#i've only read like half the books at best but

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 1)

***IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: ONCE AGAIN I've yapped too much and this chapter became longer than tumblr likes, so I've split it into two posts. It's the same drill as Cheeks All Flushed: The smut is in the other part if you'd rather skip shenanigans and Get To Business. And that's valid! Part 2 is here and also linked down below. Apologies! It IS all in one place on AO3 if you'd prefer that!

Summary: Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink.  He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well.  “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms.  OR The gang finally makes their way into the Shadow Cursed Lands.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 21.3k (This particular part is 10.7k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, vaginal fingering, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, protective Astarion, soft Astarion, whimpering Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), lots of party banter, AND JAHEIRA!! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 and 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 6 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: SURPRISE! Part 6 is COMPLETE and she's A LOT. The back half is mainly smut and feelings and Astarion processing emotions a little which we LOVE to see. I hope to the gods that you guys find this to be a good followup to Worth the Peril, but I'm excited to FINALLY be in Act 2 and get into the big romantic scenes that happen there. Thank you all so much for sticking around and loving this goofy version of Astarion and his favorite bard :) You guys are the best and I adore and appreciate every single one of you! Please enjoy these silly little vignettes from the end of Act 1 and the start of Act 2! (Thank you as always to my beta @kermitwazowski for reading!) As a reminder, last time you got Mega Hurt in a fight and Astarion kind of took that personally.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

“Would you relax?” you whispered sharply to the vampire currently brooding to your right.

“How can I be when this… ancient woman just tried to murder you?” Astarion threw a dramatic hand forward, gesturing to Jaheira, who was walking in front of you towards the Last Light Inn. You all had just arrived at the well lit sanctuary in the Shadow Cursed Lands, only to be interrogated by the High Harper, and vouched for by Mol, who’d managed to find her way here as well.

“I handled it,” you hissed. “It’s going to be okay.”

“While I admire your optimism, darling, I still don’t trust her.”

Karlach buzzed behind you, clearly in disbelief. “Mate, you must be joking. That’s the Jaheira!”

Astarion slowed his pace a bit to meet Karlach’s eye. “And, I take it, you know the old crone?”

“Astarion!” Wyll sounded surprised. “You’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate longer than I have! And you don’t know the tales they tell of Jaheira and her party of adventurers?”

Your crew of seven came to a halt in front of a moss covered fountain to gawk at the elf.

He clicked his tongue. “Mmm… that’d be a no.”

“He’s lying,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

“I am not!”

Gale lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Come now, Astarion, surely you’ve heard passing tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate? Or perhaps read a book of their exploits?”

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “I do not know of this ‘Jah-hee-rah’ person. Her heroics must not be that impressive if I have never heard of her.”

“Nor I,” Halsin cut in.

“Yes, well, being freakish outsiders from the Astral Plane and the middle of the forest will deprive you of basic history lessons.” Astarion crossed his arms.

You snorted. “So what’s your excuse?” The others snickered. 

Astarion placed an annoyed hand on his hip. “Did you all forget that I was kept as a slave for two hundred years of pure misery and torture?”

The group remained silent for a moment before you stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re still not over that?” 

He smirked. “Would you believe it’s taking me a little longer than one might expect?”

“Shame,” you pouted. Then you looked at Karlach who was angling her head around the fountain to track where Jaheira had gone. “You want to enlighten these three, Karlach?”

Karlach looked back at you all and her eyes lit up with glee. “Oh, yes please!” She rolled her shoulders and bounced on her feet as if she were preparing for battle, rather than recounting basic Baldur’s Gate history. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “Years ago - over a century-”

You turned to Astarion and caught his eye. A century! your expression seemed to say.

Astarion shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and unwrapped one of his crossed arms to hold dramatically in front of himself. So what?

You rolled your eyes. So you should have been there!

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. I don’t know what to tell you.

You huffed some hair out of your eyes and tuned back in to what Karlach was saying.

“-Jaheira was part of a group that saved Baldur’s Gate from Seravok - a Bhaalspawn trying to plunge the city into war.”

Once again, you caught Astarion’s eye. “And you don’t recall any of this?”

He pursed his lips as the others turned to look at him. “Now that you mention it, I vaguely recall tensions being rather high around the city all those years ago.”

“Liar,” Shadowheart accused again. “It had to be more apparent than that. Why don’t you just admit you know who Jaheira is?”

Astarion’s response was venomous: “I was kept on a very tight leash, thank you, so apologies for not getting the names of the heroes who ‘saved’ the city that kept me enslaved for another hundred years.” 

You approached him quietly and took his hand. He scowled at Shadowheart but wrenched his gaze away to look at you. His expression softened mildly.

“It’s okay,” you said gently. “I’m sure she would have come for you and your siblings had she known.”

“Yes, probably come to kill us for being abominations,” he muttered, but squeezed your hand anyway.

“Ah, don’t be like that, Astarion,” Wyll said cheerfully. “I’m sure she would have helped you! You’re quite fun once you get past all the prickly bits.”

“Gee, thanks,” Astarion said flatly. 

Karlach took the awkward silence that followed as an opportunity to keep fangirling. “My mum used to tell us stories all about them - the legends who protected the city from evil. She said Jaheira was a powerful druid. Adamant. Tough.”

“Probably a good ally to have on our side,” you said. Your companions nodded in agreement.

“I’ve told myself those stories thousands of times since,” Karlach continued. “I never thought I’d meet Jaheira. She’s a hero, and I was always… some Outer City kid.”

“Well, excellent news, Karlach,” Gale said. “Given our circumstances and the path we currently find ourselves on, it’s quite possible that we might be considered heroes one day.”

“Chk,” Lae’zel scoffed. “We don’t even know what we’re up against yet. It is likely some of you will perish before we are able to slay this unknown enemy.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Charming as always, Lae’zel.”

“I am not charming. I am merely stating fact.”

Halsin cleared his throat. “Another druid you say, Karlach?” Karlach grinned and nodded. “She’s the best! Can’t believe she wants to talk to us about working together. What a day!”

And what a day it had been. 

Or, tenday, more like.

~~~~~

The day after you’d told Astarion’s sleeping form that you loved him, he’d been nothing but clingy. 

You awoke to find him still curled tightly into your side, but now he was fully awake, his eyes wide and unblinking. It was unnerving.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He blinked rapidly before an easy grin rested on his lips. “Just making sure you still have a pulse, darling.”

You snorted. “Checking on your food supply, I see.”

Astarion angled his head to nuzzle his nose along your throat before kissing your pulse point. “What can I say,” he murmured against your skin, “we vampires have two instincts, as we learned from that book yesterday: ‘feed and make little vampires.’” He scrunched his face into a silent roar, baring his fangs and forming one of his hands into a claw. He slashed it through the air playfully.

“Yes well, the latter probably won’t be happening for a little while,” you said, shifting to sit up, but wincing in pain over the wound in your torso. 

Astarion was rolling off the pillows within seconds and coming around to help you sit up. His eyes were concerned, but he pouted and his voice was teasingly whiny when he said, “Pity.” He rested his forehead against your temple. “I do so miss being inside of you.”

You nearly choked on your own spit, which had him pulling away from you and laughing. 

“Whatever,” you muttered, watching as Astarion pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Hungry, my sweet?” he asked, still smiling.

“You’re really freaking me out,” you said, giving him a sideways look, “with how nice you’re being.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Fine. Starve.” With that, he exited your tent with a theatrical swoosh of the flaps that acted as a door.

You exhaled a disbelieving laugh, watching as the flaps swished back and forth before settling back into their closed position.

“SHE’S WHAT?!” you heard Karlach shriek, followed by loud, bounding footsteps approaching your tent. 

Astarion called after her in annoyance, “Don’t bother her!”

“Soldier!” Karlach’s head and shoulders popped their way into your tent. “So happy you’re awake!”

“Hi Karlach,” you laughed. “I’d get up but-”

Karlach shook her head. “Don’t move a muscle. I’m sure Shadowheart and Halsin will want to change your bandages and pump you full of potions but… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you said. “Thank you for helping while I was unconscious.”

“You’d do the same for any of us,” she said earnestly, still on her hands and knees in the entrance of your tent. 

You heard a dull thump outside that had Karlach yelping in surprise. 

“Out,” came Astarion’s sour tone, his tongue putting extra emphasis on the “t.”

Karlach looked back over her shoulder and then over to you. “He kicked my boot, the bastard! Proper hard, too!”

“I’d do a lot worse if you weren’t a walking furnace.” Another thump informed you that he kicked Karlach’s boot again.

Rather than retreat, however, Karlach settled her elbows into the dirt and rested her head in her hands. “Ask nicely.” She met your eye with a mischievous grin. 

You heard Astarion squawk incredulously. “Darling, tell her to move!”

Clearing your throat to keep from laughing, you said firmly, “Astarion. Be nice. That’s my dear friend, Karlach, you’re kicking.”

He muttered something you couldn’t make out, followed by a loud groan. 

Through gritted teeth, he said, “Dear, sweet, Karlach-” 

“Liking the sound of this,” Karlach nodded.

“-would you be so kind as to remove your humongous form from the entrance of my lovely bard’s tent?” It sounded as if the words were causing him physical pain.

Karlach looked back at you. “What do you think, Soldier?”

“He could probably do better,” you said with a smirk. But it was then that your stomach decided to growl loudly. 

“Woof,” Karlach said.

You could practically hear Astarion’s eye roll. “You know, if you let me in, I could remedy that little problem you’re experiencing.”

Karlach slanted her mouth to the side. “He’s probably right, Gale left behind a bunch of-” she waggled her fingers, “-magic-y warm food for you before he, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, and Wyll headed out this morning.”

You cocked your head to the side. “And you didn’t go with them?”

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “And miss you possibly waking up?”

You smiled at her fondly. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Besides, I don’t trust myself around all the explodey mushrooms down here.”

Astarion cleared his throat loudly.

“Alright, Fangs, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Karlach looked over her shoulder at him before looking back at you once more. “Let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me.” She pointed to her temple, referring to the tadpole connection, and winked. She crawled backwards on her hands and knees, purposely taking her time, before she fully exited the tent. 

Astarion took her place instantly, crawling into the space with a plate of steaming scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, bread, and a pair of healing potions. He placed the entire thing on your lap, along with a fork, before settling onto the ground next to you. 

You blinked at him. “Breakfast in bed?” 

He scoffed. “It isn’t as if you can join us at the breakfast table.”

Smiling softly, you reached out a hand to cup his cheek. “Thank you, my love. This is very kind of you.”

He still scowled, but his face softened when he took your hand from his cheek and kissed your palm. “I expect the same kind of pampering in return if I’m ever to practically die as foolishly as you.”

You laughed before picking up the fork and stabbing some egg. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

~~~~~

And for the first few days, it did feel like pampering: Astarion staying by your side at all times - reading to you, laying with you, changing your bandages… He only ever left to feed himself. He refused your blood, citing that you needed it more than him, even though your bleeding had slowed to a halt by the third day. 

It all felt very nice.

Until you felt well enough to get back on your feet.

The others had dutifully been wrapping things up in the Underdark; defeating monsters, freeing deep gnomes from their drow and duergar slavers, rescuing the halfling woman’s husband, and exploring an abandoned wizard’s tower and the temple to Shar, to name a few. Lae’zel had even gifted you a new longsword she’d found, Phalar Aluve - a sword with the ability to sing or shriek - claiming that this weapon would not have allowed you to be wounded as fatally, had you had it during the duergar battle in the decrepit village.

On the day they raided the Zhentarim cache Astarion had mentioned all those days ago, he’d remained dutifully by your side, much to your dismay and protests that you’d be fine without him for a few hours.

“Absolutely not,” he’d said, looking down his nose at you. “As if Halsin or Shadowheart could care for you as properly as I have.”

“You forget,” you’d responded, mildly annoyed, “that they’re the ones who taught you how to care for me.”

“And I’m the one who shall continue to care for you,” he huffed, finishing changing your bandages once again. By this time, you could sit up on your own with mild to no pain at all. You were perfectly capable of changing your own bandages, but Astarion had insisted on continuing to help you. 

You supposed it was nice that he wanted to take care of you, given how much he usually hated being responsible for anything, but he was taking the job a bit too seriously.

Luckily, Karlach and Lae’zel had lugged some chests they’d been unable to open at the Zhentarim storeroom back to camp, allowing your beloved rogue to take part in the raid, despite not attending himself, and thus allowing you a moment of peace to roll off your pillows and put on fresh clothes without his help.

You emerged from your tent to look at the spoils from the storeroom, standing up straight and walking on your own. Astarion hadn’t noticed at first, too busy fiddling with the lock of a particularly large chest, but the commotion created by your companions forced him to look in your direction. 

“You’re up!” Wyll exclaimed.

“Do you need any help?” Gale snapped the book he was reading closed.

“Give her some space,” Shadowheart said, assessing you with her eyes from a few feet away.

Astarion got up and hurried over to you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You smiled at him reassuringly. “I promise I feel well enough to be out here. I just wanted some fresh, Underdark air.” You looked over his shoulder at one of the open chests. “Find anything good?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Nothing worth you getting out of bed for.” He looked you up and down and noticed your change of clothes. He sighed. “I could have helped-”

“I’m fine,” you maintained, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking him directly in the eyes.

Halsin approached the two of you and nodded approvingly. “It is good for her to be up and moving around. It’ll stretch the healing muscles and allow her to join the fray again much more quickly than if she stays in bed all day.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh, what do you know?”

“Astarion,” Shadowheart said in warning. “If she says she’s okay, let’s believe her. I’m sure she’ll tell you if something’s wrong this time around, right?” She made pointed eye contact with you. 

You held up your hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise.”

He watched you closely, narrowing his eyes and sniffing pompously. “Fine.” 

He made no move to leave your side.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to the chest he’d been working on, the thieves’ tools still stuck inside the lock. You patted the top of the chest and said, “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

Astarion watched you carefully before he made his way back to the chest and sunk to his knees. 

Not far off, Lae’zel was polishing her greatsword. “Does this mean you are well enough to accompany us to the crèche?”

“Well, I-”

“No,” said every other person at camp at once.

“Chk,” Lae’zel thrust her greatsword into the dirt in front of her. “Heal faster.”

“Trying my best,” you said with a shrug. 

Lae’zel rolled her eyes and returned to assessing her greatsword.

“If you’re going to be up and about,” Shadowheart said, “you should probably start packing up your belongings for when we need to enter the Mountain Pass.”

“Augh!” you exclaimed loudly, clutching your side. Astarion was up immediately and you leaned your weight on him, throwing your arms around his neck for support. “So sorry, Shadowheart,” you said in a fake strained tone, “my wound… it prevents me… from hard labor…” You flopped fully into Astarion’s side, closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue as if you’d just perished on the spot.

“Oh good,” Astarion said blandly, “she’s finally dead and I can get on with my life.”

You kicked him.

“Uh huh,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. “Such a shame she’ll never be able to annoy us again.”

“I’ll haunt you forever…” you murmured, wobbling your voice like a ghost.

 Shadowheart stepped forward and patted your arm. “I’ll ask for blessings from Lady Shar on behalf of your passing.”

“Thank you…” you murmured again.

Astarion bumped his hip into yours forcefully. “Would you get off of me?”

You pulled back and smiled at him. “See? I’m fine.”

He humphed and returned to unlocking the big chest, only to find it full of more thieves' tools. He sighed heavily and rested his forehead on the edge of the chest. You peered inside and laughed.

“Aw,” you said sympathetically and patted his shoulder. “I’m going to get some food.”

“Let me-” 

“No,” you said firmly. “Keep going through your useless chests, my love. I’ll be right over here.” You walked over to the makeshift kitchen area Gale had set up. 

Astarion watched you go, and you felt his protective eyes remain on you for the remainder of the night. 

~~~~~

It was like that now: Astarion trying to do things for you while you insisted you could do them on your own. 

It had bewildered you when he actually helped you pack for your trip back to the surface. He had little to pack of his own, given that he’d more or less lived in your tent throughout your stay in the Underdark. He was relentlessly cautious with you, insisting that Gale cast Fly on you so that you didn’t have to ascend the impossibly long ladder back up into the Goblin camp. And he rarely let you out of his sight, even when safely surrounded by your other companions. 

The Mountain Pass was beautiful: bathed in what seemed like permanently golden light that had Astarion blooming in the sun’s glow once again. When your group accidentally stumbled into a hostile party of undead while looking for a place to camp, Astarion had taken your hand and pulled you behind him to shield you with his body. 

“I can help!” you’d pleaded, watching your friends sling spells and swords at the skeletons.

“Let us handle this,” Astarion had growled, slashing his daggers through a ghoul that came a little too close to you for comfort. He kept you both to the outskirts of the fight.

Try as you might to help, Astarion held you back, glaring at you for drawing the attention of a ghast when you cast Thunder Wave in its direction. You gave him an apologetic smile before he fatally stabbed the ghast in the chest. 

Bloodied and burnt out, you and your companions finally found a decent place to camp, close to the monastery that Lae’zel was sure housed the crèche. She took the lead on making a plan to enter the building and find the cure that had been promised to her all her life. You sat by the fire, listening idly to her plans, knowing full well that no one - except maybe Lae’zel herself - wanted you fighting so soon after your injury. You also knew that, should the cure be legitimate, your friends would happily accompany you back into the crèche where you could have the tadpole removed. You chose not to linger on the thought of your adventure possibly coming to an end so soon.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion sat by your side, mending a pair of pants. His knee was pressed lightly into your upper thigh as he hunched over the fabric to see his thread better. 

“You could be doing that in my tent, you know,” you said quietly, watching his fingers nimbly weave the fabric back together with needle and thread. “It’s probably easier to see what you’re doing surrounded by candles from all sides than just this fire. I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

“I’m quite skilled at seeing in darkness, thank you,” he said, not looking over at you.

You exhaled softly and leaned your head on his shoulder, effectively stretching your right side, which housed your wound. He paused momentarily, then kept going. 

“I’m okay,” you said softly, barely audible above the roaring fire and the heated discussion of possible battle strategy amongst your companions a few feet away. “I’m not going to get hurt like that again.”

Astarion sighed and halted his work on the pants. “You can’t promise that,” he said, sounding annoyed. He spoke his next words quickly, equal parts irritated and vulnerable: “You have no idea what’s coming and neither do I or any of us and I know you’re capable of protecting yourself but the least I can do right now is make sure you heal properly and don’t get hurt again because if I lost you… I wouldn’t know what to do.” He cleared his throat and looked back down at the fabric in his lap. “Or… whatever.” 

You smiled softly and lifted your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. “I adore you.”

He exhaled an amused breath through his nose. “You’re fine, too.” 

“Thank you for looking out for me.”

He sighed dramatically. “It’s been dreadful.”

You laughed. “I can’t even begin to imagine the sacrifices you’ve made.”

He brought his hands up to count on his fingers. “I’ve barely slept, I’ve been drinking animal plonk as opposed to your delicious vintage, I’ve hardly killed anything in the last few days, and I haven’t been able to sleep with you for just as long, if not longer.”

You were glad he wasn’t looking right at you, otherwise he’d surely see the flush on your cheeks. “You’ve been sleeping with me nearly every night.”

He nudged your unwounded side with his elbow. “You know what I mean.”

You smirked. “I miss you too,” you said. “And I’m sorry. You don’t need to be giving up all of that for me.”

He leaned his head on top of yours which had found its way back to his shoulder. “Just… heal, would you? You wretched thing.”

You reached your hand to rest on top of his knee. “You must be starving.”

“In more ways than one,” he growled teasingly in your ear. 

“I’m serious.”

“As am I. But your blood stays off limits until I’m sure you’re done bleeding.”

You made a frustrated noise. “I haven’t bled in days, you stubborn leech. And you nearly killed me the first time you drank from me, so really, what’s the difference?”

“Yes, but we weren’t us back then. You were just some bard that I crash landed on a horrid beach with.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed through pursed lips.

Now Astarion bent to kiss your cheek. “I’m just being extra careful, my sweet.” He moved his mouth to your ear. “And… it’ll be all the more exquisite when I finally taste you again.”

“Ah,” you said. “So you’re edging yourself.”

Astarion sputtered, “That’s not-” Then he smirked. “And what would you know about edging?”

You swallowed thickly. “Enough.”

He chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

It was quieter now, as your companions had dispersed to their own tents to prepare for tomorrow’s journey to the crèche. 

Still, Astarion kept his voice down. “I have an important question for you though, my darling.”

“And what would that be?”

“Whose belongings should we peruse first tomorrow while everyone’s gone?”

