask softly, leaning against the edge of the desk. It’s cold on your mostly bare ass, but you act cool, crossing one ankle over the other. Your legs look long and sexy stretched out in front of you, and you can tell that Chuuya thinks so too because he can’t stop looking at them.

“It’s a shame we were called away,” you say to break the tension. “I was looking forward to that drink.”

“Were you?” he asks, slowly walking toward you. His hands are deep in his pockets like usual, always acting calm and cool. The look in his eye is different than normal, though. It’s hungry. “Nice to know.”

“You know, you’re not as forward as I thought you’d be,” you admit, leaning back on your hands. You’re on full display for him now. “I half expected you to be all over me as soon as you closed that door.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says, finally standing toe to toe with you. “Tell me to get the fuck out otherwise I will be all over you.”

“Why would I tell you to get the fuck out when I could tell you to come the fuck on already?”

Chuuya makes a noise between a moan and a growl and leaps forward, standing so both of his legs are over yours. He grabs your face with both of his hands and pulls you in for a hot, hard kiss. It’s all tongue and nipping at each other’s lips and hot panting into each other’s mouths.

Your hands shamelessly roam his body once you’ve sat up to meet him. You push his jackets back off of his shoulders so it falls onto the ground. You feel his muscular back and shoulders and arms. You slide your hands lower, feeling his sides and hips. You start messing with his belt by the time he even realizes he can touch you back.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he pants, yanking at your cardigan so you take it off. “Honestly good that you don’t fucking dress like this at work,” he says, yanking your tube top down too so your breasts are exposed. “I’d be fucking you every time I fucking see you.” He gropes your tits, squeezing them and massaging them in his hands. He tweaks your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making them hard and sensitive. 

“Chuuya,” you whine, “why don’t you suck on them if you like them so much?” He looks up at you and smirks, temporarily grabbing you by the hips to push you further back on your desk so you can lay down comfortably. Once you’re flat he climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips, and leans down to your chest. He licks wet stripes across your tit, teasing your nipple with his tongue. He kisses open-mouthed around your boob, refusing to give you what you really want until you finally whine and shift under him, then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and keeps steady pressure on it for several seconds until finally releasing it with a wet smacking sound. He gives the other breast a similar treatment, teasing and sucking and licking. You reach a hand up into his hair, gently moaning his name while you card your fingers through.

He starts grinding his hard-on against your lower belly, just above your crotch given the way that he’s kneeled over you. You whimper and push your hips up, trying to meet him as he grinds. He’s thoroughly attached to your breasts, playing with one nipple while sucking on the other, trading, kissing, sucking hickies onto them. He works a stream of moans and pants and whines from you, getting you to moan his name several times, which makes him grind down onto you harder.

Finally, his hand leaves your chest and trails down your body, his slightly calloused fingers feeling rough on your soft skin. Chuuya flips your short skirt up, wasting no time in cupping your still-clothed cunt and stroking his fingers over it.

“God damn, you’re wet already,” he says, shifting so his face is against your neck.

“You’re fucking hot,” you admit, tugging on his hair. He bites not-so-gently, leaving an instant red and purple hickey on a very obvious spot. His fingers slowly spread, coming together again almost squeezing your pussy lips together. He does it again after you moan in his ear, adding more pressure to tease you with, and again, but this time his fingers dip under your panties and bunch the fabric up together. He pulls it up, several inches higher than your body, making the fabric squeeze in between your lips, leaving it pressing against your clit.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, chuckling when you grind up against his hand and your own panties, seeking stimulation. “That why you’re letting me touch your cunt? ‘Cause you think I’m hot?”

“Yeah,” you whine, still grinding upward. It’s working, your movements are giving you little shocks of pleasure as the damp fabric drags across your clit and also teases your pussy somewhat. “I’d let you fuck me too.” Your voice is breathy and unsteady, and Chuuya can tell just from the sound of it that you’re getting really worked up.

“I don’t know, doll,” he says, hovering over you by one hand pressed against the desk beside your head. “I kind of like the view watching you fuck yourself on my hand.”

“It’s not really ‘on your hand’ without your fingers in me.” You could swear that his eyes light up.

“What was that?” He teases you again, drifting his fingers over the extremely sensitive skin of your pussy. “Did you say something--” he dips a finger past your lips just enough to hook around your panties and pull them back, pushing them to the side-- “about my fingers?”

“Fucking tease,” you huff, reaching down to grab his hand, but he becomes an immovable force when you try to push his hand further down. “Oh and that stupid fucking ability of yours.” He laughs at that and tsks at you.

“You’ve got a dirty fuckin’ mouth,” he says. “Maybe you need something good in there to clean it out.” He gets off the desk and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and kicks them to the floor. You sit up to see him in just his black underwear and white t-shirt, palming himself through the fabric. “C’mere and suck this dick.”

You obey, getting onto the ground with shaky thighs. He’d gotten you more worked up than you realized, and knowing yourself, sucking his dick is not going to calm you down, it’s going to get you closer to the edge.

You pull his boxers down and he steps out of them. His cock is thick and longer than your fist when you close it around his shaft. You give him a few pumps, spreading some pre-cum down his length, before leaning forward with an open mouth to take him in greedily. You start bobbing your head immediately, trying to take as much of him as possible. He stretches your mouth more than anyone else ever has, and you have a feeling your jaw is gonna get sore if you do this for too long.

Chuuya grabs fistfulls of your hair and uses it to guide you back and forth, setting a quicker pace than you already were. He works up to fucking your mouth, using your head like a sex toy. His tip bounces off the back of your throat multiple times, and you have to focus really hard on not gagging. You get messy, letting spit and drool fall out of the corners of your mouth. Tears also spring up in your eyes from him fucking your throat, but you don’t even try to stop them from falling. Your eyeliner is waterproof, but your mascara isn’t, so some black streaks may fall down your cheeks, but you don’t care. You honestly kind of want to see the fucked out look on your face when this is all over.

“You’re too good at this,” Chuuya moans. “Fucking cockslut, aren’t you? Gonna be my slut now, huh? Gonna let me fuck your throat some more, right? Whenever I want?”

You hum around him but can’t exactly nod given his cock in your mouth. He gets it though, and he also moans when you hum as the vibrations go straight into his sensitive tip when it touches the back of your mouth.

“Gonna cum in your mouth,” he grunts, “gonna make you eat it all.”

You try to shake your head, pushing back on his thighs, whining.

“No?” he asks, slowing down and stopping. “Why not, doll?” He lets you back up, finally letting go of your hair.

“That’s a waste,” you croak out, then clear your throat and try to make the fucked-out sound go away. “If you don’t bend me over my desk and fuck me until I scream I’m never fucking touching you again.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he says excitedly, reaching down for your arms. He picks you up effortlessly thanks to his ability, and for some reason that really does it for you. You moan just from that touch, feeling your pussy throb. Then he turns you around, pushes you down onto your desk, and smacks your ass hard. You yelp and then moan as he rubs the sting out.

“Where do you want me to cum? On your back?”

“In my cunt, dumbass.”

“Geez, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” he hisses, squeezing one hand around the base of his cock while the other swings and spanks you again. “And it’s so fucking hot.” He spanks you again. He refuses to tell you he felt his orgasm building from you telling him to cum inside, though his brain is being overrun by that thought now.

He flips your skirt up and rubs his hands on your ass, squeezing your cheeks and gently smacking them to make them jiggle.

“Are you having fun?” you ask him, earning another hard spank, which you moan loudly in response to, a fun smirk on your face. “I kinda like that,” you coo, wiggling your hips back toward him. “Spank me again, Chuuya-san. I’ve been very, very bad.” 

He spanks you hard and you yelp, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you moan softly, torn between pleasure and pain. “You’re an asshole.” He spanks you again on the other cheek. “Will you fuck me already, asshole?”

“I would if you’d stop being a bitch.”

“Maybe you’ve gotta fuck the bitch out of me,” you say, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Amen,” he says flippantly, pulling your panties to the side again to make sure they’re still out of his way. He rubs his fingers over your wet pussy, dipping between the folds but never into your vagina. He spreads your wetness all over your folds, as if it wasn’t there already, but then he huffs and you hear a slight ripping.

“What was that?” you ask, turning to him.

“Stupid fucking lines are in my way.”

“Lines? My fishnets? You did not just rip my tights, you fucking douche.”

“So what if I did?” he asks, stroking himself with your wet.

“Are you serious? You fucking a-- ohhh, fuck!” You try to insult him again but get cut off by his thick cock skewering you in one swift movement. You’re so wet and ready that he slides straight in, your walls stretching to fit around his girth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, throwing his head back as he bottoms out. “Your bitch pussy is the best shit I’ve ever felt, I swear to god,” he says, grabbing both sides of your hips as he withdraws and then snaps his hips forward again. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Oh, shit, Chuuyaaa,” you whine, voice going high and strained. “You’re so big, what the fuck? What the-- fuuuck,” you moan as he sets a pace, hips snapping forward every second, filling the room with wet fucking sounds and the smack of his heavy balls against your thighs.

“I’ve gotta fuckin’ see you,” he says after only a minute, backing out of you. You grunt and groan, glaring at him over your shoulder until he once again grabs you with that ability of his and moves you around like you weigh nothing. He has you on your side, one leg hanging off the desk, the other hooked over his shoulder, and then he teases your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it back and forth, up and down your lips, pushing in only near your clit, not near your hole.

“Chuuya, please,” you sigh, reaching down toward where your bodies meet, but he grabs your hand and pins it to the desk. “Please fuck me, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” he asks cheekily, moving his hips as if thrusting, only letting his cock rub between your pussy lips.

“Don’t tease me,” you pant, trying to squirm your hips. “Put your cock back in me, now.”

