#is ever hiring because I live in hell <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[kxsagi]

Hii! I was wondering if u could make a headcanon where the reader loves animals soo much. She lives for them, and she pets and loves every animal they see. I request this because i also have 2 dogs and wonder what the BL boys react to it. You can take your time. There's no need to rush it. Love you ! 💕🫶

“𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐲”

a/n: thank you!!! this req was so cute hehe

ft. isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi

he’s trying to act chill but you’re scaring him a little. 

you once stopped mid-date to sprint across the street just to feed a stray cat half of your sandwich. didn’t even look both ways. isagi had to full sprint after you like, “do you have a death wish over this orange furball???” 

when you made eye contact with a pigeon and whispered “his name is kimie,” he just stood there like: 🤨 who the hell is kimie. 

he tries to be supportive, but you have a habit of inviting animals to follow you home. like literally. one time you whistled at a duck and it waddled behind you for two blocks. isagi was horrified. 

“love… we can’t keep bringing wildlife into my apartment. that’s a feral possum.” and you’re like “his name is scrunkle, he’s misunderstood 🥺” 

he downloaded one of those animal recognition apps just so he can keep up when you start going “awww it’s a red-footed tortoise!! 🥹 hi baby!!!” 

he’ll never admit it, but he’s memorized your favorite animals so he can point them out first like “oh look! a calico cat! you love those right???” (he gets so proud of himself when you squeal.) 

shidou ryusei

your obsession feeds his chaos. 

he enables you. full chaos gremlin co-pilot. you say “look, a frog!!” and he’s already elbow-deep in a pond tryna catch it for you. 

“babe, i dare you to kiss that lizard.” “bet.” now you’ve got salmonella and he’s proud of it. 

he’ll fight a goose for you. literally. one hissed at you and he squared up like, “you tryna die today, duck bitch?” 

tried to gift you a ferret once. not adopt. gift. like surprise! here's a wriggling tube of energy in a shoebox. 

calls every animal “little freak” with affection. “look at this funky little freak, you love him huh?” (you do.) 

got banned from one zoo and three petting farms with you. worth it. 

nagi seishiro

he’s just along for the ride and slightly concerned. 

thinks all animals are kinda cool but also “... do we have to stop for every single one?” 

you once spent 15 minutes cooing at a group of baby ducks while he stood there like 🧍just waiting. almost fell asleep standing. 

holds your bag while you pet stray cats like a supportive husband. 

doesn’t know animal names though. “what’s that one?” “that’s a capybara.” “capy-yabba-dabba-doo? capybarnya?” 

when you showed him videos of otters holding hands he got a little too into it and now watches animal tik toks at 3 AM. he’s obsessed with capybaras now. thinks they’re his spirit animal. 

calls every cat “meow-meow.” no matter what. tuxedo cat? “meow-meow.” panther? “big meow-meow.” 

mikage reo

he’s rich but unprepared for your zookeeper tendencies. 

this man has never been around a dirty animal in his life. so the first time you pet a muddy stray dog and squealed, “baby!!!! look at his little face!!!!” he genuinely short-circuited. 

“babe, that thing hasn’t bathed since the ice age.” “then i’ll bathe him 🥹” 

you once made reo stop the car because you saw a turtle trying to cross the road. he thought it was a bag. now he triple-checks for moving bumps on the road. 

hired a private vet to check on the stray cat you fed once. didn’t even tell you. just pulled up like, “don’t worry, the cat’s got his shots now.” 

bought you a giant plush of every animal you’ve ever said “i love him” to. now your room looks like a jungle-themed museum. 

asked you seriously once, “... you wouldn’t leave me for a panda, right?” (you didn’t answer fast enough.) 

karasu tabito

you are his 13th reason, but he’s smiling through it. 

“babe, you cannot pet every dog on this street–” (you’re already gone, crouched next to a chihuahua in a sweater named sundae.) 

every walk turns into a rescue mission. “that bird looks sad.” “he just blinked, babe.” 

you once cried because you saw a video of a baby elephant hugging its caretaker and karasu had to pull over like “are you GOOD??” 

he sends you cursed photos of animals and says “this is u.” you reply “thank u 🥰” every time. 

jokingly bought you a “pet psychic starter kit” for your birthday. now you use it seriously. “his name is bartholomew and he said he had a hard childhood.” 

“you are one squirrel away from adopting a raccoon and naming it rocket.” (too late. you already did.) 

itoshi sae

why is she like this and why does he find it cute. 

he’s a minimalist. sleek, expensive, low-effort lifestyle. you? sobbing over worms on rainy sidewalks and moving them to safety. 

“you named a bee?” “yeah his name was sir buzzington.” he just blinks at you like you're the strangest thing he's ever loved. 

he pretends to be annoyed when you stop to pet dogs, but he’s the one taking secret photos of you cuddling them and setting it as his lock screen. 

lowkey jealous of a hedgehog you follow on instagram. “why does it get more likes than me.” “because he wears hats.” 

you once tried to sneak a frog into your luggage after a trip. he found it and just sighed, “at least name it something cool.” (you named it steve after the minecraft character.) 

doesn’t say much about your obsession, but he’ll deadpan “i saw a cool bird today. reminded me of you.” and that’s the highest compliment he can give. 

itoshi rin

he didn’t sign up for this but he’s unfortunately in love with you anyway. 

“don’t touch that–” too late. you’ve already crouched on the sidewalk whispering, “you’re the cutest baby bug i’ve ever seen.” 

rin genuinely doesn’t understand how you don’t fear rabies. or fleas. or death. “that raccoon looks like it pays taxes and has committed arson.” “okay, but he’s kind of cute tho???” 

when you start cooing at animals in a baby voice, he just stands next to you like an emotionally numb bodyguard. people think you hired him to protect you while you rescue worms. 

once walked into the room and caught you making kissy noises at a youtube video of a sea lion. just turned around and left. 

he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t get it. but one day you cried over a documentary about rescued baby bats and he panicked and bought you bat plushies from six different websites. 

now has a favorite neighborhood cat (he says he doesn’t, but he feeds it and mutters “sup, whiskers” every time he sees it. you saw. you never let it go.) 

you made him hold a ferret once and he looked like he was holding raw uranium. but now when you’re not looking, he googles “what do ferrets eat + do they bite.” 

kaiser michael

he acts disgusted, but he’s already naming the ducklings, too. 

the first time you stopped mid-sentence and sprinted to pet a dog, he flinched like you’d been shot. “IS THIS A MEDICAL EMERGENCY??” “no look at her little tail wag 🥹” 

scoffed so hard when you said “i wanna pet every animal in the world.” and then you saw a squirrel with a fluffy tail and he went quiet like “… okay, that one is kinda cute.” 

“don’t bring that street cat into my house.” two weeks later, he’s feeding it tuna and calling it ‘sir fluffsworth.’ 

pretends to be allergic just so he doesn’t have to chase after you every time you see a dog in a sweater. lies crumbles quickly when you accuse him of faking it to get out of pet store dates. (“okay fine, i’m not allergic but i don’t wanna spend €85 on a fish that looks like wet spaghetti.”) 

once tried to impress you by pointing out a hawk in the sky but it was a drone. he blamed the lighting. 

swears he’s “not a cat person,” but you left him alone for five minutes with a kitten and came back to find them cuddling and him whispering “you’re my special little guy aren’t you.” 