~~~~~

The only interesting items you’d found while snooping around camp the next day were cheap erotic novels hidden among both Shadowheart’s and Wyll’s possessions. 

Everyone, minus Halsin, who was sticking around the edge of camp planning a way through the Shadow Cursed Lands, had made their way to the crèche only a few hours before. 

“‘The Salty Mermaid,’” you’d said, waggling your eyebrows at Astarion who was rifling through Wyll’s tent. 

“You’ll never believe this, darling.” He turned to show you the same book, its illustrated cover even more worn than the copy you’d found in one of Shadowheart’s bags. 

“Shut up,” you said, leaning forward to snatch the book from his hand and holding the copies side by side. Both depicted a shirtless man gazing into the eyes of a beautiful, topless mermaid, her torso turned tastefully away from view. Their mouths were parted slightly in anticipation of a steaming kiss, ocean mist spraying over them and the rock they were perched on in the middle of the ocean. Wyll’s copy looked as though it had been read dozens of times over the span of many years, while Shadowheart’s was newer and gave the impression that it had been opened frequently, given the way the cover refused to rest against the first page.

“This is outrageous,” Astarion said, sitting behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at both books. 

You turned your head to look at him. “Didn’t take those two for naughty book lovers?”

“What? Oh, no, everyone in this camp is a deeply sad, depraved creature, that’s not it.”

You snorted. “Okay, so what-”

“It’s that they didn’t think to include us in their little book club!” His hand gestured wildly between the covers. “You and I read all the time!”

“We don’t know they’re reading them together,” you pointed out. “Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

Astarion looked at you skeptically. “Do you really believe that?”

You thought for a moment. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Your nights had been occupied spending time with the man currently wrapped delicately around your midsection. You couldn’t be sure that your companions hadn’t started a book club without you. It brought a small smile to your face, imagining your friends bonding with each other without your help.

Astarion didn’t wait for you to answer. “Let’s at least see what all the fuss is about.” He leaned forward slightly, careful not to jostle your right side and took Wyll’s book from your hand. He flipped open to a random page as you set Shadowheart’s book on your lap. You leaned your head against his, which was still resting on your shoulder, and read along with him. He tilted his head slightly to read slowly and seductively in your ear. 

“Fabian ran his calloused fingers along Allura’s scales. Her tail quivered in response.” He held out the “s,” as if hissing, and nipped at your ear.

You flinched in surprise and smacked him gently on the side of the head. 

He chuckled and continued. “‘Taste me,’ Allura pleaded. Fabian smashed his lips against hers and their tongues twisted together like two eels in the Sword Sea.”

You barely withheld a laugh. “Trying to seduce me with eels again, I see.” 

Astarion narrowed his eyes, rereading the passage in disbelief. “Oh, gods dammit.”

You nuzzled the side of his head with your own. “It’s working better this time,” you admitted.

“Oh?” Astarion pulled back and met you with a wicked grin. 

You nodded and watched his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you before pulling back just out of his reach. He opened his eyes and gave you a puzzled expression. 

“I didn’t say it worked completely.” You pushed his nose lightly to turn his face away from yours and back to the book in his hands. 

“Why you-” He dropped the book unceremoniously and brought both his hands to your cheeks to kiss you firmly. You laughed against his mouth before giving in and opening up for him.

“Astarion,” came Halsin’s voice from a few yards away. 

Astarion immediately disconnected the kiss and shot a deadly glare at the bear. 

Halsin hadn’t been looking. Instead he’d been focusing down at what he was holding - a half carved piece of wood, something that was beginning to look like a rabbit. When he finally looked up, he halted in his tracks. 

“My apologies,” he said, holding his hands up in a showing of peace, “I merely wanted to ask Astarion for a better knife. It appears my proper carving tools are lost somewhere within our wares.”

“Hi Halsin,” you said nonchalantly. 

Halsin chuckled. “I didn’t mean to disturb your fun.”

“Fun? What fun? We never have fun.” You nudged Astarion who was still staring daggers at Halsin. 

Astarion sighed and settled his chin back on your shoulder. “Relax, darling, I’m sure Halsin knows all about the kind of fun we have together.” 

Halsin nodded. “Far be it from me to interrupt a spry couple preparing to partake in one of nature’s greatest gifts.”

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned in disgust and you felt your cheeks go red. “You make it sound awful.”

“It’s only natural-”

“Did you check our Traveler’s Chest for your carving tools?” you desperately tried to change the subject. “It’s possible one of us packed them in there by mistake.”

Halsin snapped his fingers. “Of course! And the Traveler’s Chest would be…”

You pointed in the direction of the chest, which was thankfully on the other side of camp. 

Halsin followed your gaze and nodded again. “I shall investigate the chest. Sorry once again.” He started to leave the two of you but turned back around.  “Remember to be careful of your wound.” He gestured to your right side and you absently held your hand to the tender area. “Nothing worse than an injury worsened in the throes of passion.”

“Goodbye, Halsin,” Astarion waved him off. 

Halsin chuckled once more, then left the area. You and Astarion remained silent for a moment, watching him go. 

You looked over at him. “Moment over?”

“So incredibly over,” Astarion lifted his chin from your shoulder and crawled around to sit next to you. “But the druid’s right. You’re still hurt.”

You huffed some hair out of your face. “And you’re still a drama queen.”

Astarion gasped and held a hand to his chest dramatically. “How dare you.”

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “Watch this!” 

You stood and leaned your body to the left, stretching your right side and lifting your right arm over your head.

“See?”

Astarion cocked his head to the side. “Impressive. Now stretch the other way.”

You remained upright and ramrod straight. “I don’t want to.”

“Because…?”

“Because…” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck you! You know why.”

“Because you’re still sore-”

“Yes, because I’m still sore.” You sat beside him again and muttered, “killjoy.”

Astarion stood and reached for your hands, holding them in both of his own. “Call me whatever names you like, it won’t change my mind.” He leaned forward and kissed you softly. 

You frowned at him. “Asshole.”

Kiss. “Darling.” 

“Bat brain.”

Kiss. “Beautiful.” 

“Priss.”

Kiss. “My- hey.” He pulled himself back to look down his nose at you. “I’m not a priss,  I’m simply surrounded by frumps. And Shadowheart.”

You scoffed and reached up to brush your hand through his curls, mussing them ever so slightly. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pushing you away and reaching up to fix his hair. 

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. 

He glared back and rolled his eyes. “Did I not just call you ‘beautiful?’”

“One of your frequent pet names,” you waved him off playfully and went to pick up Shadowheart and Wyll’s discarded books. “It means next to nothing.” Astarion turned to watch you. “That’s not true.”

You laughed. “You call everyone ‘darling.’” 

“That’s different.” 

“How so?”

If he were still alive, you’d be able to feel his body heat as he stepped closer to you. He looked up towards the sky and moved his hands around as if searching for the correct words. 

“‘Darling’ has always been a lovely blanket term of endearment for victims whose names I didn’t bother to learn but needed to entice.”

You stiffened, thrown off by his honest answer. “Oh.” He met your eye. “People like feeling seen, and ‘darling’ does the job quite nicely. Call it a habit now, I suppose.”

You smirked at him. “You know my name, right?”

He smiled sideways in return. “Who are you again?”

“Good answer.”

“Honestly though, darling,” he said, before shaking his head and saying your name instead. “‘Darling’ isn’t anything special to me, that’s true,” he placed his hands firmly on your upper arms, just below your shoulders, “but you are.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, trying but failing not to shrink under his intense gaze. “Another good answer.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Look at me, please.” 

You met his eye again and saw his features soften. 

“I’ve never called someone ‘beautiful’ and not meant it.”

You raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really. In all the times you had to seduce people, you never called someone you weren’t attracted to ‘beautiful’ just to make things go faster?”

Astarion rubbed absent minded circles into your arms with his thumbs. “In those instances, I preferred referring to them as, ‘striking.’”

You snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“I could say ‘dead serious,’ but that would be atrocious, so I won’t.”

“‘Striking,’” you repeated, laughing a little at the vagueness of it. “I guess that could mean anything.”

Astarion nodded. “Exactly.” He shifted his hands up to your shoulders. “But you, my sweet, are exquisite.” 

You smiled shyly. “I could say ‘aw shucks,’ but then you’d kill me, so I won’t.”

He pushed himself away from you again. “You are infuriating.”

Dropping the books once more, you reached for his wrist as he backed away. “No, no, I’m sorry,” you said as you brought his hand to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. “Tell me more about how beautiful I am.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before his features settled into a seductive grin. He reached forward and pulled you closer by the waist. His voice was low and flirtatious when he said, “I told you on that first night I had my way with you that you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” He shifted his head to nip at your ear, “I meant that.”

A shiver went through your body and you closed your eyes. “Really?”

Astarion scoffed. “I wouldn’t willingly attach myself to just anyone, darling.” He kissed your neck. “For one thing, there’s this gorgeous neck of yours.”

You let out an amused sigh. “Go on…”

“Your eyes,” he said, shifting up to bear his crimson gaze into yours, “they sparkle like anything. I can’t say I’ve ever seen eyes more lovely.” You blinked at him, unsure of what to say. He continued, “Especially when you’re laughing. Preferably at something clever I’ve said.”

That made you laugh. “You’re not always as clever as you think.”

He smiled back at you. “So long as I keep seeing that dazzling smile, I shall make a fool of myself.” After a beat, he clarified, “But only for you.”

If you weren’t careful, you might cry. “You sweet, stupid man.”

“Speaking of that smile; that mouth of yours. I could eat you right up.” 

He bent to kiss you deeply but you pulled away to giggle. “And you have!”

“And I have,” he agreed, succeeding in kissing you this time. 

Your mouth moved against his slowly, keeping in time with him, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. As the kiss became more intense, his tongue licking into your mouth, your heart picked up speed, which sent Astarion groaning against your lips.

“That delicious heartbeat,” he said dreamily, breaking the kiss. “It’s as sweet as any song you’ve ever played, my love.”

Your eyes shot open as he brought his face down to your throat again to kiss your pulse point. Based on his body language and the sensual way he continually kissed your neck, you had a feeling he didn’t realize what he’d said. He kept talking.

“Your heartbeat means you're alive,” he placed a kiss on your collarbone. “And that you’re here,” a kiss to your chest. “With me,” a kiss atop your clothed left breast, above your pounding heart. “Not to mention it’s the source of my favorite meal,” he pulled back to look at you with a goofy grin that he quickly morphed into one of seduction. When he saw your bewildered expression, his face fell into one of concern. “What is it?”

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, attempting to keep your composure. “Astarion,” you said, your voice full of adoration, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone was instantly serious and stern. “Did something happen?” He inspected your right side as if you may have started bleeding again. 

Laughter bubbled out of your chest at his sudden shift in demeanor. This man cared for you so deeply it almost hurt. And it was so blatantly obvious to everyone but himself.

“There’s nothing wrong, dummy,” you said, tapping the tip of his nose to bring his attention back to you. 

He looked at you questioningly and saw nothing but affection in your eyes. “Then…” he leaned in closer, drawn in by the softness of your features, “what is it?”

You leaned in as well, watching his mouth and subconsciously wetting your lips in preparation for what you were about to say. “I…” you eyes began to close, “lo-”

“Tsk'va!”

You and Astarion froze, your mouths inches apart. 

“That wasn’t you, was it?” he muttered. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, swatting his cheek lightly and pulling away.

Lae’zel was standing not too far off, covered in blood, staring at the two of you with an intense ire that had you both nearly jumping away from each other. “You feeble wretches are delighting in intercourse whilst the Lich Queen lies to her kin about purification and I nearly lose my life as a result.” Astarion straightened and looked at his nails, bored. “Oh, is that all?”

You gave him a look before stepping forward to offer comfort. “What happened?”

Lae’zel looked between you and Astarion before furrowing her brows and marching off to her tent. “She may yet purify me!” she called angrily, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone.

The rest of your party stumbled into camp not far behind. They, too, were drenched in blood and looking worse for wear. You approached them immediately, Astarion reluctantly on your heels. 

“Is everyone okay?” you quickly looked over everyone and didn’t note any major injuries.

“We’re alright,” Wyll assured and nodded to Shadowheart, “no thanks to Shadowheart.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she groaned. “Let’s see if we survive the night.” She gestured towards Lae’zel who was angrily shedding her armor and shrieking frustratedly with each discarded piece.

You looked back at the others and repeated, “What happened?”

“Our little dream visitor had some rather enlightening news for our githyanki friend,” Gale sighed, wiping his brow. 

“Well hang on now,” Karlach said. “Her people, or rather, some random lady doctor, tried to kill her first!”

Wyll nodded solemnly. “Not to mention that fearsome god of hers threatened our lives.”

You inhaled sharply. Even Astarion looked surprised. “What?”

“Why do the gods favor you people?” Astarion crossed his arms. “They never answered me when I called.”

“Now, now, Astarion,” Gale said, “this was not a meeting on the most benevolent of terms.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “So were you able to kill her or something? Is that why you’re all drenched in what smells like an absurd amount of gith blood?”

“Kill a god?” Wyll laughed lightly. “Be serious, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugged. “I don’t know what you lot are capable of, we just met.”

“‘Just met?!’” Shadowheart scoffed incredulously. “And you think you could have taken on a god? You and what? Those sharp teeth of yours?”

“If you’d like to see what they’re capable of, darling, you need only ask.” He flashed her a malicious grin. 

“Astarion,” you caught his eye and shook your head slightly. 

“If killing that overgrown creep were an option, I gladly would have taken it,” Karlach punched at her open palm. “I can’t stand bullies.”

Halsin now entered the fray. “Peace,” he said calmly. “Everyone should get cleaned up and inspected for injuries, then we can discuss the events of the créche.”

You turned to look for Lae’zel, but her tent was empty. You assumed she’d gotten a jumpstart on the cleaning process. 

“Why is my book in the dirt?!” Shadowheart exclaimed. “Astarion!”