“Now?” he asks, playing dumb.

“Now,” you insist. He rubs his tip against your clit.

“What about now?”

“Stop teasing me!”

“You know, that’s no way to ask for a favor,” he says. “Maybe I’ll just walk away. Then what would you do? Fuck yourself on your fingers?”

“I’ll find Akutagwa,” you huff, trying to loosen your hand from his grasp. He barks out a laugh, whole body shaking for a moment.

“Akutagawa?! He wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy like this, babe,” he smirks, finally moving his tip back toward your hole. “You really don’t think he could fuck you like I can, right?”

“What if I do?” You try to keep sounding tough, but the brat is being teased out of you, and you really, really want to be fucked dumb on his cock right now. “Maybe-- ahhh--” Chuuya enters you slowly, smirking down at you and the way your eyes roll back before fluttering closed. 

“Maybe what?” Chuuya asks, bottoming out.

“Maybe-- Akutagawa--” you stutter as Chuuya pulls back and snaps his hips forward again, spearing your g-spot as if he was locked on target.

“Akutagawa?” he asks, trying to lead you on as he slowly builds his pace. You try to babble something out, but as he starts properly fucking you, leaning over you and holding your leg up so he can press you into the desk, you just can’t think of anything except for Chuuya.

“Chuuya-- Chuuya-- Oh, fuck, right there-- Ohh, Chuuya!”

The sound alone is enough to make someone blush, your wet pussy gushing around him every time he goes balls deep, his body pressing against yours, getting wet and precum and sweat all over each other's crotches. You both get lost in it, moaning and swearing and giving stupid empath threats to each other.

“You better make me cum,” you say to him, and he responds “You better stop being such a bitch when I make this pussy squirt.”

He starts palming your tits again when he gets close, panting and fucking you as quickly as he can.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You sure I can bust inside?” he manages to ask through his panting.

“Yes,” you moan, “oh fuck yeah. Cum in this pussy, daddy.”

“Daddy?!” he asks, and that’s what does it. You caught him so off guard that his whole body jerks and he hunches over you, cumming a big, hot load into your cunt. His face is burning red, and some sweat drips down his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth dropped open, a tiny bit of drool about to sneak out the corner of his mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he says, but it’s so high pitched and tense that it makes you laugh. Your pussy involuntarily contracts when you laugh, and your whole body slightly jiggles under him, and it makes him yelp and moan again, long and drawn out. “God damn,” he whines, pulling back as if he’s going to back out now.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, trying to stop him by the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. “You didn’t make me cum yet. You’re not done here, Chuuya.”

“I’m not but my dick is,” he says, still kind of whiny. “I think you just sucked me dry, I really fucking think you did.” You can’t help but to laugh a little more as he lowers your leg and rolls you onto your back. “It’s only polite--” he says, dropping to his knees “--that I return the favor.” In a flash his tongue is on your pussy, lapping up his cum as it spills out of you. He swallows it without comment, and keeps lapping at your pussy, dipping his tongue into your hole while it’s still nice and open from his cock. You run your hand through his hair again, making sure he can’t pull back too far. You want his whole face in your cunt and you aren’t letting up on this. 

His fingers join his mouth, taking over for his tongue in prodding at your hole. They slip inside, twisting together at the same time as they pull in and out. He teases your g-spot every time this way, and the side of his fingers on your sensitive walls feels so so good. You start moaning his name when his tongue swirls around your clit, working relentless circles on it. He intersperses little sucks on it, and once he even dips his nose down and uses it to rub your clit since it’s a bit firmer than his tongue. He eats you out like an absolute fucking champ, shaking his head and blowing out to give you slight vibrating sensations, suckling to give you quick peaks of stimulation, and flicking his tongue back and forth and rolling it in circles to build your orgasm up higher and higher and higher until finally.

“Oh god, Chuuya-- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-- oohhhh Chuuya!!” Your back arches up, your fists close tightly in his hair, and you force his face into your pussy as you cum on his mouth and his fingers, rolling your hips to meet his touches. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps letting you use him as your orgasm rolls and rolls and finally starts to patter out. Only when you let go of his hair does he sit upright, pull his fingers out of you, and suck your cum off of his fingers.

“You’re a lot of fun, you know that?” he asks, standing up, stretching his somewhat sore muscles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you sigh happily. Your whole body feels weightless and blissful and you aren’t ready to get up yet, even as Chuuya starts getting dressed.

“You dress like this often?”

“Every day off,” you say, finally having enough energy to at least pull your tube top back up to cover your breasts.

“Good. You should come see me again then.”

“You came to see me. And yes, you should come see me again.” You sit up, tilting your head and smiling mischievously at him.

“Guess I didn’t fuck the brat out of you yet,” he mumbles, reaching up to grab your jaw in his hand. “Next time then.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

[n3ptoonz]

i totally forgot i was supposed to write a wedding with bi han and reader so-

part 2/continuation to my fic "That Can Be Arranged" if you're new and haven't read that already, i'd hope you do!

a proper wedding blurb with bi han

nsfw/explicit content below the cut, fluff elements, pre-lin kuei split, bi han in even more love, you both waited until marriage, he definitely wants kids, honeymoon ;p

dt: @aceengg @yumeko0nitgh

your wedding was beautiful. seeing his typically stern expression melt away, all soft as soon as you walked through those doors in that gorgeous dress tailored specifically for you almost had you sobbing like a baby. it was the first time anybody had ever seen him crack a genuine smile that wasn't in response to winning a fight. the flaming hoops you two had to leap through just for this day would make anybody give up, but with the pride bi han has, there was no way he was going to let it all go to waste.

the ceremony was just right in time length. even with all the people and decorations and planning that went into everything, it didn't take too long for kuai liang to wed you two, have some fun with the clan, and tomas sending you off somewhere safe for your honeymoon. the town was small, but honestly it was perfect. nobody would know you here and you got to roam freely for a while. well, until you finally settled in the hotel.

the two of you made the right decision to wait until marriage, because the way he cradled you in his arms and at the same time had you gasping for air was truly something you never expected from him. even though you got to better know each other over these last few months, you never thought him to be the kind of man to purposely leave possessively placed hickeys all over you neck while thrusting into you like a man starved.

"i love you so much." he kept whispering. sometimes he'd even change paces to savor the moment; the sight and feeling of you clinging onto him and scratching his back as you bite into his shoulder so you don't wake everyone in the hotel up. he also knew that the both of you would be quite sensitive to this act since you both were virgins. shit, he could've fooled you thinking he's never been balls deep inside someone before. but that wasn't who he was. if he was going to engage with someone like this, there will be a real connection. bi han is madly in love with you.

though you found out quickly that he also wants children. plural. that intentionally drawn out groan he let out pumping you full of his cum and the sparkle in his eyes upon him seeing it spill out of your body-- which he seriously can't get enough of, it was kind of hard trying to commit to waiting--made you squirm with delight.

and these next nine months, trust, you will be thoroughly taken care of.

[55sturn]

✮ BACK TO YOU

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!oc, reader x unnamed male!oc, chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: in which no matter where they are in life, chris and y/n find their way back to one another, despite knowing that it never really works, until day he gives in and stops fighting what he knows is meant to be.

warnings: swearing, angst (a whole lot of it), verbal arguments, chris and y/n are toxic, implications of chris cheating, fluff if you squint, suggestive implications.

THIRD PERSON POV

in every culture and every religion, there is some sort of evidence of soulmates existing. the person your soul is forever tied to, setting you up for heartbreak along the journey looking for that one person. love is at the root of the structure of every belief system. the person that has been so perfectly tailored to your heart and soul, meant to love you in the ways you spend your life searching for.

look up: invisible string by taylor swift, for a beautiful depiction of a soulmate inspired love song.

the only issue with having a soulmate, is that nine out of ten times, you don't know who your soulmate is. which often leads to you spend hours upon hours and years upon years searching for them, inevitably experiencing various stages and forms of heartbreak in hopes that once you do find your soulmate, your forever person, they are able to heal and fix you.

but in chris and y/n's love story, them healing each other wasn't always the case. they were the fairytale from hell, they were a wrongful depiction of soulmates, two souls tethered together by an invisible red string that who, instead of loving each other, had a tendency to tears each other's hearts into millions of pieces each time they tried to love one another.

they were two souls so delicately similar that it caused them nothing but pain and frustration. they loved one another in the wrong ways, but they were determined to make it work, albeit at the wrong times.

PRESENT TIME

chris sighed as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, with a quick roll of his eyes, he fished the thin device out of his pocket, knowing full well who was texting him as he made his rounds through the crowd of friends and acquaintances at the party he attended.

groaning, her named flashed again in his notifications, he hovered his thumb over the text before pressing down, begrudgingly opening the conversation he had wished hadn't started, despite deep down wanting her to reach out to him.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

Y/N: guess u forgot to tell me that u and ur new bitch of the week would be here🤣

CHRIS: don't start tonight y/n

Y/N: i'm just shocked is all, didn’t think she’d fuck with these ppl just by looking at her

CHRIS: "she" has a name, y/n

CHRIS: it’s gianna

Y/N: you act like i give a fuck

Y/N: it’s nice to see you tho

CHRIS: please y/n, aren’t you tired of this shit?

CHRIS: you and i don't work, we literally never fucking do

CHRIS: and i really like this girl

Y/N: if you genuinely mean that, why are you spending so much time explaining it to me? sounds like you’re just tryna convince yourself that you feel that way.