100% has a folder in his phone of animal pics you’ve taken. zooms in on them when he’s in a bad mood. pretends he’s not soft. fails miserably. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

hello! can i just say your fics are so amazingly written and make me feel really fluffy inside <33

i was wondering if you could write a spencer reid x new bau reader? reader is a new hire at the bau and always has her hair up in a cute new hairstyle everyday because she has curly hair and if she were to have it out, it would just get in the way in the field. so, when she is invited to rossis house for the first time for a dinner, she finally wears it out for the first time in front of them. spencer, seeinf her hair for the first time like this, malfunctions and goes speechless for a bit. very fluffy and self indulgent

thank you so much if you end of writing it!!!!

Yay thank you so much! I'm glad they make you feel that way!<3 and LOVE this request!

Curl Pattern | S. Reid

It had been six months since you joined the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and while it had been nothing short of stressful, in a strange way, you’d come to love it. Not only what you do but the members on the team.

They had welcomed you with open arms from day one, and over time, they’d grown from colleagues to genuine friends.

“Hey! Love your hair.” Emily said as you entered the roundtable room, plopping down in your usual chair.

“Thank you.” You replied, grinning. She always made it a point to compliment the various updos you’d show up to work with.

JJ leaned in, squinting playfully. “You know, your hair always looks amazing when it’s up, but why don’t you ever wear it down?”

You shrugged. “It’s a hassle, and would probably just get in the way.”

JJ nodded, understanding, just as Garcia swept into the room, her voice commanding everyone’s attention.

“We’ve got a case, angels.” She said, her tone more serious than usual.

Los Angeles. The case was ugly. You guys ended up staying for days, combing through evidence and following dead-end leads, until the end came suddenly…and at a cost.

“Damn.” Morgan muttered, the weight in his voice matching what everyone was feeling.

You all stood there silently as officer jones body was carried away in a bag. He had saved your guys team by stepping in at the last second.

It hit you then: This job isn’t just high stakes. It truly is life and death. Every time you pack up and answer a call, it could be the last.

The ride to the airport was quiet. You sat in the back, leaning your head gently against Spencer’s shoulder, something you guys always did, while you held onto Emily’s hand on the other side of you.

No one spoke, and that silence was louder than anything.

When you boarded the jet, you instinctively took the seat beside Spencer. He gave you a small smile, and you offered one back, grateful for the quiet comfort he always managed to give without even trying.

Across from you, Hotch and Rossi spoke in low voices, going over the final details of the case. You leaned back, closing your eyes, hoping for a few minutes of rest, but your mind was too restless.

Back in Virginia, you all returned to the office just long enough to grab your belongings.

As you all waited by the elevator, Rossi turned to address the group.

“Before everyone runs off, I’ve been thinking.” He said, his voice warm but firm. “We see each other in the worst circumstances. Maybe it’s time we try to be together in better ones. So, I’d like to host a dinner. Tomorrow night, eight o’clock. Bring your families, your partners, hell bring your pet. Let’s appreciate the lives we fight to protect.”

Everyone nodded, some smiling, others still to drained do more than murmur their agreement.

“I’ll be there.” You said softly, stepping away from the group. “I’m taking the stairs.”

“Goodnight.” JJ said. A chorus of goodbyes followed.

“Uh- I’ll walk with you.” Spencer said suddenly, falling into step beside you. You looked up, a little surprised, but smiled. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” he said simply, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

“So… What’s wrong with the elevator?” He asked, after a beat, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Didn’t feel like waiting. I’m exhausted.” You replied with a shrug. “Yeah, me too.” He said quietly, then hesitated. “You will be a Rossi’s tomorrow, right?”

You glanced at him. “Yeah. You?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes. I mean, I wouldn’t miss it. It’ll be nice to be together…outside of work.”

You smiled at that. “Are you bringing anyone?”

He shook his head. “No. Just me.”

“Same.”

When you reached the last floor, he moved ahead to open the door for you. “Here.” He said softly.

“Thank you.” You replied, brushing past him with a smile.

He didn’t stop there, he walked you to your car. “Uh, drive safe.” He said, his voice a little quieter now.

“You too, Reid.”

You slid into your car and glanced up at him one last time before pulling away. He stood there for a moment, watching you go, hands still in his pockets, eyes soft.

౨ৎ

You arrived at Rossi’s exactly at eight, nerves buzzing under your skin. It was silly, maybe, how much you’d overthought this, your first time at his home, the outfit you debated over a dozen times, and most of all your hair.

You rarely wore it down, it was easier to just keep it up and out of the way, at work and sometimes even outside. Today though, tonight was the night you decided to let it be free and you were a bit nervous.

You walked up to the front door, glancing at the cars in the driveway. Everyone else was already inside. You rang the doorbell.

Rossi opened it up almost immediately with his signature warmth, already holding a glass of wine. “There she is!” He beamed, pulling you into a quick hug before hanging off the glass. “Come in, come in!”

You smiled, stepping into his home. It was beautiful.

Elegant, cozy, timeless. Just like him.

Following the sound of laughter, you made your way into the kitchen. The moment you walked in, the room went just a touch quieter.

“Okay, wow.” Emily said, setting her wine glass down dramatically. “Your hair! It’s gorgeous.”

Your cheeks burned. “I figured I’d let it down tonight. Special occasion.”

“You need to let it down always.” Penelope gasps, walking over to gently fluff a curl. “It’s so pretty, I’m obsessed!”

JJ grinned from her place on the island. “Seriously, you look amazing.”

“You guys are sweet.” You smiled.

You move through the group, greeting everyone, but your steps slowed when your eyes landed on Spencer.

He was standing, frozen in place like someone had hit pause on him. His wine glass was in one hand, and the other was in his pocket like always.

“H-hey.” He stammered as you reached him. “Hi.” You replied with a smile, leaning in for a gentle hug. He barely moved, still staring at you.

His gaze flicked to your curls, and he blinked. “I-I love your hair. I mean, not that I didn’t like it before, but it’s-um-it’s just-” he trailed off, visibly malfunctioning.

You tried not to giggle. “Thank you, I let it free tonight.”

He nodded a little too fast. “Good decision. A great decision. Everyone loves it. I-I love it. I mean, yeah.” He looked like he wanted to curl into himself.

You looked down shyly, smiling to yourself.

The night carried on with soft music, clinking glasses, and the kind of comfort only you guys could create.

You and Spencer eventually found yourselves with the little kids watching as Spencer showed them a magic trick then watched as they slowly lost interest and start playing tag instead.

Henry shouted something and ran off with Jack close behind, leaving the two of you now alone, while the others were caught up in Rossi’s wine-tasting tangents.

It was quiet for a moment. You glanced at Spencer, who was already looking at you. Again.

His voice came out all at once, like he’d been holding it in. “Did you know that the shape of your hair follicle determines curl pattern? Curly hair follicle are more oval, which causes the strand to curl at an angle, creating the spiral-”

He stopped himself mid-ramble, his eyes going wide. “N-not that I’m analyzing your hair or anything, I wasn’t, well, I kind of was, but not in a weird way. It’s just, you know, science. And- uh- it’s… lovely. Really lovely.”

You laughed softly, warmth blooming in your chest. “Spencer, are you nerding out over my hair?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly flustered but unable to stop smiling. “Maybe a little. It’s just… scientifically interesting. And aesthetically… breathtaking. On you.”

You bit back a grin. “That’s the nerdiest and sweetest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

He ducked his head, the tips of his ears glowing pink. “Well… I’m kind of full of those.”

You leaned your shoulder gently into his, your voice playful. “Guess I’ll have to wear my hair down more often, huh?”

Spencer nodded, almost too quickly again, still blushing. “I-I wouldn’t mind that. At all.”

And for the rest of the night, every time you caught him looking your way, his smile was just a little softer than usual, and his stare more meaningful and filled with something more…

Hope you enjoyed @athenxt !! Thank you sm for your request<3 had sm fun writing this.

