#i promise those tags make sense considering the fic

[violettavonviolet]

Spideytorch fic rec list

hey guys, as promised spideytorch is next! Those two idiots are very dear to my heart and I think I've found some gems! Do send the authors some love if you end up reading some <3. All fics are complete, the word count goes up as you scroll and mind the tags before you read!

Caught on Candid Camera

Traincat

Summary:

“You have ten seconds to tell me what’s wrong,” Peter said, picking up the strangely bubbling beaker. His spider-sense stayed silent, thankfully, but his science-sense was giving him a headache. 

“Aren’t you around kids?” Johnny said. “I shouldn’t be telling you this if you’re around kids.”

“Six… five... four…” Peter said.

“It’s just,” Johnny said breathlessly, “did you know that there are webcams on the Statue of Liberty now?”

Peter dropped the beaker.

5k, mature

teenager in love

orangejoose

Summary:

Johnny groaned exaggeratedly. Then he leaned in close to Spidey, narrowing his eyes. “Are you like super ugly or something? Oh my god! You actually have eight eyes! Or fangs?? You have fangs! Or… no nose! Like Voldemort! No, wait… that's a snake thing.”

Spidey laughed, and Johnny’s heart leaped at the sound, but he quickly kicked himself internally. Nope. No. Johnny was sixteen, and he had no idea how old Spidey was. Early twenties at the youngest, but no. No way. That could not happen.

6k secret identity, gen

Kind, Sober, and Fully Dressed

Traincat

Summary:

"Pete, my man, my completely platonic best bro," he muttered to himself in the voice he reserved solely for mocking Johnny Storm. "Come over and watch my maybe sex tape! Fun times! Just two guys hanging out -" he slammed the bathroom door maybe a little harder than necessary "- watching the one guy's celebrity sex tape! Good clean fun!"

Mrs. Moretti downstairs banged on her ceiling with a broom.

Everything was coming up Parker tonight.

--

Or, in which Peter proves himself tragically unable to take a hint. Post-Amazing Spider-Man Digital #17, aka the time Johnny asked Peter to watch his sex tape.

8k miscommunication, mature

stranger danger

animosities

Summary:

pete

is this a bad time to ask who this is??

Hothead

Is this not Grindr Peter?

pete

nope

Hothead

Ahhh fuck

Sorry for the unsolicited dick pic

pete

that’s alright, ive seen worse

--

In which Johnny gets a username wrong, Peter gets a dick pic, and MJ gets a headache just thinking about the situation.

10k no powers teen

All That We Were

paramountie

Summary:

“What do you think the deal is anyway?” Peter asks. “My money’s on dreamscape.”

“Twenty bucks says it’s an alternate universe.”

“Nuh-uh, pal. It’s a dream for sure. Or a nightmare.”

10k alternate universe, gen

Better in Picture

weekend_conspiracy_theorist

Summary:

In which Peter Parker has no interest in sleeping with Matt Murdock, no matter what anyone seems to think.

12k teen and up

Weaving Spiders Come Not Here

Mizzy

Summary:

People are treating Peter oddly. Really oddly.

It turns out they're being nice to him because they think his boyfriend cheated on him.

…with Spider-Man.

It's honestly quite tiring pretending to be jealous of yourself.

13k secret identity, teen

Always Glad You Came

aloneintherain

Summary:

Spider-Man is a relatively new, controversial vigilante, and Johnny has a crush the size of the Empire Building. The Four - operating under the assumption that Spidey is an adult - do not approve.

“I just happen to think Spider-Man's cool,” Johnny says, matter-of-factly. “A hero can think another hero is cool without making it weird. I admire his aloofness. And his badass-ness.”

“His aloofness,” Ben repeats, chuckling into his mug of beer. It’s roughly the size of Johnny’s head. “Yeah, sure, I bet that’s all your admire, right?”

13k secret identity teen

Six of Swords

Traincat

Summary:

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Reed said. “From what I’m seeing currently -- I’m afraid the condition might be permanent.”

“Hm,” Peter said. He drummed his fingers – six hands’ worth of them – on the table top, considering Reed’s words carefully. “Nah.”

“Excuse me?” Reed said.

“No,” Peter said. “Because see, I’ve done this whole rodeo before, and this? This is not permanent.”

“You’ve had six arms before,” Reed said, slowly, as if that was the weirdest thing he’d ever heard in their business. As if Peter hadn’t passed Doctor Doom out in the hallway walking in here.

“He did,” Johnny filled in helpfully. “In college. Or anyway that’s what he told me this one time when we were looking for vampires.”

--

Peter is transformed back into a six-armed Spider-Man. Johnny sticks around.

14k six armed spidey, teen and up

Tied to the Wait and Sees

Mizzy

Summary:

Johnny Storm's in love. With Spider-man. Except no one seems to even believe Johnny when he tells them. Everyone thinks he's totally joking. What a buzzkill. Even his bff doesn't react supportively, which is rude, disrespectful, and completely awkward when Johnny walks into a time anomaly and wakes up in the future married not to his beloved Spider-man, but to Peter Parker.

Huh, no wonder Parker reacted so badly to the news.

14k, Time travel, teen

Eight Arms to Hold You

metaphoracle

Summary:

When Spider-Man’s best friend Johnny Storm asks him for help in tactfully declining a marriage proposal from the King of Atlantis, Namor the Sub-Mariner, the only solution is for him to volunteer Daily Bugle photographer Peter Parker to pretend to be dating Johnny at the Engagement Banquet in Atlantis. Sure, it’s technically lying to his best friend about who Peter Parker is, but the important thing is that Johnny won’t have to marry Namor, and if Peter gets some photographs of Atlantis to sell, what’s the harm? Peter thought the most difficult thing about this scenario was going to be making sure Johnny didn’t figure out Peter is actually Spider-Man. Having to pretend he wasn’t actually falling in love with his best friend never crossed his mind. 

Featuring fake relationships, forced (almost) marriages, identity porn, traditional Atlantean clothing, and amorous cephalopods.

15k fake relationship, teen and up

Say You Will, Say You Won't

Traincat

Summary:

Johnny Storm found him on a Friday afternoon, wearing the kind of beseeching look that filled Peter with dread.

“I need to ask you a favor,” he said.

“No,” Peter said, swinging away.

__

Peter and Johnny get married, really-not-really.

15k, pretend relationship, part of a series!!

My Gigantic Crush

lamujerarana

Summary:

Peter Parker has a problem. He's in love with his best friend, Johnny Storm. Well, he should really say Spider-Man's best friend, given that Johnny has no idea they're the same person.

16k identity porn, teen

New York Minute

Traincat

Summary:

“It’s just that, when whatever happened, happened, it’s like my senses have been dialed to eleven. There’s – there’s way too much input, so they just kind of help me focus.”

--

Johnny Storm, impossibly, helps Peter focus.

16k hurt/comfort, teen

No Dating Here!

lamujerarana

Summary:

Johnny has no idea what Reed, Ben, and Sue keep going on about. He doesn't have feelings for Spidey at all. He doesn't even know what the guy looks like. And he definitely would never date him.

Or, what starts off as everyone wrongly thinking Johnny's dating Spidey eventually leads to Johnny actually dating Spidey but pretending he isn't because he doesn't want to give his family the satisfaction of knowing they were right.

***

“You really aren’t going to admit that you’re dating him, are you?” Sue says incredulously. She taps her finger against that very incriminating photo in the tabloid. “You’re kissing him, baby brother, right here.”

“Kissing? Spidey? Me? I would never,” Johnny scoffs, right as he finishes making a date to meet Spidey later that night. “Not in a million years. I am way out of his league. I’m so far above him he can’t even see me.”

Spidey’s going to see plenty of Johnny later tonight, but Sue doesn’t need to know anything about that.

18k identity porn & secret relationship, teen

Tales From The Back Pages

Traincat

Summary:

Peter Parker was born with his words. Johnny Storm's been sure his will be said sarcastically since he was a child. Everything else more or less happens according to plan.

19k soulmates teen

Lightning in a Bottle

Gruoch

Summary:

Peter takes the tablet and looks down at the screen, where a picture of Spider-Man intimately entangled in a passionate embrace with Johnny Storm is displayed across the majority of the Daily Bugle’s home page. TORCH CAUGHT IN SPIDER-MAN’S WEB, the headline reads, bracketed by spider and flame emojis.

Peter looks back up at Tony, who is still staring at him completely stone-faced. 

Tony reaches across the island and taps the screen. “So. What do you have to say about that?”

“Well. For one, I’m a little disappointed with the headline,” Peter offers.

Tony lets his chin drop against his chest, momentarily defeated, before taking a deep breath and once more skewering Peter with a hard look. “You could have at least given me some warning that the two of you are...I mean, I had my suspicions, but—”

“You’re misconstruing the situation. Spider-Man and the Torch are dating,” Peter explains. “Johnny and I are just friends.”

“Boy, you’re really leaning hard into this whole alter ego thing, aren’t you?” Tony deadpans. “How’s that working out for you?”

20k idiots in love, teen

Black Magic, Love, and Other Unexplainable Sensations

gleesquid

Summary:

Once upon a time, a handsome prince needed a fearsome warrior's help to save the entire kingdom. Peter Parker is not entirely sure how he fits into this.

21k fairytale not rated

Play Pretend

Fernandidilly_yo

Summary:

When the city dubs the new vigilant with the name 'Spider-Man' no one questions it. Really it just leads to a lot of speculation of who the man underneath the mask is. 

Nobody would ever guess it's really a fifteen-year-old girl.

26k, fem peter, pre-relationship, gen

Five Times The Human Torch And Spider-Man Failed At Being Incognito, And The One Time They Didn't Even Try

Ademimo

Summary:

There is no better bonding experience than sneaking around together (or, alternatively, around each other) and utterly failing at it. 

In which Peter Parker and Johnny Storm :

- are not that talented at infiltration ;

- really need to sharpen their acting skills ;

- should not be categorized as subtle heroes ;

- should not be considered as talented at social interaction, either, for that matter ;

- and most importantly, see their relationship evolve over the years (it's not romantic, they're friends. Not that they don't wish for more, but the other just doesn't feel that way, okay ?)

OR : Five times the Human Torch and Spider-Man failed at being incognito, and the one time they didn't even try

28k friends to lovers, identity reveal, teen

Lost Without You

lamujerarana

Summary:

Johnny and Peter fall into a wormhole and are sent careening across the universe together. With no hope of rescue, they end up having to figure out their own way home, which isn't as easy as it sounds.

To make matters worse, Johnny's been in love with Peter for a long, long, long time. Nothing's happened ever because Peter doesn't seem too interested, but now Johnny's stuck alone in space with the guy of his dreams and a whole lot of feelings that just won't go away. 

***

Dammit. Johnny just wanted Peter to kiss him. Was it really too much to ask after years of selflessly saving the planet? Johnny deserved that much, universe.

Really he deserved all of the hot guys, gals, aliens, and so on kissing him that he wanted, and he only wanted Peter. He was being reasonable, universe, and yet you still couldn’t come through for him, could you?

Johnny found the universe very disappointing. He ranked it right near the top of his list of the most disappointing things he’d ever come across. Somewhere near The Matrix sequels and that pair of skinny jeans that had made him look anything but.

49k humor teen and up

Peter Parker's Guide to Secret Identities

coocoocachu

Summary:

“Oh wow, it’s the Human Torch, Johnny Storm.” MJ whispered to Peter. Peter just hummed back. Maybe it was a little childish to be upset but he totally had that thing with the weird mutant moth under control last night. Peter leaned against the wall while MJ milled around talking to people trying to figure out what the big scoop was here. ‘There always has to be a reason for an exclusive, Peter!’ she had said. Yeah, Peter thought, and the reason is Johnny Storm loves the attention. Peter fiddled with his camera. Action shots were more his thing, particularly somehow managing to take action selfies of himself as Spider-Man or a few of his supercharged enemies. Pictures of egotistical superhero’s shirtless? Not really his area.

94k identity reveal, teen and up

[edda-grenade]

wolf in a world of hounds

Qudenos rumbles. His tongue darts out along his teeth. “I’m curious to see what the wyrmling can do.” Voss is as well, albeit more concerned with the distinct possibility that his Prince will lose his savior today. It would not be a crippling blow to the rebellion, but— —it would grieve Orpheus. If Voss has to open himself up to ridicule by protecting an istik in order to spare his Prince that pain, he will. — During a meeting for the Prince’s rebellion, Tav gets herself into a duel. Voss has very normal feelings about it.

on AO3

5k, baldur's gate 3, tav/voss #coping with your feelings the way only githyanki can (badly), choking via tails, gentleness, frottage

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

if you wanna hurt think of a ominis fic where mc and sebastian sit him down and are like we want you to be godfather and if it's a girl we are naming it after your aunt if that's okay if it's a boy we are naming it after you.

smash cut to ugly crying

Namesake | Sebastian Sallow x OC

EEEEEK THIS WAS SO CUTE AND SOFT AND SWEET THANKS FOR THE IDEA ANON HOPE U LOVE IT

Words: ~2,000

Tags: Post Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff, More Fluff

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Ominis Gaunt was a patient man.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Years of childhood conditioning had instilled in him the art of controlled silence, of waiting, of enduring. He could sit through excruciatingly long pure-blood dinner parties with nothing more than a polite nod and a thin, restrained smile. He could withstand the tension of courtroom proceedings without shifting in his seat. He had mastered the ability to conceal even the deepest of emotions behind an impassive mask, a skill that had served him well.

And yet, for all of his so-called patience, he was failing miserably at it now.

He had no idea why Evangeline and Sebastian had summoned him here tonight—only that it was "important," a word that, in Sebastian’s hands, could mean anything from we’ve uncovered a conspiracy at the Ministry to Evangeline finally perfected her bread recipe, and you’re going to sit here and eat it.

But this time, something about the request had set his nerves on edge.

Because he couldn't even guess what it was about. He had already endured the biggest shock of the decade when they'd told him Evangeline was pregnant—though, in retrospect, perhaps “shock” wasn’t the right word for it.

Shock implied surprise. Shock implied that this revelation had been something he had never considered before. And yet, Ominis had always known, in some quiet, unspoken way, that Sebastian and Evangeline would build this life together. Tat they were the kind of people who would find joy in something as terrifying and miraculous as a child.

So no, he hadn't been shocked.

But he had been thoroughly, playfully outraged that he'd been the last to know.

Because Anne hadn’t seemed remotely surprised. In fact, she had reacted with a knowing smile and absolutely none of the wide-eyed astonishment Ominis had expected, which, upon further interrogation, had quickly made sense.

Because of course Evangeline had gone to Anne first. Anne was a Healer, after all. If anyone was going to confirm the news, it was her.

"You mean to tell me that I was the last to find out?" he had asked, indignant.

Evangeline had only smiled, reaching out to squeeze his arm, her warmth cutting through his dramatic sulking. “I promise it wasn’t personal.”

Anne had snickered. “It’s a little personal.”

The four of them had laughed, and Ominis, despite himself, couldn’t find it in him to continue feigning irritation—not when Evangeline had looked so utterly happy, her fingers resting over her stomach in quiet wonder, and not when Sebastian had been seconds away from tearing up like a sentimental fool.