Y/N: but if it’s real, then i'm happy for you, it's just weird that you and i aren't here together.

chris rolled his eyes at her second to last text, the way she could see right through like he was made of glass, even through a text, was something he’d never be able to understand. or run away from. there was never any sense in him even trying to lie to her, she could read him like a book. and chris was her favourite book, she would read that book ten times over in one sitting if she could.

but chris willed up all the self control he had in his entire being to not seek out the girl he's loved since he was a tiny boy in middle school. he told himself that it was done for good. that's the thing with playground love, it doesn't always last for ever and ever and chris was finally starting to accept that.

he pocketed his phone and forced himself to look for gianna, his eyes briefly meeting y/n's as she spoke to some random influencer, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes as she focused on the boy in front of her. he soon spotted the girl he arrived with, her hand flirtatiously resting on vinnie's bicep as he spoke to her. with a less than enthusiastic scoff, he downed the rest of the drink in his cup and turned around, walking in the opposite direction toward the girl he called home.

once he was in earshot, he smirked to himself as she pawned her cup off onto the poor boy fighting for a chance with her in front of him. once she waved him off with a bittersweet smile, she turned back to chris. she tutted playfully as he rolled his eyes, her hand reaching up toward the back of his neck, pulling him flush against the front of her body.

"what happened to "i really like her"?" she chuckled, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hands fell to her waist, pulling her into a hug, his lips meeting her jaw as he sighed.

"vinnie got to her and she was all over him." he spoke against her skin as her nails gently scraped against his scalp, bringing him down from his emotional high as his shoulders slumped in her arms.

"wanna get out of here? go for a walk?"

"nah, m'tired and just wanna go to bed, you crashing at mine?"

"of course." she spoke, her hand slipping into his as they walked toward the door, nick and matt meeting them there soon after chris texted them, neither of them surprised to find chris leaving with y/n instead of his girlfriend.

"i'm so happy you're here y/n, chris is a different man when you're not around." nick snorted, climbing into the seat behind matt as y/n sat behind chris, his hand slipping between the two front seats as her fingers threaded through his again.

"i'm glad to be back for however long chris needs me to be." she whispered, her words cutting deep into chris' heart, knowing that she wouldn't be around permanently, their dynamic and ways of communicating only allowing them to be together for a short period of time. they’d spend most their days tangled in chris’ sheets, professing their undying love for one another, knowing very well their time would be ending once again, and that it’d end soon.

they found that while they loved each other so deeply, they showed it in all the wrong ways. instead of gentle and soft spoken words, their love for one another was reminded in the clashing of teeth and tongues during heavy make-outs, and wandering hands with their nails digging into the soft flesh they roamed.

their rekindled romance was once again called off when chris' girlfriend, gianna, had come back into his life a week later, apologizing for her behaviour and explaining that she had been a fan of vinnie's for a long time and the fan girl in her caused her to make questionable decisions.

with a meek smile and a backhanded comment about chris’ infidelity, y/n packed her bags and moved out of chris' room sadly bidding matt and nick a brief "see you later", which left them sighing as they were no stranger to watching y/n move in and out of the house a couple times every few months.

it wasn't long before chris had found himself missing the girl that knew him inside and out, that knew his heart like the back of her hand. a month after gianna came back, spewing excuses upon excuses, chris had broken up with her, claiming that his heart would forever belong to someone else and he couldn't bear to put her through the pain of not loving her the way she deserved to be.

chris knew that he should take this grace period and be alone instead of running back to the girl he always did, but he knew she was it for him, no matter what. he didn't understand why they couldn't love each other properly. he always looked at it in a way where they had too much love for one another and they just didn't know what to do with it.

he tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts unrelenting and holding his ability to sleep hostage as his phone read 3:32 in the morning. groaning he unlocked his phone, his thumbs maneuvering their way to her conversation from muscle memory at this point before typing out a quick couple messages.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

CHRIS: y/n come home

CHRIS: please

CHRIS: i cant sleep without you

CHRIS: i love you in a way that makes it hard to love anybody else

CHRIS: you are like a drug that i cant go without, you're deadass my soulmate bruh and i'm done denying that. you are the only person i want. the only that actually knows who i am, inside and out. the only person that can make me feel good the way you do. i want you. no more fighting it. we’re meant to be.

Y/N: i'll be there in 10.

every time y/n fell back into chris’ arms, it felt devastating and bittersweet. this time, it felt right. it felt like they had finally found solid ground and that the had found the way they were meant to be together. there was definitely some uncertainty about the longevity of their relationship overall, but they learned over time that they need to communicate. whether they stayed together or not for the final time, there was no doubt that they would always be intertwined in each other’s hearts.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @verosivy @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt

© 55STURN 2024 [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[milunalupin]

— nine ladies dancing

cedric diggory x reader ★ 1.1k words

twelve days of nico-mas masterlist

The Yule Ball was in full swing. The enchanted ceiling twinkled with the soft light of a thousand stars, casting a shimmering glow across the elegantly dressed students. The soft murmur of chatter filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the melodic strains of the orchestra.

Cedric Diggory, already a striking figure in his tailored dress robes, surveyed the room with a familiar sense of calm. He had been looking forward to this night—primarily because of one person. You.

He had been anticipating the moment he could finally make his way over to you all evening, but there had been a small hiccup: the ever-growing line of girls eager to dance with him. He had no intention of spending the night fending off admirers, but somehow, that’s exactly what happened.

As Cedric made his way toward you, his brown eyes scanning the crowd, he felt an insistent tap on his shoulder. He turned and smiled politely at a fourth-year Hufflepuff girl.

"Would you like to dance, Cedric?"

The smile was tight, but Cedric was nothing if not a gentleman.

"Of course, but I’ve promised the next dance to someone already."

She pouted but moved away, only to be replaced by a much bolder Gryffindor sixth-year who grabbed his arm with surprising force.

“You promised me the first dance, Cedric!” the girl insisted, her voice firm but teasing.

“Sorry, I—” Cedric began, but she didn’t let him finish before pulling him toward the center of the ballroom.

And so it continued. Cedric found himself caught in a whirlwind of unwanted attention—one after another—girls vying for his time, each with their own excuses for why they “just had to” dance with him. He politely declined as best as he could, but the line of hopeful faces just kept growing.

There was the Ravenclaw who had somehow mistaken him for a partner to a waltz, the third-year Hufflepuff who had a thing for him ever since they shared a Herbology class, and the daring Slytherin who insisted that he owed her a dance after a particularly awkward encounter in the library a few weeks back.

By the time Cedric finally reached the edge of the ballroom, his robe slightly askew and his hair a bit more disheveled than when he’d started, he was nearly at his wit's end. He scanned the crowd for you and caught sight of your brilliant smile, which immediately made everything else fade away.

You were standing near the edge of the floor, arms crossed and eyes twinkling with amusement as you watched his endless parade of unwanted dance partners. He smiled, relieved that he’d finally made it.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as he was about to reach you, another girl—this time a tall, striking seventh-year from Beauxbatons—stepped into his path.

“Cedric,” she cooed, “I don’t think you’ve danced with me yet. Shall we?”

“I’d love to, but there’s someone I have to—” He barely managed to get the words out before you appeared, stepping gracefully between him and his would-be dance partner.

"Looks like you’ve made quite the impression," you teased, arching an eyebrow, your voice light but unmistakably amused.

The Beauxbatons girl blinked in surprise, realizing, all too late, that Cedric’s attention had already been claimed. With a flick of her perfectly styled hair, she gave Cedric a disappointed glance before flouncing off into the crowd.

You turned to him with a mischievous grin. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me,” you said, your arms crossing in mock annoyance. “How many girls did you dance with before finally making your way over here?”

Cedric chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I lost count after the fifth one.”

“Well, well,” you said, looking him up and down, feigning seriousness, “I suppose I’ll have to fight for your attention then.”

"Careful," Cedric said, his tone teasing but warm, "I don't want you locked away instead of cheering me on in the next challenge."

You stepped closer, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I don’t know… you seem like you can handle a little challenge on your own."

Before Cedric could respond, you caught the corner of your eye—the next girl in line, a fourth-year Gryffindor, was already heading toward him with a hopeful look on her face.

You raised an eyebrow. “Another one?”

Cedric sighed dramatically, already bracing himself. “I swear, it's like they think I’m Hogwart's most eligible bachelor or something.”

“Oh, I see,” you teased, voice low. “So, I’m just one of many, am I?”

Cedric’s eyes widened, and before he could protest, you spun away from him with a little flourish, arms held out. “Alright, then. Go ahead. Dance with her. I’m sure she’s been waiting her turn for ages.”

He blinked in surprise. “Wait, no—”

But before Cedric could chase after you, the fourth-year girl was already pulling him onto the dance floor, leaving you standing with your arms crossed and a playful smirk.

Cedric sighed in defeat but gave the girl a brief, polite bow as they moved into position, keeping his eyes on you over her shoulder. You hadn’t budged, your posture relaxed but obviously amused.

The dance wasn’t long, of course—not with Cedric’s thoughts entirely elsewhere. He was back with you in moments, but by then, the playful challenge in your eyes had only deepened.

"Feel free to take your time, Cedric," you said, a little too sweetly for his liking. "I’m sure you have plenty of dances left in you."

Cedric grinned, his face lighting up with amusement. “You accepted to be my date, you know that right?”

With that, he took your hand, pulling you into the rhythm of the music. The sounds of the ball faded into the background as he twirled you expertly across the floor, and the teasing atmosphere between the two of you shifted into something warmer, more personal.

It didn’t matter that the Yule Ball was a spectacle of pomp and glamour or that Cedric had spent more time fending off admirers than he would have liked. What mattered was the moment you shared—just the two of you, laughing and dancing in each other's arms.

As the song slowed, Cedric smiled down at you, his earlier frustration gone. “I think I’ve finally found my favorite part of the evening.”

“Oh really?” you said, grinning up at him. “And what’s that?”