I’m going to get to the rest of the requests soon!! So if you’ve sent one in recently I promise they will be out! I’ve just been in a slump, unfortunately, but thank you all! <3

~ Tag List ~

@samslovebug @alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[keeryhours]

birthday cake - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

It’s Iris’ first birthday, and Rafe may have gone a little overboard.

Warnings:

None, just birthday party fluff, some kissing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N:

I love baby daddy Rafe. Let me know if you want to see more!

—

“Well don’t you look absolutely gorgeous!”

Iris smiled and clapped her hands, giggling at your excited expression. She was dressed in a big poofy pink dress, white Mary Janes on her feet. Her light brown hair had been gathered into two tiny pigtails. She had a party hat you would try to get a picture of her in later, but you knew better than to try to get her to actually wear it.

It was May 26th, exactly one year since the best, most amazing day of your life.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” JJ called as he walked through the living room carrying an armful of gifts. He had been packing the car the entire time you’d been getting Iris ready.

You picked up your daughter and sat her on your hip, grabbing her diaper bag and your purse with your free hand as you followed JJ to the door.

JJ got the last of the party supplies packed in the back of the car while you buckled Iris in her car seat, which turned out to be more difficult than expected with the floofy dress. You briefly wonder if you should have changed her at the country club.

You got it done eventually, and then you and JJ were on the road to Figure 8.

Rafe had insisted you hire a party planner. You argued with him on it at first, because you are perfectly capable of planning a first birthday party yourself, but he wouldn’t drop it, saying he didn’t want you stressing about planning and setting it up yourself. You had rolled your eyes, but he was paying for it, so you figured, what the hell.

It actually wasn’t bad at all. The party planner had involved you every step of the way just like you’d wanted to be. She let you make all the decisions while she made it all come together. It was honestly amazing.

You arrived at the country club just in time to get settled before guests began to arrive. JJ carried the gifts while you carried the baby. You had planned the party for the perfect time, she was freshly up from a nap and would probably stay in a great mood for the whole event.

Your eyes widened as you, JJ, and Iris walked into the event space that had been booked for the party. The theme you had decided on was Berry First Birthday, and it was the most extravagant baby’s birthday party you’d ever seen.

When Rafe had told you he wanted to take care of the party, you didn’t know what to think. He told you you’d still have full creative control because he knew you’d been looking forward to it, but he was going to cover it and he wanted to hire a planner. He let you make every decision, mostly staying out of it, his only instruction being “It has to be the best for my girl.”

There was a big balloon arch made up of red, white, pink, and berry colored balloons, including some actual strawberry balloons, sitting in front of a large pink backdrop with printed strawberries that said Iris’ Berry First Birthday. A vintage looking white high chair sat in front of it, a banner attached to the front that said One with pink and red tassels.

There was a long table filled with food, including some cookies in the shape of strawberries and a large spread of fresh fruit. There was a table that held champagne, which you thought was kind of funny for a one year old’s party. Another table held a giant 3-tiered white cake decorated with strawberries.

He had really gone all out. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything less.

Rafe came walking over the second he noticed you walk through the door, a grin on his face.

“There’s my birthday girl,” he said, reaching his hands out for Iris. She immediately held her arms out, leaning forward towards him.

You handed her over with a laugh, knowing you were no competition when Rafe was around. She was a complete daddy’s girl.

He placed a big kiss on her cheek as he settled her in his arms, and she giggled.

“You look so pretty, baby girl,” he complimented her, smoothing down the puffy skirt of her dress. “I love your dress.”

“Dadadadada,” she babbled in response, a gummy grin on her face. She still only had about 5 teeth. Rafe wore a pink shirt and khaki colored pants, and it was adorable the way he matched with her.

“You really went all out,” you said, taking in the extravagance of the event.

“Yeah, well,” he said, brushing you off and not taking his eyes off the baby, “she only turns 1 once.”

Rafe was always a real baby hog. Once he took her when you arrived, you had a hard time getting her back. You busied yourself arranging the gifts on the gift table and setting out the gift bags you had put together for all the guests.

Guests began to arrive not long after. You and Rafe greeted them together with Iris, the star of the show, in his arms. She absolutely ate up all the attention, giving everyone a big smile and tolerating being passed around to friends and family.

“It’s my bestie!” Sarah squealed as she walked up with Wheezie next to her, holding her hands out for her niece. Rafe reluctantly handed her over, mostly because Iris had already been reaching for Sarah anyway.

Sarah and Wheezie cooed at the baby, fussing over her outfit and hair. Rafe watched, looking impatient to get her back.

“I can’t believe you’re one already,” Sarah said, looking emotional as she hugged Iris to her chest. Iris tolerated the hold for about 2 seconds before she was wiggling free, and then she was reaching for Rafe again. Rafe took her back with a smug grin on his face.

“Me either,” you said, fighting back tears. You had been emotional all day, you definitely didn’t need to be reminded how monumental of a day it was.

You had been satisfied with cell phone pictures, but apparently Rafe had hired a whole photographer. She called you over now, to the backdrop.

There was a whole photo session while the guests helped themselves to the food and refreshments. Photos of you and Iris, Rafe and Iris, you, Rafe, and Iris together. Pictures with Iris, Rafe, Sarah, Wheezie, Ward, and Rose. Some of you and JJ with her. And of course a group photo with the pogues with the birthday girl in the center.

When it was time for cake, you settled Iris into the vintage high chair. JJ brought over her smash cake, which was a smaller version of the big cake - small, round, and white with strawberries painted in icing decorating it. There was a big 1 candle on top.

JJ handed the cake to you, and Rafe pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

The two of you walked over to the high chair, holding the cake in front of Iris close enough to see but far enough away that she couldn’t reach the fire.

The whole party began to sing happy birthday, and it was then that it really hit you.

The past 365 days of your life flashed before your eyes. First smile, first laugh, first tooth, first word, learning to crawl. First night home from the hospital, when Rafe never strayed far from your side, holding newborn Iris every chance he got so you could eat and shower and sleep. The day she was born, when Rafe held your hand the entire time you were in labor, wiping the sweat off your face, feeding you ice chips, and telling you You’re doing amazing, babe. How it had been a complicated labor, and when she was finally out and you heard her cry, you both looked at each other and breathed out a collectively held breath of relief. Seeing your daughter for the first time, just a tiny little thing, brand new to the world and snuggling into your chest for comfort. Rafe holding her for the first time, looking at her with pure adoration, and the way he cried (but made you promise not to tell anyone about that).

Your eyes moved up to look at him, and like he had the exact same thought at the same time, he turned and his gaze met yours as you continued to sing the song. Tears welled up in your eyes and you saw his become glassy, too. You both smiled at each other, a million unspoken emotions conveyed between them.

When the song was over, you and Rafe blew the candle out together, watching Iris’ delighted face. Rafe removed the candle and you placed the little smash cake in front of Iris.

She examined it first, cautious. Rafe grabbed her little hand, dipping it in the icing and bringing it to her lips. She gladly put her fingers in her mouth, they were usually there anyway, but her face lit up with a smile when she tasted the buttercream icing.

“See? Mmm, yummy,” Rafe said, beaming at her.

“Ummy,” Iris repeated, and she dipped her hand into the cake willingly this time, grabbing a big handful and bringing it to her mouth.

Rafe laughed, delighted, and clapped his hands together once. Guests were taking pictures and videos on their phones, the photographer getting plenty of shots. Everyone continued to watch as Iris devoured her smash cake, eating until she couldn’t anymore.

You and Rafe cleaned all the cake off of her when she was finished, which always made her cranky. She screamed as you wiped her off, but you and Rafe only laughed. You were still feeling emotional.