In fact, Ominis had been thrilled. Excited. And just a little bit terrified.

Because this was Sebastian and Evangeline they were talking about. A baby born to those two was bound to be either the most brilliant or the most dangerous child in existence. Possibly both. Ominis had already resigned himself to years of damage control, and the baby hadn’t even been born yet.

It had been weeks since then, though, and now that Ominis was here in their sitting room, he had no idea what to expect. Sebastian and Evangeline weren’t exactly the sit-you-down-for-a-serious-talk type. They were blunt and affectionate, prone to teasing and honesty without preamble. So the fact that they had summoned him for something—and without Anne, who was conveniently working late at St. Mungo’s—was making his nerves prickle.

“Alright,” he said carefully. “I can tell you’re both trying not to make me panic, which only makes me panic. Just get on with it, whatever it is.”

Evangeline and Sebastian exchanged a glance, and that was when Ominis knew he was well and truly doomed.

It wasn’t that they were being particularly suspicious—at least, not outwardly. But Ominis had spent years attuned to their every shift, their every nuance. He knew Sebastian’s nervous ticks just as well as he knew Evangeline’s soft hesitations, the way she measured her words when something truly mattered.

And that was what set him on edge.

Because Evangeline was measuring her words now.

She exhaled, slow and steady, then reached for Ominis's hand, her fingers curling lightly around his wrist. Warm. Steady. Comforting.

It did nothing to calm him.

"Ominis," she began, voice gentle but intent. "You know how much you mean to us. You always have."

That was it. The moment his stomach dropped.

This was bad.

There was a “but” coming—there had to be.

Because no one ever started a sentence like that without following it up with something dreadful. His entire childhood had been filled with those phrases. You know how much we care for you, Ominis, but your disobedience cannot go unpunished. You know you are valued, but your behavior has left us with no choice.

He braced himself. He clenched his free hand into tight fist in his lap, the tips of his fingers pressing into the fine wool of his trousers. He was sure he looked impassive, but internally, his mind was spiraling into the depths of every possible worst-case scenario.

Sebastian, for once in his life, wasn’t jumping in with some remark to defuse the tension. That was another bad sign.

"You're our family," Evangeline continued, squeezing his wrist lightly, her voice so full of certainty that it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. "And we trust you and Anne more than anyone."

Sebastian finally spoke then, a touch rougher than usual, as if he were trying to maintain his usual nonchalance but failing. “Which is why we... we want you to be our baby's godfather.”

Ominis froze.

The words should have made sense, but for some reason, his brain refused to process them.

"I—" He swallowed, utterly lost. "What?"

Evangeline let out a small breath of laughter, and Sebastian—Merlin damn him—sounded smug when he said, "You do know what a godfather is, don't you?"

Ominis turned his head toward Sebastian so fast it was a wonder he didn’t snap his own neck. He should have known—should have known—that even in a moment like this, Sebastian would find a way to be insufferable.

“I know what a godfather is,” Ominis bit out, his voice barely holding steady, “I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, trying to drag himself back to the present before his emotions completely derailed him

Sebastia, continued, as if he weren’t sending Ominis into the early stages of an emotional breakdown. "Well then, if... if you're willing, we truly can’t imagine anyone else."

Ominis’ lips parted, but no words came out. He felt like he was suffocating, but not in a bad way. More like… like he had been dropped into the middle of an ocean with no warning, waves closing over him before he could even breathe.

"And if it’s a girl," Evangeline said softly, hesitantly, "we were thinking of naming her Noctua. After your aunt."

It took all of Ominis’ control not to flinch.

Noctua. Noctua.

His aunt, the only person in his family who had ever shown him kindness, who had tried to help him, who had died trying to show him their family could be more. The only Gaunt he had ever loved.

His throat closed up.

"Only if you're okay with it," Evangeline added quickly, as if sensing the way his world had just tilted off its axis. "We don’t want to bring up painful memories, but—"

"I—" Ominis' voice cracked, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. His entire chest ached with something raw and terrible and beautiful. "I don't— I mean, I—"

And then Evangeline kept going, not knowing she was about to destroy him entirely.

"And if it’s a boy," she murmured, softer now, "we’d like to name him after you."

Silence.

It stretched thick and unrelenting, pressing against Ominis's ribs, filling his lungs with something he didn’t have the words for.

The first breath he took came out in a broken, stuttering gasp, and before he could even try to stop it, his face was in his hands, and—oh, Merlin, he was crying.

Not the kind of restrained, dignified tears he had occasionally let slip in private moments of grief.

No. This was ugly crying.

It was full-body, unrestrained sobbing, the kind that stole his breath, that made his shoulders shake and his chest hurt.

Somewhere through the haze of overwhelming emotion, he felt Evangeline shift, felt her arms wrap around him in a way that was warm and secure and safe. She murmured something soft, something meant to soothe, but the words were lost beneath the sharp, impossible ache of it all.

Sebastian, the bastard, let out a wet laugh. “Merlin, mate, we thought you’d be happy about it.”

Ominis tried—tried—to say something in response, but all that came out was another strangled, half-choked sound that barely resembled human speech. Which was fantastic. He was making an absolute spectacle of himself, and neither of them had the decency to pretend he wasn’t.

Sebastian squeezed his shoulder, his touch grounding but careful—a rarity for him—while Ominis buried his face further into his hands, laughing helplessly between broken sobs, and shook his head.

"I—I am happy, you idiot," he managed to choke out.

Sebastian let out another breath of laughter, this one softer.

"Good," Sebastian said again, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to play it off as casual, like he wasn’t two seconds away from getting choked up himself. But Ominis knew him too well—knew that the slight tremor in his voice, the way his fingers tightened against his shoulder, was just as much a betrayal of emotion as Ominis’ own wrecked state.

Evangeline still hadn't let go, her arms firm around him, her hand smoothing up and down his back in slow, grounding strokes. And Ominis—who had spent a lifetime holding himself apart, who had learned to flinch away from touch before he ever learned to accept it—could do nothing but sink into it.

Because it was safe. Because it was real.

Because it was his.

It was a family of his own making, built from the ruins of the past, from the people who had chosen him despite everything.

And it was the most precious thing he had ever been given.

Ominis took a shaking breath, tried to steady himself enough to speak properly. It didn’t quite work. "I—" He swallowed hard, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like that might somehow stop the flood of tears. It didn’t. "You absolute nightmares."

Sebastian snorted, the sound thick with emotion. "Well, we're your nightmares."

Ominis let out something between a sob and a laugh, shaking his head. "I—Merlin’s beard, I don’t even know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," Evangeline murmured, like she was grateful for him, as if this hadn’t just completely undone him from the inside out.

Sebastian leaned back into the couch, sighing dramatically. "Yeah, the crying pretty much said it all."

Ominis didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. "Shut up."

Sebastian grinned, bumping their shoulders together, and Evangeline only held him closer.

[lendeah]

Daggers and flutes

Happy New Year! I decided to release this a bit earlier than expected as a New Year's present. Also! The TAV in this fic is called Lilianna because I wanted to change my narration for once and it felt more fitting. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: AstarionxOFC!Bard

Summary: In which Astarion and bard Tav agree to a deal: Astarion teaches Tav dagger skills, and in return, Tav is supposed to teach Astarion how to play the flute. The thing is, Tav is terrible with weapons, so things don't go as expected.

Tags: Smut. A bit of fluff if you squint.

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus (fem receiving), squirting, choking, kind of dom-sub dynamic? Just pure filth.

The idea had been hers, naturally. Astarion had cautioned her against coming within 50 meters of any weapon after her near-fatal axe incident with Shadowheart. But it wasn't just that – she had also nearly blinded Lae'zel with an ill-advised attempt at archery, and may have even caused Gale a concussion during his staff training session with her.

Okay, she was terrible with weapons. And any kind of fighting, for that matter; it was not her forte.

But when she had seen Astarion in the heat of battle, his agile and toned body moving swiftly and gracefully like a dancer's, every muscle tense and defined under his glistening skin, his hands wielding a dagger with expert precision and ease, an idea had planted in her mind. And not just the dirty kind.

A few nights later, as they camped near the looming Crèche, she saw her opportunity and seized it. Without hesitation, she entered his tent, unannounced.

"Teach me how to use daggers" she blurts out, her voice echoing in the small space. The leather straps of her boots creak as she shifts her weight, and the faint scent of pine and firewood fills the air.

Astarion is engrossed in one of his books, his shirt carelessly unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Strands of white hair fall over his eyes, obscuring them from view. He jumps, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Gods, Lelianna, have you got no sense of privacy?"

But Lelianna only shrugged, her wide smile never faltering. "I have already seen you naked quite a lot," she said nonchalantly, "there is no more privacy needed between us."

He closes his book and sets it aside, standing up from his bedroll to face her fully. A twinkle of amusement flickers in Astarion's eyes as he crosses his arms, leaning against the tent's frame. His lips curl into a mischievous smirk that sends a cascade of butterflies dancing in Lelianna's stomach. "Well, the thought of you holding a dagger does sound quite thrilling, my dear. But are you sure you're up for it? You do have a tendency to turn any weapon into a hazard."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on! I've seen you in action. You make it look so effortless and graceful. I bet I could do the same with some guidance from the great Astarion."

"You know flattery is the way to my heart, little bard" He leans in closer, "But what will you do in exchange? Surely you know that nothing comes for free in this world." A mischievous glint sparked in his eye as he continued, "even less so when my life is on the line from, you know, being near you wielding a weapon".

Lelianna giggled, swatting his arm lightly with the back of her hand. "Oh, you'll be perfectly safe. I won’t use you as my practice dummy, promise," she said with an innocent blink of her eyes. "As for the payment... maybe I could let you drink from me tonight?" Astarion raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms "I drink from you almost every night, my dear. You are going to have to raise your offer." She pouts, lips pursed in frustration as she considers her options. There is not a lot she can offer. She could compose him a song, but he absolutely hates those and would end up using his daggers on her instead if she did. Her mind races with possibilities before a brilliant idea takes hold. "How about I teach you how to use the flute? I remember you said you would like to give it a try back in the groto"

Astarion scoffed, his usual smirk quickly replaced with a look of utter disbelief. "Me? Play the flute?" He began to laugh, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the tent. "Oh, little bard, you certainly know how to make a vampire chuckle."

Despite his mockery, Lelianna stands her ground, hands on hips in a defiant pose. "I'm being serious! You'd be great at it. And besides," she leans in closer to him now, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she murmurs into his ear, "I hear it's quite the hit with the ladies." She could already imagine Astarion, handsome as ever, blowing into a flute with an alluring expression on his face as women swooned around him.

The smile fades from Astarion's face as he considers her words, running a hand through his stark white hair thoughtfully. "Hmm... that is... an interesting proposition," he muses aloud.

"I knew you'd come around," Lelianna beams proudly.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards into a small smirk. "I see you have a brain beneath all of that messy hair, perhaps I can use that as well." he adds, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Thank y- wait what did you say about my hair?"Lelianna's eyes widened with mock offense, her hands automatically going up to her unruly hair. "Hey now, my hair is not messy! It's...cascading chaos, a masterpiece of untamed locks! It's..."

He interrupts her with an annoyed swat of his arm.

"Fine, fine! I'll teach you if you shut up, gods"

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"But I will take the flute lessons AND I will drink from you tonight, of course. I can't resist indulging in your company" he retorted, trying to suppress the grin and failing miserably.

When she exits the tent, she can already imagine herself, wielding a dagger with as much grace and skill as Astarion. She spins lightly on her heels, her heart swelling with hope and excitement. Everyone would see her as cool and capable, finally recognizing her talents beyond just singing, playing the flute, and being an excellent drinking companion.

The next morning, as Lelianna approaches the designated meeting spot in the distant forest clearing, she can't help but notice the objects that Astarion has strategically placed around. There is a small wooden dummy with various markings, indicating where one should strike with a dagger. Next to it, several throwing knives are laid out neatly on a log, glinting in the morning sunlight. Astarion stands nearby, his posture relaxed yet alert. The morning light caught the hard planes of his face, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his piercing gaze. He exuded a quiet confidence that is both alluring and intimidating. But she can't help but feel a flutter in her stomach at the sight of lean body, toned muscles visible even under his loose-fitting shirt.

"What's all this?" she asks, distracting herself from her filthy thoughts and gesturing towards the objects.

Astarion grins mischievously at her arrival, his gaze fixed on the makeshift target he had set up. "Ah, my dear Lelianna, I thought we could make our dagger training a bit more interesting," he replies, sauntering towards her with a certain swagger in his step, stepping forward to pick up one of the throwing knives. His movements are fluid and effortless as he twirls it expertly between his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he sends the knife soaring through the air, hitting the wooden dummy dead center. Wow.

"Now, my dear," he says, handing her a dagger "It's your turn"

She takes it from his hand, inspecting it. The dagger is sleek and sharp, the blade glinting in the sun. Its handle is adorned with intricate carvings, giving it an almost regal appearance. The dagger is surprisingly light, yet its edge is sharp and dangerous.

She scoffs "Easy peasy." But as she throws it, her aim is way off and the dagger lands nowhere near the wooden dummy. She pouts, feeling embarrassed by her poor attempt.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Astarion chuckles lightly at her reaction. "Don't worry my dear," he says reassuringly as he retrieves the dagger for her. "It takes practice and precision."

Lelianna can feel Astarion's warm breath on her neck as he leans in to correct her stance, teaching her how to position her body for a better throw. She gulps nervously at the proximity of his body. His cold fingers gently and confidently guide her arm, sending a shiver down her spine. Her own hand trembles slightly as she holds the dagger, feeling the weight and sharpness of the blade beneath her fingers.

"Ahem, I think I got it" she quips, nervously.

Astarion steps back, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches Lelianna take aim once more. She takes a deep breath, focusing her gaze on the wooden dummy. With a flick of her wrist, she releases the dagger, and it lands in a nearby bush. Astarion snickers lightly beside her, and she gives him a dirty look.

"Just laugh it up, Mr. Tall, Pale, and Annoying," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Astarion only laughs harder, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I must say, your aim is...interesting."

"Alright!" Lelianna declares, swiping another dagger from his grasp with a huff. "Enough with the teasing already. I'm going to get this right even if it kills me!"

And she tries, for like, 107 times. She really tries. In fact, she is panting and sweaty by the time she fails misserably for the umpteenth time.

At this point Astarion is not even hiding his amusement. His laughter fills the clearing, his mirth evident in the sparkle of his eyes. "My dear Lelianna, I must say, your persistence is truly commendable," he says, wiping away a tear that had formed from his laughter. "But perhaps, just maybe, throwing knives is not your calling. You know, some people are simply better suited for other talents."

Lelianna huffs indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Maybe if I imagine your ugly face on the dummy I won't actually miss," she declares, her voice filled with determination.

He laughs and smiles indulgently at her determination. "You know, that actually is a good strategy. Go, try it. I'll watch." he leans up against a rock and waits for her to take her shot.

She grits her teeth, narrowing her gaze on the object in front of her. She focuses intensely on each step she was given: positioning her hand, gripping tightly, and then making the wrist movement. With a loud and determined grunt, Lelianna gathers every bit of concentration and strength she has left and throws the dagger with all her might. To everyone's surprise, especially her own, the blade lodged itself into the dummy's wooden heart.