“You," he said simply, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. "Finally.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, everything else seemed to vanish—the crowd, the noise, the never-ending line of girls—all that remained was the warmth between you and the Triwizard Champion who had finally, truly made it to his date.

— taglist ♥︎

@willowlovestheweasleys

[leojurand]

funny thing about me reading all of peter wimsey and adoring it: i don't like mysteries. and this series didn't change my mind! i still didn't care much about the crime-solving in these books. that's not why i read them. i decided to try the series despite the genre because i always saw sayers's name mentioned at the same time as dunnett's, so i had to at least try. and what kept me going was the great writing and peter himself.

sayers had a gift for writing witty dialogue. if i had to think of an author who's on the same level as her when it comes to that, i would struggle. and you kinda need to be a master at writing witty dialogue if you have a main character like peter winsey. peter!! i think, while reading the series and talking about it on twitter, my most common reaction: peter my best friend :). one of the most lovable and maybe the most delightful protagonist i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

i didn't always feel 100% connected to him. one of the things i dislike about mystery fiction is that (in my opinion) it's very episodic and so there's no overarching plot, and the characterization doesn't really take center stage. ask me about one favourite peter moment from bellona club or nine tailors and i could not tell you.

but the thing about this series is, it does end up having a sort of overarching plot that sees it's main characters grow and change and kinda gets them out of the "mystery of the week" formula that i think can make characterization stagnant. and that's the harriet vane storyline.

i can't tell how much better harriet makes peter (and i don't need to tell you because if you've read it, you know). seeing peter from the outside, or from the inside but in this situation that changes his priorities so much, was so good. their banter, their chemistry, their misunderstanding, the way harriet perceives peter, from her repressed feelings to her protectiveness and unconditional love. all of it makes peter a much more compelling character. not to say he wasn't before, because i adored peter from book 2 onwards. but harriet always brought the best in him.

i could say a million things more, but tl;dr is sayers has become one of my all time favourite authors, i will never forget peter wimsey, and i'm both incredibly happy to have read this series and so sad that it's over. now what :')

[kiivg]

Your Rook is ridiculously good looking. Like, I’m actually blushing and it’s all your fault

.The initial idea for him was Grave Robbing Pirate and honestly the beard options came through for me like nothing else. Guaranteed I was going to go for muttonchops/sideburns before I even knew what the CC looked like, but idk they looked a little patchy sometimes and that is NOT what Grier is about 👏 The whatever it is he has now is iconic for him, I tried making him as an elf but it was Cursed and Never-to-Be-Seen-Again. Also the balding ponytail? I saw it, and I was like yeah that’s it, that’s him, that’s exactly what I’m about.

.Also it is absolutely insane to me that he’s the first draft, I got him in one go with a little fine tuning once I figured out how the CC works. Especially considering how ugly Goddard turned out as the Inquisitor 😭😭 but now I HC he just sends somebody over in his place to act as a go between, ain’t no way he’s traipsing around with Morrigan lmao. I did make a crummy Blackwall Inq so I could get Dorian to call him Amatus 👹 Pavwall Canon UNLOCKED. (I wonder if you could make the Iron Bull tho?? Sans wide horns ofc.)

.Also, girlie, tysm!!!!!! I am ALSO very 👀😳🥴🤫🫡 about him, I’ve just started my third playthrough of him, I’m still tweaking little bits here and there as I go along. Which means ofc I’m going to be screenshotting him in every cutscene 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️.

.Some facts about my Rook, Grier Thorne, and his story below 💕🫡.

.His mother is Therasia Thorne, a Rivaini Dalish elf who left her clan for the calling of the sea, and he is an absolute mama’s boy. Will do absolutely anything she asks with very little, if any, questioning. He doesn’t know (and most likely never will) who his father is, as the man bought Therasia’s silence over their affair with two galleons and a frigate. On a side note, Therasia was known for seducing very rich men and getting pregnant in order to blackmail them. Most of the time the fathers would pay up, and there has only been one instance of the father agreeing to take the baby off her hands, her bluff was called and she regretfully left her son behind.

.He adores expensive textures, silk, dragon scales, gold, fine lace, alamarri sheep wool, phoenix feathers. If he wasn’t a career criminal turned conscript he would have been a tailor. He owns (or used to own) several dresses/robes that he would just lounge about in naked to feel the fabric against his skin. Doesn’t really think too much of leather though, it can be stiff and often chafes the skin, which is strange because he’s very much a rope man.

.He waxes most of his body hair off, and keeps everything nice and tidy. He also puts coloured powder in his open wounds to preserve the shape of them as they heal, true to his mother’s traditions.

.Has kept his face completely bare of tattoos (apart from the fish he got when he was fourteen) in an honour to his Dalish heritage; he knows he won’t ever get valaslin because he’s only a half-elf, but the prospect of it keeps his face bare.

.Is fascinated by machinery and spent a great deal of time perfecting his own tools. His own frigate was equipped with self made trident ballistas, each one would fire three harpoons (individually or all at once) secured with thick chains, crafted to hunt and bring down large game, dragons, and smaller fleeing ships.

.In tune with his love for crafting, he follows June, and not the Maker. Though he does keep this to himself and those he considers family. If asked he just says he doesn’t believe in the Maker, and refuses to elaborate.

.Absolutely fucks, big family kind of guy. He is one of nineteen children, and has nine of his own by five different women, though he assumes there’s more because he was very much a leave before the sunrise kind of guy. Now he’s matured with being in the Wardens and has been less of a dick about it all. Whether or not he’s got any chance of knowing those kids who knows 🤷‍♂️.

.Never told anyone about his past when he became a Warden, the only people who know are those who were privy to his conscription, and the higher up Wardens upon receiving his arrest and conscription reports. Most people know he’s a conscript however, he doesn’t shy away from that, and he’s had a dozen or more rumours spread about him within the order. Evka was the first person to say he was a good Warden and back him up, and I think that solidified him as a third wheel to her and Antoine.

.He was actually conscripted by order of my HoF Andrastopher Cousland, as a favour returned. Andrastopher wanted aboard his ship when the Inquisition was seeking out a new leader,(there was no way he was becoming a religious figurehead lmao) and he stayed there for a good six months or so before Zevran joined them, and another two months before returning back to Thedas. They… uh… yeah 🥴🤫.

.If he was a companion his questline would probably follow trying to kill his older brother Galo after receiving a plea for help from his sister in law Aadiyah. Turns out Galo is either a) helping the Antaam navigate the seas uncontested or b) capturing and selling slaves to the Venatori. The big question at the end would be whether to tell their daughter that he’s her dad or to let her believe Galo was her father considering he HAS just murdered him, and she has several siblings that Galo fathered too.

.His gift would be an ornamental smoking pipe or a hookah, his room would be an observatory, full of navigational maps and constellations, there would be a small tailors work bench on one side of the room complete with mannequin and a sewn outfit that would slowly complete over his personal questline. His bed would be a row boat full of pillows.

.His almost kiss scene would be him explaining that he’s no good, his past actions are very much coming to bite him in the ass, and that you should really stop flirting with him. Does he want you to stop? No. Is he going to lean in to try and kiss you? Yes. Is he going to remember that everything is playing out as it does before and pull away because he knows he’s not good enough for you? Yes.

.His romance lock in scene would be stargazing on the beach in Rivain, he’d point out a couple constellations, talk about his time seafaring (minus all the murdering and pillaging). You’d get the option to ask about a few different ones (leading to locking out of the romance) or a secret fourth one and he’d absolutely bullshit some made up romantic story that parallels him and you, and you’d call bullshit because YES it is bullshit, and he’d say something awfully sappy about making it “our constellation” and then 💋💋💋.

.The actual romance scene would be that he turns up completely naked in your room, he’ll ask if you want the Captain or the Warden, and you uh choose and uh ye a hh haha ahaaaaa 😳🥴.

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[fallatyourfeet]

Swanky Suits (Arthur x Female Reader)

One Shot

Credit to Gif creator- sorry I don't know who you are

Summary: Arthur is taken completely by surprise after being sent by Ada to get a new suit

Word count: 1322

Warnings: Awkward adorable Arthur. He gets a bit nervous and anxious.

Author's Note: This was only supposed to be around 500-700 words. Big fail. Also, can't believe I've posted two fics in a week. What the hell is happening to me.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

This place seemed far too swanky for Arthur, he felt completely out of place, but Ada had insisted he come. “Trust me Arthur, they’re the best tailors in London… you won’t be disappointed.” Looking at himself in the mirror out front of the change room, he had to agree. The pants and shirt were the nicest things he had ever worn, and he hadn’t even tried on the jacket yet. But still, no matter how much money he had lining his pockets, this place just felt a little too fancy for a boy from Small Heath. Maybe Tommy could get away with it, but him? Not a chance.

Walking up behind him, jacket in hand, came the attendant who helped him with his fittings last week, his posh London accent and manner doing nothing to ease Arthur’s inner monologue. Walking in a circle around him, he looked him up and down and nodded, quite pleased with himself, “The shirt and pants are a perfect fit, they won’t need any alterations at all.”

Moving behind him, he held open the jacket so Arthur could put his arms in and slipped it up over his shoulders. Then walking back around, he adjusted the lapels and buttoned it up, before stepping back, looking slightly disappointed, “The jacket is going to need some tweaking.” Placing a finger to his chin, the attendant sighed with thought. “It doesn’t need much… I might get our seamstress to have a look, she’s out the back. Otherwise, our tailor’s back tomorrow if you want to wait.” Unsure how to gauge Arthur’s expression, he added, “She’s very good… you won’t be disappointed.”

Arthur sniffed, visibly rolling his eyes as he adjusted the jacket, had this guy been talking to Ada? Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Yeah, alright, let her ‘ave a look.”