The big cake was served to all the guests by country club staff, and again it occurred to you that you had never in your life seen such a grand event for a one year old.

Presents were opened after everyone ate, you and Rafe on either side of Iris as she ripped into her gifts. She was more interested in the paper and empty bags than the gifts inside them, but at least she was having a blast. You knew she’d be excited about the actual gifts later.

The gift table was already overflowing with the amount of guests at the party, but you swore that Rafe himself had brought half the table. It seemed like every other present handed your way had From Daddy written on it in Rafe’s handwriting.

Iris was asleep in Rafe’s arms by the time the guests began to leave. She was absolutely knocked out from all the excitement of the day.

Rafe stroked her hair absentmindedly as you both saw your guests off, thanking everyone for coming.

It was just close family and friends left, JJ and the pogues were loading up the car with Iris’ gifts while you ate another piece of birthday cake.

“Turned out pretty good,” Rafe said, speaking softly as he held your sleeping daughter.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. You did not have to go all out like this.” You raised your eyebrows at him, icing smeared on your lips.

Rafe reached forward with his free hand, swiping his thumb across your lips and gathering up the icing. He popped his thumb into his own mouth, sucking the icing off as he held eye contact with you. You watched him, stunned for a minute.

“It’s no big deal,” Rafe said as if nothing had happened. “I wanted her to have a good party.”

You just looked at him. He was unbothered as usual.

“Well, it was a great party,” you finally said. “I appreciate it, Rafe.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for doing things for our daughter. I want to.”

You knew he was being honest. Rafe went overboard sometimes, this being a perfect example, but he had the best intentions and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It was hard not to fall in love with him when you watched him being the world’s best dad.

When the car was packed full and there were still plenty of gifts left, Rafe told the guys to start loading the rest in his truck.

“I’m worried all this stuff isn’t gonna fit in the house,” you said, furrowing your brows as you threw away some trash.

“Anything there’s not room for she can keep at my place,” Rafe offered. Most of her stuff was at your and JJ’s house, because that’s where she spent most of her time, but she certainly was spoiled at Rafe’s too.

When everything was successfully packed up, Rafe buckled Iris into her car seat. She was so tired she barely stirred, continuing to nap as he snapped the buckles around her body and carried her to your car.

Rafe locked the car seat into the base in your back seat. He turned to you, suddenly standing so close.

“I’ll follow you back to the house,” he said quietly. “Help you unload all this stuff.”

Back at the house, you carried Iris’ seat inside, unbuckling her and bringing her to her bedroom while Rafe and JJ unloaded the cars. You changed her out of her dress and into something comfy and let her hair down.

You rocked her in the glider. She was so worn out from her day she started to drift back off quickly, her eyes fluttering shut and body relaxing in your arms.

When you stood to lay her in her crib, you noticed Rafe standing at the door. You slightly jumped when you saw him, not expecting him to be there, which made him chuckle quietly and you gave him a playful glare.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you and Rafe softly.

“She’s tired, huh,” Rafe observed, smiling at you. He was in a good mood today - it had been a good day.

“Worn out,” you agreed.

Rafe reached forward, rubbing his large hand down your arm. “You did really good, by the way.”

“It was fun,” you said. “But the planner definitely did most of the work.”

“She just did the boring part, you made the whole thing come together.”

You smiled back at him. He was being sweet, he was making an effort.

“I know everyone’s been saying it all day, but I can’t believe she’s actually one,” Rafe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It feels like she was just born.”

Your smile was tinged with sadness, the emotions from the day sticking with you. “I know. It’s too fast. All of it,” You shook your head, thinking of how fleeting her baby days had been.

“I just wish…” Rafe began, looking down at his hands instead of at you as he spoke, “That I didn’t have to miss out on any of her life.”

You were silent. You knew what he meant. But you also knew that a relationship didn’t work between the two of you. It was toxic, you were both jealous, you fought all the time. When you co-parented as two single parents, things were easy. If only you could ignore the way he made you feel.

Rafe sighed when you didn’t respond. He said your name softly. You turned to look at him, finding his deep blue eyes staring into yours. He walked up to you until he was standing right in front of you, hand reaching up to play with your hair.

“Rafe…” you breathed, and you knew you should push him away, walk away, anything, but you don’t.

Rafe leaned down until his lips met yours, kissing you softly, gently. You felt yourself melt into his kiss, like every bit of common sense in your brain was dying.

His arms wrapped around your hips, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, massaging your own.

You moaned against his lips, which only egged him on more as he slid his hands around your body to grab your ass.

You pulled away just enough to speak. “JJ could walk back here at any second…” you whispered against his mouth.

Rafe’s lips quirked up in a smirk, because he didn’t particularly care about that. But he knew you did.

“Maybe we can go to your bedroom, then?” he proposed, his fingers stroking over your body and sending shivers across your skin.

You wanted to say yes. But it was always a bad idea, always such a bad idea - maybe for once you’d make a smart decision.

“I can’t…” you said, sounding like it pained you.

Rafe just held you for a second longer. Finally, he pressed his lips to your forehead, giving it a kiss as he pulled away from you, squeezing your arm as he let you go.

“I better get going then,” he said, and neither of you wanted him to, but you didn’t change your mind. You didn’t stop him.

Rafe turned and left the house before you could even say anything. You stood in the hallway until you heard the front door closing, his truck starting outside.

You briefly thought about running after him, begging him to come back and spend the night with you. But you don’t. You decide to have more respect for yourself than that.

But you spend the whole night in your bed, thinking of him, aching for him. Until you reach for your cell phone, charging on the bedside table. You send him an impulsive text, just seeing if he’s still up.

His response comes immediately.

Rafey

Knew you’d regret letting me leave.

[dear-mimii]

cowboy!sevika x reader

pairing! cowboy!sevika x reader

about! sevika was a no nonsense, independent woman. until… that stubborn horse of hers just had to throw her off, leaving her with a bruised rib and dislocated shoulder. what ever shall she do…

cw! nothing serious; mentions of injury,

word count! 415

an! y’all can thank my allergies for this one, shit got so bad had to stay home !!

sevika was a “no games” type of gal, you could say. with her little farm and the small general store she ran in town, that was enough to keep her occupied. and the few times she found herself with a little free time, she spent it drinking down a beer on the porch or occasionally playing cards at the saloon.

but, because of that stubborn horse, Dust, there’d be a slight hitch in the routine - a hitch in the form of a bruised rib and a dislocated shoulder. because of course the damn horse just had to get spooked by a distant gunshot, and throw sevika off of his back. breathing in certain positions was painful, bending over was painful, lifting bags of grain was tough, hell even saddling up the horse came with its difficulties. obviously, sevika couldn’t live her day to day life like this.

that’s when - albeit begrudgingly - she realized it. she would have to get help. from a person. which to her, was like a last resort, the world was ending, apocalyptic scenario.

──── ୨୧ ────

walking into her general store in town, with a makeshift sling around her shoulder, she saw you behind the register. sevika had hired you about 3 months ago, to manage the store whenever she found herself too busy. she gave a customer a small nod as she walked in, doing a general check up with her eyes. walking over to the counter, sevika accidentally bumped against one of the shelves which caused her to wince internally from the pain suddenly shooting from her bruised rib. she cleared her throat to try and cover it up, leaning her (good) arm on the counter.