A triumphant smile lights up Lelianna's face as she turns to look at Astarion.

"Ha! I did it!"

Seeing her thrilled reaction, Astarion bursts into hearty laughter, clapping his hands in aknowledgement. His eyes are shining slightly when they meet hers. He stands up from the rock, sauntering towards the dummy to retrieve the lodged dagger.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says brightly, removing the blade with an easy pull. "Who knew that imagining my so-called 'ugly face' is all it took for you to land a good hit?"

He turns to her then, the sun glinting off his white hair and turning it to silver, and with a sly grin adds "One in a hundred is not a bad start, especially for a small and weak bard."

She gasps, taking a hand to her chest in offension. With a fiery intensity burning in her gaze, she points a finger at him, her voice laced with defiance. "I'm not weak!"

He smirks devilishly "You are, as a matter of fact" he laughs "I reckon even a wooly sheep would stand more of a chance in a brawl than you."

Her rage grows exponentially. Calling her weak? maybe. But comparing her to a damn sheep, of all things? No way. Lelianna's eyes narrow, her fists clenching at her sides. She takes a step towards Astarion, her voice filled with defiance.

"Oh, is that so?" she snaps, her eyes ablaze with indignation. "Well, let's see how well you fare against this 'woolly sheep' in a brawl then, bloodsucker!" she declares before thinking better of it.

Astarion smirks at her challenge, his eyes glinting with amusement as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure about that, my dear? I wouldn't want to hurt your fragile ego." With a confidence that surprises even herself, Lelianna moves closer to Astarion until they are mere inches apart. As they stand face to face, Lelianna can see the subtle upturn of Astarion's lips and the playful glint in his eyes. She raises her chin defiantly, staring him down with unwavering determination.

"I may not have your strength or your agility," she begins, her voice steady as she meets Astarion's gaze, "but I have wit, creativity, and a few tricks up my sleeve. And you know what they say, Astarion, brains can be just as powerful as brawn." she states firmly, her voice laced with undeniable purpose.

And then he is laughing again - boisterous and loud. "Yeah, and you have neither" he says once his laughter has subsided enough for him to speak.

Lelianna scowls but doesn't back down, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She swipes the dagger from Astarion's hands and squares her shoulders, eyeing him fiercely. "Just you watch," she rejoins. "I'll have you running scared before dawn."

Astarion raises an eyebrow cockily at her response, a slow smirk curling up his lips "And what do you propose? That we settle this with a dagger-throwing contest? Or perhaps a duel of wits?"

"A real duel," she declares, her voice resolute. "No weapons. Just you against me. Pure strenght only."

A flicker of intrigue flashes across Astarion's face as he sizes her up. His sarcastic smile slowly fades, replaced by something akin to curiosity. Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head and regards her with a newfound interest.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asks, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Lelianna nods firmly. "Deadly serious," she replies, her voice laced with determination.

A sliver of something dangerous flashes his eyes.

Astarion's lips curl into a half-smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, my dear Lelianna, if you truly wish to test your mettle against mine, who am I to deny you such an opportunity?" His voice dripped with mock sincerity as he takes a step closer, closing the gap between them.

Lelianna felt a shiver race down her spine, a mix of excitement and nerves tangling within her. She couldn't quite decipher if she was being foolish or courageous for challenging Astarion to a duel.

Without breaking eye contact, Astarion extended his hand towards her. "Very well, then," he said, his tone filled with a challenge. "May the strongest win."

Shit, shit, shit. What did she get herself into?

Astarion cracks his knuckles with a self-assured smirk, relishing the opportunity to test Lelianna's bravado. He begins to circle her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Lelianna mirrors his movements, trying to maintain a steady distance between them. Her palms grow clammy as the weight of the challenge sinks in, but she refuses to let it consume her. She squares her shoulders and meets Astarion's gaze head-on.

"Scared? I'll admit, you have every reason to be," Astarion taunts playfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You can still back out if you're too frightened"

And she knows. She knows she could back out and return to normal and avoid getting absolutely destroyed and humilliated by the man in front of her. And he would give her shit, fair, but at least she would keep her dignity.

However, the weight of pride and the fear of appearing weak held her back from backing out. So, she meets his eyes, trying to keep steady "I never back out."

Astarion watches her with a light smirk on his face.

"Fine, my dear. But remember you asked for this" Astarion's smirk widens, his eyes glimmering with anticipation as he readies himself.

With a sudden burst of energy, Lelianna lunges forward, feinting to the left before swiftly changing direction and attempting to deliver a swift kick to Astarion's side. However, he effortlessly sidesteps her attack, evading it with a grace that only serves to infuriate her further.

Undeterred, Lelianna regains her balance and pivots on her heel, launching herself towards Astarion once again. This time, she aims a series of quick jabs towards his chest. But Astarion's reflexes are lightning-fast, effortlessly dodging each blow with a surprising swiftness. She is already breathing heavily, while he looks like he is just batting a fly. She needs to change tactics.

So, with all the strength she can muster and a war scream, she climbs into his body, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if he's a tree. But as soon as Lelianna's body connects with Astarion's, she realizes her mistake. She had underestimated his strength and agility, and now she was paying the price.

Astarion's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he falls to the ground with her in his grasp. He pins her to the ground effortlessly, his legs straddling hers to keep her from moving. Lelianna grunts as she hits the ground, her breath knocked out of her. Astarion's strength presses down on her, his body pinning hers with an intensity that sends a jolt of panic through her veins. She struggles beneath him, the weight of his presence suffocating her. She begins to wiggle and squirm, using every ounce of her strength to break free from his grasp.

"Nice try, my dear," Astarion chimes, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "But you'll have to do better than that if you want to best me."

Lelianna grits her teeth, refusing to let defeat consume her. A spark of determination ignites within her as an idea takes shape in her mind.

And then she bites his arm. Hard.

Astarion lets out a yell, and with a sharp movement, he releases his grip on her. "Damn you, that hurt!" he says, his tone is serious and he's now glaring at her. "Did you really just bite me? Are you mad? That is my thing!"

Seizing the opportunity, she rolls to the side and scrambles back onto her feet, as she smirks at Astarion's bewildered expression.

"You said I had to do better," she says, winking playfully. "I call that a win."

And then his gaze turns vicious, making a shiver run down her back.

"Oh dear, we are far from over".

Astarion pounces, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and amusement. Lelianna barely has time to react before he's on her again, his speed blurring their surroundings into a mess of colours and shapes. Desperate, she kicks and squirms, trying to dislodge the infuriating vampire who pins her down with ease.

"You fight dirty," he accuses, his voice low in her ear as he attempts to immobilize her wayward hands.

"Funny," she retorts, grunting as she manages to connect an elbow with his side. "I thought you enjoyed that."

Lelianna's smirk quickly fades as she finds herself once again pinned beneath Astarion's weight. She struggles against his hold, but it seems futile as he chuckles, clearly enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

"I must admit, you have some fight in you," he says, his tone smug. "But don't think biting me will save you every time."

Lelianna bites her lip, feeling a mix of frustration and excitement coursing through her veins. She knows she can't win against Astarion with just brute strength. She needs to use her agility and wit to outsmart him.

With that thought in mind, Lelianna suddenly shifts her weight and twists her body, causing Astarion to lose his balance and fall to the side. She quickly flips over and straddles him, pinning him down this time.

"Now who's on top?" she grins triumphantly.

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise before he bursts into laughter, throwing his head back as if he finds the situation hilarious.

"You truly are something else," he admits, still chuckling. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Lelianna can't help but feel a sense of pride at getting the upper hand on Astarion. But before she can bask in her victory for too long, he flips them over once again and pins her down.

She charges him again, but he's ready this time. His hands shoot out to catch her wrists before she can land a punch and with a smooth movement, he twists her bound hands back and holds them behind her back. His other arm curves around her waist trapping her against him.

"You really are more like a wild beast than I gave you credit for," he purrs in her ear with amusement. "Are we going to keep rolling around? Or are you ready to surrender?" he smirks down at her.

She tries again to twist, do something. But this time his grip is unwielding, and his whole body is pressing down on her. So that leaves her with only one option. "Let me go, you creep!"

Astarion's smirk only widens at her words, his eyes glittering with mischief. "Oh, is that how you ask nicely?" he teases, keeping her pinned beneath him. His grip on her wrists tightens just a fraction, but it's enough to make Lelianna squirm under his hold.

"You're enjoying this too much," she huffs, her face flushing as she tries to wriggle away from him.

He chuckles again and shakes his head. "Such a shame," he muses, his smirk never leaving his face, "You could have been a worthy opponent."

"I am a worthy opponent!" she retorts indignantly. "I am far more than you could ever handle."

"Maybe," he concedes with an insouciant shrug. But instead of releasing her as she'd hoped, he tightens his grip on her wrists even further. Her face flushes in frustration as she squirms beneath him. "But look at you, so small" He presses down again, making her feel his whole weight on her, rendering her movements even more futile. Sweat trickles down her forehead as she struggles for breath, her chest heaving in the effort to break free. And then he leans into her face, warm breath tickling her skin "I will release you... if you admit you are weak"

"Never! I'm not weak!" she spits, even as a gasp tears from her throat due to his crushing weight. Her pride won't allow it. She can't let him see her as weak, can't admit defeat.

Astarion's smirk only grows wider at her continued resistance. "Oh, but you are," he taunts, "You're just a small, insignificant creature in my grasp."

She wiggles and writhes beneath him, feeling his hot breath on her neck as he leans down closer to her ear. The smell of his sweat and musk fills her nostrils, making her head spin.

"I'm not weak," she repeats stubbornly, the words barely a whisper as she fights to get them out. "I'm just... strategically disadvantaged."

Astarion's laughter rings in her ears, a rich and genuine sound that makes her heart flutter despite the situation.

"You are weak," he repeats says softly, his voice dripping with sensuality. "I always knew it." His hand curls around her neck possessively, holding her in place like an animal that has just caught its prey. "My pretty little bard" he says, grazing his fangs over the skin under her ear.

His rough grip sent shivers down her spine as his hot breath fanned her neck, sending a jolt of excitement through her body. Her breath catches, and she finds herself arching her back a little.

She feels helpless and trapped beneath his larger frame. And for some twisted reason, she likes it.

"I am not your prey" she mutters raggedly.

"Oh, but I think you are," he says, trailing his teeth from her neck to her jaw "and I will use you however I see fit."

Lelianna's breath hitches at his words, and she fights back the blush threatening to spread across her cheeks.

"You can't do that," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chuckles, his grip tightening around her neck, making her breathless. "I can do anything I want, and you won't be able to stop me." He leans in, his fangs just barely graze against her throat, a delicate stroke that sends fresh shivers skittering across her skin. "And I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill."

Her heart thuds loudly in her chest at his words, drowned out only by the sound of their mingled breaths.

"But you would like that, wouldn't you? Look at you, all flustered under me." he smirks "you love feeling helpless, feeling weak."

I stiffle a moan when I feel the hand on my neck slowly caressing its way to my chest.

"Y-you don't know what you're saying," I manage to stammer, my voice breaking.

"Oh, but I do," he says, his smirk never wavering. "I see it in your eyes, the way your breath hitches when I touch you, the way your body trembles beneath me. You feel it too, don't you, Lelianna?"

His hand moves inside my leather top, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my breast, making me shiver with desire. My breath hitches in my throat as he leans in closer, his tongue brushing against my neck, sending a wave of pleasure.

"You want me to take you, to use you for my own pleasure." he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "So needy and desperate"

"T-that is not true. I don't want your self-centered ass" I mumble.

He gives me a wicked smile, before lowering his hand. Lelianna's eyes widened in shock as she felt his hand dipping beneath her pants. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Your words say one thing, Lelianna," his lips curl into a wicked smirk, "But your body says something entirely different."

"I…" His thumb lightly brushes over her stomach, causing her to gasp sharply. Her mind is a whirl of thoughts and desires - part of her wants to push him away while the other part yearns for his touch.

She tried to reply, but her voice was muffled by the panting. She was lost in the pleasurable sensations coursing through her body.

"You can't keep losing yourself like this," he continued, his voice soft and gentle. "You have to stay strong."

I can't answer him, as he's already started to move his hand again over her breast. Her senses are overwhelmed with the sensation, and she feels like she's about to lose it.

"Do you want me to stop, Lelianna? Do you really?" he purrs in her ear.

She bites her lip, scared that her mouth will betray her.

His voice trails off slightly, and his movements slow. "My poor little bard..."

And then he stops altogether

"What-?" she begins, disapointment coloring her words.

But his grip doesn't relent. Instead, he grabs his belt and places it over her wrists, with the intention of binding her. He leans in and whispers in her ear, this time softer "Do you want to stop?"

His crimson eyes study her face intently.

"No," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "I don't want to stop."

And he grins widely.

"Great." he finishes binding the belt hard. She feels his hips moving against her, his erection pressing into her, and she can't help but arch her back, wanting more. "You're a tempting little thing, Lelianna," he growls, his voice low and thick with desire. "But we have to be careful. We can't have you wriggling around, can we? That would spoil all the fun"

She struggled against his grip, but it was no use. He had her completely under his control. "Oh, you look rather beautiful like this," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"No fun in fighting, Astarion?" she manages to retort despite the arousal clouding her senses.

"Quite the opposite, my dear," he purrs back at her, pressing his body closer to hers, making her squirm even more. "The fight is half the fun. The other half... is in winning. So you may want to start behaving better, hm?."

"Oh, but I'm behaving so good!" she exclaims, trying to sound innocent. "You're the one with the wandering hands."

Astarion smirks, a devilish grin spreading across his face. "Oh, are you now?" he purrs, his fingers still tracing the sensitive skin of her chest, teasingly slow. "Then I suppose I'll have to make an exception for you." he whispers, his lips now surrounding her nipple, gently suckling.

Lelianna's breath hitches, her body trembling as the sensation courses through her. She tries to struggle against him, but it's no use. She's putty in his hands.

He takes her nipple between his teeth, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. Lelianna's back arches, her hips bucking against him as pleasure rippled through her.

"Freaking vampire" I murmur "always biting and sucking where he shouldn't."

Astarion's chuckles fill the air as he continues his torment. "You are right. I should be putting my mouth somewhere else."

He retreats from her breast, his smirk never leaving his face as he moves lower, his fingers dancing over her stomach before finally unbuttoning her pants. His gaze is intense and possessive, filled with a hunger that makes her heart race.

"I think you deserve your punishment for losing, don't you agree?" he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Her breath hitched and she bit back a moan as he nipped at her thigh lightly.

"W-well, not exactly lost," she tries to reason with him. "I mean, the rules weren't explicit, and-"

And then he dives in, and his tongue darts out tasting her slowly, teasingly. She gasps as he laps at her folds, savoring the taste of her arousal. Her legs tremble beneath him, helpless from his iron grip on them.

"Mmm," he hums against her skin, giving her pleasurable vibrations. Her legs quiver at the sensation, and she lets out a small whimper.

He separates for a second and smiles up at her.