The attendant disappeared out back, leaving him in front of the mirror, and he couldn’t help but admire the cut and feel of the fabric. Arthur knew he was hardly posh and refined like ninety nine percent of the shops cliental, but he knew a bloody good suit when he saw one. And this was one of the best.

Moving to the edge of the store counter, he was flicking through a collection of swatches, taken completely off guard when to the side of him, someone spoke, “Arthur? ….. Arthur Shelby?”

An oddly familiar voice which Arthur couldn’t quite place, spoke his name. A voice from his childhood, only much more mature than he remembered. The edges to the Birmingham accent were a little softer, the volume somehow fuller, richer. A voice smoother than honey. ‘Hmmm’, he thought quite innocently, ‘a man could get used to a sound like that.’

Turning towards the voice, he almost jumped when he saw you. Dropping the swatches to the ground his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink, standing straight as an arrow like a naughty child being caught in an act of mischief. He recognised you straight away. Even if he were an eighty-year-old man that hadn’t seen you in sixty years, he’d still know exactly who you were. His childhood crush. The girl who made his heart fly whenever she was near. The girl to which no other could compare. The girl he wanted to grow up and marry… And the girl who up and moved to London with her family when he was barely fifteen. Moved before he even found the courage to ask her out.

Arthur spoke your name, “YN?” It was almost a whisper. ‘Fuckin hell,’ he thought, you were even more beautiful than he remembered.

You smiled in response, and if his cheeks were pink before, they must be bright scarlet by now. Not sure what to do or say, he fumbled over his words, before blurting out, “You… you’re the seamstress?”

Lifting your hands, you laughed a little, waving the measuring tape and pin cushion they held, “I am… and these are the weapons of my trade.” Moving towards him, you placed them down on the counter, taking in every inch of his face, turning his poor scarlet cheeks crimson. “It’s good to see you, Arthur. My goodness, it must be what…? Twenty years?”

You moved even closer. Slipping your hands inside his jacket you went about your work, pinning together the alterations when your hand brushed against his side. It almost made him freeze, and he thanked God that it wasn’t his pants that needed altering, your close proximity making it hard for him to think. But somehow, he managed, “Uh, yeah. It’s been exactly twenty years.”

Looking up at him, you smiled the sweetest smile, your eyes looking strangely humbled that he knew exactly how long it had been since he saw you last. And it did nothing to ease the building flutters in his chest. He was a grown man, and a few minutes in your presence had him acting like an awkward teenager again. Arthur’s thoughts were a mess, scrambling to find something else to say, “So, ah, how long you been workin’ here?”

Biting your lip, you looked at the ring on your finger, before answering, sadness gathering in your eyes and voice, “Since my husband left for France.”

Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking, needing no more explanation to realise your husband did not return. And his heart broke for you. The thought of you hurting, in any shape or form, made him uneasy, made him want to reach out and comfort you. Placing a hand to your arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze. No words needed to be exchanged, you knew what he was trying to say.

With a small nod, you smiled softly, distracting yourself by getting back to the task at hand, making a few quick adjustments with your pins and measuring tape. Seemingly satisfied, you took a step back to make a full inspection, announcing quietly, “That should do it.”

Slipping the jacket from his shoulders, you placed it over your arm before fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps when they brushed along his neck, and that was when he knew he was in trouble. Just one touch against his bare neck and all those buried teenage feelings came rushing back, hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Never to be suppressed again. And he knew himself well enough to realise that if he didn’t act on those feelings today, he was going to end up with a whole god damned wardrobe full of swanky suits. When what he really wanted was you.

Breaking through his trainwreck of thoughts, you touched his elbow, your eyes searching for something in his, “Arthur, this will only take me ten minutes… will you wait? Or” You paused, your expression changing the slightest bit, “Or did you want to come back tomorrow?”

With a deep breath, Arthur cleared his throat, putting his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were trembling. “Ah, yeah, I can wait.” Feeling sick to the stomach, he shuffled on his feet, taking his hands out to run them through his hair, before returning them to his pockets, “Um, when do you knock off from here?” Clearing his throat again, Arthur worked hard to keep eye contact, fuck you were the loveliest thing he had ever seen. “I mean, if you want to, we could catch up… I could take you out for dinner or… or somethin.”

You answered with a smile. It was so sweet and warm, and genuine. And he dared to hope that just maybe you weren’t going to turn him down. With his heart beating in his throat, he waited for your reply. It was just a few fleeting moments, a few short moments that felt like an eternity. But your answer came, and he could barely believe his ears. “Yes, Arthur. Thank you. Dinner or somethin’ would be lovely.”

[blank-house]

Hey, I was wondering roughly how much the full release of the game would cost or if it'd be free like the demo- sorry if you mentioned already if you did I must have missed it!

Another question- more of a plead- is there any chance, at all, that Cameron and Deja (Cameron specifically) could ever become romanceable? Whether at full release, in a DLC, available only after you finish the main three routes, anything😞😓🙏 am begging earnestly sweetly sincerely

hi! we've stated it before, but the full release won't be free like the demo. as you'll eventually come to see when it releases, it's too huge of an undertaking for us to release at no cost—especially when keyframes would be our flagship title. we don't have a firm cost on what that might look like yet as we're still going back and forth on tier costs for the eventual kickstarter, but we'll be able to provide a clearer answer once we get there; promise!

and as to cameron and deja, here's the firm answer: honestly? it probably won't happen. we've gone back and forth on whether or not it's something that's feasible, especially as you and many others have asked us for a cameron route and we've teased a possibility.

we've stated before that we're thankful and that we're glad for the interest in them, but it's a great deal more difficult to do than players might think it is. if we made them dlc routes, we would want them to be able to stand toe-to-toe with our leading boys because we don't want them to feel like an after thought as members of our main cast. in our complete vision of the game, our boys have relationships with the mc that will span the entirety of two years at completion.

that's almost nine seasons. roughly seven events per season, so that means 63 events of around 50k words each with variations tailored to affection levels that'll only grow more complicated with each successive season. there'd be new cgs and other back-end development we have to account for.

it's not impossible to rework the game to allow other full routes, but we want to be realistic about the costs (time, production, etc.). deja and cameron were never planned to be love interests, and for the foreseeable future, that won't be changing.

the tl;dr no, we're not planning for a cameron or deja dlc but they will still have satisfactory story arcs and conclusions. (i'm very excited for cameron's and am hopeful you will like it too!) it's not a never. but, we're not thinking about it and won't be for a while.

[mstarcreates]

Special: The Hunter Vanguard’s Guide on How to Ruin a Suit

AN: remember to scroll to the bottom for a special treat!

****

Crow groaned in frustration as he fumbled with a long strip of fabric, trying for what seemed like the millionth time to get it right. He untied the knot again, making the swift determination that—if they still existed—he’d have made a poor sailor. This was not his thing. Guns, definitely. Knives, absolutely. But ties? Not so much.

Naturally, Cayde chose that exact moment to come into the room and lean on the doorway. He was already dressed to the nines, his suit perfectly pressed and tailored in all the right ways. The Exo Hunter looked as sharp as one of his many knives and Crow would bet that he had a few tucked away on his person somewhere.

Those would be fun to find later.

“Need some help there, Bright Eyes?” He asked, his tone full of amusement.

“Yes, please for the love of the Traveler, I cannot get this stupid thing right!” He let his hands fall to his sides. Cayde walked up to him, their bodies mere inches apart as he straightened the tie out.

He worked quietly as his fingers moved in quick, sure movements. Once the knot was secure, Cayde pushed it up, his eyes finally meeting Crow’s again with a knowing look.

Crow’s face heated a little under the male’s gaze, it was like he could read his every thought. Or maybe it was written on his face and Crow would just have to accept that he’d be shit at poker as well. “Where uh…where did you learn to do that?”

“Haven’t you learned anything about me?” Cayde replied, that easy smile gracing his face. “There’s no fun in bein’ predictable, Crow. That’s why they call me—”

“A Wildcard, I know. You’ve only told me half a dozen times.”

“And I’ll tell you a half dozen more, till it sticks in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Cayde?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t let go of the tie.” Crow reminded him softly.

“I know.” Then he gripped it tighter and used it to pull Crow into a searing kiss.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

my favorite stand-alone star trek episodes

someone in bluesky asked around my sphere what are the best Star Trek stand alone episodes for each show and I thought it was a cool exercise. My list and specifications are below. Long post so click the button to check it out.

Rules: Can't be super dependent on other episodes of the show, can't be a two or multiple-parter, can't just be every season finale just because it made me cry or anything; it has to be something that showcases how the show works its own individual aspects in a relatively ideal stage. Think of it like the episode you could show someone to prime them to like any of these shows if they don't even know the show exists.

The Original Series - The Corbomite Manuever

It's one of the first times Star Trek talks about peacemaking and looking before shooting as something you're supposed to do even in a situation where an overwhelming power is bullying you. Kirk comes out of this as a genius who knew better than to take a situation at face value, and has one of my favorite lines in the show:

What's the mission of this vessel, Doctor? To seek out and contact alien life, and an opportunity to demonstrate what our high-sounding words mean.

Banger idea, banger execution, iconic alien, cool shit all around, 10/10

Runner ups: Balance of Terror, Court Martial, The City at the Edge of Forever. Didn't make it because I like this one more.

The Animated Series - The Magicks of Megas-tu

I think it's probably the wildest episode in TAS? Kirk & Crew meet the devil and he's like, a swell guy you should be friends with. Spock learns magic. The devil tells the audience of mostly children to not have prejudices against those oppressors have deemed unworthy of attention. There's a magic duel at the center of the galaxy that is then tailored after the Salem Witch trials. If you haven't watched TAS, it goes fucking crazy.

Runner ups: Yesteryear, The Lorelei Signal, The Time Trap. Overall just think Megas-tu is more interesting and more incredibly fucking wild, how did that air in the 80s, oh my god.