“listen… had a little fall off my horse. nothin’ serious, just—" she exhaled sharply, shifting her arm, "—bruised myself up some. shoulder’s out, ribs ain't feelin’ too great. damn it—look, i need a hand, alright? figured since you already work for me, i’d pay you extra to come by the ranch, handle a couple things i can’t. just ‘til i get back on my feet. that’s all.”

you felt… quite surprised, actually. sevika was a woman who looked like and acted like she never needs help, often offering to move stock around whenever you and her happened to be in the store at the same time.

you raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile, “well, that’s somethin’ i didn’t see comin’. uh... sure, why not? when you need me to come on down?”

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Bend & Break - C.SC

🥺Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🥺What: coworkers. friends to fuckers. smut. 🥺Wordcount: 10k 🥺Warnings: Profanity. Sex toys. Dom!reader. Sub!Seungcheol. Petnames from reader to Cheol(baby, sweetheart, little one, good boy, babyboy). Kink discussion. Safeword discussion. Teasing. Fingering by reader to self. Cheol licks/sucks a dildo. He's very needy and desperate <3. Edging(Cheol receiving). Begging(Cheol). Cheol cries(from pleasure dw). Reader just wants to ruin Seungcheol and that's so relatable. Sort of ambigious ending I guess in regards to the future of their relationship.

Summary; You've recently been hired due to the sunshine personality you showed for an interview, purely with the intention of the company pairing you up with Seungcheol to counteract his grumpy attitude around the office. Nobody realises it's just a work persona of yours and when someone does, it's none other than Choi Seungcheol himself.

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this story would've never happened if the wonderful @bitchlessdino hadn't taken pity on me and my empty brain and slid an idea over to me. And letting me run wild and turn it into a sub cheol smut. Thank you so much for screaming about this with me, sweetheart <3

Edited: 21/12/24

Being the new hire anywhere isn't ever really a thrilling experience for anyone. Being the new hire mostly because of the fake persona you showed at the interview is even worse. Because now, you have to keep acting like the bubbly, happy-go-lucky person you had pretended to be two months ago.

Still, the pay is good, the hours aren't gruelling and although you're part of a dozen-strong team, you share a comfortable little office with only one other person, so you figure it's not the worst trade-off.

Though you still haven't yet decided if your work partner is reason enough to change your mind about that.

Choi Seungcheol is the very reason you were hired; to counteract his frankly miserable attitude around the office. Not that he much leaves your shared office, but when he does he's likely to be glaring at whoever is making the most noise, or simply asking him a question that isn't entirely necessary.

He has the world's most severe case of resting bitch face too, which regularly causes issues with clients. So you were hired to be the pep in client meetings and steer things in the correct direction when Seungcheol is seconds from saying something that could risk the contract, or a trip to HR.

Seungcheol isn't the type to fake interest in the personal lives of clients or colleagues; he's just here to work. And honestly, you respect that a hell of a lot. But it also means you shoulder all the small talk and have to look at pictures of people's pets, kids, and holidays that you really could not give less shits about.

And all of that means that although Seungcheol is a hard worker and you're beyond happy to have a competent partner at your side, he is one of the main reasons for your rising stress levels. Just once you'd like to not have to be the smiling balm to soothe the sting of his harsh demeanour and blunt words.

Alas, Seungcheol is not going to change his ways, especially when he doesn't know that you could really do with him pulling his weight in the charm department.

Which is made very apparent on one particular day with a new client who seems to consistently bump heads with Seungcheol.

The meeting is an hour of Seungcheol's nastiest bitch face and the client's obnoxious attitude flaunting the “customer is always right” motto the company stupidly prides itself on. You want to tell the client to go fuck himself on more than one occasion throughout the meeting, but you can't seeing as you'd like to be able to keep receiving a pay check.

As soon as the meeting is over, Seungcheol is out of there, no doubt halfway back to your shared office before you can even exit the little conference room thanks to the client deciding that “you just have to visit the resort I vacationed in. Here, let me show you the site”. So you're stuck pretending to be interested in the fancy foreign resort that the client shows you on his phone for the next handful of minutes before you can finally leave.

After all that you really need a break, so instead of going straight back to your office you walk straight past it and to the supply room for your floor.

Once inside the small room of shelving units full of various office supplies, you just stand there, eyes squeezed closed and hands tight on your hips while you focus on trying to calm yourself down with some deep breathing.

You're so focused that you don't hear the door open a few minutes later. The gentle tap of shoes on the hard flooring has your eyes snapping open and over to where Seungcheol, of all people, is standing with one hand raised to grab a new packet of printer paper, but his attention is entirely on you. He looks bewildered; one eyebrow raised and the other scrunched a little with his head tilted slightly.

You immediately slap on your usual bright smile, entirely fake but nobody has ever noticed that before, and grab a new, empty folder from the shelf near you. “I didn't know we need new paper already, I would've grabbed it myself if I knew,” you chirp, already walking towards the exit but the room isn't wide enough for there to be enough space around Seungcheol for you to just breeze on by like you want to. And he doesn't step aside either.

“Well, guess everyone's favourite isn't all sunshine and rainbows after all,” he replies with a smug smirk. “I wonder how everyone will react to knowing the truth about you.

“I don't know what you mean, Seungcheol.” You smile sweetly then skirt around him and leave before he can say anything else so you can return to your shared office to get to work on the new client file.

You expect Seungcheol to say something when he returns; to try and taunt you and goad you some more yet he doesn't say a thing, he just silently refills the paper in the printer and gets back to work.

For a whole week, Seungcheol has you on edge; he keeps smirking at you knowingly and making vague comments around others in what you know is an attempt to get you to break. But you hold on strong and don't show a single sign that the you everyone in the office knows, isn't you at all.

It's pretty much a week to the exact minute that you break. Another meeting with that same client that goes about as well as the first has you back in the supply room counting your breaths.

You're very certain that your printer does not need more paper already when you look over at the footsteps entering the small room.

Seungcheol isn't even pretending to be there for any reason other than to watch you break. He's leaning against the unit on his right with his arms crossed over his chest and a cocky smirk on his face.

And finally, enough is enough.

“You need to fucking stop,” you warn. His face lights up in victory at you not even attempting to put on the higher, friendlier pitch you use at work; your customer service voice that you even use for your colleagues. “Seriously, Seungcheol, stop it,” you reiterate while heading towards the exit.

This time, Seungcheol purposely stands in your path and looks down at you arrogantly. “Are you going to admit that you're not the innocent little sweetheart that everyone thinks you are?”

You take a breath as you stare back at him just so you don't break too far. “You don't even know the half of it,” you retort simply.

Seungcheol stares back at you curiously for a few seconds before stepping aside to watch you go, wondering what exactly that means and how he can find out for himself.

After that second incident in the supply room, you figure there's really not any point in keeping up the facade with Seungcheol so when it's just the two of you in your private office, you let the persona drop.

The first time you swear to yourself in complaint over your work, Seungcheol gawps at you in shock until you notice and raise an eyebrow at him. But he says nothing and doesn't react after that time except the occasional amused smile to himself as he hears you curse colourfully at much more regular intervals than he ever does.

And Seungcheol lets you see more of the real him too.

The two of you have always met outside of work for the sake of finishing tasks or discussing clients without being confined to the same four walls of your office. You'd get dinner or he'd come over to your apartment to go over documents in your office for however long necessary. But it was always about work.

Though now that he knows who you really are, it's not always about work; your conversations over dinner turn more friendly, enough that you see him smiling genuinely and laughing for the first time. And he doesn't stop either.

A genuine friendship quickly blossoms between the pair of you, allowing you to be yourselves to the extent that on more than one occasion Seungcheol has turned big, pleading puppy eyes on you with a pout to convince you to go where he wants for dinner, or even when he's complaining about his friends and being whiny, the big eyes hit you.