"Not that hot-headed anymore, are we darling?" He says, while slowly introducing a finger inside of her. Lelianna gasps as Astarion's tongue torments her clit, flicking it in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She tries to wriggle again, but the binds hold her tight. Her hips begin to buck against his face unconsciously, seeking more contact with his mouth. The friction of his lips and teeth on her most sensitive spots make her moan loudly, sending vibrations across the clearing where they are. His fingers inside of her stretch and fill her, causing her insides to clench around him incessantly. His tongue laps at her folds, teasing every inch of sensitive skin it can find and driving her crazy with desire. She feels like she's on fire everywhere. The belt binding her wrists scrapes her skin sending sparks of pain through her system. Every nerve ending is alive with desire as he plays with her body, and she can feel herself getting closer to the edge with each passing moment.

His fingers slide in and out of her tightness with ease, stretching her further than she ever thought possible. Each thrust is accompanied by a low groan from deep within him. She opens her eyes again, and find him already looking with a predatory look, as if he's devouring her

"I won't last long if you keep looking at me like that," she finally manages to gasp out, her eyes fluttering closed again as each wave of pleasure seems more intense than the last.

His fingers move faster inside of her, stoking the fire within her until it becomes unbearable.

"Say my name," he growls against her skin, his fingers curling inside of her in just the right way.

"N-no" But he just bites the inside of her thigh.

"Say my name"

She resists for a moment, a stubborn streak burning fierce in her eyes. But his fingers are unrelenting, his touch too exquisite. And the weight of his gaze, predatory and possessive, is more than she can bear.

"Astarion," she breathes out, her voice barely more than a whisper yet laden with an intensity that has him grinning wickedly.

"That's right, Lelianna," he purrs against her skin, his lips tracing a searing path up her thigh. "You're mine tonight."

Her body is quaking beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through her with each stroke of his fingers and lap of his tongue.

"All mine," he purrs again, his tongue flicking over her clit. "Tell me you're mine, Lelianna." It’s a demand, an order that she finds herself all too willing to comply with.

"I'm yours," she cries out. His fingers curl within her, brushing against a spot that has her seeing stars and gasping for breath. Astarion’s smirk widens at her response, and he leans down to nip at her inner thigh lightly. The combined sensations of his fingers moving inside her and his teeth on her skin tip her over the edge, and with a cry, she comes undone beneath him.

“Astarion!” she gasps, her thighs quaking around his head as he thrashes his tongue against her. She can feel waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of her body, radiating from where he's touching her. Her arms strain against the belt tying them together, the rough texture of it scraping against her skin and adding a touch of pain to the overwhelming pleasure. Her back arches, and she cries out his name once more before succumbing to the bliss.

But instead of stopping, Astarion's tongue and fingers keep their unyielding pace, making her shiver with the pain of oversensitivity.

"W-what are you doing?" she breathes, struggling against her restraints.

But he just looks up with a wide grin, his hand still pounding inside of her "I'm giving you your punishment."

And with that, he quickens his pace, his tongue and fingers relentless as they push her towards another wave of pleasure. His crimson eyes flicker with delight as he watches her writhe beneath him, sweat glistening on her flushed skin.

"No more..." she pleads between gasps, her body quivering from the intensity. But her protest is drowned out by the pleasure he's igniting within her.

His free hand reaches up to grip her breast, his thumb rubbing circles over a hardened nipple. The combined sensations have her writhing and bucking beneath him, desperately seeking release. Each touch is electric, setting her skin. Astarion’s lips curl into a devilish smirk at her reaction, his tongue continuing its torturous pace. He flicks his finger against her increasingly sensitive nub, drawing out a whimper from her. “What’s the matter, darling?” he asks, feigning innocence. “Can’t handle your punishment?”

She would've rolled her eyes if she wasn't so lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

She tries to form a response, but all that comes out are fragmented moans and short gasps of breath. She writhes underneath him, the binds on her wrists chafing against her skin. But he doesn't let up, his fingers thrusting deeply within her as he skillfully plays with her clit.

"I... I hate you" she gasps out.

Astarion just laughs, the sound dark and throaty. "Oh, I know," he replies, his gaze unfaltering, as if he knows a truth she herself has yet to realize. His fingers increase their rhythm, torturing her remorselessly. Every touch sends jolts of pleasure radiating from her core and spreading to every corner of her being. She starts getting dizzy, all the sensations coming to her at once. Her body convulses beneath him once again as another orgasm rips right through her. She screams his name, her voice hoarse and breathless, as her body shakes uncontrollably. But Astarion doesn't stop, keeps driving his fingers within her folds while his tongue flicks over her sensitive bud.

"Gods" she cries, as fire sweeps through her veins, searing every inch of her. She gasps, completely breathless as her body convulses in the throes of bittersweet pleasure.

She rides the wave, writhing and thrashing in the circle of Astarion's arms. At that point, she is just blabbering nonsense, far too gone to make any coherent thought. She can hear him whispering something, a low rumble of words against her skin that makes her shiver with aftershocks.

"Again," he orders, his fingers flexing inside of her, and she obeys without thought, brought back to the brink by the insistent pressure of his hand.

"I can’t... I can’t..." she gasps, feeling her body start to tremble again. She tries to get away from his mouth, but the binds and his arms are a powerful restraint.

"Shhh," he whispers against her skin, "you will. For me."

She can't distinguish between her orgasms anymore, everything a jumbled mess of sensitivity and pleasure. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pushing her further and further until she feels like she might shatter from the intensity. His mouth returns to her clit, sucking harshly and her vision turns white as she convulses underneath him once more. She is screaming so loud her voice breaks, her hands clawing at the dirt beneath them. Her entire body tenses and spasms with pleasure. Suddenly, she feels a rush come out of her, and sees what has happened before she processes it. She’s squirted, soaking him and the ground beneath them both. Astarion pulls back, laughing in delight at her shocked expression.

“Doesn’t look like you hate me that much, darling,” he teases, wiping his face with his free hand.

Her cheeks are flushed bright red, the embarrassment nearly consuming her. She's too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought, let alone a retort. She just glares at him half-heartedly, her energy spent on the pleasure he'd mercilessly coaxed from her body. Her breasts rise and fall quickly as she gasps for air, sweat trickling down from her temples to pool in the hollow of her throat.

But Astarion only seems to be spurred on by this new development. He lowers himself down between her legs once more, tongue darting out to taste her again.

Lelianna squirms, oversensitive from her previous orgasms. "No...no more..."

But he isn't on her anymore like before. Instead, his lips and tongue are cleaning her thighs and the space between, lapping up every last drop of her release, smirking up at her with a look that was equal parts predatory and satisfied. The cool night air sends a chill down her spine as Astarion’s tongue hits her overheated skin.

"You're such a mess, darling," he coos, his fingers lightly tracing over her sensitive mound. His touch is light now, soothing after the relentless torture he'd subjected her to. Despite herself, Lelianna lets out a sigh of relief.

Her body is shaking from exhaustion and overstimulation. But she can't deny the thrill that still thrums through her veins or the rush of adrenaline that leaves her feeling both breathless and revitalized.

He briefly rests his head on her stomach, his white disheveled hair tickling the sensitive skin there. His hands are gentle as they trace patterns along her waist and hips, soothing her trembling muscles. Once he’s done, Astarion takes her out of her bindings "I think you've learned your lesson,” he murmurs meanwhile, with a little smile.

Lelianna blinks up at him, still panting and trying to catch her breath. "You're... insufferable," she stammers, voice hoarse from her screams.

But he just smirks and kisses her softly. Then, Astarion curls protectively around her, his hand resting casually on her stomach. He's warm and solid, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. The quiet night is a stark contrast to their previous activities, but it’s peaceful and comforting in its own way. She turns to look at Astarion, his face bathed in the soft moonlight filtering down from the trees above. His expression is unguarded, with a hint of smug satisfaction playing about the corners of his lips. They kiss lazily, and then with a gasp she remembers.

"Wait you didn't" she starts, weakly reaching for his pants.

But he catches her wrist and kisses the side of it. "Not today, little bard. Today was about you." he whispers softly, his breath teasing along her skin and stirring goosebumps in its wake.

"I think I've had enough of your idea of punishment," she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed with the lull of relaxation coursing through her.

"Let's go back to the tent and I will make up for it" he whispers over her ear.

He gets up and swiftly helps her sit up, but her legs give away at the movement and she slumps against him, her body too spent to hold her upright. He laughs heartly "And there's our strong bard who can take anyone in a fight."

She rolls her eyes, too tired to even attempt a retort. "You're lucky I can't move," she grumbles, leaning heavily against him.

His chuckle rings out through the quiet night. He puts his cloak around her, clothes discarded somewhere in the clearing. Then reaches down and easily lifts her into his arms. She yelps in surprise, gripping tightly onto his shirt as he carries her back towards their tent.

"Don't get used to it," he warns playfully. “I don’t make a habit of carrying damsels in distress.”

She scoffs weakly at that, resting her head on his shoulder. "You wish I was a damsel in distress to feed your ego."

Astarion's laughter is infectious, filling the otherwise silent forest with his mirth. It sends waves of warmth coursing through her despite the cool evening air.

"So, when is our next lesson?"

[spiderlandry]

stay — jake sully

Description: Jake reflects on a love from his past life.

Pairing: Past Human!Jake Sully x F!Reader, Jake Sully x Neytiri

Warnings/Tags: angst, kind of fluff, death mention (tom sully), i dont know anymore it’s just kinda bittersweet

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: it’s jake’s birthday today (august 24) !!! so im posting two jake fics :] the other one is fluff i promise

PRESENT

Guilt has to be some type of chronic pain, Jake thinks. It sits in his ribcage beside his heart like a heavy stone, only alleviated by the reminder that he has a life now and the past is long gone. But the problem is that it would always haunt him. He’s a sinner, he has to pay.

Being with Neytiri makes him feel alive, it really does. He loves her. But there’s a place in his heart only occupied by one person right next to Neytiri’s place—you.

You, who was the first to ever see him. The first to ever give him a taste of what it was like to love and be loved. When he was learning the words oel ngati kameie, his point of reference was you. Your heart that he so diligently worked to earn, something you shared that he didn’t deserve. Don’t get him wrong, he’s sure you’re still on your feet. Hell, you probably found someone better. He hopes you have and that you’ve also realized that one’s heart can belong to two, just like his.

He wonders sometimes if you know his heart still belongs to you.

2146

“Pretty lady,” Jake greeted you as he wheeled himself into the pub. This wasn’t his usual place, but he’d come here more regularly all because of one person: you. “How’s business tonight?”

“Better now that you’re here, Sully.” You flashed him a cheshire grin from behind the bar, pouring him the usual.

You were the pretty bartender that caught his eye, months ago. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to observe beautiful women from afar, but you were different. Though you were attractive, it was one particular conversation that drew him completely to you, where you spoke of your own dreams as a scientist even in the quickly deteriorating shithole that was the city you’d both considered home. It gave him something. It gave him hope. Just a sliver.

He watched you from the corner of the room while you did your job.

He waited for you until the end of your shift, careful not to drink too much so he can remember the next morning. To remember how you grinned at him when you opened the door to your apartment, and to spend the next few hours kissing him stupid.

PRESENT

There’s nothing like the date nights with Neytiri. It’s freedom injected into his veins. They fly together, circling the floating mountains and laughing as they chased each other. The world glitters and glows around them, and the world falls away.

By the end of the night, he cages her inside his arms, protection enough for the both of them—he protects himself by shielding her.

And there’s a flash—just a second—of his past life.

It happens. Rarely, but it happens. Sometimes Neytiri would run her fingers through his hair just right, or she would shove him playfully with such a precise force that it matches a memory buried deep under the grounds of the graveyard inside his mind where he mourned his other life, and along with it, you. For one moment, he’s back in a human body, with your soul still there with him, somehow.

He only falters for a single frame, but it’s enough for her to notice. She doesn’t pry in the hopes he’ll tell her someday. He’s got a type—Neytiri is beautiful and patient, just like you.

2148

His apartment gathered dust while he spent all of his time at your place. He’d never dare utter the word out loud, but it was becoming home for him. When you had opening shift at the bar, he awoke to gentle lips on his forehead and a promise to come home later.

Promise. Jake didn’t have much of it in his life. But once again, you reignited a sense of belonging that he once had.

There was no other place for him to be.

At least until those two agents showed up at the door and demanded he go with them. He was shown his twin’s dead body, and it was then he saw the other side of the coin. That could have been him. It should have been him, technically. Tom was always the better one.

Jake was proposed with a choice.

It was nighttime when he got to you, and you were already there waiting for him with a worried expression. There was no grieving, but there was guilt.

You held him for hours in silence after he told you what happened.

In the morning, he further explained to you what those agents told him, and you listened patiently—intently—without interruption. Afterward, you smiled solemnly. Perhaps you’d already known his choice even before he did.

For a long time, you knew that Jake felt lost. No sense of purpose, he told you. And while you were a pillar of stability for him, his heart sought for an objective. You had your studies, your aspirations. He didn’t have any goal to work toward. You, being you, recognized his craving for something more.

“If you go, I won’t hold it against you.” You said, preparing breakfast at the crack of dawn. There was only sleeplessness for both of you.

“But?” He asked.

“But what, Jake?” You glanced at him, unable to make eye contact for longer. “What do you want me to say?”

“If you tell me to stay, I will.”

“We both know I’m not doing that,” You sighed. That was the thing, you knew him too well. “Do you want me to tell you to stay?”

His silence said it all.

“Look,” despite your nerves, you finally faced him. Courage he saw in your eyes. “I love you. There’s nothing that’ll change that. I don’t want you to go, but I’ll never tell you to stay.”

“That’s nonsense.”

And despite the edge in his voice, you smiled. “This would be good for you,” you caressed his jaw. “You’ll come back. It’s not forever.”

He rested his head against your middle as you ran your fingers through his hair soothingly, scratching at the scalp.

“I’ll come back, I promise.” He whispered.

“I don’t doubt that, Jake.”

He intended to keep that promise.

PRESENT

He would never stop thanking you for not telling him to stay. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t have his family. But he promised to come back, and that’s where the guilt grows tenfold.

The guilt doesn’t end. He doesn’t really expect it to.

With a strong heart, he prepares himself to tell Neytiri about you.

In the back of her mind, she likely knew there was already someone before her. By making the bond, they share everything, and with a haze, she felt Jake’s love being shared with another. She sensed his hesitance to get close to her during training.

He tells her about finding purpose, about how he fought for you, that everything he did—even as Toruk Makto—was all so he can make you proud.

He exhausts himself telling endless stories of your adventures together on Earth, and regardless of her distaste with sky people, there is no greater joy for her than hearing him share this part of his life. It means the secret would no longer plague him.

Don’t get him wrong, he moved on long ago. Found happiness without you. But that does not mean he stopped loving you; it’s a part of him as much as his bond with Neytiri.

Someday, he hopes to pass onto his children the kind of bravery he gained from being with you. To be unapologetically courageous—to fight for want you want. When they’re older, there may be a circumstance where he can give advice from a lesson he learned from you. One of which being that there’s more love in one’s heart than they think.

He lounges with Neytiri in a secluded part of the mountains, holding her, when he spots a new light in the sky. A light that, unbeknownst to him, contains you.