The Next Generation - The Measure of a Man

While it is pretty early on, I think it's a very good example of what TNG does best: single-issue stories using its main cast as a vehicle for drama. This has a little bit of everything people love TNG for: Data's struggles as an android, Picard's struggles as a reinassance man occasionally having to face the dumbest motherfuckers in the entire Federation who would be burning witches at the stake if they could, a Badmiral, Riker vs Picard, Guinan taking Picard by the hand and gently reminding him the human condition includes some unpleasant elements, a farcical trial...

it's not perfect but I do think it holds up, and whenever I recommend Star Trek to people, this is always an easy case study to check if they're interested in the project.

Runner ups: Elementary Dear Data, Yesterday's Enterprise, Sarek, and honestly a lot of other episodes that just don't quite work if you don't have all the context of watching more of the show. Either that or they have weird characterizations that I don't think work super well for the episode.

Deep Space Nine - The Ship

I think Deep Space Nine has a ton of great episodes, but I do believe that show shines brightest when everyone involved is stuck in a bottle episode having to fight their way out of it. In TNG they would talk, in VOY they would trick people, in DS9 they use violence!

I think The Ship is the best version of a good DS9 episode that doesn't need so much preamble to understand. You have a tight cast, a very clear drama point, and the slow build up into a horrific ending where nobody is happy and everyone wishes war wasn't such bullshit.

While there's literally better episodes, I think this works really well for this "challenge."

Runner ups: This list literally had Homefront/Paradise Lost as my pick, but I ended up deciding two-parters don't count. Other than that, The Wire, The House of Quark, Badda-Bing Badda-Bang and my favorite episode of Star Trek of all time, It's Only a Paper Moon, that unfortunately only works if you've spent 7 seasons watching Nog go from the worst character in Star Trek to the best character in Star Trek.

Voyager - One Small Step

I think Voyager is very flawed and that season 4 is the highest peak the show comes to, but even then, I think One Small Step is my favorite episode. It has the BIG VOYAGER THINGS: Seven of Nine trying to wrap her head around human emotions, an old-timey feel (literally, it's about an old Mars mission), it has the Delta Flyer, and it ends with an absolute emotional gut punch that I haven't really recovered from to this day. It's a love letter to space exploration that really fits a show named god damn Voyager a lot more than it would any of the others. I really love this episode.

Runner ups: The 37s, Living Witness, Death Wish, and DISTANT ORIGINS, OH MY GOD, THE LIZARD PEOPLE ARE REAL; all episodes i like but that either don't quite get me where I want to go, or I just personally feel aren't as strong.

Enterprise - Dead Stop

So like, this list is awful for Enterprise, because every single episode of that series builds on the previous ones somehow. Season 3 is impossible to watch out of context so I can't use any of it, and my no-multiple-parters rule means Season 4 (which I don't even like anyway so I guess it doesn't matter ) is mostly out. But I really do think Dead Stop excels at what Enterprise is good at: making the galaxy look fucking weird again.

Dead Stop feels like a really good sidemission from a game you've played a lot but never did 100%. It proposes some things about the state of the galaxy that you never really consider and never comes back, and it acts like this really interesting bottle episode that, while relatively predictable (this is Enterprise), is also effective. I think everyone shines in this and I think the situation is very unique. Worth a shot if you've never seen Enterprise.

Runner ups: E², The Catwalk (lol), it... look, I'll be real, Enterprise is not made for this.

Discovery - Unification III

Speaking of shows that aren't made for this, Discovery wouldn't have made it if it didn't get a soft-reboot halfway through. I'm one of the people who likes the second half of Discovery, sometimes a lot even. And while I think it should have gone way crazier with its own stuff instead of wasting its time with references (season 4 is probably the moment I was happy saying I like Discovery), I think Unification III is the first time I actually liked Michael's character.

It still has Discovery's major problems of being overly melodramatic in the wrong places, wasting a little too much time with dramatic camera shots and monologues that don't always hit, but I think Unification III is Discovery deciding it can stand side by side with other shows: it fundamentally changes the Romulan/Vulcan dichotomy, it takes something old and makes it new again, and it for the first time in years doesn't feel embarrassed of itself.

I don't know if it would make a Disco hater become a Disco enjoyer, but hey, I enjoy the episode, and it's my list.

Runner ups: Forget Me Not, and.... that's it actually. Don't watch Discovery on random, it doesn't work. Picard isn't in this list.

Lower Decks - wej Duj

Lower Decks rules and wej Duj is the best episode of Star Trek released in the year it came out. It takes its premise and allows it to breathe, shows you parts of the universe you'd never see, introduces great characters you could make a mini series about if you were crazy, and it looks and sounds great. Lower Decks was too good for this world and cancelling it characterizes cruel and unusual mistreatment of an audience.

Runner-ups: First First Contact, Empathological Fallacies, a couple more but Lower Decks is so referential in nature that it also makes it hard. But this wasn't really a contest. I wrote wej Duj without looking up other episodes.

Prodigy - Time Amok

Prodigy is a weird one because it's less "Star Trek" and more "Voyager 2". It has a different idea and execution for what it wants to do, so it doesn't really adhere to structures other shows have. That being said, I think Time Amok is the first time the crew really comes together and shows why they're a good cast, what their specialties are and why you should like them. I would probably not have continued the show without an episode like Time Amok, and genuinely, it goes great places. Season 2 is one of my favorite seasons of current Star Trek. It just, you know, isn't the same.

Runner-ups: Honestly for my specific rules, this is it. But I want you to know Prodigy fucking rules and you should watch it. "Now... go boldly" still gets to me every time I think about it.

Strange New Worlds - Ad Astra per Aspera

I like Season 1 of SNW a lot more than Season 2, but the S2 opener really is the show at its best. It doesn't pull any punches when exploring the subject of what's essentially Federation-approved apartheid, and it might have the best performances in the show so far. It would have probably interested me more if this wasn't another prequel that can't change things too much, but, still. If you've never seen SNW and don't want to just watch it from episode 1, give this one a try.

Runner-ups: Strange New Worlds the pilot! It's a very good pilot! Also "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow" and "Those Old Scientists", but like, a crossover wouldn't really fit here very well.

And there you go, that was a fun little exercise. How about you make your own? Add any of the shows you want, I just happen to be a freak who wanted to do it with all of them.

[pettypiastri]

alone together

quinn hughes x fem reader

requested: "Would you mind doing a Quinn x Female Reader? Kinda sad but happy at the end? It’s one of Quinn’s days off before a long road trip, and he’s been in and out of the reader’s at-home office all day asking if they can watch a movie or spend some time together. And she continuously says no and at one point she sees how upset he is. So later she slips out to the living room with a few blankets and sweeps him away to the couch just to dote on him and apologize for wasting their day? If not it’s totally fine! Just felt in a sappy mood :)"

wc: 1k

warnings: self deprecation, angst, two sad people who don't know how sad the other is

a/n: OKAY SORRY it got kinda angsty but i promise it ends fluffy to make up for it!! just a short lil quinn blurby. the incorrect spanish is intentional :)

Your shoulders jump toward your ears when the third knock in the past two hours sounds at your office door. The work in front of you is a pile that doesn’t seem to dwindle no matter how long you spend in front of it. Every time you refresh your email, more grievances come to light. And yet Quinn can’t seem to leave you alone. 

A part of you feels ruffled by his blooming persistence. This semi long distance relationship you find yourself in would almost be less painful if he hadn’t stopped in for a day at home; he’s been away for a few days and is leaving again for another week and a half tomorrow. It feels a bit like a cruel joke, giving you a taste of the quality time you crave and then finding your partner whisked away again, the Vancouver snow he trekked in on his shoes still melted in a puddle by the door. It’s not that you want to make him suffer, you just can’t find the heart sometimes to intentionally hurt yourself more by being in his loving presence. Especially when all he wants to do is cuddle and hold you. Childishly, you do want him to know you can’t always accommodate your work schedule to his wishes since his work schedule can never do the same for you. 

You’re hurt and you’re frustrated by a situation neither of you would choose if given the opportunity and annoyed by your meticulous work still to complete. Yet since you know, not even that deep down, that none of this is his fault, you suck back in the sigh beginning to escape your lips.

“Quinny babe I really can’t right now. I told you this project would take a few hours.” 

“How about just an episode or two of The Office? They’re only 20 minutes each…” Just 20 minutes with you is all he’s asking for. The reminder that this is longer than you’ve spent with him in the past four days hurts you all over again, now feeling like the villain in a situation you really had no responsibility in creating. Your short reply is more so to protect yourself from being too vulnerable than it is tailored toward reassuring Quinn.

“I can’t Quinn.” 

And he knows that. He does. But a small part of him hoped he’d receive even a tiny ‘sorry’ and maybe a few words of affirmation from you, just to know that he’s not hurting alone. That this is as tough on you as it is on him. With his attempted affections left hanging for the third time and now just feeling like a burden, he slumps back to the couch and buries himself in a blanket fort he built himself. 

Quinn’s silence followed by his receding footsteps is the soundtrack to your heartbreak. Resuming the clicking of your mouse makes the perfect accompaniment. 

—

It’s nearly nine by the time you emerge sheepishly from your work cave. After trying to work through eyes blurry with tears one time too many you decided you missed Quinn too much for this to go on any longer.

The house is dark, modeling the moonless night outside, save for the living room. A few paces allows you to see Quinn’s mousey brown hair peeking out from under a pile of blankets. SportsCenter plays the Devils game softly. Your heart clenches at the irony that this is how Quinn finds you most nights when he gets home. Tentative footsteps move your body magnetically toward him. 

Lowering to be eye level with his sleeping form, you run your fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. He stirs after a few passes.