And the way they hit you is really not something you think you should think about the man, so you shove the thoughts of pinning him down and telling him what to do out of your mind.

The friendship between you is noticed by your colleagues too. It's kind of hard to miss the way that you're the only person who can get Seungcheol to join work dinners, after all.

You both know that there's a 'secret' betting pool going around the office in regard to whether you two are secretly dating or not; Jeonghan is not as slick as he thinks at hiding the bet sheet. And for fun, sometimes you and Seungcheol will purposely let your fingers brush over one another or let your gazes linger longer than they should, just to watch your coworkers try to not visibly flail at what they think are moments of you two failing to hide your relationship.

Though mostly, your close relationship means that when one of you is invited to drinks, dinner or some other activity with colleagues, you'll both turn up. Even if neither of you want to. But you dug a hole with your fake persona and refuse to be buried in it alone so always drag Seungcheol in to suffer with you.

Which leads us to the day that you well and truly snap.

It's one of those days where if something can go wrong, it will, topped with shitty clients and colleagues who will just not let you have five minutes of peace.

By the end of the day, you're wound so tight that all you want to do is go home and give yourself some good old-fashioned stress relief on one of your favourite toys. But this day doesn't allow you even that.

It's another casual team dinner that you can't get out of; it's to celebrate Mingyu's birthday and well, even if you're in a shitty mood, the giant puppy of a man is such a sweetheart that you truly would feel bad about ditching him to masturbate.

So you get into Seungcheol's car like usual after work, go to the restaurant and sit at his side at the table while silently praying that this will not be a complete shit show.

Two hours later, you're really at the end of your fucking rope. You really had been naive to even hope that this team dinner wouldn't be as rowdy and chaotic as all the rest. Your colleagues are a lot on the best of days with nothing to celebrate, so when they have an excuse to drink they really go for it. You're always surprised when the group isn't kicked out of public spaces, honestly.

The only ones not drinking are you and Seungcheol. Neither of you ever drink at these gatherings; you claim that you just don't drink in general while Seungcheol flat-out refuses without any attempt at an excuse. Really, you both don't want to risk encouraging the group to invite either of you out for more than just the company-related dinners, so not drinking sort of keeps the team in general at arm's length. Though both of you do have a few drinks when it's just the two of you and you can let yourselves relax in trusted, comfortable company.

But this is not that, this is you sitting side by side with Seungcheol blessedly keeping his mouth shut while you try not to break and tell everyone to shut the fuck up before leaving.

You do, however, take solace in the bathroom a few times, using the cold water to cool you down before going back into what tonight feels like your own personal hell.

On your latest trip out of the bathroom Seungcheol passes you, heading to empty his own bladder. He smirks at you and murmurs something in your ear as you pass one another. You can't even tell what he says; your brain is so heavy with fuzzy tension that his words don't register at all. But they don't need to, you know he's teasing you about your temper; he's done it before many times. Usually, you'd just joke back at him and point out his own, but tonight you don't have it in you.

Your gaze turns icy on him in a second causing him to come to an abrupt stop. You don't linger, don't slow and just turn and settle your expression back to your facade before rejoining the drunken group.

When Seungcheol returns, he timidly slips into his seat on your right silently in an attempt to not anger you further. Though a few seconds later, the tip of his left pinkie brushes the edge of your right elbow where it's resting on the tabletop, his hand sort of hooked on the edge of the table close to you yet out of sight of your colleagues.

You turn your head to look at Seungcheol and find him looking at you with those fucking giant doe eyes, silently asking for forgiveness. But you don't give it, just turn back around to watch your coworkers making absolute fools of themselves.

Yet your mind is stuck on Seungcheol's innocent expression and timid posture and all you can think about is how much you'd love to make him squirm and beg under your attention. It's riling you up in a way you usually keep such a tight lid on, but considering how tense you already are tonight, that lid is bowing and shaking under the building pressure and you know it'll blow soon enough.

For the first time since meeting Seungcheol, being in his passenger seat isn't a very pleasant experience. Neither of you say a word for the entire fourteen-minute drive from the restaurant to your apartment, and that in itself isn't unusual, but usually there isn't this thick tension hanging between you two.

When Seungcheol pulls up in front of your building, you turn to look at him. He has both hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the space between his hands with clearly no intention of doing more than just dropping you off at home despite the fact he usually goes straight inside with you to hang out some more.

And honestly, it's probably best if he does go straight home and leaves you to deal with your tension alone. But it's not exactly an option.

“You need to check those documents ready for Monday,” you remind. Seungcheol lets out a reluctant breath but relocates the car to the parking lot in silent agreement.

Once in your apartment, the two of you remove your shoes and jackets to put them in their usual places.

It's kind of insane to you that Seungcheol is at your apartment enough that there is literally space on the low shoe rack for him to leave his shoes, and a gap on the pegs for his work jacket, there's even one of his casual jackets already there on the next peg. You don't really have any close friends, nobody you deem worth your time to allow into your life frequently enough to have a usual place in your home.

There isn't anything said between you as you walk through to your office where you lean over onto the desk to boot up your computer while Seungcheol hovers awkwardly a little behind you.

While waiting for the system to accept your password for the work files, you look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. He stares back at you dumbly until you give him a look and motion to the chair on your right with a silent tilt of your head.

In seconds, Seungcheol's ass meets the seat and he stares up at you with big, obedient eyes, his hands laced together and trapped between his thick thighs.

It's all rather dangerous considering how close you are to snapping and overstepping the boundaries neither of you had ever verbally set up between you but are always in place in platonic relationships. Even if you want nothing more than to destroy them right now, and Seungcheol too.

So you turn back to your computer with gritted teeth, open the relevant documents and motion to the computer vaguely before leaving the room entirely.

You go straight to the kitchen to down a glass of water as cold as you can stand it before splashing more on your face, then dragging a cold, wet hand on the back of your neck needing all the help you can currently get to cool down in every sense of the word.

It doesn't work.

By the time Seungcheol is done with the documents and shuffles into the kitchen, you're standing with both hands on the counter in front of you while staring darkly at nothing in particular, jaw tense and an attempt in your breathing to try and regulate your emotions.

“I finished it, it's all ready to send off,” he informs, coming to a stop a few metres away, not as close as he'd usually stand but still closer than sensible if he knew the depravity in your mind right now.

“Good,” you return simply without even looking at him.

He huffs a soft laugh. “No thank you?” He jokes, but you can't see the humour at all. Not when you're feeling like this.

“Thank you?” You repeat flatly before turning your dark gaze to him as you straighten and lean off of the counter. He swallows thickly and takes a step back when you take one towards him, prompting him to keep reversing. “Why should I thank you for doing your fucking job, huh?”

Seungcheol's mouth opens and closes with an attempt to try and say something, some kind of a “just joking” explanation but all he manages are vague sputters of sound that cut off abruptly when his back hits the wall and you're standing right in front of him. He's taller than you by a handful of inches but right now, he feels so fucking small and he's surprised by how much he likes it.

"Well?" You prompt, well aware that he had tried to explain himself; his pathetic stammering was very obvious and gave away that you’re intimidating him.

Though based on the big innocent eyes on you paired with the prettiest of pink tints to his cheeks, you think that perhaps intimidation isn't all it is.

And it's just pushing you to keep pushing him until he breaks because you know that he'll break so fucking beautifully.

“I'm sorry,” he finally manages to squeak out.

“You think that's good enough? You think you can just give me empty words and all is forgiven? Oh, baby, you really don't know me at all.”

He just stares at you dumbly; mouth dry and pupils dilating further and further with every act you make. 

It's far from the Seungcheol you see at work and that thought sort of douses you in icy water. This isn't normal for either of you.