[thatgirlonstage]

Considering the cross section of people who want ao3 to have an algorithm with the painful lack of reading comprehension you see so often on the internet and it occurs to me that part of being able to use a website like ao3 the way it’s intended requires you to… know your own taste.

In order to input the correct filters to find what you’re after, you have to have some sense of what you like and what you don’t like and how those things are described in tags and categories that you can filter on. You have to have the ability to take a fic and parse out which pieces of it you responded to and then figure out how to get more of it. You are, with the aid of a filter system as fantastic as ao3’s, actually more effective than an algorithm at doing that once you know how! You know that the reason you liked this fic was because of the really gooey cuddle scene between A/B, so you know that now you should go look in tags like “Cuddling” or “Hugs” or “Comfort” or “Fluff” or “only one bed + Rated T”. An algorithm can’t tell if you liked the gooey cuddle scene or the fact that it was a steampunk AU or this specific author’s style, it can only make statistical guesses at the fact that a lot of people who liked THIS fic also liked THAT one. It doesn’t know WHY.

But like… that is a skill. It may be a very intuitive skill, especially for people who have been doing it a long time, but if you’re accustomed to being spoonfed suggestions I can guess it wouldn’t be intuitive at all. I can absolutely see how needing to search for your own preferences would stump you if you’ve never had to do it before.

And it is very much an exercise in both literacy and understanding your own taste. If you don’t bother to paint things you read or watch with any more nuanced brush than “I like this” or “I don’t like this”, then you never learn what, exactly, it is that you’re liking or disliking. You’ll never be able to pull a text apart to figure out which strands are compelling and which you could do without. You’ll never be able to tell the difference between what is a generally well-written story and what is tugging at something that you specifically enjoy. Especially in the climate of judging media by its moral correctness, where dislike and especially disgust gets equated to “there is something objectively BadWrong with this art and therefore NO ONE should like ANY part of it,” people are increasingly encouraged to sand away any understanding of their own personal tastes.

Knowing your own taste can be scary. Very seriously, it can be hard to look at yourself and reconcile all the weird, cringe, taboo, silly, gross, embarrassing, or fucked-up stories you might like. It can be easier to just go along with what other people tell you is good or bad, particularly when there is as much pressure as there can be in online spaces—both inadvertent and intentional.

But I promise, I absolutely promise, knowing your taste is the best and fastest way to find more art that you love. Figuring out what it is you like is the route to finding more of it, to finding art that resonates with you, art that bring you joy. Figuring out why you like it can be interesting, but that can be an even bigger and more fraught question to consider. You don’t have to understand the why. Just start with the what. It will unlock so many doors for you.

[nowoyas]

vespertine: evening blooms 5 - humans (nishinoya yuu/cat hybrid!reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: happy new year! one of my goals for the year is to finish this fic. I don't currently have a solid plan for how long it's going to be or where it's going after the settling in arc so step 1 and most of the following month is just going to be me LOCKING IN on planning for this fic so I can start working towards following the path set in said plan.

Summary: The cat needs a bath.

Warnings and tags: suggestive content and themes

Words: ~2900

Yuu really, really, tries, but it's difficult to make much progress with you, even when neither of you have much to do except spend time with each other. That, and every time he thinks you're warming up a little bit, he has to give you more of those pills you don't like. He'd hoped to crack your shell a little before the inevitable, but here's the inevitable now, and you're still mostly just glaring at him and opening your mouth to either bully him or question the foundation of human society and culture.

He has a mental checklist for the day, one which he's actually made decent progress on for once. So far, he's made sure you're both fed, ignored a call from his mom, and ordered more of those skirts you could actually tolerate. Also on the list for later: he wants to have a fun conversation with you, if he can—not just a series of questions and bad explanations. He also needs to get the new clothes you do have cleaned, probably do his own laundry at the same time, and—the inevitable—get you clean.

Somehow, he doesn't think you're going to be very open to a bath.

So he spends the day moving around you. You emerge from your tent to sit on the loveseat incorrectly (and, given the whole skirt deal, improperly, but he tries his best not to look and is privately a little glad that you don't have to be persuaded into underwear) and watch him play video games, your eyes laser-focused on the screen and your tail flicking at the air with interest.

Over lunch—he's had to keep a steady three-meals schedule because of you—he sighs and rips off the bandaid.

"So, Kitty-cat—"

"You're not naming me that."

"I need to call you something," he replies. "I promise we'll get you a real name that you like, okay?"

You eye him warily, but let him continue.

"So. Kitty-cat, which is not your name. Do you ever bathe?"

You blink. Tilt your head. "I keep my tail and my ears clean."

Oh god. You grew up on the street.

"Can I talk you into something you might hate, but which will make you feel really good when it's done?"

"Why?"

"It's something humans do regularly. It feels nice to be completely clean, and it'll keep that cut on your stomach from making you sick."

"Is that the thing you've been doing that changes your smell? You go into the wet box and come out smelling different."

He nods. "Yeah! Because of your surgery, we'll be using the bathtub, so it'll be a little different, but we need to get you cleaned up." He neglects to mention the smell clinging to you—all things considered, it could probably be much, much worse, especially given that Hirugami estimated you to be as old as twenty despite your tiny frame and you've apparently never gotten completely cleaned.

Your ears flatten, sticking out to the sides. Airplane ears, the care guide had called them. Not the best sign. "You want me to go into the wet box."

"I'll come into the wet box with you?" he tries. "I know you don't want to, but I really, really promise you'll feel better after. You don't want to get sick, right?"

"I get sick all the time. I'll be fine."

"Kitty-cat, you can also just not get sick. Sick will mean more meds for longer, and I know you don't want that. Please?"

Your ears don't move from their flattened position, and you've dropped your head a little to glare at him, but you do nod, so that's progress, at least.

Yuu has the strange sense he's going to get bit very soon.

~

Shockingly, you seem to relent pretty easily once he gets you into the bathroom. Yuu is firmly—firmly—out of his element as he helps you strip down, silently laments the direction his life has taken as he fills the tub partway with warm water. You don't protest too much when he directs you to sit in the water, but you also don't relax any.

This is… not where he thought his life was going when he took the host job. He expected to go home with some beautiful rich woman, to get to gloat about being some woman's sugar baby. In the time since he started, he hasn't gone home with any beautiful woman, hasn't gotten laid once. But now here you are, in his bathtub, tail flicking water into his face as he pulls his shirt off and reaches for a clean hand towel and body wash.

"Do you wanna smell this stuff before I use it on you? I've got some other things I can use in the other bathroom if you don't like it." He offers the bottle, cap opened, for you to sniff. It's some of Mei's stuff, flowery and stereotypically girlish. You wrinkle your nose and shove it away.

Okay. No problem. He can handle grabbing his body wash from his bathroom. He walks out too quickly, the image of you in the tub—nipples at attention, suggestion of future curves (once you get used to eating regularly) on display, stark naked and more bothered by the water than the fact that you're naked and alone with a man.

He swallows thickly, moves quickly as he grabs all of his bath stuff, just in case. He returns to find you just waiting, staring.

He's gonna hyperventilate if you don't stop acting so damn blasé about your body.

"How's this?"

A sniff. A nod of approval. "I was wondering why you smelled spicy all the time."

A soft laugh. "Spicy?"

"Mm. Spicy."

"Alright. We're gonna make you smell spicy, too, okay? Maybe once you get used to this we can take you shopping and you can pick out your own soaps, too."

You nod. Failing any other distractions, he dumps some soap on the hand towel and begins to wash you, willing his boner to go away as his hands find soft skin and start working at the thin layer of grime coating your legs. The angle is awkward with the tub, and before long, his knees start to hurt, but you don't complain or anything as he works.

"Still good?" he asks, voice cracking a little. He winces.

"I don't understand how this is supposed to make me feel better," you reply quietly. When he glances, barely willing to make eye contact with you, you're staring at the water, darkening with the dirt he's managed to loosen.

"Well, we're not done yet. I'm gonna move up your body, okay? It's time we got these bandages off of you."

You don't reply, but you also don't protest, and he braces a hand against your hip as he sets aside the towel. The dressing comes off easy enough, revealing more bare skin to make his heart hammer in his throat.

Chill, Yuu.

The surgical sites look alright. None of the signs of infection Hirugami told him to look out for—he very, very gently pokes as close as he can get to one with one finger to check for any surface heat—and they seem to be healing okay. He can even see where the vet tried to clean the area around the stitches when they had you overnight, and he does his best to aid with that.

"Your injuries look like they're healing okay. Have they been bothering you at all?"

A shake of your head. "They ache a lot, but I'm okay."

"And your ear?"

You bite your lip, looking at him with watery eyes. He watches your ears droop in real time. "I want it back. The way it was."

He lets out a sympathetic sigh. "I know. I'm really sorry. You'll get used to it, okay?"

"It hurts. I don't understand why they cut my ear, or why they cut my stomach, or why they—why they hurt me, or—" You sniffle, which turns into a sob, and he keeps his hands moving even as his heart breaks.

"I'm so sorry, Kitty-cat. If I could have protected you from that, I would have. All we can do right now is try to live better in spite of it, alright? Your ear and your stomach are gonna heal, and I'm gonna protect you so no one ever hurts you again. That's all I can do."

You don't speak the rest of the time he's bathing you. You're wordless as he washes your back, your shoulders, the base of your tail, your hair—he's extra careful around your ears—even your arms. You shake under his touch, cry quietly. Let him drain the water and dry you off without complaint, let him help you wriggle into fresh panties, into your new skirt, into one of his loose t-shirts. Don't even flinch when he runs the hair dryer, as low a setting as he can, and brushes your hair out.

When you're all done, you slip past him and go straight to your tent, curling up inside with the flap zipped shut. He listens to you cry as he orders delivery, referencing the menu items against your food restrictions in case somehow a cake secretly contains a whole onion, and by the time delivery arrives, you've fallen silent.

If he ever finds the motherfucker who did this to you, he's walking away with a murder charge and not an ounce of regret.

~

"Hey there, Kitty-cat. You wanna get up for a little bit?"

You don't move or respond, but your ears flick. He suppresses a smile—you're way easier to read than anyone told him to expect.

"I got you some food. This's a little different from what we've been eating. I thought it might make you feel a little better."

"Is it gonna put my body back?"

He sighs. "No, I'm not sure anything can do that. But a lot of humans I know like it, and I made sure it should be safe for you. It might be sweeter than you're used to, but I wanted you to try it."

You sigh and sit up. His shirt slips off your shoulder a little—without thinking, Yuu reaches out and slides it right back up before passing the plate over, careful not to drop the fork. "Here. Have you ever had cake?"

Your eyes flick between the plate and his face. "You said it's sweet?"

"Yeah. Do you like sweet stuff?"

"Why are you being nice?"

He shrugs. "I hate the guy who hurt you. I want you to like me, and I want to make you happy."

"Why?"

"Maybe because I can't make myself happy? I dunno." Ah. That… hadn't been at the front of his mind, but… "Do you, like, know what a job is?"

"I've heard people talk about 'em before, but not really."

"It has to do with the paying the landlord thing I told you about before. A lot of stuff in the world is owned by someone else, which means it's theirs and you can't just have or take it. So we use this stuff called money to give to other people so they'll let us use stuff that's theirs, and…" High school civics, don't fail him now. "Basically, the way you get money is by going to a job and doing certain things for someone who has more money than you so they'll give you some of their money, and then you can use that to get things like food, and a space to live that's warm and out of the rain, and clothes. The reason I have to pay the landlord is because he owns the building we live in and doesn't want to give it up."

"So what's the landlord's job?"

"His job is actually being a landlord. He, uh… honestly, he doesn't really do anything except own the place and take our money. Sometimes, he tells other people to come fix stuff in here that's broken for us. It's messed up, but if we try to just take it, he'll make other people hurt us or take things from us. That's why we can't bite him."

You stare down at the plate. He can't help but notice you're more interested in the conversation than trying the cake.

"And because of the landlord, you can't make yourself happy?"

"A little. I don't really like having a job. At my job, I go to this big loud place with lots of people and I talk to women all night and try to make them like me. It's not really what I thought I'd be doing. I have to flirt with them and act like I'm interested in them so that they'll keep coming back and spending money at the place I work."

"Why don't you like it?"

He shrugs. Settles in on the floor. "I never really thought about what I was gonna do when I was younger. My friends all, like, got real jobs, where they do something that helps people, or they went to school to get even more important jobs. My job gives me a lot of money, and I only have to go to it three nights a week, which is a lot better than other people, but… I dunno, it asks for a lot. I don't recognize the person I am when I'm there."

You set down the plate, emerge just slightly from the cave. He turns, sits beside you as you pick the plate back up. "Why are you different?"

"The people I'm supposed to talk to have to like me. They won't like me if I just act normal. And besides, they're not interested in me. They just want someone to pretend to be their… uh, their mate, for a few hours."

"You should get a different job."

He shrugs. "The pay's good."

"But you said you're not happy. And I guess that because you're not happy, you're trying to make me happy instead, but… does making other people happy make you happy?"

He nods. "Yeah, I think so. When I get a new client at work, and they're new to the whole thing and caught up in it, I can make a lot of girls smile a lot. I like it when girls smile, and it feels even better when I'm the one who made them smile."

You hum thoughtfully. "I don't know if I've ever made anyone happy or smiled at all."

"Never?" he repeats, gasping in mock horror. "Okay, now you have to try the cake. I'm gonna buy you everything I can until we find something that does make you smile."

"Smiling is happy, right?"

"Yeah, smiling's happy."

"That's… really something that humans do," you say quietly. "We do happy in other ways."

"I know, but you're not completely not human. C'mon, try just one bite of cake. Get a little frosting, too."

"You're so pushy," you grumble, but you do your best to fumble with the fork until Yuu realizes the problem—you're not really used to forks.

"Here, lemme help." He takes the fork from you, scoops up an ideal first bite of cake—just the right ratio of cake-to-frosting, not to overload you or get you something too dry. "Open?"

A tentative sniff. You seem to approve of the smell, at least—he'd gone with vanilla from a hybrid-friendly bakery, reasoning that you might prefer something milder to start with. You're apparently able to have most human foods, really, with a few notable exceptions—most cat hybrids are allergic to garlic and onions, but not all—but he'd still wanted to be careful. He doesn't want to imagine the crack that'd form in your barely-a-relationship if he gave you something that made you sick.

You open your mouth, close it around the fork. Yuu's treated to your reaction in real time—the way your eyes widen and light up, the way your tail raises up behind you. No smile, but you do take the fork from him and fumble with it to eat more without any hesitation.

"Good?" he asks, suppressing a laugh.

You nod. "Real good."

"I'll make a note of that. Feeling a little better?"

"Nothin's fixed, but it's good. Um… humans say thank you, right?"

"Yeah. When someone does something nice, and you're glad they did it."

"Thank you, then."

He watches you eat with a soft smile. When you're finished, he licks a thumb, cleans the smudge of frosting off your cheek. You flinch at the touch, but relax a little.

"I'm gonna head downstairs to feed Mama Kitty in a little while and sit with her. Do you wanna come see her and the kittens? I'm sure she's worried about you."

You nod. "I gotta tell her thank you, too."

"When I brought you home, she came up to see you, y'know. Maybe she thinks of you like one of her kittens."