“Can I join you?” He grunts and readjusts his head before opening his eyes.

His stormy eyes regard you with their usual fondness. It’s the look that first clued you in to Quinn’s feelings. When you realized, you couldn’t unsee it. And Quinn’s never once stopped looking at you that way.

“What’s the password?” 

Traitorous tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you huff a soft laugh. He’s not mad at you.

“Quinn is the best boyfriend in the world?” You try, voice an accordingly affectionate hum.

Quinn thinks. “It’s a three part-er.” He settles on.

“I’m sorry for working so long?” You try. Quinn nods and gestures for you to continue. Two for three. Your fingers haven’t stilled in his hair once but now they slip to caress his slightly stubbly cheek. 

“I’m the worst girlfriend in the world?” Quinn quickly shakes his head ‘no.’ Selfishly you tried that just to seek his reassurance; it works a little bit. “Ummm Quinn Hughes is the best Hughes??” Quinn laughs, your favorite sound in the world bouncing off the walls of the quiet Vancouver condo, making your house a home.

“Yes but no.”

A smile disguises the fact you find yourself genuinely a bit stumped. “What am I forgetting then?”

He gives you the same eye roll you’re accustomed to seeing during his media and rolls from his side to his back dramatically. Your hand slips from his face. Silence persists until,

“OH!” Giggling gently you move to bully your way under the tangle of blankets.

“Umm excuse me missy you haven’t finished the password.” Quinn protests but his hands are already grabbing at your waist to hold you against him. Once you settle enough against his chest you meet his eyes and say with full conviction,

“I love you Quinny.” 

Your words tickle a smile out of him, a blush darkening his cheeks, still not used to hearing those words from you after all these years.

“I love you too baby. Welcome to Casa a la Quinn. But I get to pick the movie.”

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun : Chapter one: Happy Little Family

This is series two of a fic I have already written.

Master List

Relationship: Astarion x Tav

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: The year is 1548 it’s fifty-six years after Tav and Astarion defeated the elder brain with their rag-tag group of friends. So much has changed since then Astarion changed careers and is now a tailor while Tav runs the counter. While their daughter attends Gale’s School of Wizardry. That's right their daughter. Everything is going smoothly until something dark threatens to destroy all of Faerûn and it's up to Astarion, Tav, and their Daughter to stop it from happening.

Being a parent to a Dhampir was not the easiest thing in the world. Over the last six years, Tav and Astarion had their fair share of ups and downs when it came to raising Apple, Starting at only eight months old when, after a short nap, Apple had decided that playing on the ceiling was better than waiting in her crib for Tav and Astarion to wake. A simple message to Gale to get some perspective on Apple's new magical abilities and simple solutions before something could indeed be done about them. Apple was only an infant, so her magical abilities were more challenging to control; she did not have the sense of self to know what she was doing. So until then, if she was going down for a nap or Tav or Astarion would have their eyes off of her for longer than a few seconds, a long piece of string was attached to Apple's clothes, and she was then effectively turned into a balloon.

Everything came to a head, however, when, at age four, Apple was having trouble making friends in the neighborhood, so she summoned a fairy from the Faewild, and between the two of them, no closed door could keep them contained, nor would they keep them out. It all seemed harmless until they started playing tricks on anyone and everyone around them, which made others in the neighborhood anything but happy. So when Apple was four, Gale received another message via a sending spell begging him for help, and now there was a permanent portal in the downstairs lining closet that led straight to Waterdeep and vice versa. A year later, Apple was enrolled in Gale's wizard school for gifted children, and Tav now found most of her days, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon five times a week, empty and devoid of Apple. Despite Apple being a sorceress and not a wizard, no one seemed to care in her class, and everything she learned helped her understand her magic.

Astarion had opened a small tailor shop out of the back room of the manor house they had acquired the day Apple was born, and for the most part, Tav manned the front desk while Astarion took clients and fitted them. He seemed genuinely happy with how his life turned out. Astarion now had a real family, not something forced together as the one Cazador had made, where they were brother and sister in name only. This family he chose was something he cultivated and nurtured over the years, filled with nothing but love and devotion.

Tav sometimes felt horrible for how she felt as she looked at how happy Astarion was where they both were, with their beautiful daughter and thriving business. It just felt like everyone had something but her. Everything was doing something, and she became a housewife and mother. Tav sometimes missed the feeling of blood in her hair, hearing an arrow fly through the air, and the sound it made when it hit its target. She loved Astarion and Apple dearly and wouldn't trade anything for what she had now; she sometimes missed the life she had before. She missed being an adventurer.

"You look amazing."

Astarion's voice woke Tav up from her daydream of years gone by. She looked up to see Astarion walking someone out of the back room. The man was dressed head to toe in a new suit Astarion had made specifically for him. On the front, beads of sapphire, jade, and ruby had been sewin in by hand in an intercept design. From where Tav sat behind the counter, it looked like flowers, but she wasn't paying enough attention to care. All that mattered was that Astarion and the customer liked it. What she thought of it didn't matter.

The customer was a large, dark-skinned man who was a part of the small consul of Baldur's Gate. Tav didn't recognize him and only vaguely remembered Astarion telling her he had booked a client off the consul. Saying that it was for a midsummer's party, they would be attending and that it would require a lot of beadwork. Tav was excited for Astarion; it was the first time someone from the upper city had requested a suit from him. The amount for the suit alone was enough for them to take several months off. Not that Astarion would since he had found a genuine love for his work now that his days of adventuring were behind him.

"I think this might be your best work, Astarion." The customer looked at himself in a mirror, and Astarion stood behind the glass so he wouldn't notice the missing reflection. "How do you manage to get such intercept designs?"

"Years of practice. I am an Elf, so I have the time." Astarion gave a little bow. "If you pay upfront, you can wear it out; My wife will help you at the counter."

The man looked Tav over with an assessing stare. Going over every part he could see. Tav quickly looked for something to do in order to make herself look busy and not as if she was simply doing nothing but keeping the counter in place. In a way, she was only sitting at the front counter to give herself something to do, not attributing to the business other than taking coins and maybe reading in her downtime.

"I wish I had been born an Elf." He pulled out his coin purse and proceeded to walk over to Tav. "You get all the perks; you only have to sleep a few hours, live for hundreds of years, and stay young longer than any of us."

"Maybe you'll get lucky, and when you die fat and happy, you'll be resurrected as something with a little longer life span." Astarion moved behind the counter with Tav. "Though you seem to be making the most out of this one already."

"I would still like more time; my life must seem like a drop in a bucket to you." He placed the purse down on the counter. "It's all there and a little extra for such beautiful work."

"Until next time." Astarion picked up the pouch, assessing its weight as he did.

"Oh, I will definitely be requiring your services again." The man turned. "And I'll be sure everyone at the party knows just who to go to if they want to look as fabulous as I will be."

The councilman walked out, strutting every step, dripping with confidence. Tav thought he wouldn't last more than ten minutes walking down the street in a suit beaded with gems. Surly, some thug or cutthroat would have it off him the second he walked down an ally or crossed into the slightest shadow.

Tav looked at Astarion, who looked like a cat who had caught a particular juicy rat. His lips were perfectly composed into a practiced smile that oozed trust, but his eyes were sharp, focused, and assessing. He likely thought the same thing Tav did and was betting on it. Hoping that the councilmen would come back begging for another suit and Astarion would oblige for double the price.

"He's going to get the crap beat out of him for that jacket," Tav said what they both thought.

"Oh, most definitely." Astarion purred as he spoke. "And that's precisely why I made a second suit, and when he comes back, I'm going to act like it's a huge inconvenience." A sly smile broke across his face. "So much so that he'll offer me extra just for my time."

"You're so cruel." Tav turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But that's one of the things I love about you."

"It's not my fault he chose to put a target on his back." Astarion snaked his hands around her waist. "A man like that will always let his pride get the better of him."

"I guess it doesn't hurt that after you so graciously make him a new one, he'll be more inclined to tell people about you." Tav gave him a small smile.

"Exactly!" He leaned down, placing a kiss on Tav's head.

Tav pushed up on the balls of her feet to extend her reach, kissing his lips gently. Astarion returned the kiss, pulling her flush against him to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him in, and he obliged her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, leaving nothing unexplored. Tav felt heat flush into her body, pooling deep in her core. A moan escaped as she felt Astarion harden against her, a promise of what was to come.

He broke the kiss, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting gently. Tav moved her hands into Astarion's hair, weaving them in before tugging at his soft white curls. It was Astarion's turn to moan as his head dipped back slightly, leaning into the tug. Tav took advantage of his now exposed neck as she planted a soft kiss near his jugular. A gasp escaped his lips as Tav's kiss quickly turned into a gentle bite.

"I don't think I have another client for the rest of the day." Astarion's voice was breathy as he spoke. "What do you say to going up to our bed and having a little fun?"

"Whatever could you mean." Tav moved her lips around his neck, teasing him as she placed soft feather-light kisses on his exposed throat.

"You know exactly what I mean." Astarion moved his hands to cup Tav's face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Now, don't play dumb, or I'll have to show you what I mean right here where anyone could walk in and see."

"Well, when you put it that way." She gave him a wicked smile. "I wouldn't want anyone to see and get jealous."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Astarion gave Tav a rough, demanding kiss. "They would need to pay for it first, at least."

Tav chuckled as she thought about someone walking in on them. She was not interested in being watched in the slightest, but the thought still made her heart race. Moments like these were rare. Offend times took place in the dead of night when they thought that Apple wouldn't be awake to hear them and on days when Astarion wasn't exhausted after filling orders and stitching all day. It had gotten so bad that they had to plan out days in advance when they would have sex. Tav often missed the feel of his fingers caressing her body or the feeling of his lips on her neck. Their lives had changed in so many ways. Having to plan when they would have sex was never something she would have imagined. So when days like this happened, Tav was all but gitty with excitement.