Well, it's not unusual behaviour for you with partners at all, but he doesn't know that. Besides, he's your work partner and friend, not a sexual partner.

“Shit.” You sigh and back up a little. “You should go, I'm clearly not in the right frame of mind and if you stay, I'll go too far.” You try to move even further away to give him space to leave, yet you're stopped by your shirt pulling tight around your back. You look down and find both of Seungcheol's hands gripping the hem of your untucked shirt, his fingers trembling a little. You look back up with a questioning eyebrow.

“ don't want to leave,” he admits quietly as his cheeks darken slightly.

“No?” He shakes his head shyly. “You know what it means if you stay, right? You know what I want to do to you?” You check a little worriedly.

“Uhm...dom me?”

You huff a laugh. “I want to ruin you, baby.” His eyes light with interest. “You want that? Big scary Choi Seungcheol wants little ol' me to pin him down and make him cry?” You tease while running a finger over his jaw.

His mouth opens wider and his tongue appears with the tip pressed against his lip as if reaching for your touch. You don't give it to him even if you think he'll look precious with your fingers in his mouth.

You pull your hands away and cross your arms over your chest. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response, Seungcheol.” Your voice is firm and your expression is the same on him.

“Y-yes!” He rushes out. “I-I want you to do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Use me.” You hadn't said those words yourself, but you like them a hell of a lot. “Push me down and use me to make yourself feel good. Make me cry, ruin me. Please just...do something,” he's begging by now, not as strongly as he could be, still holding back a lot but you're pretty sure it's all very new for him.

You need to check though before anything goes any further. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Subbed?”

He shakes his head a little. “No, it's usually the other way.”

“Figures.” You huff a laugh then reach down to remove his hands from your shirt to take one into your own hand. “Come on.”

You lead him to your bedroom, though let him go in the middle of the floor to walk over and sit on the edge of your bed. He fidgets when you just stare at him contemplatively, your eyes dark and calculating as you lean back on your palms behind you with your legs crossed over at the ankles comfortably.

When he starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt nervously, you speak up deeming him desperate enough with his cheeks a magnificent dark pink. “What're your limits, Cheolie?”

The nickname is new but he likes it. It feels fitting somehow.

“Uh.” He has to stop and think for a moment. He isn't sure exactly what his limits are for certain in this situation because he doesn't know what he likes in the submissive role, but there are some things he knows he'll never be okay with so he starts there. “Bodily fluids outside of spit and cum.”

“So you don't mind being spat on with your own cum?”

“Uh, I mean, I think I'm okay with it,” he offers awkwardly; uncertain but trying his hardest to be open and honest.

“How about eating it?”

“Uh...I don't know about that.”

“Okay.” You easily accept his response and move on. “What else? Pain?”

“I don't know; I've never received it before. If you want to try it I'm willing just… not too intense.”

“Hmm, we'll see. Edging? Overstimulation?” Those options have him hesitating as he genuinely considers them both. And then, he nods slowly, shyly. “I asked a question, Seungcheol.”

“Y-yes, to both.”

“Good, because that's my favourite thing to do to my little ones,” you coo. “Pick a safe word.”

“Uh, can we use the traffic light system? Red for stop, green for carry on?”

“Sure thing,” you agree easily; it was familiar enough to you after all. “What do you use for uncertain? Some people say yellow, some orange, some amber.”

“Whatever.”

“Pick one,” it's a demand he quickly obeys.

“Amber.”

“Good boy.” He visibly preens a little at the praise, which you make a mental note of. “Are you clean? Sexually, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“And that's a recent test since your last sexual partner?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I won't touch you without that confirmation and luckily, I trust you to be honest so you don't need to show me proof like I usually demand.”

“You trust me?” He asks softly, awed by the words and the weight they carry.

You hum and nod in confirmation. “More than anyone else.”

“Oh.” He smiles down at his hands happily. “I feel the same about you too.”

“I imagine so, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be willing to do this if you didn't,” you tease.

“Ah, yeah, true.” He chuckles and rubs his neck shyly.

You let him stew in his minor embarrassment for a second before talking again. “Degradation?” He looks up at you at that. “How do you feel about that?”

“I might cry,” he admits honestly, making you laugh a little at the blunt way he speaks the words. “I don't like being called names or looked down on.”

“Okay, baby, none of that,” you assure.

“Thank you.”

“Mm, of course, I have to make this good for you too. And I do love that you use your manners without being prompted. Such a good boy, huh?” His eyes round out again at you and the semi-casual air between you dissipating with your slightly teasing tone. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Cheolie?”

“Yes, I'll be good for you.”

“Then strip.” He blinks at you a few times at the abrupt demand; the way your tone changes from light to borderline hard with no room for arguments.

Slowly, Seungcheol's slightly shaky fingers first remove his tie, and then his shirt, exposing his broad, muscle-thick torso to you. He knows he looks good, that his body is worth ogling but your dark eyes still make him feel shy.

Still, he continues, his top half entirely bare and moving onto his belt.

Something about the way he opens it and pulls it free from the loops of his slacks is really attractive to you. You can easily imagine him teasing his own sub as he removes his belt before grabbing the ends to turn it on their backside when he bends them over. Maybe you could break for him too; if he turns out to be a good enough fuck this time that is.

For now, you're more than content to watch him open his button and zipper and let his trousers drop to his ankles. He bends down to remove them from around his feet, taking his socks off too and then he straightens up and looks at you. You can tell he's hesitant to remove his boxers by the way his fingers fiddle with the waistband over his hips for a few seconds.

There's a part of you that wants to let him off easy for now and allow him to keep his boxers on for a little while. But the bigger part of you really doesn't want to do that so you continue to silently watch him.

Seungcheol lowers his head to look down at his underwear for a second, then he looks at you through his eyelashes still hoping you'll take pity on him. You don't. So he looks back down as he takes a long breath in before he hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and starts to push the material down.

You watch with rapt attention as the final piece of the beautiful, thick-built puzzle that is Choi Seungcheol is revealed to you inch by glorious inch. You have to admit, he's fucking gorgeous and it does a lot to you. Makes you throb between your thighs as they clench for a second while he's distracted focusing on removing his boxers from his legs.

And then he's entirely bare and looking at you shyly, fingers on his right hand picking at the nails of his left in nervous wait.

“C'mere,” you murmur. Seungcheol stumbles over and when you nod to the floor, he slowly lowers to his knees, letting his hands hover over his rapidly hardening dick. That is like the rest of him; thick and unfairly beautiful.

At this rate, you can't tell who is going to ruin who.

“Don't hide from me.” You unfold your legs just to gently tap at his hands with your socked foot before settling it flat on the floor beside his left knee.

A little reluctantly, Seungcheol moves his hands aside to place them on the tops of his thighs and allow you the full view of his kneeled form.

“Mm, much better, good boy.” The praise straightens his posture a little. “You're so beautiful, babyboy, don't deprive me of such a gorgeous view, hm?”

“Ah, fuck,” he softly breathes out; a little overwhelmed by the unexpected compliments, which he just knows are genuine from your tone and expression on him. You clearly like what you see and it makes his dick jump a little against his thigh. You smirk at the visible response; you've always known that Seungcheol loves compliments and praise but you didn't know just how much.

“Shall we even things out a little?” You suggest, already getting up to your feet in front of him.

He watches you with rapt attention as you open your trousers and shimmy them down. His gaze is too focused on the skin of your thighs coming into sight that he doesn't realise that you've pushed your panties down with your trousers to save yourself time. At least until you sit back down on the edge of the bed when the material is around your knees.

“Off,” you demand.