“I think it’s time I go for a hunt,” Astarion kissed you swiftly. “You can handle this, can’t you darling?” Then he took off at a brisk pace down the side of the mountain. 

~~~~~

After Lae’zel and the others had cleaned themselves up and bandaged their shallow wounds, you’d all sat around the fire to discuss what had occurred at the crèche and what the dream visitor had told Lae’zel of Vlaakith’s deception towards the purification process.

That night, Kith’rak Voss and his group of rebel githyanki warriors had visited you and your companions, telling you all that the Astral Prism held the key to Vlaakith’s undoing. He’d also promised to explain more and provide help once you reached Baldur’s Gate. 

“Why must they always be so cryptic,” Astarion had muttered to you from where you stood behind Lae’zel, allowing her to take the lead on this. “If the Prism is a source of unnamed power, then I think we have a right to know about it.” He pouted and you elbowed him lightly. 

As you were preparing to leave for the Shadow Cursed Lands the next day, Elminster appeared, bearing a message for Gale from Mystra. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you’d steamed after the old wizard left, “you’re not blowing yourself up, Gale. I won’t let you.”

“She’s right,” Astarion agreed. You turned and gave him a surprised look. He shrugged. “Sacrificing Gale to the Absolute is a waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling.” When you rolled your eyes, he amended, “And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.”

“I am touched, Astarion,” Gale said before turning his attention back on you. “Let’s save such certainty about my fate for the moment such a decision is upon us. You may feel differently, once we know what we’re truly up against.” 

Thus your party kept packing up in preparation to leave for the Shadow Cursed Lands, which Halsin had discovered an entrance to, not far from your camp. 

Upon entering, the suffocating nature of the dark hit you instantly, and you felt a shift in your party the more you shuffled into the area. 

Astarion held out an arm to stop you from going any further, away from the lit fire you’d found near the entrance. “Can you feel that?” 

“You mean the impending sense of doom?” Karlach asked. “Yeah, I feel it.”

Astarion ignored her. “The dark, it’s… hungry. Best watch the shadows.”

Lae’zel scoffed. “How can darkness feel anything, let alone require sustenance?”

“That’s not-” Astarion sighed. “Oh, nevermind. Just… stay close to the light.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Wyll said, grabbing a torch from the lit fire near the entrance. 

Shadowheart gazed into the distance, straining her eyes to see into the dark. “This place… there’s power in these shadows, I can sense it.”

Astarion snorted. “Shadowheart feeling one with the shadows. A little on the nose there, darling.”

Shadowheart shot him a deathly glare that had him look over at you for protection. You patted his shoulder in response.

“She’s right, though,” Gale agreed. “I’ve never seen such a concentration of shadow magic. We must forge on, but carefully. It will corrupt any who lack the power to control it.”

“Best get a move on, then,” Halsin siad, grabbing a torch in one hand and your party’s ox cart with the other. 

Wyll took the lead with his torch, while the rest of you grabbed your own. You and Astarion brought up the rear as you all made your way through the darkness. He was uncharacteristically quiet as you went. 

“Everything okay?” you asked him quietly, making sure the others wouldn’t be able to hear you. 

Astarion’s eyes were darting around, on high alert, but he looked over at you when you reached for his free hand with your own. “It feels like we’re being watched,” he said, returning his eyes to scanning your surroundings. “Hunted, even. But there’s nothing out there,” he looked in your direction but was focusing on the darkness behind you, “only more darkness.”

You nodded, and joined him in scanning the surrounding area. 

“I much prefer it when I’m the one prowling in the shadows, about to strike.”

“Ooh,” you said, shaking your voice as if telling a scary story, “scaaaary.”

Astarion looked at you with a scowl that you could see was concealing a laugh. “Sorry, did you want something?” He stepped closer to you, bringing his face inches away from yours. “Or just looking for a distraction?” He looked down at your lips. 

“I-” you looked at his lips as well and watched as his mouth formed into a grin. 

“Look alive, lovebirds,” Karlach turned back to face you two. “Movement up ahead.”

Instinctively, Astarion pulled you to him, shielding your right side with his body from possible attacks.

It was then that your party came across a group of Absolute worshippers, seeking passage across the Shadow Cursed Lands to Moonrise Towers with the help of a drider named Kar’niss, who brandished a magical lantern of some kind. You all played along, brandishing your True Soul statuses in order to gain favor and join the cultists on their journey deeper into the shadows. You even offered to play the Spider's Lyre, which Wyll had found and given to you in the Underdark, in order to summon the drider. 

Astarion made it a point of keeping you close, despite the cultists giving you no trouble.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, bumping his hip with your own.

He scoffed. “Oh, so you trust the arachnid is totally sane and won’t turn on us at any given moment?”

“Well-” He made a good point. While Kar’niss had done nothing to prove he was an imminent danger to you, his words were erratic and he’d snapped at you earlier for offering to carry his lantern.

“Wait…” Kar’niss hissed suddenly, holding his lantern aloft in front of what appeared to be a long abandoned house. “Something’s wrong, Majesty.”

“He’s right,” Astarion said quietly, drawing his daggers, “I can sense blood pumping in that building.”

“Should we do something?” Wyll asked.

“Shhh,” Shadowheart hushed. “We don’t know where they are, exactly. Do you want them to spring out at us while they still have the element of surprise?”

“Not particularly,” said Wyll, just as Lae’zel said “Yes,” and drew her greatsword from her back.

“Who’s there?” Kar’niss called. “Show yourself!”

From within the house came a male voice, shouting, “Harpers, attack!” 

“Harpers?” Karlach repeated.

The man continued yelling orders. “Kill the cultists… and get that lantern!”

“HERETICS!” Kar’niss shrieked. “VILLAINS IN THE DARK!”

“Soldier,” Karlach turned to you, a frantic look in her eyes, “Those are Harpers!”

Your own eyes widened. Harpers were known for protecting the innocent from evils across the realms. It made sense why they would want to attack cultists of the Absolute. 

“Wait!” you shouted and ran forward as Astarion called your name, trying to stop you. “We can help!” You spoke to the man leading this gang of Harpers.

The man looked you up and down as Astarion approached you with his knives still drawn, ready to pounce. “Hurt her, and you die,” he growled, dropping into a low stance.

You exhaled. “Sorry about the guard dog.”

“Careful,” Astarion said lowly, “I bite.” He gnashed his teeth at the group of Harpers surveying you closely. 

A woman with long curly hair stepped forward. “Prove we can trust you.”

You nodded and took your lute off your back,strumming a quick tune that had the deep purple magic of Shatter sparking at your fingertips. You turned back towards the cultists, who were now sandwiched between the Harpers and your party. You friends took the hint and drew their own weapons. 

“What are they doing?” Kar’niss eclaimed. “We thought they were True Souls! Traitors! Heathens!”

“Darling, are you sure about this?” Astarion asked, watching you carefully, checking for any signs that you weren’t ready to fight. 

You looked over at him and winked, casting a powerful Shatter that sent the cultists flying in every direction. 

The battle that followed was thankfully not as bad as it could have been, thanks to the help from the Harpers. Astarion had remained by your side the whole time, maneuvering the two of you out of the way whenever an attack landed closeby. He dutifully shielded your right side, stabbing the hobgoblin rather brutally when he lunged at you. 

When the battle ended and it was clear that no one had been injured too severely, you approached Kar’niss’ lantern and picked it up. Its chilly glow appeared to protect you all far better from the Shadow Curse than your long since discarded torches. 

The male Harper who you’d pleaded to at the start of the battle now approached you. “Incredible magic,” he said, indicating the lantern. “I can feel the light lifting the shadows - even those within me.”

Astarion laughed quietly at his remark, and you kicked the vampire in the shin. 

“Find us at the Last Light Inn,” the Harper said, pulling out a map and pointing to a small building by the river. 

“Thank you,” you said, marking the location on your own map.

“Be safe,” he said with a nod. “And be brave. We expect no less. Thank you for your help.” With that, he and his other Harpers made their way deeper into the shadows, accompanied by their own torches. 

“Could we not have gone with them?” Karlach asked.

“Probably had other Harperly duties to take care of,” Gale reasoned. 

“We should probably start heading that way anyway,” you said. “My magic’s depleted and I could use some sleep.”

“Agreed,” Halsin said, stretching his arms above his head and grabbing the ox cart once again. “It will be a relief to rest these weary bones upon a mattress for once.”

“Hmm,” Shadowheart mused, “is grass not cutting it for you anymore?”

“Far from it,” Halsin said. “But even I can appreciate the pleasures of a warm bed every once in a while.”

~~~~~

“Unfortunately, there is only one room available,” Jaheira said flatly when you all entered the inn and approached her at her desk.

Astarion scoffed. “Didn’t you just say outside that there were beds, plural, if we needed rest?” 

“It would seem I lied,” she said, looking through a book that you assumed showed current room assignments. “Oops.” She didn’t sound remorseful. “Looks like you’ll have to decide amongst yourselves who gets the room. The rest of you can make camp in the back. There’s plenty of room under Isobel’s light to keep you sheltered from the Curse.”

“Thank you, Jaheira!” Karlach said excitedly.

Jaheira smiled at Karlach’s enthusiasm and held out a goblet of wine to her. “Please,” she said, her tone suddenly very kind, “be welcome.” She handed a goblet to you as well. “Have a drink.”

“Oh my gods,” Karlach muttered, sharing an excited look with you. 

“To your very good health,” Jaheira said, raising her own cup towards all of you. 

Karlach was practically vibrating with excitement next to you. 

“You’ll have to excuse my friend, Karlach,” you said with a smile. “She’s very excited to meet you.”

She giggled, embarrassed. “Tsh. Yeah.” Her face fell just then, as if realizing she wasn’t being formal enough with her hero. She stooped into a low bow. “I mean… It's an honor. M’lady.”

“I will gladly drink to your health as well, Karlach.” Jaheira’s eyes sparkled with amusement. 

You raised your goblet to mimic Jaheira’s and went to take a sip, but were instead met with the back of Astarion’s hand. Your mouth crushed against his skin.

“You did not seriously just take a sip from a drink given to you by a stranger,” he said in horrified disbelief. 

“I was trying to,” you offered Jaheira an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t expecting to kiss the back of your hand,” you said through clenched teeth. 

Astarion took the goblet from you. “Give me that.”

Karlach had been just about to take a sip, but thought better of it and watched Astarion. 

He sniffed the contents of the goblet. “Klauthgrass,” he said with a wrinkle of his nose. 

“It doesn’t spoil the taste,” Jaheira offered, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and shoved the goblet back into your hand, training his own hands above his sheathed daggers. “She’s trying to feed you a truth serum.”

“Astarion,” you said calmly, as if soothing a startled animal, “it’s okay.” You set the goblet down and reached for both of his hands, pulling them away from his daggers. “She just wants to protect her people. You can respect that, can’t you, my love?”

“Ah,” Jaheira nodded. “‘My love.’ It is admirable that the cub wants to protect his mate.” 

“She’s not-” Astarion sputtered. “We’re just-” He groaned loudly. “I don’t trust you,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the Harper. 

“Oh no,” her tone was flat again. “How ever shall I sleep tonight.”

Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink. 

He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira.

Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well. 

“Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet.

“You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms. 

Shadowheart laughed. “Isn’t the whole reason you’re being so dramatic because your mate almost died?”

“Watch yourself, cleric,” his words were icy, but Shadowheart couldn’t contain her snort.

Jaheira took another sip. “Well over a century old and yet it hasn’t lost a hint of its flavor.”

“Let’s have a taste, then,” Wyll pushed his way forward and took the goblet from you.

“I must see for myself if Astarion’s suspicions are warranted,” Lae’zel took Karlach’s goblet, “and if the wine is as good as this woman says.”

“No, no,” Astarion said sarcastically, “let’s all partake in the poison! Shadowheart? Gale? Halsin? What’s stopping you?”

Shadowheart crossed her arms. “I’ve packed my own wine that I don’t plan on sharing with you all, thank you very much.”

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be reading a book he’d found discarded somewhere in the bar. “Pardon? Is something the matter?”

Astarion rolled his eyes and turned to Halsin who held up his hands in surrender.

“I rarely imbibe, the stuff goes right to my head. I doubt anyone wants to see that.”

“Mmm, yes, save it.” Astarion turned back to you and the others. “So we’re all going to tell the truth now, that’s great. Go ahead, Jaheira, ask away.”

“There’s an air about you,” she said, addressing you instead of the seething vampire to your right. “Something… alien.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Astarion muttered.

“Answer me true and do not lie,” she didn’t flinch when Astarion scoffed, and pressed on. “The parasite is changing you, isn’t it?”

You could feel the effects of the serum willing your mouth to form a truthful answer. You let it. “It’s trying to change me. To win me over. But I’m resisting its temptations.”

Jaheira looked you up and down. “And you’re certain you will continue to resist?” 

You nodded. “Yes.” The truth.

“Good,” you saw Jaheira’s shoulders relax. “I will take your word for it. And hold you to it, too.”

You looked over at Astarion, whose arms were still crossed. He scowled at Jaheira who turned to address him this time.

“I have every reason to be cautious.” She exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’ve traced people like you.”

“Oh, have you.” Astarion rolled his eyes for what was likely the tenth time this evening.

Jaheira tilted her head. “People with parasites in their brains. All the way here from Baldur’s Gate.”

“A long journey, indeed,” Gale said.

Astarion laughed humorlessly. “Good of you to finally join us, Gale.”

Wyll cleared his throat. “And what of the city?” 

Jaheira turned to him this time. “The cult of the Absolute is spreading through the Gate. Quietly, quickly, and with unsettling deliberation.” 

“Gods…” Wyll breathed. “My father…” Gale patted his arm reassuringly.

“We tracked them to this ancient village,” Jaheira looked down at a map in front of her displaying the entirety of the Shadow Cursed Lands, and pointed to a village not far off, “only to be faced with a man we killed and buried over a century ago.” 

“Who was - is - he?” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

Jaheira paused briefly when she saw Karlach yawn. “General Ketheric Thorm. Remember that name. He’s the leader of the Absolutists.”

“How can we help?” you stepped forward, determined.

“Ugh,” Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, my sweet, is now the time to be playing hero?”

“The vampire is right,” said Jaheira. “We can save this discussion for the morning.”

“Vampire?” Astarion repeated, laughing lightly. “What do you- I’m not-” he slumped. “What gave it away?”

She smirked. “Nearly everything about you. And I have experience with your kind.”

You and your companions snickered, and Astarion shot you all death glares. 

“Yes well… it’s been such a delight chatting with you, Jaheira, but I think now’s the time to discuss the room situation.” Astarion turned around so that his back faced Jaheira, effectively cutting her out of the conversation. 

She laughed. “When you decide who gets the room, it’s next to the bar, on the right.” Just as she was about to leave and take care of other matters, she turned back. “Do keep it down if it’s you two who get the room,” she gestured to you and Astarion. “The walls aren’t as thick here as you think they are. Those sitting around the bar will hear you and tell me all about it and I’d… prefer to remain in the dark if it’s all the same to you.”

“Jaheira!” Astarion scoffed. “What do you think of me?”

“Prove me wrong, vampling,” she winked at you and went on her way.

Shadowheart placed her hands on her hips. “Go on, Astarion. Make a case for why the two of you are in desperate need of the room.”

Astarion looked at his nails. “Well, darling, it’s just that we’ve had such little time to ourselves-”

Halsin interrupted. “I’m… going to set up camp outside. I yield my claim to the room and will gladly sleep under the stars. Or… I suppose there are no stars here. Regardless-” he turned on his heel and walked out the front door to reunite with your ox cart full of camp supplies.

“I’ll join him,” said Wyll.

“Right behind you,” Karlach agreed.

“Okay,” Gale looked around at those remaining. “That leaves four of us, considering you two as a unit.” He pointed between you and Astarion, the latter of which looked offended, but you grabbed his hand and squeezed it before he had a chance to argue.

Lae’zel adjusted her greatsword in her arms. “It is tradition among githyanki that those who performed best in battle should have the most comfortable sleeping chambers.”

Gale furrowed his brow. “Is that true? I’ve yet to read anything about that in my extended research on the githyanki people.”

Lae’zel shrugged.

Shadowheart spoke next. “It’s just that I drained so much of my magic healing everyone on the battlefield today. I think I deserve to sleep in comfort to replenish my power since we have no clue what tomorrow brings.” Then she quickly added, “Since we’re in her domain, I’d say it’s as if Lady Shar herself wills it.”

Astarion snorted. “Like hells she does.” He turned to Gale. “And what’s your excuse?”

“The knees,” Gale said, bending his knees for you all to hear an audible crack. “Too many nights on the ground will do no favors for one’s aching joints.”

You could see where this was going. There would be a constant back and forth until a loud argument inevitably broke out in the middle of the inn. You knew it was a bit devious, but you decided to get the jumpstart on ending the argument. 

You took Astarion’s hand. “Come on, Astarion,” you said with a sigh, “we can rough it outside for another night.”

He didn’t budge. “You can’t be serious, darling.”

“I am serious- Oh.” you paused in trying to get Astarion to follow you and reached for your right side. “Ow,” you said slowly.

Astarion said your name, his voice laced with worry.

“Oh gods,” you blinked your eyes several times, tears filling your vision.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Astarion brushed hair out of your face and placed his hands on your cheeks. 

“I don’t know,” you said shakily. “I suddenly got a sharp pain in my side. I think my wound may have opened again.” 

“Oh for gods’ sakes,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes and held out her hand to scan you for injuries with her magic. “You know what, if it’s that important to you, you can have it.” With that, she left after the others.

“Are you alright?” Gale asked. 

“I know what would make her feel better,” Astarion said, catching on to your ruse. 

“Do not say the room,” Lae’zel glowered at him.

“The room,” Astarion said anyway. 

“Chk,” she spat. “Fine. Have your precious alone time. But when they kick you out for pleasuring each other too loudly, I get the room in your stead.”

“Uh… if that’s the case, she can have it after you two.” Gale smiled painfully. “I shall concede as well. If only so I can grab some shut eye without your loud-”

“Ooowww,” you moaned.

“Good gods, man!” Astarion exclaimed, clutching you to his chest as if you were made of glass. “How can you think of sex at a time like this! My precious treasure is wounded!”

“I mean, Lae’zel alluded to it first-” Gale pointed to where Lae’zel had been standing, only to see that she had already left. “Ah. I guess I’ll take my leave as well.”

“Ow! Gods, it hurts!” you wailed. “Get out of here!” Astarion practically yelled at the wizard.

Gale sighed. “Goodnight you two.”

“Goodnight Gale!” you called after him sweetly.

When he turned back to look at you, you were limp in Astarion’s arms, one of your own arms thrown dramatically over your eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done!” It was Astarion’s turn to wail. 

“Alright!” Gale turned and held up his hands in frustration. “I’m going!”

When he was finally gone, Astarion pulled you into him for a long, passionate kiss. “You are the perfect woman,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll have to remind you of that the next time I annoy you,” you laughed and took his hand, leading him to the room.

Jaheira’s voice sounded from the second floor, “I would appreciate it if you did not yell while my Harpers and our guests are trying to sleep.” Despite her stern tone, her expression revealed mild amusement. 

“Sorry, Jaheira,” you whispered loud enough for her to hear you from the railing she bent over. 