A thoughtful hum. "Maybe. When can we go see her?" Something soft lands gently on his lap. When he processes the sight of your tail resting on his leg, having wrapped around behind the both of you, his heart melts.

Yeah, this is no fucking problem at all.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @staygoldsquatchling02

[nyoomfruits]

lovin the landoscar content recently are there any other blogs or fics u recommend for landoscar content? thank u!!

there's currently 44 fics in the landoscar ao3 tag and i would recommend all of them actually BUT these are my personal favorites <3

Negative splits by leafmealone | T | 10k

So officially, Oscar Piastri, pretty good steepler and pretty bad pacer, was now a professional runner. They wanted him to steeple, mostly, though he’d be doing cross country in the fall, and Lando had pinky promised him, mid-distance guy to mid-distance guy, that if he wanted to get into the 3k flat indoor then he would get him in. Oscar didn’t really want to ask how he planned on doing that. Felt safer not to ask.

listen. LISTEN. this is so. oh my god this is so good i'm OBSESSED with this one. my landoscar otp tag is literally a quote from this fic i'm so. it has a very slow build and then the ending hits and you're like oh. OH. beautiful beautiful beautiful.

i'll kiss you first by venerat | E | 3k

“Uh,” Oscar says, when they’re in the car on their way to the airport. “I think you’re—um. Going into heat, mate.”

god this one is so. their DYNAMIC in this. lando being like a confident little shit being so ENDEARED by oscar makes me feel all goey soft every time. delightful premise, works SO WELL for them and everything about this is just so. AAAHHH

break my rules by venerat | E | 4k

Lando makes a considering noise. “A flirt?” He glances at the cameras, and Oscar can’t tell if it’s one of those we’ll need to edit that out later glances, or what. He looks back at Oscar. “You think I’m a flirt?” “You’re just, like…” Oscar flounders, flushing. “You’re very friendly.”

i promise this entire list isn't going to be just venerat fics but GOD they write the landoscar dynamic SO WELL it makes me feel a little feral every single time. the whole shag marry kill scene is so. GOD it's my favorite. a+++ i love this fic so much

askin' six days into june by peargasly (jamb) | G | 354

Lando almost flinches in surprise when there’s a hesitant touch to his waist.

i read this this morning and it fundamentally changed me as a person this might be one of the BEST lando/oscar characterizations i've ever read the DYNAMIC in this is top tier

sense and velocity by vertueusement | T | 11k | wip

“Well, alright, I don’t know if you lived under a rock or something, but Lando Norris goes here.” Uh, literally who? Oscar wanted to prod further but he could at least read the room and tell the one he spoke to didn’t want anything to do with him.

this is a wip so it is not finished yet but GOD i'm so fascinated by this whole thing. the premise is AMAZING and the author makes FANTASTIC use of the switching pov to show how we perceive situations differently all the time i'm so !!!!!!! DELIGHTED to see where this story will take us

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday <3

tagged by the amazing @saltymaplesyrup @skyrim-forever and @your-talos-is-problematic !!

tagging the incredible @thana-topsy @totally-not-deacon @viss-and-pinegar @dirty-bosmer @orfeoarte @changelingsandothernonsense @mareenavee @thequeenofthewinter @archangelsunited @gilgamish @wispstalk and anyone who wants to participate, consider yourself tagged!!

this week i bring a section of the rewritten chapter 9 of Cycle of the Serpent. i'm planning to do some final edits to chapter 8 and 9 both and update those in the fic, finish 10, and then do some tiny editing for consistency in the rest of the published chapters in the next couple of weeks. for now, have this! <3

Thick, impenetrable night slid through the cracks of the inns walls, cool air and occasional passes of torchlight from outside bringing slivers of light into the otherwise dim hall. In the rented upstairs room, the flickers from the hall found their way in, bathing it in a bronze hue. Sleep, the elusive beast, sometimes captured and sometimes wild and far away, had wrestled itself from Athenath's grasp minutes ago. So now, he lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the heavy wooden beams, the aged surfaces revealing previously unseen shapes as his mind tried making sense of the dark. There were promises to keep, come tomorrow. Whispers from under the balcony flew up through the wooden floors, the conversations of some patrons up well into the night. The constant hiss of syllables against teeth, the sharp, whistle sounds of them, made the Altmer want to grab the pillow and shove it over their ears and clutch it until his hands forced themselves loose from aching. But he couldn't do that, and he definitely didn't want to wake his friends, so they lay there, chest tight at the agitation. The shuffle of blankets rose up to end the quiet. Just Emeros, turning over in his sleep. They glanced to him and then returned to staring at the ceiling, brow knit, the sound of whispers softly fading. Finally. A sigh of relief had nearly left their mouth, but they stifled it, his focus again on the two Mer beside them. He didn't want to wake them. They'd both earned the rest. Athenath could hear Wyndrelis breathing, but aside from the rise and fall of his side when he did, he resembled more a corpse, entirely still and curled into himself. Emeros, meanwhile, had his forearm tucked under the pillow, his other arm around himself, blankets tight to his form.

The bronze light dimmed. A torch blown out. The night must be deep into itself, somewhere in the latest hours before morning would come and wake everyone up with its crowing. Athenath had blamed his sleeplessness on the whispering below the bed, but now, it was as though that had just been the catalyst, and now he was truly awake and alone, and unable to creep out of the bed if he even wanted to. At this rate, they'd look like a draugr in the morning, shambling up to Dragonsreach and barely forming the words to tell the Jarl of what happened to Helgen, what happened to them.

He shut his eyes tight. Gods, they didn't want to think about that day. But it still found a way to invade their thoughts, even when they were making all the effort in the world to go back to sleep. Their mind ignored every attempt to shove the fires aside, Athenath's arms wrapping tight around their middle as he stubbornly tried to push his mind to something else. What about the nights in Anvil, walking the salt-scented paths through town? And the dares to go up and knock on the old haunted mansion? What about the laughter of their old friends, and the house they grew up in? What about the shopkeep with the strange necklace, and the strangers in town in their black coats, and… Athenath's eyes shot open. The dark was still the dark. The same thing he'd closed off. But now, it seemed to wrap around them, tighter than they could bear. They fixed their gaze on the ceiling and thought of poems he'd memorized on the road with troubadours from High Rock, or the songs that they'd thought about writing down and quickly forgot, or the bards who sent them on this damn journey in the first place, but none of it replaced the sinking feeling in his stomach, like he was desperately clinging to a broken raft far out to sea. "What are you doing up?" Emeros whispered. He didn't need to open his eyes. He knew from jokes shared at the campfire that Athenath never slept on their back, and here they were, and he could feel the way the blankets laid over them and how different it was from when they were truly well asleep. Athenath shot their gaze to him, brow knit.

"Just can't fall back asleep," they whispered back. Emeros cracked an eye open, face half-buried in his pillow, hair tousled along his neck. He pushed a hand through the front strands, a couple small noises leaving his throat as though he were returning to the waking world by force. "Tomorrow, I fear, is going to be dreadfully long. Don't keep yourself awake, or you'll regret it." "It's not-" Athenath inhaled, held it, and exhaled, "I'm not. I know." "Then what's the problem?" "I woke up, couldn't fall back asleep, and now I'm just… Up. When I wish I wasn't." A long pause. Emeros sucked his inner cheek between his teeth on one side, then repeated to the other. "Did you have a nightmare?" "No," Athenath blinked curiously at the Bosmer, "did you?"

The alchemist rolled slowly over onto his back, palm draping over his eyes, other hand still firmly beneath the pillow. He inhaled, moved his hand down his face, before his arm came to rest over his middle. "I suppose one could say that fire has never been my favorite thing." The bard didn't reply, laying there, watching him as well as they could. He sucked in his cheek, then exhaled, peering at Athenath out the corner of his eye and the smallest turn of his head. "It'll be morning before you know it. Try not to keep yourself awake." The smallest fringe of concern at the edge of his words caught the Altmer off-guard, who only continued to watch him quietly. Emeros' gaze shifted. "You too, Wyndrelis. I know you're listening in." Wyndrelis snorted. "How did you guess?" At this, Emeros merely grinned, rolled over, and said, "I saw you move."

[the-marron]

Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by @forerussake , thank you 🥰

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

Hmmm, a hard question right off the bat, because even if I am no longer actively seeking the ship content out anymore, usually I retain a lot of fondness for it, so there are precious few ships I used to be into and that I am simply meh about now, but I think it would be ShikaIno, from Naruto. Canon came at me hard, so while I have some fondness for it, it is what it is, and I am not that much into Naruto anymore either way, so it doesn't hurt much.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Simba/Nala? Lol 😂 but in all seriousness, I think it would be BatCat. Or Aragon/Arwen, I am very hazy on the details when exactly I imprinted on those, the timeline is not clear

3. Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Read or written? Read: no idea, I think it might have been some self-insert into Inuyasha universe? Written: Sirius/Remus

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw fanart of?

Nope. When I discovered the internet I discovered all of it at an alarming pace, but my bet would be on either Sirius/Remus or some couple from W.I.T.C.H

5. Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

I try not to. I have opinions, yes, and I like discussing them with friends, but I try not to make it anyone's problem - everyone will ship what they want to ship and find different dynamics compelling, so I don't think it necessary to crusade one way or another because one ship is superior to another. It's all very subjective.

6. Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I have quite a bit! Funnily enough I have some canon ships I absolutely dislike and can go off about whenever I catch a poor, innocent victim to listen to my rant.

But my general rule is that I don't like OT3s. In any fandom, in any form, it's just not for me at all. To make matters worse, I am a monoshipper at heart, which usually means that I have a dynamic/ship that I like with characters A and B, and it makes me lose interest in all the other configurations with them. So maybe not an active NoTP but very unlikely for me to read A/C if I committed myself to A/B.

Special shout out to Weilanzun, because this is my most recently acquired NOTP.

And to Batman/Talia Al Ghul which is my longest reigning one.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Zhou Ying/Bai Ling from Tai Sui 🥺 my poor white half-demon, hopelessly devoted to his prince... And so few fics with them ;_;

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Plenty. I don't abandon old ones, I just collect them together in my jar of ships and rattle it from time to time, to see how they sparkle together.

But from my most recent and long-term commitments: Weilan, Luolin, Heixie, Luo Qingeng/Jiang Yang (do they have a name???) and BatCat, forever and ever

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Well, the story is a story, so as long as it makes sense that these characters do not end up together, then I am okay with it, that's what we have fanfiction for, right?

BUT

I am still not over that wedding stunt DC Comics pulled with BatCat. Months of teasing, of promising the wedding, the freaking wedding albums being released and then the WEDDING DIDN'T HAPPEN. They broke up instead because Batman has to be the dark, sad, lonely something something and you can't be a hero if you have a wife. 50 years and DC Comics is going backwards in this regard :/

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Not sure? Nothing comes to mind. But I am very open to being pulled into/converted into ships as long as they are not on my black list, and even then I try to keep an open mind, in case something clicks.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, would've been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Hah, a lot, because I got into shipping as a teenager. So reading romances about other teenagers felt normal and all but now I don't feel the need to revisit them.

12. What is your favorite crack ship?

Ha. Not today, Satan. One moment I am joking about a crack ship and the next I have 10k words written about it and like 3 sad headcanons and a shipping chart ready.

13. What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Oh wow, good question. If I like a ship, then I tend to read through the entire Ao3 tag of theirs, sometimes more than once because what if I missed some gem in the first go? So it would come down to the sheer numbers of fics, I think. So that would be either Sterek, Stucky or Eames/Arthur (fun fact: this is also the first fandom that introduced to me the concept of derivs)

14. What do most of your ships usually have in common?

Devotion. Very often the conflict between their feelings and their duties/ loyalty towards something they cared about before they met the other.

I like both sides of the ship to be competent at their respective fields and torn apart by their own choices and priorities. The 'I love you but do I love you enough to abandon everything I am'?. I like both answers more or less equally: both the 'yes, it's us against the world now' and 'I hope we won't meet on the battlefield' are set ups I enjoy immensely. But I also like smart-asses annoying each other into marriage one witty comeback at a time.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Imbalance of attachment. If the ship seems terribly one-sided, like one character is putting in all of the work and tries and tries, and tries while the other mercifully sometimes acknowledges them, then it's a no for me.

Same with the 'if you patiently wait for this person to like you, even though they told you 10 times they won't, then they eventually will' trope, like someone's love is what you earn through steadiness and hard-work.

I like both parts to be equally unwell about their partner, one way or another. They can be sickeningly domestic and gushing, or they can be crazy in that 'no one defeats him, but me!' kind of way, but they have to be in balance on the insanity scale. I like when characters grow into their relationship and both affect one another, falling more and more in love with each other as they go, but not when one person is a prize the other has to win/outwait/earn.

Thanks again for the tag, that was a nice bit of soul-searching there, very fun 👌😌

Tagging: @baiyubai , @babischlong-six , @mjsakurea, @mejomonster, @elenothar

[shadecrux]

On The Wing - Chapter 2

https://open.spotify.com/track/0RLwgks1gHQzXeIkaJIpHr

Previous Chapter  ┃Next Chapter

˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ *

°•★Pairing: Bucky Barnes x femaleartist!reader

°•★Rating: NSFW 

°•★Tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, romantic AND sexual tension, flirting, pet names (doll, sweetheart), a little bit of steve!, k.i.s.s.i.n.g., metal arm (i consider that a warning), grumpy!bucky if you squint, bucky being a dork, promises of more lewdness

°•★ Words: 2275

°•★ Notes: Chapter two!!  Uhh uhh only thing I can really think to note here is that while I will be writing a bit about Bucky being a soldier any resemblance to real world wars or history is accidental, as I intentionally left it vague to keep the story from veering in a different direction. I know we haven’t reached smut yet but it is coming I promise!!  

~All writing unless otherwise noted is my own. Please do not post or reupload my work to other websites without my express consent. I do not consent for my fics to be used in AI creations. I do not own any of the characters featured in my works unless they are stated to be OCs.~

All of my fanworks are intended for adults aged 18 and up only! Minors please DNI. ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48744160/chapters/123378907

˚ * •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙* ˚＊------💜 💚 💜------＊* •̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙ *

I wish the rocket stayed 

Over the promenade 

Cus I would make a hook and eye 

And fish them from the sky 

My darling she and i 

We’re hangin' on to take us high 

And sing the world goodbye

It had been almost a year since Bucky had returned to civilian life. He had joined the army, looking to serve his country, to make the world a better place and in doing so secure for himself a better future in a life that had fallen stagnant.  He was sent home halfway through his first tour of duty with an honorable discharge, several medals and awards for his acts of heroism, and one less arm for the troubles. Bucky sometimes wondered still if some of those rewards weren’t just “We’re sorry we blew your arm off” flattery, but he shrugged it off. They were gonna keep taking care of him, getting him into the best hospitals they could for treatment and rehabilitation from his injuries. The blast that took his arm would have killed his entire squadron if not for his fast actions - after saving a dozen lives it was the least they could do for him. Eventually, that meant getting him into a clinical trial for a new kind of prosthetic on the utmost cutting edge of technology. One that could fully articulate and respond to electrical impulses that controlled one’s nervous system, that could even simulate something resembling a sense of touch. It wasn’t difficult to sell the story of the war hero to get him into the clinical trials, and due to his excellent health, he was a perfect candidate for the experimental procedure. And though the surgeries left him with deep, jagged scars surrounding the connection where metal met flesh - it worked. It was celebrated as a second chance for a deserving man and as hope for a future where more people might be given their lives back after grievous injury.  Despite his unique circumstances that could have easily landed him in the public eye, Bucky kept a low profile. He had insisted on a certain degree of anonymity when partaking in the trial, avoided press and requests for interviews, and even took to wearing a tight-fitted pair of leather gloves and long-sleeved shirts to hide his arm from prying eyes.  He moved back to New York to try to reintegrate himself back into civilian life. Physical therapy and therapy therapy once a week, job training, cheap studio apartment in Brooklyn… His time in the army had changed him, leaving him with scars, and nightmares, jumping at loud noises and punching at shadows.  He could likely have used his connections to find some more gainful sort of employment, discharge or not, but… after the things he had seen, Bucky just couldn’t stomach the idea. Not so soon, at the very least. 