Their passion was cut short when a crackle of magic filled the air, signaling the arrival of Apple coming home from her day at school. Astrarion let out a sigh before moving away from Tav, giving her a look that let her know they would continue where they left off later. Tav blew him a kiss in confirmation before turning away and slowly making her way to the linen closet. Astarion stayed behind the counter as he waited for his arousal to quiet down.

Apple burst through the door holding a small black book bag, a large smile plastered on her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in her parents, practically vibrating with excitement. That's how it was most days when she came back from school with her uncle Gale. She had a thirst for knowledge, and since she started at Gale's academy, her hunger only grew. She was a second year, which was noted by the patch sewn onto her breast pocket. The green patch matched her eyes and went nicely with the dark brown of the robe.

As the students aged, the color of the robes would change, and since Apple was still in the youngest block, she got to wear the plainest robe color. In a few years, she would move to blue, then purple, before finaly, in her final years, she would be able to choose her own clothes. Since then, she would be an adult and thus able to go off on her own technically. But Tav didn't want to think that Apple was still her baby girl and would stay that way for a long time.

"Mommy!" Apple bounced toward Tav as if she were a rabbit. "Guess what Uncle Gale had us do today!?"

"What would that be love?" Tav crouched down to get down on her level to talk.

Apple wrapped her arms around Tav's neck, nearly knocking her over as she crashed into her, too excited to temper her excitement. Tav kept her footing as she hugged Apple tightly, placing her hands behind her head to touch her soft white curls.

Apple looked more and more like Astarion every day; there was no mistaking whose child she was. Her curls swept down past her shoulders and fell in delicate rings. Despite her eyes being a deep emerald green accented with gold flecks, the shape of them was the same as her father's. Tav had to look hard to find anything that resembled her in her own daughter, and even then, she was growing up so fast even those things changed.

"Watch this mommy." Apple took a step away from Tav to ready herself for casting magic.

Tav pursed her lips together as she watched Apple stick out her tongue in concentration and shimmy her shoulders. The little sorceress closed her eyes and chanted the incantation she had learned today, only stumbling a little at the end of her sentence. Within seconds, lights appeared around her, dancing around her in a circle. Tav knew that with this spell now in Apple's repertoire, she would surely use it to stay up late and read under her covers at night. This was not the end of the world, but Tav knew it would lead to a grumpy Apple the following day.

"That is amazing, sweetheart!" Tav clapped her hands together. "Why don't we celebrate you learning a new spell by letting you choose what we will have for dinner?"

"Really! Anything I want?"

The gold in Apple's eyes glowed like stars at the thought of her getting to choose dinner. Tav heard Astarion's footsteps approaching from behind and turned to face him. He had a look of awe on his face. Not from the spell. It was one of the simplest spells that could be done, but he was in awe of his daughter. Every time he looked at her, he got a glimpse of his own face, something he hadn't seen in over two hundred years.

"Anything you want, darling, I will make." Astarion smiled.

"Can I have shepherd's pie?" Apple ran so that she nearly stepped on Astarion's feet and craned her neck to look up at him.

"Of course, we'll need to go and buy the ingredients." Astarion picked Apple up so that she was dangling in front of him. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes!"

"Will you be coming with us, love?" Astarion looked at Tav, who had turned to watch the exchange.

"Well, of course!" Tav moved to tickle Apple. "Once our little sorceress goes and changes out of her school clothes."

Apple was helpless as Tav's fingers found their mark. Moving up and down her sides, causing her to break out in uncontrollable laughter.

"Stop it, mommy! I'll get changed! I promise." Apple tried and failed to get Tav to stop. "Daddy, help me!"

"I'll Save you." Astarion spun and placed Apple on the ground. "Now hurry and change. I can only hold your mother back for so long!"

Astarion moved to embrace Tav, trying his best to make it look as if he was genuinely restraining her and not just holding her tightly against him. Tav played along, pretending as if his embrace trapped her. Mock struggled as if she was trying to break free.

"Thanks, Dad; keep her like that till I get back!" Apple retreated towards the stairs in the other room.

"Oh, I won't be letting her go, my sweet little Apple!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Not until I am delighted, at least." He whispered the last part so Apple wouldn't hear, but Tav indeed could.

"I Don't think we have time to satisfy you truly." Tav gave him a seductive smile. "She'll be back down in just a few minutes, and we both know you're not that quick."

"Then we better make it count." Astarion moved to the shell of Tav's ear. "For now, I'll just give you a taste of what is yet to come."

A shiver ran down Tav's spine. "Just kiss me, you beautiful fool."

"That's all?" Astarion moved his lips until they were nearly touching Tav's. "I would have thought you'd have a more vivid imagination."

"I do, but we don't have the time," Tav growled out her following words. "But I'll be sure to show you just how vivid my imagination is tonight."

Astarion chuckled. "I'm looking forward to that."

He finally touched Tav's, kissing her softly as they both listened for Apple's footsteps.

It took Apple fifteen minutes to choose from her massive wardrobe and come downstairs. Astarion had been busy over the years, making her dresses, pants, tunics, and whatever else he could think of. She was the best-dressed child in the neighborhood. Maybe even in all of Baldur's Gate.

The three of them went to the shops they needed to get the ingredients for the shepherd's pie Apple had asked for. They stopped by the butcher Alphones to pick up the ground lamb and a few jars of blood. Apple was nearly drooling at the sight of blood, and Tav quickly took the jars and headed outside. From there, they bought the rest of the vegetables on the way home, and Astarion and Tav set to peeling, chopping, and preparing for dinner while Apple read from her textbook.

After an hour or so, dinner was ready. Astarion poured himself and Apple a glass of blood while Tav made her and Apple a plate. The food smelled delicious, and Tav felt her mouth watering in anticipation of the meal she was about to devour. Apple sat across from Tav, and Astarion sat to Tav's left at the head of the table. Silence fell across the table as the meal started to be consumed.

"Oh!" Apple broke the silence after cleaning her plate. "I forgot to tell you the most exciting part of the day!"

"Learning a new spell wasn't at the top?" Astarion took a sip of his glass. "I'm surprised."

"Did something funny happen?" Tav stopped eating to listen to Apple speak, giving her full attention to her child.

"No, Urdrar told me he's going to get to be a big brother!" Apple was nearly standing in her seat.

Tav knew that Urdrar was a Dwarf and that he was Apple's best friend in her class. He had visited the portal several times with Apple for play dates, but Tav had never met his parents. Urdrar was a nice enough child, polite, and didn't like getting into trouble; unlike Apple, it almost seemed like trouble followed her wherever she went. She could often get the small, stocky, dwarven boy to do almost anything, taking advantage of his small frame to squeeze into all places. Being excited for her best friend made sense, but Tav could sense there was more to this excitement than just being happy for her friend.

"That's exciting for Urdrar." Tav looked at Astarion, who was still sipping on his glass.

"Yeah! But I was just wondering." Apple looked away from Tav's gaze.

There it is, Tav thought.

"Could I have a baby brother or sister?"

Astarion nearly choked on his blood at the words that came out of Apple's mouth. Tav got up from her seat to rub soothing circles on his back till he was no longer choking on the blood that had entered his lungs. It took a few more seconds before Astarion answered her question. Having a hard time finding the words to say.

"It is more difficult than just going to the store and picking a baby out, darling." Astarion turned to look at Tav, pleading for help with his eyes.

"He's right, dear. It's… complicated." Tav struggled to find the words.

"Why?" Apple knitted her brows together. "How do you get a baby then?"

Tav's heart felt like it was pounding against her chest. “Well… ummm… That's something only grown-ups get to know."

"Why?" Apple placed one hand on her hip. "What do you have to do?"

"We'll tell you when you are older, but not now." Astarion looked as if he was going to die all over again. "Why don't you go wash up and study? Your mom and I need to talk."

"Are you going to talk about how to make a baby?" Apple didn't move.

"No honey, we already know how to make a baby." Astarion smiled. "We don't need to talk about how it's done."

"Astarion!" Tav turned red.

"What? I didn't say anything." He stood, grabbing Apple's plate as he did. "Now go, Apple, I'll come up in a little while to read you a bedtime story."

"Ooookaaaay." Apple elongated the word as she rose from her seat and headed towards the stairs.

Tav and Astarion waited until they thought Apple was no longer within range to hear the conversation that they were about to have. The room was silent and thick with anticipation, both waiting for the other to speak.

"Well, we should probably clean up, huh?" Tav grabbed her plate and started making her way to the kitchen.

"Tav? It's not like we haven't discussed this before." Atsrion followed behind her.

"I know, but now she's asking about it." Tav let out a long sigh. "How do you tell a six-year-old I'm sorry, mommy and Daddy can't give you a brother or sister because having you was a miracle in itself, and it's a long shot if it ever happens again."

"Well, I think, just like that." Astarion placed the plate he was holding in the sink. "It's not like it's impossible; we've done it before."

"By accident!" Tav whirled around so that she was face to face with Astarion. "It was blind luck that I got pregnant the first time, and you know that being an elf makes it even harder."

Astarion grabbed Tav by the shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to try." Astarion smiled. "Gives us more of an excuse to… practice."

"I suppose we can read the paper for any elves that have died recently, or maybe there is a tea or potion that helps elves conceive." Tav smiled at Astarion despite feeling like she was going to throw up. "I mean, Drow have whole families; maybe they know something we don't."

"There we go!" Astarion wrapped his arms around Tav, pulling her into a tight embrace. "This time, we'll do some research that should make things easier."

"Yeah." Tav hugged Astarion back. "Easier..."

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