“Good night, cubs.” She waved her hand and left you and Astarion to settle into your room.

~~~~~

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unfortunately tumblr thought this piece was too long (WHOOPS!) so I had to split it into two parts. The second part can be found here.

[neverendingford]

.

[kathaynesart]

The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!

One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!

We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.

With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.

The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.

Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.

Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!

[1mlei]

I absolutely love the idea that Danny kills the Joker (because creepy clowns eww) and Jason happens to walk in right as he's panicking all over the place. Danny is desperately trying to explain it was an accident, while Jason's over here simultaneously feeling the best he's ever felt since his revival and falling head over heels in love at the same time.

Very cute, very fun, wholesome murder, 10/10 will read every time.

----------

Danny: *shoving Joker's body behind dumpster in a panic*

Jason: "Is that a dead body?"

Danny, recognizing Red Hood as someone famous in the Realms for avenging murder victims: "Oh hi Mr. Hood, ma'am, sir.. See this isn't what it looks like, it was a total accident I swear on half my life!"

Jason: "Half your wha-"

Danny, still in shock: It's just he was being all creepy, and I've had bad experiences with clowns before, I and then this one had a gun so I pushed him a bit, didn't mean to kill the dude, honestly!"

Jason: *walks over to check body*

Danny: "Soo, total accident, and I don't feel like being arrested, so I'm gonna go.."

Jason, realizing that is indeed the Joker lying dead behind a dumpster: "Hang on, at least give me-"

Jason turning around and seeing his saviour has vanished: "Damn, didn't even get his number."

...

Jason: *giddily takes selfie with corpse*

----------

Jason: *patrolling in relative peace when he sees some random guy and the flipping Joker in an alley, said Joker has a gun pulled on the poor guy*

Jason: *about to swing in to save the day and take out the Joker*

Danny, faced with a clown pointing a gun at his head while ranting about all the creepy things he's gonna do: "Yea no that's not gonna fly"

Danny: *Goes full on eldritch abomination and eats the Joker's soul, leaving his body as a lifeless husk*

Jason, standing at the mouth of the alley in disbelief:

Danny, turning back into his human form: "Oh eww, so not worth it, that guy tasted terrible."

Jason: *frantically straightens his jacket, tries to fix his hair and realizes his helmet's in the way, then strikes a pose and tries to look natural*

Danny: *turns around and realizes he's not alone*("omg is that Red Hood?")

Jason, using all his rizz: "Hey there handsome, don't suppose you'd let me treat you to some dessert after a meal like that? There's a place down the street ;)"

Danny: "..What?"

----------

Alternatively, Danny and Jason were already dating but got into an argument.

Danny, walking down a street brooding thinking: "Man, I've got to figure out how to make it up to Jason, chocolates, flowers, maybe get him a book, hmmm.."

Joker: *creepy giggling as he yanks a random kid that looks like he could possibly be a Wayne into alley™*

Danny, eyes lighting up: "Ohh yes you'll be perfect, thanks dude :]"

Joker: "Wh-"

..20 minutes later..

Danny, walking into his and Jason's apartment: "Babe! I'm sorry about earlier, but I have something to make it up to you!"

Jason, peeking around the corner with a frown: "Well whatever it is it's not just gonna fix- is that the fucking Joker?"

Danny: "Yep! Don't worry he only looks dead cause I'm holding his soul hostage right now, I thought you should get to do the honours <3"

Jason:

Danny:

Jason:

Danny: "...I have chocolates and that book you wanted to read as well..?"

Jason: "Marry me"

----------

Mmmhhh yes I love this trope so much!!

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye. 

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app. 

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened. 

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever. 

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself. 

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent. 

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message. 

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot. 

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner. 

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”. 

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste. 

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out.  She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on. 

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place. 

Finally, you knock. 

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest. 

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer. 

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.  

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him. 

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.” 

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.” 

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.” 

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him. 

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.” 

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.” 

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen. 

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals. 

“Water is fine,” you tell him. 

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf. 

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed. 

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close. 

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence. 

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension. 

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.” 

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.” 

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.” 

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully. 

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now. 

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it. 

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering. 

It’s good. Better than most. 

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile. 

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin. 

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side. 

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.” 

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?” 

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.” 

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts. 

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. 

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands. 

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name. 

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair. 

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom. 

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak. 

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow. 

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat. 

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment. 

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer. 

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest. 

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!” 

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen. 

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.” 

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

[jonnywaistcoat]

When writing, did you ever suffer from a fear or underdelivering or misrepresenting a topic? If you did, how did you overcome it? I enjoy writing but rarely bring it to the public out of fear that I am either not doing good enough or badly portraying the themes or aspects of what I write.

Absolutely, and on the one hand it's a very healthy fear - it prompts you to do your research and be thoughtful in how you write. On the other hand you've just got to accept that occasionally it will happen. Inculturation is a hell of a thing, and leaves us all with a thousand kneejerk preconceptions and perceptions of the world, some benign and some downright awful. And sometimes they crop up no matter how thoughtful you try to be. And you gotta understand that when it happens and people call you on it, you just have to take your lumps and learn what you can from it.

It doesn't help, of course, that the words you write are only ever half of what your audience reads: five people reading the same book are reading five different books, each filtering the text through a lifetime of psychology and experience. And they will find themes and problems in there you never even considered, and they will also find resonances and beauty in your work that you could never have foreseen.

At the end of the day, writing stuff thats meaningful to you (hell, writing anything at all) is a messy, bruising business, and anybody who tells you there are simple solutions or clear rules to follow is either lying to you or to themselves.

But you can't let it paralyse you. Its like if you're playing football and you're worried about falling over. It's a reasonable fear and you should do your best to avoid it, but occasionally it's gonna happen, and unless you want to spend the whole game just standing still in a field, you've kinda just got to get on with it. Just try not to be one of those writers who's always taking dives and... screaming for the ref to get a free kick? Hm. That analogy may have gotten away from me. I don't actually know much about football.

Point is, I'm aware that this isn't the most reassuring writing advice I've ever given, but yeah, its a messy, scary business. Just do your best. Be thoughtful. Be kind. And always do your research.

[s-awturn]

Day Off || F1 Grid

cw: nothing but superficiality, cuteness, intimate but not obscene moments, sharing moments, mention of gossip. Just pilots resting

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I had this written a couple of days ago, but Tumblr just "ate" the only file I had and I lost everything. I was so mad I didn't even want to write anymore, but damn, This is too good a HC to waste, so okay, let's try again (remembering to save periodically this time 🫡

LEWIS HAMILTON:

You and Lewis had created a reading list to complete throughout the year, you bet there were about a hundred books on the list, titles ranging from classic literature, biographies, poems, and contemporary literature. Books that you and Lewis wanted to read together or the books you thought the other should read.

So it was common for the two of you to spend the pilot's day off reading in bed while listening to blues or jazz on the speakers. You read together, wrote reviews of the books you read and discussed them.

He was reading Percy Jackson and the Mark of Athena and you were reading Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

"So? What did you think?" He asked, marking the page he was on, Lewis had just started the last chapter and you had already finished reading.

"He does go through a metamorphosis and it's extremely unpleasant to imagine, but I've read more unpleasant books," you confessed, putting the book on the bedside table. "Four stars, and you?"

He snorted "Piper is so boring, damn she only knows how to think about Jason and how she doesn't like being the daughter of Aphrodite, so boring"

"God, yes! I don't like her either... Anyway, I'll wait for you to finish, and then we can choose the next one."

"Sure, honey," he kissed her temple and returned to reading just as Etta James began to sing "At Last." You settled into it, petting Roscoe as he lay beside you. This is the best way to enjoy your day off.

CARLOS SAINZ:

Carlos was at a stage where he wanted you to learn golf to play with him, after all the sport was a tradition for him and the Spaniard wanted you to be part of it, but you were terrible. You were really bad at golf, but that didn't make he want to teach you any less.

And well, you didn't like golf either, you didn't understand the sport, the scoring was weird, there were at least half a dozen different clubs and you couldn't even cheer.

But at least the clothes were cute and the cars were cool.

"Let's go, amor, I'll teach you," he said, going to pick you up in the golf cart. Lando, who was accompanying them this time, leaned his body on the golf club, waiting.

"Carlos, I'm terrible at this, you know," you grumbled, taking the bat he offered you. Carlos was a persevering man, you had to admit. He stood behind you, teaching you again how to perform the shot, instructing you to separate your legs and take a deep breath.

"I bet you five bucks she'll throw the ball in the lake"

"Shut up, Lando," you both said.

You followed his instructions and hit the ball...

...that fell into the lake.

"I knew"

"Shut up, Lando"

CHARLES LECLERC:

A day off for Charles meant you would get to visit his favorite spots, from a famous restaurant to a little coffee shop tucked away in a city alley. Sometimes he would take you to the south of France to see some chateau, other times he would just rent a chalet for you to be together in privacy, and you had lost count of how many times they had gone to Italy to see the vineyards and villas on the border with Monaco.

This time, you were preparing for a slightly longer itinerary, you had suggested visiting the Grace Kelly exhibit before heading to the cottage he had rented for the weekend.

"Got everything you need, mon cher?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

"It depends, I know we're going to see the Grace Kelly exhibit, but I have no idea where we're going after, you say a cottage and I don't know whether to bring a bikini or coats" you mumbled, looking at her handbag.

"Take both just in case, you know spring can have unpredictable weather"

"Are you saying that so you don't give me a hint about where we're going?" You turned in his arms, facing the pilot. "That's not fair."

"You'll like it, mon ange, I promise"

"At least tell me if it's still in Monaco..." You tried to persuade him, sliding your nails lovingly along his chin, making the Monegasque shiver and let out a heavy breath.

"You're not taking me to the siren song, pretty girl." He gave you a quick kiss and a light slap on your ass before leaving. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes."

LANDO NORRIS:

Lando's downtime with you was spent playing games, you thought it was counterproductive to fuel his competitiveness when he should have been resting, but this routine of games with you made him much calmer and more relaxed when he returned to work. Ironic? Yes, but it worked.

You two played anything, Monopoly, Naval Battle, Game of Life, Detective, W.A.R, Uno, even checkers or cards. Any game was fair game.

The problem is that you got really competitive, your friends even gave up trying to play with you because the game turned into a battlefield.

"You lowlife cheater, did you really throw a +4 at your fiancée?!" You yelled at him, Lando laughed and blew you a kiss before dodging the pillow you threw at him.

"You know how things work, honey. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you beat me."

"This will come back!" You bought the four cards he forced you to. "I really hate you."

"And you are the love of my life"

"Die, you jerk," you snapped and he laughed.

Lando could feel all the tension leaving his shoulders, playing with you always made him relax, no matter how aggressive and passionate you became in the game.

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Considering that Oscar was always traveling and there were few really usable pages in his schedule, any time the two of you could have together should be taken full advantage of, and For both of them, there's nothing better than an afternoon of movies.

You two had created a list of movies on Letterboxd and the chosen one of the day would be Interstellar.

Oscar was making popcorn while you were arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch, so what if it was the height of summer in Australia? There in the apartment, the air conditioning was hovering below fifteen degrees, keeping the room at a favorable climate for you and your boyfriend to cuddle while watching astronauts lost in space.

"I thought you were going to choose Anatomy of a Fall," he muttered, placing the food on the coffee table, popcorn with cheese, assorted snacks, chocolates and ice cream and of course, lemon soda.

"I was dubious, but you know I love any movie that has Matthew McConaughey in it," you said, getting under the covers, accompanied by Oscar, "and of course, The movie's soundtrack is perfect, I use it to study..."

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I was waiting for you, but I discovered the playlist... I'll send you the link, you'll love it"

He hummed in agreement and you pressed play on the movie, Many times you paused the film to comment on something or express your theories. It made the movie session better, Oscar didn't mind listening to you talk about it and you loved his theories.

It was, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the break.

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

He would rather be playing, sleeping or, I don't know, watering the plants, but you always dragged him to a skin care session. You spread different creams on his face, plucked some extra hairs from his eyebrows, trimmed his beard.

As much as he denied it, Max learned to enjoy it, being taken care of by you was one of his guilty pleasures. And it all got better when you started gossiping without any trace of shame. He talked about what went on behind the scenes in F1 and you shared news about work and your condominium.

"I'm still sad that Logan was let go, he had a lot of future," you said, sliding the massage stone across his face, spreading the serum into his skin.

"He's a good kid, unfortunately he wasn't ready for Formula One yet, he came in too early and couldn't adapt well... I hope he can find his place" he grumbled, sighing at the gentle massage on his cheekbones.

"Yes... Williams was very ungrateful to him and I won't elaborate on that" you said a little bitterly and Max laughed, you always positioned yourself as a defender of the poor and oppressed.

"Yes... I won't elaborate on that either... It's better"

You both were silent until you clicked your tongue.

"Uh, I almost forgot to tell you, last week there was a horrible fight at the condominium meeting.

He opened his curious eyes "You can tell me everything, dear"

"The neighbor at 1165 caught her husband with the building manager and the building manager's husband in her bed"

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding?!"

You laughed, putting away the massage stone and sliding your fingers firmly over Max's face "you had to see it, she put together a PowerPoint with photos and screenshots of the conversations"

Max laughed out loud "damn, I wish I had seen..."

"It was a real fight, they argued and everything, it was really fun to watch"

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"I will definitely go to the next condo meeting"

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[apocalypseornaw]

What If

Dean Winchester x Reader

You make assumptions after a night in Dean's bed that prove to be false

Warnings: Mention of steamy times, cursing, hurt feelings

Heat was the first sensation that hit you. The heat of a warm body curled up to your back. A strong arm laid across your stomach and warm breath hitting the back of your neck as he slept. How the hell had you ended up in this position when the two of you had simply set out to watch a movie last night after Sam had gone to bed?

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed reading a book Alex had sent you for your birthday. It was pretty good so far but you knew you wouldn't get far in it when you heard Dean singing lightly as his footsteps got closer to your open door.

You slid a bookmark in place and laid the book on your nightstand before your green eyed best friend ever Madeira to your door. You glanced up about the time he knocked “What's up Dean?” He smiled slightly “Well Sammy's gone to bed but Claire sent me a list of the top five rated horror movies. The top two we have on streaming”

A grin split your face “Go get them up, I'll grab drinks and meet you in the TV room” he winked at you “that's my girl” then turned to walk off down the hall.

You let out a sigh if only he knew what it did to you when he did shit like that. That wink, calling you his girl. The way he always invited you to watch movies, go for late night drives or how gentle he was patching you up after hunts. You shook your head to clear those thoughts out, he was your best friend. Yeah he was drop dead gorgeous but you couldn't help that you had eyes. You wouldn't ever cross a line he'd never acted as if he wanted to cross and risk that relationship.

____________________________

You were sitting next to Dean on the couch, your feet were curled up under you and Dean's favorite blanket was draped across you both. About halfway through the second movie a jumpscare actually got to you and without thinking you curled into his side, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled lightly as he tucked his arm around your body “Oh come on sweetheart. I've seen you take on shit a lot scarier than that and not blink!” You looked up at him and stuck your tongue out, trying to ignore just how close your faces were “Bite me Winchester. Real life doesn't bother me because if it can touch me and hurt me I can touch it and hurt it”

He shook his head “You're something else” you raised an eyebrow “What you mean by that” he raised his hand that wasn't curled around you to push your hair back that had fallen into your face “Beautiful, smart, badass. Pretty damn close to perfect” you could feel your cheeks warm slightly. It wasn't unusual for Dean to compliment you but it always made your stomach flip. “Oh shut up” you pushed against his chest hoping to turn this semi flirtatious moment into a teasing one but damn him if he didn't cup your chin gently and lift your head to meet his eyes before a smirk slipped onto his face “Make me”

You don't know what came over you at that moment. Maybe temporary insanity? Regardless you found yourself moving forward until your lips met his. It was just a simple kiss but something you'd dreamt of for far too long. It didn't take him even half a second to react. His hands went down to your hips, pulling you over into his lap and when the action caused a light gasp to leave your lips he slipped his tongue into your mouth rolling it against yours in a way that had you melting into him.

When you ground your hips down against his and a deep groan left him that was when reality set in. You were currently straddling your best friend, making out with him and damn near dry humping on the couch. You broke the kiss and damn near jumped off his lap. “I am so sorry Dean. I don't…I don't know what was going through my head”

He stood up, adjusting his jeans as he did so and your eyes flicked down to see a bulge that made your legs weak. The look in his eyes, damn how many waitresses and barmaids had you cussed over the years for having that look focused on them and now you couldn't think straight. “I wasn't exactly shoving you off” he replied taking a step closer and when you didn't back up he quickly covered the space between you pulling you into his arms “You're my best friend Y/N. Besides Sam no one on earth means as much to me as you do but that kiss was….fuck…if you want then this never happened. We'll turn on a different movie and nothing more”

“Or?” You asked, feeling your heart leap into your throat. A smirk slipped back onto his lips “Or we could go to my room and talk” “talk?” You repeated and he nodded “nothing has to happen”

________________________

A moan of Dean's name left your lips as he kissed a trail down your neck, his fingers slipping inside of you easily. “Fuck I love hear you say my name like that” he teased. It didn't take him long to find that one spot inside of you that had you clenching around his fingers and your legs shaking around his wrist.