Still, the soldier worked on and off, odd jobs mostly, nothing with any sort of regularity. His mind and body were still healing, and the military pension he was on was enough to keep him comfortable, even if it was just making ends meet. He was just sort of… drifting, without any real cause or purpose. 

It didn’t seem as though anyone could reach him to pull him out of that darkness, though that didn’t stop his childhood best friend from trying, every chance he got.

“Come on, Buck. It’s been ages since you’ve gone out - just this once, humor me?” Steve asked, giving Bucky his best sad puppy dog face.  “M’ just tired, Stevie…” he muttered, unconvincingly, scrubbing a hand through his hair that was starting to grow out again.  “You’re a terrible liar.” “Am not.”  “You’re thinking about her again… aren’t you?” Bucky said nothing for a long moment before grunting in frustration and tossing a couch cushion at his slightly too persistent friend.  “Where’d ya get so damn insightful anyway?”  “Buck, it might surprise you to learn, but… you’re not a great liar. And you’re not the best at hiding your emotions, either. You know I’m always here if you need a shoulder to lean on, right?” “I know Steve. I know.”  “So, should I tell the guys you won’t be making it this time?” Bucky nodded, giving Steve an apologetic half-smile.  “Next time. I promise I’ll come out next time.” ——————

He’d hardly believed that you had accepted his request to join you, that you seemed to be expressing interest in a guy like him. You were different, he could tell just by looking at you - the way you dressed, the way you moved through the crowds, the way you seemed to observe the world around you with a more dedicated eye than most. You stood out in a subtle sort of way that intrigued him immediately.  It had been fortunate, in a strange way that he had been gawking at you when he had been - it’s the only reason you didn’t end up squished between the roof and the side of the building. 

Now that he had your company, he would do anything he could to keep it. 

Bucky had taken it upon himself to act as your tour guide since you had never been to Coney Island before. He talked up the history of the park, gave his suggestions for what rides were best, and in general went above and beyond to make sure you were enjoying your time there.  Coasters were your favorites, and Bucky, always fond of the more thrilling rides himself was all too happy to show them all to you. As time went on, he found himself taking your hand in his more often, under the guise of guiding you from place to place. He knew he was lying to himself, that in truth he just wanted to touch you, to feel that electric tingle each time your skin brushed his… but based on the way you clutched his hand in his, the way you sometimes chased his touch when he moved away from you, it seemed that you and he were on the same page. Conversations flowed easily, he talked about his life, and you talked about yours. He was truly blown away, hearing about all the places you had been, all the things you had done, and listened raptly to you every time you spoke. You left out the heavy stuff, of course, your history, your family… and while Bucky noticed, he wasn’t about to bring it up. It wasn’t his place to pry. He talked about his own life, his family, the interesting things he’d seen or done in all his years in the city. Sharing his love of literature and fiction, talking about his favorite sports teams or the swing dancing classes he had taken. He didn’t consider his life, or himself very interesting compared to you, all the things you’d done and exotic places you had been. Still, you gave him just as much focus as he gave you, and Bucky wondered once again just what you saw in him… but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Bucky remembered trying to convince you to ride the water rides - and you refusing as you hadn’t brought anything to change into. Eventually, though, the heat of the day had gotten to you, and with a boyish grin, he had dragged you to wait in line for their flume ride. The entire time it wound its way up the hill you were cursing silently under your breath, and he just laughed at the way your face scrunched up in annoyance.  “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are when you’re annoyed?”  “Fuck you.” 

Your profanities only made him laugh harder - he swore he could hear an undertone of affection there, his chest swelling with warmth. You really were just too damn cute. As it made its final descent you grabbed him and tried to hide behind him looking to avoid being hit by the splash.  “Oh no you don’t!” he laughed, easily grappling you and wrestling you back in front of him just as the white spray flew up around you, drenching you both in cold, chlorinated water. “Ahhh, you bastard!” You had sputtered, frantically brushing the water out of your face. “Oh come on sweetheart… you didn’t think I was gonna let you miss out on the fun, didja?” He smirked.  “Mmm… you’re lucky you’re cute.” You dared to say, muttering it in frustration.  You couldn’t help but laugh, though as he helped you up to your feet and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the two of you giggling all the way to the exit gates and beyond. He spent the next hour preening from your praise, and the next time he took your hand you held his tightly, stepping in closer to his side as you walked. For the rest of the day, any chance he could find your hand was in his, or his arm was slung lazily around your shoulders.  The sky was beginning to fade into twilight, the lights of the midway all coming on, the park a bright glowing presence to contrast with the darkening skyline when you, at last, found your way back to the games, having ridden everything at least once. He had insisted on trying to win one of the giant animal toys for you at the games - you explained to him how most of them were rigged to be deceptively difficult, but that didn’t dissuade him. In the end, he didn’t manage to win the giant dragon plush he was aiming for - but instead, you walked away with a surprisingly soft unicorn plush, all blues and purples and little spots of silver making its fur look like a sky just filling with stars.  

You had tried to play it cool when he was selecting a prize for you, but Bucky was observant enough to see your eyes continually flicking toward it, and he had the worker reaching out to grab one before you could muster a word of protest. Your singular muttered comment as you walked away about it being “too girly” made him smirk. He could bring up how he saw you hug it the moment he looked down to put his wallet away… but he decided to keep that piece of information to himself, for now. 

Not one to be outdone, you insisted on staying there on the midway until you had matched or bested him - and while in the end you did no better, by the time you were walking away, arm in arm he had a prize of his own clutched to his chest - a floppy white wolf plush made in the same style of yours. Was it stereotypical to cap off the day with a big, romantic Ferris wheel ride?  Maybe a little - but Bucky always had been a little traditional, at least when it came to romance. Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason.  And as you rode the bucket up to the top to take in the surrounding view, you could see why he had insisted. You could see the whole park, the white sand beaches trailing off into the distance on either side of you.  On one side was the darkness of the sea, and on the other the twinkling lights of Brooklyn in the distance. It was beautiful… but not nearly as beautiful as you, he thought, watching your eyes light up with wonder at the scene. A burst of color from down the beach startled you both, and the two of you looked up in unison to see fireworks bursting in the night sky, high overhead. It wasn’t a holiday, as far as he knew - but he wasn’t about to complain, seeing your eyes light up at the colorful display overhead. He slid an arm around you, and you nestled into his side, wrapping both arms around his waist while Bucky willed his heart to stop beating so loudly in his chest. You were somewhere near the top when the ride came to a stop, just in time for the finale of the show, a final bright series of bursting golds and pinks and greens that lit the entire night sky. He looked over at you to find your eyes already on him. You looked so beautiful, and he had been holding himself back all day long… Bucky slid a hand up to your face to cup your cheek, gently lifting your head towards his. He felt his heart all but stop as you leaned into the touch, your eyes trailing back and forth between his eyes and his lips. He had to go for it - but he had to do it right.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered, and you responded with a small nod, already leaning in, as was he, pulled by a magnetism that neither of you could deny any longer. It was explosive, that first kiss, bursting in his brain just as the rockets burst in the sky above you. Your lips felt so soft against his, your grip around his waist tightening. His head was spinning when he broke away from you, far too soon for his liking as you were brought back down to the ground to disembark. He held you clutched tightly to his side as you wound your way back to the exit through a throng of people leaving as the voice over the loudspeaker announced that the park was closed.  Outside of the gates, you surprised him again, throwing your arms around his neck and leaning up for another kiss which he eagerly returned. “Come home with me…” you murmured against his lips, and his hands tightened on you in response, a heated sensation tugging at his stomach. “You sure, doll?” Your next kiss, hungry and full of promise was all the answer Bucky needed. He called for a cab and off the two of you went into the night.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hi I just read Sleep Tips (I think it was called) by rocket man. And now I'm in the mood for more really soft sweet hurt/comfort fics. Can you recommend any where the hurt is not too big? Hopefully this makes sense. Thank you

First, browse our hurt/comfort tag, and here are some of my favorites, beginning with my favorite Klaine story ever. Enjoy! ~Lynne

Everyday  by whatIknew  [PDF/EPUB]

A few days after their 2nd wedding anniversary, Kurt is in an accident and falls into a coma. Blaine struggles with the decision to let him go, and the night before they’re set to pull the plug, Kurt wakes up. One problem: He thinks it’s 2008 and that he is 14 years old. No New Directions, no Finn and Carole, and no Blaine. Blaine helps Kurt try to remember his old life while they consider starting a new one.

~~~~~

I Drove All Night by ItsNotEasyBeingQueen

Kurt and Blaine are back together, but Kurt is in NYC and Blaine is still back in Lima.  A phone call reminds Kurt of a promise he made to never let Blaine feel lonely again, and he hastily makes his way back to Ohio.  See inside for rating details.

~~~~~

Blood and Fire by realmsoffreedom

He doesn’t always know what to say. Sometimes, he tries to string together what he thinks are the right words, the it’ll get better soons and the you aren’t your depressions, but he knows that they rarely help. Sometimes all he can do is sit here and hold Blaine, provide a warm body, a physical manifestation of all of those you’re not alones. If it means staying in bed all weekend, Kurt’s happy to do it. Just as long as it makes Blaine feel like someone is in his corner, even if he himself isn’t.

~~~~~

Glory by Amberlovesocean

Kurt is assaulted after singing at a school dance and is left for dead, thrown aboard an empty train car at the railroad freight yard to hide the crime. He wakes up to find he’s been tossed off the car somewhere in an Oregon logging camp, 2500 miles from home. A curly-haired kid named Blaine finds Kurt and protects him by hiding him in his cabin and teaching him how to survive.

~~~~~

Hail To Whatever You Found in the Sunlight That Surrounds You by Water_Nix

On the third of August in Blaine Anderson’s ninth year, something momentous happens: he sees a boy crying on the beach and decides to do something about it. What he gets in return is a best friend, a confidant, an ally to help him through the ups and downs. They spend one month together every summer. One perfect month until they are old enough to escape together. Eleven Augusts and the letters in between.

[vmures]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I got tagged by the delightful @mirrorthoughts 💜💜💜 Thank you for the tag!

How many works do you have on ao3?

13 at the moment

What's your total ao3 word count?

218,148 words (mostly thanks to one very long fic, lol)

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Teen Wolf and 9-1-1. I am noodling a few ideas for Stranger Things. I've also written Buffy the Vampire Slayer stuff, mostly crossovers in the past, but haven't gotten around to importing them to ao3. They can be found on Twisting the Hellmouth under the same user name as ao3 (vMures)

Top five fics by kudos:

Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To)

A Hallowed Pack

A Change of Luck

A Merry War

Finding Home

All Teen Wolf fics, mostly Steter with one Sterek fic in the mix. 😄

Do you respond to comments?

I certainly always try to.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a happily ever after sort of writer generally, so none of my fics have very angsty endings. Just not the sort of thing I tend to write.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They all have happy endings so far. Not sure I could pick which one has the happiest ending.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually, at least not on ao3. Worst comments I've gotten have been on fanfiction.net and I have been ignoring those for decades at this point. I think I don't get much hate on ao3 in large part because I don't allow anonymous comments on my work and people are less likely to leave hate comments when they have to do it with their official account. I've gotten a few odd comments, some weird nitpicky ones, and some demanding ones from time to time. I always try to respond politely to those, but sometimes get a bit snarky.

Do you write smut?

Not as of yet. But I may some day try my hand at it. No promises though. lol

Craziest crossover:

I once wrote a crossover between Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and X-Men (it can be found on Twisting the Hellmouth).

On ao3, my only crossover so far is a Teen Wolf/Harry Potter crossover: A Hallowed Pack

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone just asked if they could translate Midnight Rain into Russian, so that will be my first fic translated into another language.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really

All time favourite ship?

Cannot pick favorites for the life of me. In Teen Wolf, I love Steter, Sterek, Stetopher, Stargent, Steterek, Dargent, Detergent (Derek/Chris/Peter), and so many more combinations of my favorite characters. lol Stranger Things I read mostly Steddie and Ronance, but am open to quite a few other pairings.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Yep, my one unfinished WIP Buffy/Stargate crossover, The Road Not Taken. After a decade of agonizing over whether or not to mark it abandoned and give myself grace for not finishing it, I finally did so. Part of me still would love to finish it, but I lost the notes I had on it and doubt I'll ever find the desire to rebuild the story and figure out where I had wanted it to go.

What are your writing strengths?

I'm pretty good at writing natural sounding dialogue and proud of that fact.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have been called a wordy bitch or told my writing is very dense. So that could be considered a weakness. Otherwise, I'd say writing action scenes and making sure the actions make sense and flow properly.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

As long as there's a translation somewhere, I don't mind. Sometimes it is effective to include.

First fandom you wrote in?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Favorite fic you've written?

Oh man, this is a particularly hard question. I love A Merry War a lot, but ultimately my absolute favorite so far is Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To). That fic is my baby. Took me two years to finish and I poured a lot of my heart and soul into it.