He continued to pump his fingers lazily in and out of you as he worked you through the orgasm. When you weakly pushed at his wrist he caught your eyes before licking his fingers into his mouth, those sinful lips working as he sucked your juices off his fingers. “Taste as good as you look” you shook your head with a laugh “Take your pants off and get up here Dean” he grinned “Yes ma'am”

He stood long enough to slip his pants off then crawled up the bed, kissing his way up your body until he got to your lips. He caught them in a searing kiss that let you taste yourself on him. He pulled back enough to meet your eyes “Are you sure about this?” You nodded and felt his hardness pressed against your inner thigh “I want this”

He pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up with your entrance. When he slipped inside of you a moan left both of you at the feeling. He dropped his head down against your chest once he was fully inside of you to give you time to adjust. His lips left a trail across your collarbone “you feel so damn amazing sweetheart” After a moment the discomfort of the fullness of his gave way to pleasure so you turned his face to kiss him “Move Dean”

He began to roll his hips tentatively against yours and when your reaction was your eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling that was all the clearance he needed. “Eyes on me, beautiful. I want to see you come undone” it took you a minute to focus your eyes back on him and when you did he smiled almost shyly “look at you Y/N. Damn you're perfect” he pulled almost completely out of you then slammed back in. Your hands went to his shoulders, fingernails cutting into the skin as he sat a grueling pace that filled the room with the sound of skin hitting skin and both of you moaning the other's name.

When you felt yourself reaching that peak he bit down gently on your neck “Let yourself go baby. I'm not far behind. I want to feel you come around my cock, please” Dean Winchester of all men begging you to come? Christ, that pushed you over the edge with a scream of pleasure ripping from your lips.

His thrusts faltered slightly and through gritted teeth he asked “Don't you have an iud?” You nodded and he buried himself inside of you with one final thrust. The feeling of him coming worked another small orgasm out of you that had your legs shaking around him.

When he pulled out you whimpered slightly and he apologized with a light kiss “Just gonna grab my shirt to clean you up some baby ok?” You nodded weakly and felt the bed dip before Dean was knelt between your knees “Open up for me beautiful” you slowly spread your legs and he smiled “you look so fucking gorgeous like this. All fucked out” he used his shirt to clean you up as best as he could before tossing it back to the floor.

When he laid back down next to you he ran a finger down your side which caused you to squirm. “I'll go to my room once my legs work” He slipped his arm around you to pull you back against him “Take your time. No rush”

Every insecurity and what if started to flip through your head. Dean wasn't a settling down type. He didn't like attachments because he knew that put a target on them. He cared about you enough as a friend to put himself in danger. This wouldn't work. Either he'd not want this and feel some sort of obligation from your years of friendship or worse he would feel for you what you truly felt for him and it would end with him getting himself killed to keep you safe.

______________

It took some work to slip out the bed without waking him but you managed it and slipped your clothes on quickly. You needed a shower and to get the hell out of the bunker for a few minutes. You just needed to clear your head. It was supply run day. Groceries were needed and mail needed to be checked. You'd tell Sam to let you handle it. That would give you breathing room.

When you parked your car back at the bunker Sam came out to meet you and help with bags. When you glanced behind him he shrugged one shoulder “Can I ask something that may not only be none of my business but may be uncomfortable too?”

You nodded “We've known each other for a good chunk of our lives so I'd say yeah” he grimaced as he ran a hand across the back of his neck “I heard you and Dean last night so I thought…I don't know what I thought but did something happen? Because he seemed upset that you left while he was asleep”

“Sam, I didn't want to make things weird for Dean. You know my feelings” he nodded “but did you ask him his or just assume?” You didn't have to say anything Sam saw the look in your eyes. “He's in the library cleaning guns. I've got the bags”

________________

You could hear the clinking of metal when you got closer to the library. You stopped right inside the doorway and watched Dean for a moment. The way he handled the guns was a thing of beauty. He could probably break them down, clean them and put them back together in his sleep at this point.

He didn't look up from the colt before saying “You made it back in one piece” you nodded lamely “Dean can we talk?” He laid the colt down and raised his eyes to meet yours “Let me guess where this is going. You had a good night but don't want nothing to change”

You swallowed hard under the intensity of his stare “Can I talk without you putting words in my mouth?” He waved a hand to say go ahead “Dean you're my best friend and I love you, I fell in love with you. Last night was fucking amazing but I don't want to make you regrets things, you don't do love, you don't do relationships”

“because why? Dean's a man whore that just bed hops? Because Dean is incapable of love? Because despite us being best friends for over a decade there's no possibility that I fell in love with you too? There's no possibility i fucking wanted to wake up with the woman I love in my arms?” You flinched at his tone despite your heart flipping at his words “You love me?” He stood up and walked around the table “How could I not?”

You took a step back putting your back to the wall. He stood right in front of you, leaning a hand on the wall just over your head but giving you room to move “I love you Y/N. I'm in love with you. Last night was everything. Now what other demons are lurking in your head cause you know I don't mind taking on each and every one of those sons of bitches”

“What if you get hurt protecting me?” You asked and he smiled “baby I'd do that now but I know for the most part you can handle yourself and don't act like you're not self sacrificing either” you laughed despite yourself “What if you get bored of one woman?” He grinned “unlikely but we can always role play sweetheart. Believe me I mean it when I say you're fucking perfect for me”

“What if…” he cut you off by saying “What if you stop giving me excuses and let me kiss you? We could both die tomorrow and if that happens it happens but I'd rather have a day knowing you were completely my girl then live the rest of our lives just having part of you. I'm yours, you mine?” You nodded “Always. Now kiss me” He grinned “Yes ma'am”

[grison-in-space]

I'm sorry? Pigeons have to coo to ovulate?

okay, okay, I left this one out in the tags without elaborating the other day and you were not the only person who asked-- @nanavn and @corvus--caurinus were also curious. I did not have a ton of time yesterday when my brain was not leaking out my ears, so here I am today.

First, I apparently misremembered my grad school teachings: the best-documented case study of doves being required to hear their own coo in order to ovulate is that of the ring or Barbary dove (Streptopelia risoria), not the rock dove which gave rise to our domestic pigeons (Columba livia). They look like this:

They're the domestic doves you see sometimes that aren't domestic pigeons.

But yes, I was completely serious: hens need to very specifically hear their own nest coo to ovulate. The way it works is this: these doves have a very specific courtship pattern, where courting males at different stages of the nesting process perform first a "bow" coo, then a nest coo. Then the hen makes a nest coo back, and the pair goes on to build a nest together in which the hen will lay fertile eggs.

If you prevent the hen from producing this coo--and the first paper I've linked does this in several different ways with both neural lesions and also mechanical blocks of the synrinx--she will not ovulate. Then Dr. Cheng tried rescuing the effect for doves who could hear but not produce their own coos by playing back recordings of devocalized doves' own nest coos, recordings of other hen's nest coos, recordings of male nest coos (their own males, I think, for preference?) and no recordings at all. Hen nest coo recordings, especially the recordings of the hens themselves, were enough to rescue ovulation effect... but deafened hens who could, themselves produce nest coos weren't able to make ovulation happen half the time even when the male was right there. The male nest coo and his mating display is really important, because his coo stimulates the female to make her nest coo, and that's where ovulation starts.

In 2003, a little over a decade later, Dr. Cheng wrote a whole book chapter about auditory self-stimulation as a phenomenon in neuroendocrine shifts. It makes for pretty interesting reading! I'm going to really enjoy it this afternoon. Stimulated ovulation is actually a pretty common phenomenon in animals--often it makes more sense to only bother ovulating if you know there's a partner around to use whatever eggs you yield up--but this one is one of the most interesting and elaborate systems out there, and definitely the one that offers the most options to a given female dove to potentially consciously control her reproductive output.

But grison, you might ask, what about the doves outside my window? Is this just a function of this one dove species, or are lots of doves doing this to make ovulation happen? So I went looking to find out whether anyone has checked. The thing is that the heyday of pigeon behavioral research has faded somewhat in the intervening decades since Dr. Cheng's discovery, so there's not as much as I might hope where people sat down to investigate the question. I did, however, find a neat study on Columba livia demonstrating that auditory stimulation is more important to courtship displays and success than visual displays are, although of course the multisensory courtship is stronger than either sensory modality alone. So yeah, the cooing back and forth really loudly is part of a display that is functionally necessary for successfully producing offspring, and the auditory component is important for basically every pigeon that has been studied in this respect (albeit that number is pitifully small).

I also found this really interesting review of known uses of birdsong to set internal emotional states in birds (either for the self or for a partner or flockmates) that I want to look into with more detail, plus this really thoughtful review from Dr. Donna Maney talking about how "incentive salience" can use learning and experience to make certain cues bring up neuroendocrine changes in state over time, which helps individuals control how their endocrine system is reacting to stimuli in the world they've been shaped by. Clearly I have some reading to do...

[atinyfeels]

ateez: he compares you to his ex [2]

『 pairing: bf!ateez x fem reader ╺ requested? yes ╺ genre: mostly angst, slight fluff 』

warnings: slight cursing, depression

word cout: 6.1k

notes: I ended up writing this while at work and I got carried away -C ╺ May 3rd: Yeosang’s has been completely rewritten - C

masterlist | part one

Seonghwa:

"y/n!" you heard someone call from behind you.

You didn't have to guess who it was, his voice was engraved in your mind. But that didn't mean you were planning on stopping for him. Pushing the door opened, you made your way outside and headed towards the parking lot. You were barely half way to your car when you felt someone grab your arm and turn you around.

Seonghwa stared at you, his face showing concern when he noticed your red puffy eyes. "I am so, so sorry."

You scoff and look away from him, "It's not exactly your fault. I pushed you to go out with me. I pressured you when you were vulnerable. I thought that I could be better for you, that you would be able to move on with me. But I guess I was just getting my hopes up."

Seonghwa was shaking his head at every word you said. He cupped your face with his hands and gently made you look up at him. "I have no excuse for what I said to you. But don't put yourself down for what I said to you. It was not okay for me to say those things to you, it was rude and obnoxious." You swallowed hard, and blinked away the tears that kept building up. "I have no more feelings for h/e/n, I promise you. The two of us are just friends. But you and I, we are much more than anything my ex and I had. Accepting your confession was the best thing that ever happened to me. I will do anything to make it up to you, I promise you."

You licked your lips and stayed silent for a moment, processing his words. "I just...I just need some time, Hwa. There are some things I need to think about. Is that okay?"

He nods quickly, "whatever you wish, take as much time as you need. I'll be right here whenever you're ready."

You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Once you pulled away, you gave him a small smile before turning around and leaving him in the parking lot.

It had been one week since you last spoke to Seonghwa. He kept his promise and gave you as much space as you needed. His missing presence made your home feel so lonely. The thoughts of endless movie nights on the couch and staying in bed together with your bodies entwined. The first night you stayed on the loveseat, not wanting to be in the large empty bed.

You spent most of your time by the window, either watching the spring rain fall or reading a book. It didn't matter what you did, Seonghwa was the only thing filling your mind. You weren't okay with what he had said to you. Nobody should be. You knew the pair was still friends, but they weren't close anymore. Once they broke up and agreed to be friends, there wasn't much contact between the two. But what Seonghwa said still hurt, for the first two months, he was had started drinking more and went partying most nights. Hongjoong felt like he had no control over him.

The rain was hitting against your window, the dark clouds made it seem like it was much later than 5 in the afternoon. You had just poured yourself a new glass of wine, ready to continue your book when your phone began to ring. Setting the glass down, you walked over the kitchen and picked the device up off the counter. Hongjoong was the only thing it said on the screen. This couldn't be good.

"Hello?"

"y/n!" Seonghwa slurred into the phone. there was a commotion on the other side of the phone as he heard Hongjoong yell his members name. "hi honey." his voice sounded so sweet, which made you even more confused. "I've missed you. Joong told me not to call you, so he took my phone away, but I got his instead."

"Seonghwa, have you been drinking?"

He hiccupped into the phone, " a little? I didn't go to a club or anything, I promise. I was feeling mopey, because I missed you and Yunho suggested that we should drink something. I'm at the dorm, I promise." Hongjoong had given up on trying to get the phone from him. That or Seonghwa had went into a different room. It was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I fucked up, didn't I? I hurt you and now I've lost you."

You sighed, "Seonghwa."

"I tried so hard not trying to ruin this relationship. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect you. I didn't want you to realize that you deserved better than me. And in the end I hurt you." He choked out a sob, making your heartache.

You weren't mad at him anymore, you just wanted some space. You wanted to clear your thoughts of everything before talking with him again. "Seonghwa, is Hongjoong there?"

There was a sound a shuffling before Hongjoong spoke. "Hello?"

"So, I'm going to come pick him up, can you take care of him for me until then?" you ask in a sympathetic tone. "I'm really sorry for this."

"Don't worry about it, I've got him."

You thanked him before you hung up the phone. As you grabbed your bag and jacket, your shoved your feet through your shoes and rushed out the door. It was only a ten minute walk to the dorms from your apartment. Yunho opened the door for you and stepped aside as you made your way to your boyfriends bedroom. He was sat against the wall and his knees brought to his chest.

"Seonghwa." His head lifted up quickly, staring directly into your eyes.

"y/n." He stands up and makes his way over to you, "what are you doing here?" His eyes moved over to Hongjoong who was attempting to sneak out without being seen. "I'm sorry for calling you so abruptly, I've been chugging a lot of water and I'm starting to sober up."

"Seonghwa," you say again, making the man stop talking. You sighed and looked at his puffy eyes. This wasn't what you wanted. You didn't want to hurt him like this, you didn't want to hurt him at all. You just wanted all of this to be over with. "Let's go home, yeah?"

Seonghwa stared at you, processing what you said to him before nodding. "please."

Hongjoong:

Seonghwa stayed quiet as he listened to you explain to him what had happened with Hongjoong. The words were choppy as you were crying, your voice shaky. You hadn't realized how much of a burden you being towards Hongjoong. He had never snapped at you before, it was all a new feeling for you.

Seonghwa reached over and rubbed your back softly, "I'm sure he didn't mean to. He's been really stressed out lately. Coachella, the comeback, the upcoming tour and his ex leaving him is just icing on the cake. I'm not making excuses for him, how he reacted and what he said was completely unacceptable. But I know what he's like when he's stressed. He says things he doesn't mean."

You swallowed hard and nodded, "I should probably get going. Work isn't going to finish by itself." You wiped your tears and stood up, giving Hwa a small smile. "Thank you."

"Uhm," he started before you could walk off, "maybe tonight, we can meet up and get something to eat? We can invite the others too if that would make you feel more comfortable."

"That'd be nice, would probably make me feel a lot better," You agreed.

He nodded. "Great, I'll message you the details later."

After you clocked out of work, Seonghwa sent you a message to meet at a local restaurant that you usually go to as a group. You didn't bother to go home and change your outfit to something more casual, you just wanted some alcohol. The restaurant was only a short walk from your office, so it didn't take you long to arrive.

"Back again I see!" The owner beamed with excitement when she saw you.

You smiled and politely greeted her, "this is the best restaurant on the street."

She laughed at your comment. "Don't you know how to make an old woman smile. Are you meeting with your friends? If you are, they haven't arrived yet but your back corner table to open if you'd like."

You smiled and thanked her before heading to the back of the restaurant. Given the weekday, the restaurant wasn't busy as it usually was. Only a younger couple and a table of three men dressed in suits. You placed your jacket behind your chair and sit down, your back to the door. It wasn't long before the chair beside you skid against the floor, causing you to look up. To your surprise Hongjoong was standing beside you, nobody else in sight.

"Joong," you whispered as he sat beside you. You turned around to see if the boys were with him but they weren't.

"It's only me," Hongjoong told you, making you turn back to him. "Is that okay? I was hoping we could talk."

You nodded as the owner came by and placed a couple of waters in front of you. "I'm sorry," you said once she was out of earshot.

Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you confused. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing. I took my anger out on you for no reason and said hurtful things."

"I know, but I knew you were stressed and I still pushed your buttons. I knew that you felt I was pestering you and I ignored all the signs. I'm really sorry for bothering you so much," you say looking up at him.

He shook his head. "I had no right to take my anger out on you. What I said to you was mean, and it never should've been said. This break up has been really hard on me and it's starting to cloud my judgement. I don't mind if you try to comfort me, you're much better at it than most of the members. I will do better with how I control my words and actions towards you.

"I will do better at trying to read the signs, and I apologize if my feelings for you were overbearing."

Hongjoong paused and looked at you confused. "Feelings for me? You have feelings for me?"

You mentally slapped yourself, guess your crush wasn't as obvious as you thought it was. "S-So are the other members planning on coming? I don't want to order without them."

"Wait, backtrack. You have feelings for me?"

You opened your mouth to say something when you heard a collection of voices come through the door. The remaining 7 members all went to the back to the room and joined you and Hongjoong at the table.

Seonghwa sat across from you and gave you a cheerful smile. "Did we miss anything."

You quickly shook your head, ignoring Hongjoong's shocked expression. "Nothing at all!"

Yunho:

You began picking at your fingers, looking around your apartment. You had been sitting her for well over 30 minutes, trying to find the strength to begin cleaning. Yunho's words echoing in your mind. You hated how he was right. Your depression was becoming an excuse for everything at this point. You didn't clean your apartment, you hadn't been eating properly, making excuses not to meet with friends and spending all your free time locked in your room.

Yunho walked out of your bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. "y/n?" He flicked on the ceiling light and looked over at you. "it's 7 in the morning, what are you doing up so early on your day off?"

You couldn't find the words, your mind was racing. You didn't want to explain to him that you spent all night watching motivational videos on YouTube. You opened your mouth to say something but instead you choked out a sob and broke down. Yunho quickly rushed over to you and put his hands around you. He held onto you as you both moved to the ground and cried. You felt like your were shrinking, like you were a small child who wanted to run away from the scary things.

"Shh," he cooed softly in your ear as he ran his fingers through your hands. "It's okay. You're okay, I'm here." He patiently waited for you to calm down, constantly repeating over and over again that you were going to be okay and he wasn't going anywhere.

Once you had finally calmed down, you laid your head against his chest and sniffled. "I have depression," you confessed. Yunho didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I went to the doctor about it about a month ago, she referred me to a therapist. Everything seemed fine at first but then the more I worked and came home on repeat." You stopped and took a deep breath. "It started to get worse. Everyone's been so busy and I didn't want to burden anyone. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to worry you. I thought that I could handle this on my own."

Yunho pressed a soft, long kiss at the top of your head. "I'm such an asshole. I'm so sorry I called you lazy, honey. I didn't even think to ask if everything was okay, I just automatically assumed things without talking to you about it first."

You turned and looked up at him. "You're not the only one in the wrong here. My therapist has been pushing me to tell a person. I should've spoken to you instead of trying to do this on my own." You swallowed hard, "I've been watching motivational videos all morning to try to help get me started. But the second I stepped out here, I couldn't do anything."

"Well, there's two of us and one apartment. I will help you do the laundry, clean the dishes and take the trash out," he offered, looking around the room before he looked back down at you. "Would that be okay or is that too much in one day?"

You shake your head and give him a small smile. "I think that'd be great."

"I'm going to start coming home more often, even if it's really late," he tells you, making your eyes go wide. "I don't mind the distance and we're just finishing up promotions. I've been missing you like crazy, the space between us is too large." You smiled and leaned up, giving him a long kiss on his lips. When you parted, he smiled and stood up with his hands on his hips. "Now, where should we start?"

Yeosang:

“Come on! You’re going to love it!!” Yeji shouts as she drags you into the house party.

“I’m really not in the mood for this, Yeji!” You tell her.

The house was flooded with people dancing to the loud music and drinking. You didn’t know half the people that were here, hell you weren’t sure if you knew anyone. Yeji was invited by someone from her workplace and insisted that you came with her. Someone bumped into you, making you huff and move closer to her. You kept walking until Yeji found a guy who was waving her over.

“Minho!” Yeji says, embracing the taller man into a hug.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Minho says before letting her go and looking over at you. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is y/n! It’s her first party!” Yeji tells him. You send him a polite smile and wave.

He nods, smiling at you. “I can tell.”

You zoned out the couple and looked around the room. There weren’t many people in this room, mostly people talking or lounging on the couch. You hated being here, you just wanted to pull Yeji out of here and go home.

“You must be a homebody,” someone says, making you look up to find one of Minho’s friends now standing beside you.

You nodded, “yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“I’m Chan,” he tells you, reaching out his hand for you to shake. He noticed your hesitation and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

This made you smile a little before you took his hand in yours. “I’m y/n.”

“Here take this!” Yeji appeared handing you an unopened hard seltzer. “It’s new out of the box and it’ll help with your nerves.”

You watched as she disappeared back to Minho before you opened the can and took a drink. She wasn’t joking when she said it helped with your nerves. You weren’t a lightweight so you weren’t going to get drunk or tipsy off it but it definitely calmed you down. For a while you found yourself chatting with Chan, it wasn’t anything flirtatious but he made you feel more comfortable.

The current song changed to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter and you let out an excited hum. “I love this song!”

Chan laughed at your excitement, “Well would you like to dance?”

“She’s fine,” a voice says behind, making you look over to find Yeosang staring at Chan.

You furrowed your eyebrows and cross your arms over your chest. “What if i want to dance with him?” This caused Yeosang to snap his head towards you. “Who are you to say what I can and cannot do?”

Chan cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Neither you nor Yeosang looked up from each other as Chan left the two of you alone. This was your first time seeing Yeosang since you stormed out of the studio a week ago. You hated how he still looked gorgeous as ever.

“What are you doing here?”

Yeosang crossed his arms over his chest, “I should be asking you that. Since when do you come to party like these? Yeji called me and said you needed to be taken home because she left Minho.”

“Yeji called you?” You asked confused, turning around to find Minho & Yeji gone. You groaned, the least she could’ve done was at least given you a heads up. Unless, this was her plan all along. You mentally face palmed your self and groaned. “Damn you, Yeji.”

“I’m not going to force you to leave,” Yeosang assures you. Of course you knew that, you knew better than anyone that he wouldn’t do that to you. “But I will be the one you’re leaving with tonight. You don’t know these people.”

You swallowed hard at his last sentence. “I thought I knew you.” You didn’t think he heard you, but the look on his face made it obvious he heard.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand. You allowed him to lead you out of the party and towards the main road. He helped you into the passenger side of his car before getting in the driver side and pulling off. “You haven’t spoken to me since the day at the studio. I tried calling you the other day but it went straight to voicemail.”

“I’ve been busy, that’s all,” you tell him trying to brush off the conversation.

“It’s because of what I said the other day isn’t it?” he asked, making you look over at him. “About h/e/n?” Your silence was enough confirmation for him. “y/n, i promise you i don’t think that about you.”

“Then why did you say it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Do you not know how much it hurts to hear someone compare you to another person and say you would never compare?”

Yeosang chewed on his bottom lip unsure of what to say. “I don’t know. I guess I was trying to be funny but I wasn’t even thinking about your own feelings.”

You felt the tears build up, “It hurt so much. To hear being compared to someone who is considered perfect to people. Someone who’s considered perfect to you.”

“She’s not!” Yeosang immediately says, reaching over and grabbing your hand in his. The action made your heart skip a beat. “She’s far from perfect, I promise you. y/n, you are the most stunning person I have ever met. you light up the room when you come in. when I saw you talking to Chan, almost dancing with him I felt jealous. Maybe even a little possessive. I never felt that way with h/e/n.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Yeosang pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building and parked the car. Once the car was shut off he turned and looked you in the eyes. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. Even when i was with h/e/n, I knew that it wasn’t her I was having those feelings for. It was you.”

You swallowed hard and placed a hand on his cheek, “don’t hurt me again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he tells you before leaning over bringing his lips to yours.

San:

When the group arrived to the amusement park, you stayed glued to Hongjoong's side. Every ride you rode on, you sat between him and Seonghwa. During lunch time you sat them and kept most of your conversations with the two of them. Near the end of the night Hongjoong and Seonghwa began to realize what was actually going on.

San wasn't bothering to talk to you. Instead he was hanging around Yeosang & Wooyoung the whole day. Neither of you spoke to each other or even looked at each other. Hongjoong looked over at Seonghwa, who nodded his head towards a ride that he knew would get the two of you to talk.

Hongjoong picked up on the idea and spoke loud enough for the whole group to hear, "You know, it's almost the end of the night. Why don't San and y/n go on Ferris wheel together?"

Your head shot up towards Hongjoong, who was smiling towards you. San pressed his lips together as the other members started to chime in, agreeing with the idea.

"That's okay," you tell them, holding your hands up in defense. "The line looks pretty long and we don't have that much time left. Maybe we could find a ride that has shorter lines?"

Seonghwa shook his head and put your hand on your lower back, pushing you towards your boyfriend. "That's why we bought the fast passes, the 7 of us are going to go ride another ride while you two ride this one. We will meet back at the entrance once we're all done. Sound good?"

Before you could protest, the 7 boys rushed away from you leaving the two of you alone. Your eyes flicked up at San, who was peering down at you. You did not want to be alone with him right now. San sighed and started making his way towards the Ferris Wheel, you following close behind. The line wasn't nearly as long as you made it out to be, only a couple of people were ahead of you.

"You think she's cute?" you heard someone say behind you.

You looked up to see who the person was talking about, to find two boys from the other lane staring directly at you. Quickly, you turned around and kept your eyes forward.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?" you hear San say, making you look up as he stands behind you, blocking their view. San huffed and leaned down, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. "As if they'd have a chance to take you from me."

His words made you blush but you stayed quiet, still unsure of where to two of you stood. The line took under 10 minutes before the two of you were in a cart together. Instead of sitting beside him like you'd normally would, you sat on the opposite side of him.

San stared at you, as if he was trying to read your mind. "What's going on, y/n?"

You looked away from the sunset and up at your boyfriend. The shine of the golden sun on his skin making him look even more gorgeous. "I didn't want to upset you with being to clingy, so I've been doing my best not to disturb you. You seemed to be fine spending your day with the boys. I'm sorry for inviting myself on your day off."

The cart came to stop at the top of the ride, giving San an opportunity to move beside you. He took your hand in his and gave the top of it a kiss. "I'm sorry, for being so harsh. I could've said it nicer than as harsh as I did. I guess I just felt embarrassed. Wooyoung had been teasing me about you, saying that you get my full attention and you're glued to my side whenever we're together."

You frown and placed a hand on his cheek, "San if I'm doing too much or making you feel uncomfortable in anyway, I'd prefer if you come to me instead of saying hurtful things."

"But you don't!" San quickly said. "I'm not uncomfortable and you're definitely not doing to much. I love how clingy you are. I love how you constantly hold onto me whether it be my hand or just the sleeve of my shirt. I don't want you change that, in fact do more." You gave out a soft chuckle. "I'm really sorry I let Wooyoung's jokes get to me. I don't even know where that comment about h/e/n came from. I promise you, I was just being an insensitive jerk."

You give him a small smile and pat the top of his head, "well I'm glad you were able to admit your mistake and be honest with me. However, Wooyoung & I are going to need to have a serious talk."

San smiled at you and leaned over, giving you a kiss on the lips. The ride went another time around before two of you got off. Holding hands, the two of you made your way towards the entrance of park. The group of boys were huddled around a bench, waiting for you.

Seonghwa was the first person to notice the two of you. "Looks like everything is back to normal."

Once you two reach the group, Wooyoung gave you both a confused look. "When were you two ever not okay?"

You squinted your eyes at him and let go of San's hand. "Oh, you'd like to know all about that wouldn't you?"

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he turned and started to dash out of the park, you following closely behind. The rest of the group laughed as they started to walk out, watching as you chased Wooyoung' to the car. Wooyoung's shouting echoing from afar.

Mingi:

It had been a week since you last went to take Mingi any food. Hongjoong has been reassuring you that the younger member was eating properly, but he hasn't mentioned you since. You had occasional small talk with your boyfriend, but it wasn't like it was before. There was a tension in the air and it wasn't that hard to figure out why.

It had been a week since you last went to take Mingi any food. Hongjoong has been reassuring you that the younger member was eating properly, but he hasn't mentioned you since. You had occasional small talk with your boyfriend, but it wasn't like it was before. There was a tension in the air and it wasn't that hard to figure out why.

Tonight you were preparing yourself to go to meet the boys at dinner for Seonghwa's birthday. Mingi was the one who brought it up but Seonghwa was the one who invited you. You stared at yourself repeatedly in the mirror, debating whether or not going was the best idea. The sound of your phone vibrating on your desk made you tear your eyes away and look over at the screen. Mingi’s name appeared on the screen with hearts next to his name.

“Hello?” you ask after hitting accepting the call and bringing the phone up to your ear.

There was a silence on the other end making you think he called by accident. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you say softly, unsure of what else to say.

Mingi stayed silent before clearing his throat, “uhm, so would you want to ride together to the party?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Although still hurt after everything, you weren’t going to deny that you missed your boyfriend. “Okay, what time?”

“I’m actually at your door right now.”

You blinked and walked out of your bedroom, heading towards your front door. When you opened the door you came face to face with a rather nervous Mingi. You brought the phone down and ended the call, staring at him with a surprised look.

Mingi put his phone in his pocket before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Your eyes widened, Mingi was never the type to initiate contact like this. You were always the one to hold his hand, hug him and, for the most part, even kiss him first. Your arms wrapped around his waist, accepting his warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you,” he says, pulling away slightly and setting his forehead onto yours. “You were just checking up on me and taking care of me. I’ve been so stressed with the comeback, the tour and traveling that I took it out on you. It’s not excuse but I really am sorry. This week has been torture, it’s not like when I'm away for concerts. I don’t want to be apart from you, I don’t want space. I want you, y/n. I want your clinginess. I want your daily texts asking me how I'm doing. I want the lunchboxes you bring me everyday knowing well I forget to eat. I want you, y/n.”

“Shh, I really don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you tell him. You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing your finger against his skin. “Can we just move on from this and go to the party?”

Mingi moved his head to the crook of your neck. “Screw the party, I can think of other things we can do.”

The feeling of his lips leaving kisses on your neck gave you goosebumps. You let out a soft sigh, “Seonghwa is your member and he wants you there. Plus, who are you to turn away a good party.”

Mingi hummed against your skin and whispered in your ear, “we can be late. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Before you were able to respond Mingi lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He started walking into the apartment, your lips pressed against his as he closed the door behind him with his foot.

Wooyoung:

You stared at the blank canvas that was begging for you to paint on it. You hadn’t even prepared the paint yet because you knew you weren’t going to get anywhere. Your mind was flooded with grey thoughts, none of them giving you inspiration for a new piece. Sighing, you stood up from your stool and walked out of your office.

Ever since your argument with Wooyoung, you had lost all motivation paint. Painting was your way of escaping reality and right now it felt like reality wouldn’t leave you alone. You walked into your living room, heading towards the couch when your front door opened. Startled, you picked up the closest object to you (which so happened to be the remote control) and turned around to fine Wooyoung standing by the door.

Wooyoung looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “do you really think you can fight off a person with the remote?”

You glared at him and crossed your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here?”

Wooyoung slipped off his shoes and stood in front of you. “We need to talk.”

“You couldn’t have called me? Or at least given me a heads up that you were on your way over? Scaring the crap out of me could have been completely avoided,” you told him, expecting him to crack a joke but all he did was stare at you with a blank stare. You stared at him and felt your heart drop for a moment. “You’re breaking up with me.”

Wooyoung swallowed hard and opened his mouth to say something but he stopped himself. You knew that the fight you had was a bad one, especially with how it ended, but you never knew your relationship would end like this.

“I said a lot of things that hurt you the other day and it wasn’t right,” he started, running his fingers through his hair. “I compared you to someone who broke me in so many ways that I didn’t even know were possible. Someone who took every insecurity I had and held it against me. And you…you are nothing like her. You treat me with respect and I feel like a goddamn prince when I'm with you. You’ve made me the happiest person I have ever been.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused by where he was going with this. “So why? Why do we have to end it all? You said it yourself, I make you feel like the happiest person.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says. You watched him as he sighed and took a seat in your couch. “You deserve a person who will treat you just as great as you treat them. A person who won’t accuse you doing things with other people. A person who could trust without holding anything back. You deserve so much better than me, y/n.”

You could feel the tears build up as you stare down at him. “What if I say no?”

“y/n—“ you cut him off, “I don’t want to be in some perfect relationship. I don’t want some perfect guy who sweeps me off his feet and makes no mistakes. I want to be with you, Wooyoung. I’m in love with you.”

Wooyoung was crying now, tears on his cheeks as he looks at you. “I do nothing but hurt you, y/n. You deserve so much better than me.”

You cupped his face into your hands and brought your lips to his. The kiss was soft and only lasted a minute before you pulled away. “I told you from the beginning that I knew you were going to have a hard time trusting me. But I need you to believe me when I say, there will never be anybody else. Unless you absolutely want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he says before you pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have said those words to you. I got scared and insecure, and I acted without thinking it through.”

You didn’t respond, you just ran your fingers through his hair as he hugged you tightly. Of course this wasn’t going to be your final fight but it was the one that changed a lot in your relationship.

Jongho:

“Ugh, I'm starving!” Yeji groans as your friends make your way into the restaurant.

The place was packed with young college students celebrating the end of the semester. The four of you found a spot in between two couples who both seemed to be unfazed with the capacity. A young waitress comes over and takes your order before she disappears to the back of the restaurant.

“I need a drink,” Sumin says, not wasting any time cracking open a bottle and pouring herself a shot.

“At least we should take one together!” Chaeyoung says, watching as Sumin tosses her back as she downs the shot.

Sumin slams the glass on the table with a satisfied ‘Ah’. She picks up the glass again and starts to fill everyone else’s glasses with the alcohol. “Cheers!”

“To what exactly?” Yeji asks.

“To finally getting y/n to come out with us!” Sumin says.

You roll your eyes playfully and take the shot as the same time as the girls. The alcohol felt bitter against your throat as you swallowed it and set the glass on the table. “Please, you know I’ve been busy with work.”

“Hey, is that Jongho?” Chaeyoung asks, causing the group to turn toward the television.

You followed their heads and saw a picture of Jongho & his ex being photographed together at a restaurant. The gossip reporter was talking about the rumor of the two of them getting back together and being spotted over the past weekend. You swallowed hard and looked away from the TV.

Sumin looked over at you with a concerned look. Out of all your friends, Sumin was the only one who knew about your relationship with Jongho. She knew about the break up too, she insisted on you telling your other friends but you were too embarrassed by falling so hard so fast.

“I heard she’s blackmailing him,” Yeji speaks up, gaining everyone’s attention. “Apparently she found out a he was seeing a girl and she took photos of them. She told him that if he doesn’t get back with her that she’s going to release the photos.”

Chaeyoung nodded, “I heard that too! He ended up breaking up with the girl because he wanted to protect her from the public.”

“The ex sounds insane,” Sumin chimes in dramatically, giving you a look, “I don’t know why anyone would choose her.”

“I-uh…I’ll be right back, and if I'm not. I’ll call you,” you say, quickly getting up and heading out of the restaurant.

“Where are you going?” Chaeyoung called after you.

“She’s going to get her man,” Sumin says loud enough for you to hear.

Once you got outside, you got into a taxi that just dropped a group of girls off and gave them the address to Jongho’s apartment. You quickly paid the fare and rushed inside the building. Instead of taking the elevator, you took the stairs to the third floor and walked up to Jongho’s door. Standing up straight, you caught your breath and knocked on the door.

It didn’t take long before Jongho opened the door, confusion on his face when he spotted you. “y/n? what are you doing here?”

“Is it true?” You asked, not giving him much information. “Did she blackmail you into breaking up with me.”

“H-How did you know about that?”

“People in the industry are talking about it. If it’s true, they know that she’s blackmailing you. They are saying you broke up with me because she was threatening to expose us,” You say quickly, “so is it true? You didn’t actually want to be with her? You don’t still love her?”

Jongho stayed quiet, unsure on if he should confirm or not. But what was the point of denying it if you already knew pretty much everything? “Yes, she’s blackmailing me.”

“Jongho, I don’t care if she releases anything that has to do with us,” you tell him, taking his hands in yours. “And even if she does have anything on us, it’s most likely not much considering we don’t go out much to begin with. Your true fans will support you if you’re dating a person or not. I don’t want us to end what we had because she thinks she can hold something against us. That is…if you want to be with me.”

“Of course i want to be with you, y/n,” he confesses, pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t confess to you on a whim. I confessed to you because I have feelings for you. I should’ve stood up for myself, for us and told her to screw off.”

You pull away and look up at him, “You did what you thought was going to protect me. I’m not going to be upset with you for that. But no matter what she tries to do, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jongho smiled and leaned his forehead against you, “I’ve missed you so much.” You smiled back at him and brought your lips against his.

[mncxbe]

Taking a bath with them♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Genre: fluff/ slight nsfw♡

Not requested but I wanted to write this for a while. enjoy♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

he's a bit tricky at first cuz he's reluctant to let you see him without bandages, but if you keep insisting he will eventually indulge you

"Only this one time, bella" he says but he loves it so much that now you take baths together on a regular basis

sometimes the baths are quite romantic: with bubbles, scented candles and rose petals; other times he will bring rubber ducks and insist you play with him.

definitely helps you wash your back if you ask him♡

"Hehe, soapy tits" is something you hear every time there are bubbles