Once again I've hit the tagging portion of the tag game and drawn an absolute blank on who to tag. So consider yourself tagged if you want to play along! 💜💜💜

[seth-burroughs]

benefits of being yomi kin:

makes me twice as cool and sexy and automatically makes me the objectively correct authority on Yomi's character it is impossible for me to be wrong and if u tell me im wrong ill start scream crying on the floor

won kin lottery and is capable of distinguishing between Yomi Hellsmile the character and Yomi Hellsmile The Character allowing me to both quite literally be that guy and keep another version of him as my blorbo. Manifesting in the ability of fantasizing bout yomi suffering iykwim AND getting past the masochist allegations <3 Also yeah the Yomi fic is currently in works no I will not answer questions on it

this yaoihellsmile shit is sooo easy someone asks me "ouuuyy honey unwrangle my dingle in ur boioioiong and by sproingle well heh lets jsut say. my peanits. any thoughts on that mr yaoi?" and i just answer honestly straight from the heart no bullshit no rp skillz required

woaghhhhhh......... Former director of the peacekeepers homunculus clone Yomi Hellsmile from Master Detective Archives: Rain Code by Spike Chunsoft........ holy shshshit. He's Real......

disadvantages of being yomi kin:

the regular bullshittery that comes free with being fictionkin of any kind cut my wife into pieces this is my last divorce

everybody and their mom hates Yomi and even if the tag here is way less outright aggressive and I can just easily block anyone who makes me uncomfortable in any capacity, youtube is just unusable. Just. AuUUUghhhh. I know one of my fave dr youtubers is gonna play mdarc this year and I also know he's gonna absolutely hate Yomi with a passion and frequently pause the game to talk about how terrible he his yes we get it you are allowed to have opinions on fictional characters and aren't doing anything wrong by it whatever im gonns look up yomi softcore on pixiv fuka u

overly complicates my already fucked sense of self

Blood cravings got even worse😔 bad BAD this isn't sustenance it's toxic as hell christ dude STOP❗❗

not extremely likely but still very possible nightmare scenario where the precipitation cipher gets Big attracting those people and getting bombarded with kinnie jokes and annoying Ironic Kin For Fun crowd finding its way here. And that is the at best scenario, the worst one is 2015 kin drama reignited in 2020s you can't "kin" this character unless you're x or x, you can absolutely control who you're kin with and if i don't like your very voluntary choice you should stop (just stop man <3 i won't tell you how the fuck 😊) being fictionkin with a sinful evil abuser linux user makes you a bad person that deserves to be ostracized and harassed until you unlearn your problematic ways oh my god do any of you remember 2015 warrior cat kin drama what the fuck was that. i wasn't around in danganronpa fandom during that time but im pretty sure it may have been even worse there which is insane to even think about. but i mean like hey at least fictionkin were taken (mostly.) seriously back then (albeit considered deeply cringe by the masses) and not reduced to a cheap komaeda kinnies amiright joke

i suffered more than jesus actually. the demotion and arrest was SUPER unfair and cringe guys i promise im not gonna torture people from now on you can trust me in a position of power please please please no one did it like i did it

EJ MARTINA DZIE MIE KURWA WYWIEŹLI CO TO ZA ZADUPIE MARTINA. MARTINA NIE WYTRZYMAM JUŻ WEŹ HELIKOPTER I MIE KURWA ZABIERZ Z TEGO CHLEWU MAM DOŚĆ POMOCY <- wygnany do Rzeczypospolitej za swoje zbrodnie😔

Yomi is Real (threatening)

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 23rd

Happy Sunday, folks! I went on a bit of a sportsball kick this week so--enjoy those recs. It’s also @Cap-Ironman rec week this week--I’ll be sharing all of my daily recs later today so look for that, and be sure to follow the tag for everyone’s recs. 

Be sure to comment/kudos! 

~*~ 

Average Avengers Local Chapter 7 of New York City by hetrez

Steve and Tony accidentally start a national do-gooders association and fall in love.

No time for losers by gottalovev

Tony Stark: Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist. Hockey superstar.

(featuring among other things an unexpected trade, learning to get along with new teammates, pining, the Olympics, and a happy ever after)

Ice Ice Baby (The Hockey Fic) by youcancallmearrow

Tony Stark is a star center, sidelined by a slip in sobriety. Steve Rogers is a goalie, suspended for a punch thrown off the ice.

When the two meet, they're trying to get their lives back on track, both off and on the ice. It turns out, the saying is true: A burden shared is a burdened halved. At least until Howard Stark gets involved.

(A get together fic full of fluff, supportive friends, dad Rhodey, and hockey! But if you know nothing about hockey, you'll be fine, because neither does the author.)

Things We Learned at the End of the World by JenTheSweetie

1. Even the apocalypse can't keep people away from Olive Garden

2. Smoothies do not replace conversations

3. Tony has really obvious sex hair

4. Home might be a little different, but that doesn't mean you can't go back

Didn't Catch You Saying Grace by isozyme

Tony’s straight: he always picks women, not men, so he must be. Steve’s gay, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

how much i’ve been touching you by isozyme 

Steve loves Tony, but not enough to listen about the SRA. He loves Sharon, but not enough to stop coming to Tony late at night.

Destiny Deserves Another Chance by KandiSheek

Steve is absolutely starstruck by the pirate who saves his village from destruction. When the mayor offers an omega's hand as a reward for his heroic deed, Steve wants nothing more than to be whisked away towards a better life. Anywhere would be better than here.

He's devastated when the alpha chooses Sunset Bain instead. He never even looks at Steve, which makes sense, considering Steve looks nothing like a proper omega should, what with his height and muscles. It's probably better that he was spared the humiliation. And it's not like Steve has a chance to win the pirate's heart now that he's promised to another.

Or so he thinks.

A High and Lonesome Sound by misslucyjane 

Some nights, Steve still has trouble breathing.

A castaway where no one hears you on a barren isle in a lonely sea by Wolfsheart

A year and a half (give or take a month) after the divorce, Tony is still fighting the residual depression left behind from the way the divorce went down. Having been granted primary custody of their daughter, he's brought Morgan back to live full-time with him in Malibu, and he decided to surprise her with a trip to Disneyland. He lost his 'magic' back when Pepper left, so he doesn't know how magical Disneyland will feel to him, but it'll make Morgan happy, and that's what matters. However, will running into long-time unrequited crush Steve Rogers change all of that?

D-Day: 70 Years Later by Potterwatch97

70 years later, Steve is forced to face a gruesome part of his past. One that he never thought he's live to see.

Tony Stark and the Super Sleeper, or actually, Soldier by RurouniHime 

The one where Steve keeps falling asleep on Tony.

When Hell Freezes Over by KandiSheek

Tony ingests a drug that amps his insecurities up to eleven. It seems like he's extremely susceptible to Steve's opinion specifically, now that he's like this.

Steve has no idea what to make of it. He only knows that trying to take care of Tony without accidentally revealing his feelings for him is going to be virtually impossible.

He does it anyway.

Fever, gettin' higher by RurouniHime

Yeah, okay, Steve Rogers knows what sexual harassment is. Despite his out-of-fashion upbringing, he’s not some backwater Neanderthal, thank you, he gets why it’s bad. He’ll go to bat for anyone who determines they’re the victim of unwelcome advances in the workplace. He’s not devaluing its impact, for god’s sake. 

But the key word here, as he sees it, is ‘unwelcome.’ And that… might not be what this is.

this will destroy you by silkspectred

The screen flashes in front of his eyes. It takes him entire seconds to realize that it’s an incoming call.

Indecent Proposal by sabrecmc 

One million dollars for one night. That could change your life.

Lock Screen by betheflame

Everything was fine.

Steve had everything under control.

Until Tony grabbed his phone while they were in the car, and his world shattered.

“This… this photo,” Tony croaked out. “Am I your lock screen?”

“You were not supposed to see that,” Steve said quickly. He reached for the phone while keeping one hand on the wheel.

“Keep driving please,” Tony said with a tone of calmness that ended up sounding terrifying, “and answer my question.”

Second Hand Mate by Morethancupcake 

"The bandages had been his idea. The long sleeves too. Tony traces it with the tip of his fingers, before securing the tape, keeping the words away, safe, buried with the first man who ever showed him love and support.

'Second hand mate.' "

 The first words his mate will use to talk about him.

Tony waits for it to happen.

Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree by Annie D (scaramouche)

Steve doesn’t mind that Tony doesn’t return his feelings. He just would've preferred if it didn’t come with the side effect of his coughing up flowers and possibly dying.

kings of the city by Areiton 

The Irish mob held Brooklyn.

The Spider held Queens.

And where Tony fits in the city has never been clear...

Sometimes though, he thinks he fits here--at Steve's side.

[fizzyxcustard]

Wrong Place Wrong Time - Part 2 - Chapter 3

The masterlist to the first part can be found here

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Summary: You find yourself in 1209AD after a science experiment has gone wrong, and you are now making a new life in a small village in France. However, Sir Raymond de Merville has his eye on you and will not take no for an answer. You both embark on a passionate love affair which leads to Raymond’s downfall.

With Raymond dead, you find your way back to 2017. Now heavily pregnant with Raymond’s child, things take a strange turn and you find out that Raymond’s promise to come back to you as crossed many centuries. 

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual references, violence, bad language, sexual language. 

Comments/Notes: This fic is being re-uploaded. It was originally written on Tumblr for my old blog and then put on to AO3, so I’m now trying to put all outstanding fics from AO3 on to here. 

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. My tag list is always open to people who wish to be added. Send me a message and let me know. :)

Just to note, this fic is quite an old one now and for anyone who new to my tag list and doesn't know what's going on, part 1 is linked above. Please read that first and just reading this on its own will not make sense.

England, 2017

That night and you slept soundly next to Raymond, never waking and the nightmares not visiting you. It was Raymond’s presence back in your life that forced all the bad things away, and brought back that light which had been missing the last five months you had been without him. 

The next morning and you woke to feel Raymond’s hand brushing down your cheek. He was looking down on you as you woke from your dream; in your dream and you were flying, watching a flock of birds drift through the air in silence beside you. You smiled at your husband and he leaned down, kissing you gently, whilst rubbing your stomach, needing contact with both you and his daughter. 

“They’ve been asking about her at the lab where I work,” you told Raymond. He shifted back, sitting up. His eyes narrowed at the very thought of anyone questioning you in such a manner. 

“What did they say?” he asked. 

You sat up from your lying position, propped up against your pillows, and brushed a hand through your hair. “They wanted to know how and when I got pregnant…and by who,” you replied. “I just told them I was already pregnant when I originally went to your time. But they seemed to know I was lying.” 

“What does this mean for her?” Raymond asked. “I will not have them touch her, or you.” 

Tears began to fall down your cheeks as you pondered such a question. “I…don’t know,” you told Raymond. “There were talks of taking her when she’s born to do tests because of the effects the machine had on my body and on her. I was pregnant when I came back through so they think the machine could have affected her as well as me. They’re bribing me with money to not speak a word but go in for testing. They’re offering me two million.” 

That fierce fire was burning in Raymond’s eyes. You had missed that fire within him so much. “Do not accept such a bribe. If they had their way then they would take her away from us.” 

“This was why I was thinking of adoption. I wanted to try and run away somewhere, have her, and put her up for adoption, so they can’t track us. But I can’t. I’m her mother and should fight for her every step. She belongs with us.” You could feel her moving inside you as if responding to your words, thanking you for your resolution to keep her. “But while we’re here they won’t stop hounding me. They threatened me that if I don’t keep up with the meetings then they’ll find me and make sure I do what they say.” 

Raymond shifted forwards towards you. “We’ll find a way back to where we belong. I’ll make sure you both get back.” 

As he said those words you kissed him and pressed your forehead to his; you knew what he meant by saying ‘both of you’. He was prepared to sacrifice himself again. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. This time I fight to honour you. We all go back together or not at all. I needyou, Raymond, so much more than you realise.” 

You could see tears swimming in his eyes as you told him you needed him. Those words were so poignant for him to be told. Just to be told that he was needed kept him alive, and kept him fighting. 

In bed that morning you both began planning your return to France in the year 1209AD, where you wished to live in peace and raise your baby daughter. 

“I have another meeting tomorrow morning regarding what happens when she’s born. They think that the changing of timelines may have affected the present and need to check our radiation levels,” you told Raymond. 

“I will be beside you,” he insisted. “If I have to force my way into that building, kill every person inside just to get you through and back to France, then I will do it.” 

***

You and Raymond walked hand in hand down the busy street towards the high rise building where you had worked for nearly three years as an assistant technician. Things went on inside that building of which you had been sworn to secrecy, including the very experiment which had sent you through time to France, 1209 AD. You knew that escaping the clutches of this company now that you were back in your present time and pregnant with a man’s child who had died in 1209, was going to be impossible. They wanted to experiment on you and the baby. Bribery may have been their way of sweetening you to comply, but you knew that the money would never get to you and you would become a lab rat for the rest of your life. The company were just waiting for your daughter to be born. 

Raymond fingered the kitchen knife in his pocket, prepared to take down whoever got in his path to see you and your baby safe in 1209. 

You had yet another meeting with senior bosses to talk about your pay out, which you ultimately knew you would never get. They would resort to kidnapping you if necessary to run their tests. 

You made your presence known in the reception area downstairs which was brightly lit and had a young, dark haired woman, with plenty of cleavage on show sitting behind the desk. “Can I help you?” she asked, looking you up and down, mentally judging you. You had always hated this woman; sometimes you would see her in the staff canteen upstairs and she would roll her eyes if you tried to be polite. 

Using his stealth, Raymond rushed behind the desk, grabbing the woman around the mouth, and dragged her into a small stockroom which was just behind the desk. The woman hadn’t seemed to have noticed the unauthorised entry of the mysterious man who had accompanied you. 

Raymond tied the woman up using her tights, gritting his teeth in anger as she tried to resist. You darted into the room to help Raymond, holding your hand to her mouth so he could finish the job and make sure she was restrained. 

Next step would be security, having to get through an airport style operation that you had been required to be subject to whenever you entered the building. Usually there were only ever two men at a time at the main checking room, one of them scanning bags and clothing and the other completing body searches. Sometimes there was an armed guard just behind the door, and today was lucky for you. As you made your way into the large room, using the stolen ID pass from the receptionist, where all the scanners and equipment were for detecting weapons or explosives, there was an armed guard sat down reading a magazine, not taking much notice to who was passing by. 

You walked in, faking a smile and nodding your head politely. Obviously you and Raymond had not, as of yet, been detected in the building. 

Raymond moved from behind you, punching the security officer square in the jaw and then nose, knocking him to the ground in a pool of blood from a broken nose. He pulled the gun from the guard’s utility belt and aimed it at the other two men who were standing by the scanning machines. 

You knew that there was a room just to the right of the main security hall and inside it held replacement equipment, and required a pass to get in and out. “Give me your passes!” you ordered, stepping up to the men and reaching out across the belt where the trays moved. “Give me your passes and get in that room.” Raymond kept the gun aimed at the two men, one being a young, fresh faced man, reminding you of Henri, and the other looked around Raymond’s age with shoulder length, shaggy hair. 

Once the two men had complied with your orders, you raced through the winding hallways with Raymond towards the CCTV room. Surely someone would have noticed you by now and raised the alarm. But luck seemed to be on your side so far. When inside the small room which was filled from floor to ceiling with screens, you found the guard asleep who should have been conducting his duties. The man, who was surely near pension age, was snoring away, a cup of cold coffee next to his arm on the desk. 

Raymond dragged him off the chair, watching as he opened his eyes, terrified and confused. You pulled a piece of cord out of your pocket and began tying the man’s hands behind his back whilst Raymond attempted to quieten his protests. 

By the time you had both made it down towards the main, central hub where the machine was held, all the people you had come into contact with had been restrained or locked into rooms of which they had no way out. Surely, however, there was back up and you would both be noticed, acquired and reprimanded. 

As you were about to let yourself and Raymond into the huge lab area, where a few people in white coats were dashing back and forth, you felt him tighten his grip in your hand. He looked at you, smiling weakly and placed a gentle kiss against your lips. “Whatever happens from here, know that I love both you and our daughter,” he said, choking back tears. 

You knew that he truly believed he would not go through with you. In his eyes was the sad truth that his duty was to protect you and your unborn daughter, and if it meant him sacrificing his life and onward years with you, then he would do it to keep you both safe. 

“I’m not going through without you,” you told him. “If it means I have to stay here because this all fails, or I die trying to get through, then so be it. I’m not being parted from you again.” 

***

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