uses baths as a form of aftercare too

"Hey Osamu" you say as you stepped into your shared bedroom "I wanna ask you something"

"Sure, bella. What is it?"

"So I've been thinking and I'd really like to take a bath with you"

Dazai's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your proposal. "But bella, it's late plus it's really hot outside. Do you really think it's the best time for a bath?" he asked in a doubtful tone.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pursed your lips "I guess you're right. Sorry I bother you sweetheart".

Your boyfriend noticed the hint of disappointment in your voice, an overwhelming feeling of guilt taking over him. He hated to shut you down like that but he didn't think he was ready to take off his bandages in front of you. Unless...

He quickly discarded the book he was reading on the mattress and made his way to you, arms locking around your waist "Actually, I think I could use a bath. And you never bother me, my sweet belladonna"

You agreed to let him prepare the bath and half an hour later when you walked into the bathroom you were met with a deep scent of vanilla. Dazai had filled the tub to the brim and was now submerged in the water; the only source of light was provided by a few scented candles, their flickering flames illuminating the curls of steam that rose from the tub.

You didn't know how your boyfriend did all of this in thirty minutes but it was more than you could've asked for. With a giddy smile on your face, you dropped the cotton towel that was wrapped around your body and tip toed to the tub. As you slid in some water spilled over the edge. You leaned against Dazai's chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist to hold you closer.

"So, is my pretty girl satisfied?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, thank you Osamu. I'm really happy" you replied in a cheerful tone, gently sweezing his forearm.

He chuckled lowly as his fingers started gliding up and down your thigh. "And is there anything else I could do to make this evening ever better?". His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, his honeyed voice making you rub your thighs in anticipation; you needn't look at him to know that he had that mischevious grin plastered on his face.

When his hands got close to your core you seized his wrists, pushing him away.

"Not now Osamu. Let's just enjoy the bath please"

"As you wish, bella" he replied in his usual amused tone. He rested his elbows on the edge of the tub as he took in your figure; the tips of your hair that reached the water and seemed to bloom, floating around like sea anemones, the soft round of your shoulders, the arch of your brow. A warm feeling nestled into his chest, making his heart beat faster and he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. He closed his eyes, allowing the hot vapors to cloud his senses.

"Thanks for doing this with me, love"

"Anytime" you replied, leaning further into his touch.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

he has one of those huge, fancy jacuzzi tubs with pretty lights

when you first ask him to take a bath together he's all for it. he preps the tub, brings champagne, grapes and other little snacks for you to enjoy

he's a romantic so for sure he has tall red candles engraved with intricate patterns

loves to cuddle you and always offers to wash your hair or massage your tense shoulders while whispering sweet nothings

when you're done he will wrap you in a fuzzy bathrobe and do some skincare with you

It's been a long and stressful week at work and you couldn't wait to get home and finally rest. You quickly tapped the six digits code, nails clicking against the glass screen of the digital lock, and you entered your apartment. As you slammed the door shut and started taking off your coat, your mind was so clouded by sheer exhaustion that you didn't even notice your boyfriend lounging on the couch. His voice suddenly snapped you out of that state.

"Hey darling. How was work?"

"Oh Chu dear. I didn't expect to see you tonight." Your boyfriend worked late hours and at the end of the week he was usually caught up in meetings, so you were used to him coming home well after 10 p.m.

"Well, I decided to come home early today and spend some time with you. Plus, I have a surprise" he said as he got up from the couch, beckoning you to follow him.

"I don't know Chu. I'm really tired tonight I just wanna go to sleep" you whined, causing the man to smile sweetly.

"Oh trust me dear, you're gonna like this."

You followed him to the bathroom and he slid the door open. The large tub was filled with steaming water and bubbles; the few candles placed on its edge cast a warm light over the walls of the room. Next to the window that overlooked the gleaming city laid a little marble table with two empty glasses and a bowl of white grapes.

Your eyes glittered with joy as you turned to face your partner "This is amazing thank you so much Chu"

"Come on, get in. The water's gonna run cold" teased your boyfriend "I'm gonna go get us something and be right there with you."

You quickly slipped out of your work uniform and slid into the water, allowing its warmth to relax your tense muscles. Your gaze drifted out the window to the city, its buildings shining against the dark blue sky; no matter how many times you saw it, the view never ceased to fascinate you.

Soon after Chuya returned with a bottle of cold champagne and poured some in the crystal glasses before joining you in the tub.

While you sipped the sparkling wine you talked about trivial things: work, plans for the weekend, good and bad things that happened that day. At some point Chuya pulled you closer to him, his face nuzzling the crook of your neck and for the first time in weeks you were able to relax.

"Thank you darling" you spoke softly, your fingers gently stroking his red curls. "This is wonderful. We should do this more often"

You felt him smile against your neck, a chuckle escaping his lips "We shall, if you wish so. Now let me wash your hair dear"

You nodded eagerly, reaching for the shampoo bottle. He took his time to massage your scalp and then moved on to your shoulders, earning a soft moan from you when his thumbs rubbed your sore muscles.

"Just relax and let me take care of your, okay?" he whispered as he planted a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed him to work the tension out of your body.

By the time the bath was ready you were fully relaxed and half asleep.

"Can we go to bed now?" you managed to utter between yawns "I'm sleepy"

When you got to bed you snuggled up against his chest, slender fingers entangled in his hair. "You smell good Chu" was all you said before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Your boyfriend only chuckled, arms snaking around your torso. He whispered a sweet I love you before shutting his eyes, letting your steady breath lull him to sleep.

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

it takes a lot of patience and effort to get him to take a bath with you because he's lowkey kinda scared of intimacy and doesn't like not having rashomon with him; it makes him feel vulnerable

the first time you bathe together he is a blushing mess and he does his best not to look at your body but after you reassure him that it's ok to look he'll relax a little

uses baths as a form of aftercare or to cheer you up after a stressful day

although he doesn't admit it, he loves it when you put scented oils in the water

he has a little table next to the tub so you can drink tea while bathing♡

not a big fan of keeping the lights on but he does like candles

His first impulse was to say no, to shut down your initiative and hide in the bedroom for the rest of the evening, but the pleading look on your face made him hesitate.

"Come on Ryu it'll be fun. Consider this a bonding experience." you said with a wide smile.

He wasn't keen on your idea to take a bath together, but he knew that even if he refused today you'd bring it up again tomorrow or in a couple of days. So why not get it over with?

"Alright" he replied in a harsh tone "But make it quick"

Your smile grew even wider as you nodded eagerly, making your way to the bathroom to prepare the tub. "Just give me a few minutes"

In the meantime Akutagawa retreated to the bedroom to mentally prepare himself for the bath. Once again his worries were haunting him like a pack of hyenas; although you had been together for quite some time he still wasn't used to closeness. Even during intimate moments he kept Rashomon close by and you didn't seem to mind it, but he knew it would be absurd to bring his coat in the bathroom. And what if he messed it up and ruined the experience for you?

His train of thought was interrupted by your voice "I'm ready Ryu. Come here"

He took in a deep breath, pushing the racing thoughts to the back of his mind and hesitantly made his way to the bathroom. When he opened the door and saw you in the tub, wet hair running down to your chest and cheeks slightly flushed from the steam, his face turned a deep shade of pink. The back of his hand came to cover his mouth, something he did whenever he was nervous.

He quickly undressed and neatly folded his clothes, placing them on the laundry basket before stepping into the tub with you. At first he avoided looking at you, afraid of what you might say or do, opting to focus on the light herbal scent that lingered in the air.

You found his uneasiness absolutely adorable. He was fiercely gripping the sides of the acrylic tub, fingers curling over its edge. His eyes were darting around the room and his face was getting paler by the second. You nudged his thigh with your feet, making him jolt in surprise.

"Relax, Ryu. You look like you've seen a ghost" you snickered "Do you dislike this that much?"

There was a trace of worry in your voice which made your boyfriend curse himself.

"No, it's not that. I really like it it's just that..." he paused for a secons but you enouraged him to continue. "I'm still not used to being this close with someone, to doing such domestic things. It's strange"

You tilted your head to the side, a few strands of hair falling over your face as you flashed him a smile. "I know it's hard for you Ryu, but you can let your guard down and be vulnerable around me. I'll always be here for you and I'm really proud of how far we're come"

His body visibly relaxed at your words and he sighed loudly. "I know. Thanks for being so patient with me dear."

"Eh don't mention it. After all, I do love you"

Love... he thought as he held your gaze, your eyes sparkling with joy and for the first time since you started dating he said it back.

With a swift movement you got on your knees and leaned in, placing a small peck on his forehead "I know, dear. Don't worry about it"

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐

he is constantly complaining abour the water temperature

bro is restless. it's a miracle if you get him to sit still for ten minutes; but a good way to do that is to ask him to tell you about cases he solved

if he gets bored he will start a bubble fight

he also brings along some snacks which can be annoying sometimes since crumbs always end up falling into the water

always asks you to wash his hair and back

lowkey has a thing for bath bombs

"Ranpo, stop that!" you whined as your boyfriend threw a handful of bath bubbles at you.

"Not until you pay attention to me" he said with a pout, preparing to launch another ball of foam at you.

"Alright, alright I got it". You closed the mystery book you were reading and carefully placed it on the table next to the tub. "Happy now, you little baby?"

Ranpo's lips stretched into a grin, his vivid green eyes meeting yours "Very much sugar cube. Now don't you want to hear how the world's greatest detective solved today's mistery?"

You crossed your arms over your chest and returned an enthusiastic smile "Go on. I'm all ears"

"So there was this guy that was planning to bomb three diners, right? And he sent us a note this morning announcing the time of the attacks and stating that we will never be able to guess the locations. Of course, Kunikida panicked because we only had three hours to find and disarm the bombs but I saw right through it. This whole charade was only meant to distract us from the real plan: the robbery of a bank. So silly, he really thought was going to get away with it" He spoke with such an unshakeable confidence that you could barely contain the proud smile that rose to your lips "So then we took care of the bombs and prevented the robbery. Quite an easy day I could say"

"You know Ranpo, sometimes I wonder how you do it" you chuckled lightly.

He pointed at his head with the lollipop he was eating, his eyes gleaming with mischief "It's all up here darling"

You gestured him to give you the candy but when he extended his arm you seized his wrists, yanking him forward; he fell on top of you, the sudden motion causing some water to spill on the ground. "Aha I got you now!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"What was that for?" he whined, wiping the bubbles off his face with the back of his hand.

Just as he was cleaning his eyes your fingers slid through his hair and grabbed a fistful of it, pulling him into a passionate kiss. A moan escaped Ranpo's lips as he returned the kiss, his arms resting on the edge of the tub for support. (You knew how fond your boyfriend was of such saccharine affections.)

When you eventually pulled away he rested his head on your chest and began kneading the plush of your hips. "My o my I didn't know you liked my stories this much. I'll make sure to tell you more" he teased

"You're amazing darling. But I'd really like to finish my chapter now. Do you mind if I read?"

Ranpo hummed against your chest and you started running your fingers through his brown locks to give him something to focus on. With your free hand you picked up the book, struggling a bit to flip through the pages.

You have been reading for roughly ten minutes when your boyfriend suddenly mumbled something.

"What's that, dear? I didn't catch it?"

Ranpo straightened himself and looked you dead in the eyes before repeating what he just said.

"The main character dies at the end. Her cousin kills her because she'd been embezzling large sums from their company and the main character found out. She didn't want the secret to come out, you know?"

"You little-" you yelled, tossing a handful of foam at him. Ranpo only laughed, leaning in to capture your lips in a quick kiss. "Don't deny it sugar. You love me"

"You bet I do. But your ultra deduction really spoils the fun sometimes."

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

[hughjackmansbicep]

The Seamstress

Contains: Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: Youre a seamstress and he seems to have an endless supply of holey clothes....

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: None :D

a/n: haiiiiii ive always loved this trope in fics !!! tehe!! srry for not writing much recently i got fired from my job LOL anywayssss... i was listening to the smiths writing this unrelated but related.

Most days bled together, the same mundane routine playing out in front of you each day. Wake up, go to work, go home, eat takeout, and pass out to some soap opera. Currently, the highlight of your life was finding out what was going to happen next on The Days of Our Lives. You were a seamstress in the middle of Manhattan; you owned a small shop off 64th, and although you were living out your dream, nothing excited you anymore. Every task felt exhausting; you couldn't even find passion in sewing anymore. That was until he stumbled into your shop.

“Hi, yeah, I was wondering if you'd be able to sew this up for me.” He grumbled, holding up what appeared to be some yellow and blue jumpsuit. You'd almost forgotten to respond, completely captivated by his sheer beauty. His gorgeous face, chiseled body, kitty-like hair, and you can't forget the unusual yet totally working for him mutton chops. “U-um, ahem, yeah, I totally could.” You manage to choke out, reaching for the clothing item. “How long do you reckon it'll take?” You examine the clothing carefully; it's decorated with rips and holes everywhere. He's lucky if I can get this finished by the end of the week, “Tomorrow.” Your mouth moves quicker than your brain can. “Cool, I'll come by at 10? Is that alright?” He asks, slowly backing out of the shop, his eyes never leaving you. ‘10am? I can't begin to do that either; I mean, I wouldn't get to sleep tonight’. “Yep! See you at 10!” Cure that mouth of yours; you give him a smile and an awkward wave as he makes his way out the door.

You blow your breath out as if you'd been holding it the entire time, sinking down into your chair. You silently cursed at yourself for agreeing to such a stupid timeframe, but this meant you could binge Days of Our Lives tonight, so maybe it wasn't half bad.

The rest of the day went just as you expected. A couple hems, a few cinches—nothing out of the ordinary apart from the comic book cosplay you agreed to revive back to life. It was currently 3 o’clock in the morning; you'd been sitting there sewing the garment for 7 hours. Honestly, you'd been making great time; you were so close to finishing, maybe 20 stitches left total. Somewhere between the last stitch and a doctor getting slapped, you'd passed out on your living room floor.

You'd awoken to the feeling of your feline licking your cheek, causing you to immediately shoot up off the floor. Your eyes frantically searching for a clock, the power Must’ve gone out sometime around 5 in the morning because that's all you saw flashing back at you on the stove. In a frenzy, you started throwing random clothes on, praying they'd match, shoving the costume in a garment bag, and running out the door. Thats when you finally looked down at your phone, seeing the time read 10:03, “God damnit.” You whined under your breath. Your shop was only a couple blocks away, but that was still a 15-minute walk, so you sprinted. You probably looked like a complete lunatic, but you couldn't care less right now. The incredibly hot customer probably waiting outside your doors was the utmost important thing on your mind.

Dripping in sweat and hyperventilating as you turned the corner to where your shop was, you saw him just as you thought you would. Leaning up against the door, one arm crossed over his torso as he took a drag from his cigar with his other. God, he looked heavenly, and you... Well, maybe not your best day, but definitely not your worst. “Hey, sorry I'm late.” You breathed out, hands resting on your knees as you caught your breath. “But I've got your thingy.” You hold the garment bag up; he just furrows his eyebrows at you, cocking his head to the side. His silence makes you feel more embarrassed than you already do. You get up to unlock your doors, ushering him to follow you inside.

You check him out at the register; the only words being exchanged were the cost of the repairs and where he can tap his card. He walked out with a smile and a nod, a soft ‘Thanks’ escaping his lips before the door shut. You throw your head in your hands, feeling shame wash over you. You were hoping and praying he was going to leave his number on the receipt, but obviously he did not. I mean, why would you have had him waiting and showed up looking like a complete mess? Not very good looks. You simply had to chop it up as a loss and return back to the mundaneness of your life.

The very next morning, though, he was here again, this time holding an old brown jacket. He'd said there was a small hole in the pocket he wanted fixed. This time it only took you all 20 minutes. You asked him to wait upfront as you brought the jacket to the back to repair it. When you returned, you checked him out the same as before, and he left exactly the same as before. This became an everyday routine for the two of you. Every day he'd walk in with some worn-out article of clothing asking you to stitch it up; you always obliged, even if the clothes looked and smelled like they came from 1987. You always did wonder how this guy had so many ripped-up clothes just lying around, and why wouldn't he just bring them in all at once?

This charade had been going on for 2 weeks now when you finally decided to break from your usual script of ‘thank you, come again’. “Why is everything you own torn apart? Is everything okay back home?” You asked as he slipped his card into the machine. You could see the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to hide a smirk creeping its way on his face. “You want me to be honest with you?” He looked up at you, pursing his lips together in a thin line. You nodded your head, waiting for him to continue, “I honestly thought you were gorgeous when I first walked into your shop.” Now your cheeks started burning red as your eyes went wide. “So every day since then I head into Goodwill and find anything I can with a hole in it so I can find an excuse to come see you.” This was the first time you'd ever seen this man avoid eye contact with you. You couldn't find your words as your throat had gone dry. He was into you??? And here you were this whole time thinking you ruined your shot (and that he was homeless, but you weren't going to tell him that). 

"Well, say something.” He exasperated, snapping you out of your daze. “I honestly don't know what to say; I’m shocked. I get off at 6 if y’know... You wanted to grab something to eat?” You offer awkwardly, smiling through the pain of how anxious you sounded. He looks up to you finally meeting your gaze, a soft smile painted on his lips. “Ill be here to pick you up at 6 doll.” He grabs your hand, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckle. He walked out the door, leaving you in utter shock and denial for the rest of your shift.

hi ps u can always request me shtuff to write! :3

[static-radio-ao3]

hit me with your best shot

romance writer regulus & hitman james - 4.4k, referenced sexual content + deeply unserious but hopefully fun!

for @arsonfaerie <3 happy birthday, maggie!

Regulus Black loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining.

He likes the escape romance books provide. To retreat, even for a few hours, somewhere warm and safe. To provide that for other people.

Except, some people don't seem to appreciate his approach. He scrolls through Goodreads reviews with mounting horror and a sinking feeling. Dorcas, his literary agent, always tells him to pay it no mind, but Regulus can't help it. He minds a great deal.

He taps on a one-star review. Most reviews rate the book quite high, but the low ratings still sting.

"Stop that," Barty says, waving a fry in front of Regulus' face to get his attention.

"Stop what," Regulus replies flatly, eyes trained on the words unrealistic and unimaginative. A reviewer by the name of magswrite claims that "Regulus Black wouldn't know romance if it hit him in the face. And at this point, I think it should hit him in the face for the great disservice he does to the genre at large."

There's more, but before Regulus has the chance to read it and weep, Barty snatches his phone out of his hands. "Enough," he says, leaving no room for argument.

"Give it back." Regulus swipes for his phone but Barty manages to hold it out of reach, dropping it next to him on the red vinyl booth.

"Not until you get a fucking grip."

"They say I don't know a thing about romance," Regulus whines petulantly. He slumps in his seat and snatches a fry from Barty's plate, munching on it with a pout. "Just because I'm not the most experienced, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about."

He grabs another fry, somewhat aggressive dipping it in the mayonnaise. He bites it in half and hovers the fry over the sauce again. "Can I double dip?" he asks.

Barty shoots him a dry look. "Regulus, I've licked your asshole. Yes, you can double dip in the fucking mayonnaise."

"So crass," Regulus sighs as he covers the rest of the fry in mayonnaise.

Regulus has never dated, but he's not completely inexperienced. Barty was happy to be his first and second and third and, well, they kind of lost count at some point. But they decided early on it wouldn't be more. Couldn't be more.

That's fine with Regulus. He's never been particularly interested in dating. That's not to say he's not interested in a relationship, but it's just that the prerequisite steps to get into one never quite worked out for him.

People don't like Regulus. He's too uptight, too closed off, and too hard to read. Never mind the fact that he writes books for a living.

Regulus is somewhat of a fortress. Except, there are no walls to be scaled or broken down. The only way to get inside, to get to know Regulus, is to be patient enough to be handed a key.

Only a few people have one of those keys. Barty, for one. Dorcas, his literary agent and friend, has another. His brother had one, but he left. Took the key with him. Regulus went to great lengths to change the locks.

"Hey." Barty nudges his foot under the table. He studies Regulus for a moment, always a little too observant for his own good. As if reading his mind, he says, "Maybe it's worth another try. Just put yourself out there, you'd be surprised what you'll find."

LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO TAKE ME OUT

>> jfp_: Hey, I saw you’re looking for someone to take you out?

>> jfp_: I’m James, by the way.

>> rab_: Hi James! Yes! I just think it would be good for me…

>> jfp_: How do you want to go?

>>rab_: Do you mean where?

>>jfp_: Sure, that too.

>>rab_: I think dinner seems like a good place to start.

>>rab_: But if we want to be a little adventurous, I’ve always wanted to go skydiving…

>> jfp_: I can work with that. Friday, 7PM?

>>rab_: It’s a date!

He'd called Barty in a panic because what does one wear to a first date?

Sure, Regulus has written plenty of dates but he's never thought about what his characters are wearing. Which features they want to accentuate or hide. Which colors match their eyes and which ones wash them out.

Hess on his third outfit of the day and poses awkwardly in front of Barty, who simply shakes his head and sends him back to his closet to change.

"And where did you say you found this guy?" Barty asks as he sucks noisily on a lollipop.

"I didn't say.” Regulus’ voice is muffled as he rummages through his closet. He has an emerald green silk button-down, but he's worried that might be a bit much for a first date. He pops his head out to tell Barty, “Craigslist."

Barty's head whips towards Regulus so fast he worries he pulled something in his neck. "I'm sorry, what?" Barty manages, voice strained.

"I put up an ad on Craigslist."

"Why on God's green earth would you look for a date on Craigslist?"

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"Because it's Craigslist! Oh my God.” Barty squeezes his eyes shut like he's suddenly plagued with torturous visions. “He's probably a pervert. Or a serial killer."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Use a dating app! Ask your friends to set you up! Go to a Barnes & Noble and look confused in the History section! Ask the barista out! Literally anything but putting up an ad on Craigslist!"

Regulus genuinely doesn't know how none of these things occurred to him. He's a romance writer, he can write a meet-cute in his sleep.

He's aware of the existence of dating apps, he's aware of the fact that his barista always doodles a little heart next to his name when he orders a drink to go, and he's probably not even above looking confused in a bookstore in the hopes that someone will approach him.

But still, knowing things in theory and doing them in practice are wildly different. It's the main reason he's even going on a date in the first place.

"How was I supposed to know?" He cries out, head in his hands.

"Common sense!”

Regulus whirls toward Barty, pointing an accusatory finger in his face. "Don't talk to me about common sense, Mr. Public Indecency Charges!"

"Those are actually more common than you'd think."

"Barty! What do I do?"

Barty heaves a deep, long-suffering sigh and pushes himself out of Regulus' desk chair. He takes a few steps towards Regulus, who thinks he might get an encouraging speech, something touching and inspiring and world changing.

But it's Barty, so he says, "Bring pepperspray," as he flops down on Regulus' bed. Regulus wrinkles his nose.

"Get off my bed. You're in your outside clothes."

"Why does that matter? It's not like you minded when Rosie and I fucked on your bed."

"You did what?” Regulus asks, incredulous. “When? Why? Is this some sort of psycho-sexual thing?"

"No, of course not,” Barty says like it's obvious, which it isn't. “It was just for Rosie's back. The couch was giving him trouble."

Every sentence out of Barty's mouth is worse than the last. Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You and Evan fucked on the couch? Wait, more importantly, did you wash the sheets after?"

"Of course not, it'd be weird to do laundry at someone else's place."

And maybe calling Barty for help wasn't such a bad idea after all. This date no longer feels like the worst thing that could possibly happen to him.

Really, how bad could it be?

Regulus is chronically early. He'll show up anywhere with several minutes to spare, usually the first person to arrive. So when he spots James Potter across the room as soon as he enters the restaurant, a pleasant little thrill runs through him.

He makes his way to the table, tucked away in the corner, a little secluded and offering the illusion of privacy in the bustling restaurant.

“You must be Regulus,” the man says when Regulus stops in front of his table. Their table. His voice is pleasant. Low and smooth.

"You're... handsome," Regulus says. Not at all the first thing one should say to a perfect stranger on a date, but well, James is handsome.

He has the messiest head of hair Regulus has ever seen, but it doesn't make him look disheveled. Instead, he looks charming and inviting.

His glasses would make anyone else look severe, but on James, they just draw attention to his beautiful eyes. Dark and deep.

When he stands to greet Regulus, Regulus notices that he’s wearing a black turtleneck tucked in smart black trousers and shiny black loafers.

"Why do you sound surprised?" He asks, head tilted to the side as he sizes Regulus up. He fidgets under James' gaze, hoping that nervous sweats won't show through the green silk shirt he's wearing.

"My friend thought you'd be a pervert. Or a serial killer,” Regulus offers with a shrug. The comment makes the corner of James' mouth quirk up in a not-quite-smile.

James has a nice mouth, Regulus decides. In the back of his mind, he runs through descriptions he might use in his books. Like he's on the verge of telling a joke, already enjoying the laughter he'll incite. Like he's got a secret tucked away and is just about to confide you in.

"Oh, I'd never be a serial killer,” James jokes as he pulls out Regulus' chair for him. “I'm a hitman."

It startles a laugh out of Regulus. He covers his mouth with his hand, as if to keep the sound from escaping but it spills out anyway. James smiles a milimeter wider at the sound, and it feels like a personal victory to Regulus.

He drops down into his chair and glances at James when he moves to sit again. At the way his trousers tighten around his thighs with the movement.

"Mh, a much more honorable profession,” he replies, eyes shifting back up to James' face.

James winks at him. "My thoughts exactly.”

“I wanted to say thank you,” Regulus starts. He shifts in his seat, suddenly nervous. “I know it was rather… unconventional to post an ad like that on Craigslist. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, I just kind of panicked.”

James waves his hand, as if physically batting the comment away.

“Don’t even worry about it. Stranger things have happened. I've actually never taken anyone out like this before.”

The statement makes something flutter in Regulus' stomach. For a moment he thinks it's hunger, but then he realizes it's the ripple of butterfly wings.

“Oh?” He asks, trying for casual. He's not sure he succeeds.

“Yeah, it's usually not as fancy. Less pomp, you know?”

“Well, I feel honored.” And he does. A flush crawls up his throat and settles on his cheeks. He hopes James can't see it in the low light of the restaurant, but Regulus suspects that James is a very observant person.

They order and chat and drink and Regulus, to his own surprise, is having a great time. James makes him laugh and asks questions, but also doesn't push.

When the food arrives, Regulus takes a quick second to send a text in the group chat he has with his friends.

>> reg: So far, so good! Very handsome and NOT a serial killer👍

He sees that a few of them read the message right away and the three dots that pop up indicate that someone is typing, but he tucks his phone away again before he can see who or what, attention on James again.

He smiles as he looks at the food, but the white powder sprinkled on top makes him frown.

He glances at James, who looks at him expectantly, as if eager to see Regulus take that first bite. He must really love the food here, Regulus thinks.

With another quick smile at James, he turns in his seat so he can flag down a waiter. “Hi, I'm so sorry but this seems to have… parmesan on it? I'm lactose intolerant…”

“Oh, I see! Terribly sorry about that, sir. I'll get you a new one right away.”

“Whew,” he tells James, “crisis averted.”

James hums, but he seems a little confused.

“I'm lactose intolerant,” Regulus clarifies. “It's very not-sexy so I won't go into detail, but nothing good happens when I eat cheese and such.”

“Ah,” James says.

“Please eat!” Regulus says with a gesture towards James' own plate. “I wouldn't want your food to get cold.”

“Nonsense, I'll wait.” And the simple gesture makes butterfly wings flutter even quicker. He takes a sip of wine in an attempt to drown them.

The rest of the meal passes smoothly, no more food-related incidents. Regulus keeps a a watchful eye on all the food he eats, not wanting to have to cut the date short because of a stomach emergency.

James insists on dessert, so they split a lemon sherbet between them, one of the few lactose-free options on the menu. James seems vaguely disappointed that they don't get the tiramisu, but the sherbet is so good, Regulus doubts James minds for long.

“I have a surprise,” James says once they've paid.

Regulus wasn't sure what the proper first-date-bill-etiquette was, but before he could worry about it, James had slipped the waiter his card and took care of it.

The butterflies returned with a vengeance.

“Oh?” Regulus asks, interested piqued. “Do tell.”

James' laugh is warm and easy. “Well it wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would it?” The flickering lamp on the parking lot casts James in a warm yellow glow, accentuating his nose and his jaw. He looks like an angel in disguise.

James drives them to the city center, he'd even opened the car door for Regulus. He thought that was just a romance trope, not an actual thing people did. He's pleased to be proven wrong.

He watches the city lights flash by as they get closer to their destination. Their destination that is still a mystery to Regulus, by the way. He recognizes some places they pass but James' doesn't slow. Not until they're at the big, blocky building that has an arcade, a cinema, a laser tag arena, and an adventure park, whatever that is.

“Couldn't take you skydiving at 10 p.m.,” James starts as he helps Regulus out of the car, “but I figured ziplining might also do the trick.”

Regulus gasps, touched.

Apparently, you can zipline off the roof of this particular building and land on the next one where they have a beautiful rooftop bar.

The two of them pay for the harness and the gear, listen carefully to the instructions provided by the slightly bored attendant. Her blonde hair is choppily cut, the edges dyed pink as if she did it over her own bathroom sink.

James and Regulus take turns helping the other suit up. James' hands are warm and big, holding onto Regulus' waist to stabilize him as he steps into the harness. James fiddles with the back clasps for a second before declaring that Regulus is all set.

Regulus then does the same for James, securing the clasps and making sure all the straps are pulled taut and tight. And maybe he steals a look or two at James' ass, but the harness does wonderful things for him and Regulus is a simple man.

They talk easily as they wait for their turn, the to girls in front of them jittery and nervous. It occurs to Regulus that he should probably also feel jittery and nervous right now, but James makes him feel so at ease.

He's about to tell James as much when the attendant calls out, “WAIT!”

The urgency in her voice startles Regulus away from the ledge. She hurries over, tugging on her lip piercing in a worried fashion as she unclips Regulus' harness. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “The wire is fraying!”

“What does that mean?” Regulus asks, eyebrows pinching together in concern.

“That means this thing could've ended really badly, holy shit. I'm so glad I caught it. I'm sorry sir, I have no idea how this harness made it through our inspection. I assure you that we prioritize out clientele’s safety above all else. If you want to cancel your reservation for tonight, I absolutely understand. You'll get a refund of course—”

“Oh, well, I don't think that'll be necessary! Maybe we can still do the zipline. That is, if you still want to?” He turns to face James, directing his question at him.

James has his arms crossed in front of his chest, an impressive frown on his face as he looks at the faulty harness.

Regulus steps in closer to him, lowering his voice. “Hey, it's not your fault. She caught it in time and I'm completely fine. I'd still really like to do this, but if you're uncomfortable…”

James snaps out of his annoyance when Regulus touches his hand to James' chest. “No, let's do it,” he says, that easy smile returning. As long as James is with him, Regulus thinks he's as safe as can be.

The zipline is exhilarating. A thrill shoots through Regulus as he flies through the night sky, city lights blurring around him in a neon dream. James is flying next to him, arms stretched wide.

Regulus copies him and for a brief moments their fingertips touch, sending a fresh thrill down Regulus’ spine.

They land on the rooftop bar windswept and energized, a restless hum under his skin. He understands thrill-seekers now. That rush of adrenaline is unlike anything he's felt before. Although he wonders if the feeling is caused by the zipline or by James.

And he understand, now, what that reviewer meant about Regulus not knowing romance. He never knew it could feel like this. So thrilling and exhilarating yet comfortable and safe. James awakens in him emotions he didn't think he had and he is suddenly grateful to Goodreads reviewer magswrite for forcing him out of his books and into the real world.

He giggles helplessly into James' shoulder, the turtleneck soft under his cheek and the scent of fresh laundry filling his nostrils.

“That was…” but he doesn't finish his sentence, simply gazes up at James. He leans in, just the slightest bit, breath coming a little quicker. His eyes flutter shut and he hears the way James’ breath stutters.

Before their lips can connect, James jerks away. “Sorry!” He says loudly, not quite a yell but a near thing.

Regulus tries to ignore the sting. It's not weird to not kiss on the first date, he reasons. Maybe James needs more time.

Regulus takes a step back, removing himself from James' personal space. He tries to muster a reassuring smile, but it feels watery and thin, like he could burst into tears at any moment.

It's fine, he tells himself. Don't be a baby.

He feels a little unsteady now that he has removed himself from James' orbit and he mutters an excuse about needing to use the bathroom.

He calls Barty, who picks up on the second ring. “What?” He asks, breathless.

“Barty? Why are you out of breath?”

“Busy,” is all he says in return.

“Yeah, sorry, I… My date is going well but I tried to kiss him and he—”

A loud moan cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Are you having sex right now?” Regulus cries out. He ignores the pointed cough coming from one of the stalls.

Barty grunts in affirmation.

“Oh my God!” Regulus closes his eyes and is met with the mental image of Barty and Evan. He immediately opens them again. “Why did you pick up?”

“Case of emergency.”

Regulus can’t even find it in himself to feel touched at the sentiment. While it is kind of sweet, it is also deeply unhelpful right now. “I swear to all that is holy, if you are in my bed…”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Barty pants as if a few hours ago he didn't admit to having done that exact thing.

Regulus doesn't bother with a response. He simply hangs up the phone and shoves it into his pocket with perhaps a bit more gusto than strictly necessary.

He glances at himself in the mirror, taking a quick second to fix his hair. The windswept and messy look works for James, but Regulus feels like it makes him look more boyish and disorganized than charming and ruffled.

He makes his way back to James, who has managed to secure them a table on the edge of the crowd. It’s nice, being a little secluded from the rest. This way they can talk properly, something that Regulus usually dreads about dates but actually really liked when it comes to James.

“You strike me as an Old Fashioned guy,” James says when Regulus is in earshot. He gestures at the drink on the table. He's holding a drink of his own, a Martini.

“Very James Bond of you,” he remarks. James lifts his glass in salute. “And you're not wrong, I am an Old Fashioned guy." Regulus shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sudden spike of nerves in his gut. "But I think I've had enough excitement for tonight… I should probably stick with water.”

On the one hand, Regulus really does think he’s had enough excitement for the time being, a faint buzz under his skin still from the zipline and from the almost-kiss. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to risk crossing the line between pleasantly tipsy and embarrassingly tipsy. He doesn’t think he can bear making a fool of himself in front of James. Again.

His lips tingle with the phantom feeling of James’ on them.

Regulus winces at the open disappointment on James' face. It kind of feels like a capital crime to upset James, his eyes wide and earnest behind his glasses.

“I'm sorry—” Regulus starts, but James interrupts him with a bright, “Don't be!”

Relief courses through Regulus’ veins, reassured by James’ smile. With a warm hand at the small of his back, they make their way towards the bar, where Regulus orders some water. The bartender looks a little confused to see James back again so soon, but hands Regulus his water before hurrying off to the other side to the bar and serve the people there.

They linger at the bar, not in any rush to get back to their table, to separate. Regulus leans in close so he can talk to James without having to shout over the music that’s playing.

“Have you been here before?” He asks. He tries not to inhale James’ laundry-clean scent, worried it’ll completely shatter his inhibitions. He feels more drunk off of James’ presence than he could from any drink.

James tilts his head to speak directly into Regulus’ ear. Regulus shivers when James’ lips brush against his skin. “No, this was a first. I don’t like going places with familiar people. It makes this whole thing more complicated.”

“That’s fair,” Regulus acquiesces. He can’t imagine being on a date and running into people he knows. He figures it worsens the inherent awkwardness of a first date.

He's glad he didn't have to share James with anyone else just yet, happy to remain in their bubble a while longer.

They pass time at the bar, venturing back to their table eventually to enjoy the view. It really is rather beautiful, but Regulus finds that his eyes wander to James more often than not. To the way his hair falls over his forehead and the way his muscles strain in his shirt and the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he takes a sip of his Martini.

No amount of water can drown the butterflies that flutter wildly in his stomach.

James offers to drive Regulus home. The car ride is nice, spent talking idly as music spills from the radio. When they arrive at Regulus’ apartment building, James hesitates.

“I'm sorry tonight was a bit of a bust,” he says eventually.

Regulus isn’t sure what James means. Yeah, maybe the cheese on his pasta was a bit of a bummer and the fact that he nearly went on the zipline with a faulty harness and then there was also the double rejection of James not wanting a kiss and Regulus not wanting a drink, but if he overlooks all those things, the date was… Pretty perfect.

And Regulus thinks it’s a good sign that he enjoyed himself as much as he did despite the minor issues they ran into. He’s quick to reassure James, turning in his seat so he can face him.

“Not at all! I had such a good time, James.” He leans over so he can touch his hand to James’, as if to physically convey his sincerity. “I promise.”

James clenches his jaw, a tension in his shoulders that Regulus desperately wants to work away. His hand shifts to fully grab James’. He intertwines their fingers.

“Still… I'll do better next time.” James cuts him a glance. “If you'll let me, that is.”

And Regulus has no choice but to kiss him for it. He doesn’t try to kiss him on the lips, he’s more than happy to let James indicate when he’s ready for that, if at all. Instead, he leans in slowly, giving James ample time to move away. He doesn’t. Regulus places a gentle kiss on James’ cheek. When he pulls away, he sees a faint dusting of pink there. A rosy blush.

He exits the car as gracefully as possible, which is a tall order considering the fact that James drives a Jeep, but the promise of next time carries him all the way to his front door as though on a cloud.

Regulus opens his front door with a flush on his cheeks and toes off his shoes with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He boots up his laptop, the blank document staring back at him.

He thinks of James, with his messy hair and his warm smile and his big hands.

He takes a deep breath. And he starts typing: Dominic Coin loves romance. He loves reading it and he loves writing it and he would probably love experiencing it too. Unfortunately, that last one hasn't happened yet, but for now he's happy just imagining. That is until…

[poitionsprince]

Things a random person is trying to claim canon on Snape and the Marauders over one of my videos since I can't fall asleep cus of sickness + they are EXTREMELY stupid for a 17yo:

Severus tried to kiss Lily by force. (???)

The worst memory happened because of he wouldn't leave Lily alone (??? He didn't even talk with her before it started and they were BEST FRIENDS)

James was "provoked" and did it to "protect his girlfriend from the enemy" (the "gf" in question which hated him and refused to date him till their 7th year, and the enemy being her best friend)

Severus physically hit children (only happened in the movies where his character was cut by more then half ☠)

Physically abused Harry for 7 years (girl do you know how to read?)

He was a stalker (??? Mixing him much with the marauders who literally had a map that showed who is where and when? 🤨)

Severus called lily a slvt (what even???l

She said Severus trying to apologize for using the word 'mudblood' is "guilt tripping" (you would've cried over him not apologizing, right? ☠)

Came to attack me for shipping Snupin as if that had anything to do with the convo lol (didn't have anything smart to say ig)

Continued it by saying that Remus was a marauder and that they all hated Snape - also untrue regardless, he was the only one to call him be his name and to feel bad for him, also the only one to not laugh at him at the worst memory.

They said they're 17 yet they're fighting me like a 12 yo ☠

"I've read the book 4 times" girl who gave you the knockoff version ☠

The video in question was a joking vid over people hating Snape-defenders and Harry being the 1# defender, nothing more.

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."