Seungcheol's hands immediately reach out to hook his fingers over the combined waistbands and pull them off of your slightly raised legs. It's when he's setting them aside that he notices the white material inside of the black of your trousers and freezes.

Mindlessly, he moves one hand to pull on the white material and quickly looks at you with wide eyes and his mouth parted. You just raise an eyebrow in return, silently prompting him to snap back to his task and move the material aside entirely so that he can carefully remove your socks too.

“Good boy.”

Just to tease, you sit there for a good almost twenty seconds with your legs closed most of the way, just the slightest gap between your thighs but it's not big enough for him to see anything but a dark shadow.

To your surprise, he actually gives in first. “Please?” He begs softly, looking up at you pleadingly. “Please let me see your pussy.”

“Oh, how can I refuse such good manners?” You coo and spread your legs causing his gaze to drop back down between them. Though he whines when he realises that your shirt is long enough to mostly cover you and shadow the rest. “You make such cute sounds, Cheolie.”

“Don't tease me,” he complains.

“I'll do what I want and you'll be grateful for it.” He presses his lips together looking fully scolded and stares at you in wait. He's impatient, that's very obvious but he's doing his best to stick to this new dynamic.

Honestly, he's taking to it a lot better than you had expected, or hoped, considering all that you know about Choi Seungcheol; so instead of prolonging it any longer, you lift the hem of your shirt out of the way with one hand.

Seungcheol's lips part when his eyes land back between your thighs and take in the sight of you fully exposed to him. Automatically, his hands lift with every intention of putting them on your thighs to push your legs open further while he leans in licking his lips.

But you stop him with your free hand, a finger pressed to his forehead. “I didn't say you can touch.” You grin amusedly at his dumb-aroused expression; his mouth open and tongue hanging out a little.

“Can I taste?” He requests, putting his hands back on his thighs but not leaning back. Your slightly condescending laugh makes him pout. When you nudge his forehead under your index finger, he leans back into a sulky slouch.

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty for me,” you point out, now using that same finger to trail up your inner thigh. Seungcheol's pout melts away as he watches its path intently. He audibly inhales sharply when it drags through your folds. He groans a little when he sees the shine now on the digit and wishes it was his tongue getting doused in your arousal.

Even though you very much would enjoy an orgasm or two sooner rather than later, you continue to tease yourself with one finger; barely brushing over your clit and circling your hole but never pushing in. It's more to tease Seungcheol and the squirming of his body perhaps turns you on more than your own actions.

Either way, when you do finally give in and plunge your finger inside, you're wet enough that it's more than easy and honestly, not very satisfying past the initial relief of having something in you finally.

Though that relief passes very quickly so soon you're adding a second finger and watching Seungcheol chew on his bottom lip hard enough that you think he's going to break skin any second. You really don't want that, so you pull your fingers out and reach towards him. The speed at which he leans it with his mouth opening genuinely makes you laugh.

“Oh, baby, you are desperate, huh?” You tease and adjust your hand so that your thumb presses against his bottom lip and your slick fingers are not close enough to his mouth to get even the hint of a taste. “You're not getting a taste, I just don't want you to hurt those pretty lips.” The expression he lands on you is utterly heartbroken. “Stop biting or I'll gag you, understand?”

“I...I understand,” he agrees, so you let him go and return your fingers back to yourself, though Seungcheol doesn't lean back. In this position, his head is pretty much between your knees, which you spread a little wider and he takes as permission to scoot a little closer. You don't mind at all, he'll just be teasing himself more with a closer view after all.

Your intention with fingering yourself isn't to reach orgasm at all, mostly you just want to tease Seungcheol by showing him what he can't have, though you also do want to prepare yourself. When you're able to easily take three fingers, you remove them and get up.

“Wh-where are you going?” He worries, hands lifting from his thighs but only hovering a few inches away from his own body. He wants to reach out and stop you from walking away but he knows he can't. You still haven't given him permission to touch yet and he really doesn't want to be scolded again, let alone face any kind of punishment you may give him if he disobeys a direct order. He's horny, not stupid.

“I'll be right back, just sit there and wait like a good boy, sweetheart,” your voice is gentle in order to soothe him that you are, in fact, not planning to actually leave and end things here as he fears.

You quickly grab something from a case in the chest of drawers before returning. You sit back down and open your thighs again, but Seungcheol's gaze is glued to the pale blue dildo in your hand.

“What do you think?” You muse, leaning down to hold it near to his erection in comparison. “Ah, not quite as thick as you.” You sigh dramatically and straighten back up. “That's a shame; it's as close as I've got though, so it'll have to do.” You pout theatrically as you trace the tip of the silicone toy over your slick folds; it's a little cold and jarring but you do your best to ignore it. Besides, the temperature difference isn't something you're entirely against.

Vaguely, you wonder if Seungcheol would be into temperature play; you've never tried it before but you've always been interested in both giving and receiving.

Seungcheol wants to make a retort, say that instead of settling for a toy that wouldn't stretch you like his thick cock would, you could just use his. He'd fuck you however you want and probably thank you for it at this point; he's throbbing with need and leaking on his thigh. He doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on in his life. But he can't talk, can't say a fucking thing as he watches the head of the toy breach you.

He was wrong before, now he's more turned on than he's ever been as he watches the way the girth of the toy spears you open.

Your breath catches a little so he looks up at you and once again corrects himself because your expression is what wet dreams are fucking made of. Your mouth is parted and your eyes are closed, your head tipped back slightly and your cheeks pink with pleasure.

You let out a curse under your breath so he looks back down and swears in the same fashion when he sees that you have entirely embedded the toy within you, just the slightly flared base in your fingers still.

“Fuck,” he curses again when you start to pull the toy out slowly and he sees how you've drenched it. Your eyes open to look down at him with an amused lopsided grin. He doesn't notice though, he's too entranced by the show less than a metre in front of his face.

Seungcheol doesn't notice the way he naturally moves a hand towards his crotch with the intention of soothing his aching cock, but you do. “Stop,” you demand, stopping your own motions of fucking into yourself slowly to let yourself get used to the toy's length and girth fully.

“Huh?” He looks up at you confused with his mouth wide open.

“I didn't give you permission to touch your cock, Seungcheol.”

“What?” He looks down and notices the hand inches from his dick. “Oh.” He hesitates but obediently puts his hand back on his thigh before looking up at you shyly. “I-I didn't realise. I'm sorry.”

“Feeling that needy?” You smirk and get back to fucking yourself on the toy. He lets out a sound, a mix between a whimper and a groan as he looks back down at your pussy. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, I've never been this turned on before,” he admits in a rush of syllables. “Wanna fuck you so much,” he whines, fingers curling into fists which he presses down onto his thighs almost harshly in an attempt to behave for you.

He wants to be good for you. Wants to be your good boy. But it's so fucking hard when you look so fucking good. Look like your pussy would take him so well and make a fucking mess of him.

All he wants is to get up, throw that toy aside and sink his cock into you and feel your slick, heated walls around him. He's fucking convinced that your pussy would be perfect for him.

But he can't, and that's really hard for him to accept and handle when he's usually the one in charge during sex.

“Think you can make me feel better than this?” You taunt a little and pick up speed, letting your pleasure show through with little pleased sounds that really do not help Seungcheol's self-control at all. He moves a little closer yet doesn't touch either of you the way he wants to.

He's obviously trying his hardest and that, you think, is more than enough when honestly, you really want his cock in you as much as he wants to put it in you.

“Yes,” there's not an ounce of hesitation in his answer, he's entirely confident in his abilities, in his thick cock.

Usually, you'd roll your eyes and dismiss that confidence from a man because they're notoriously cocky with nothing to back up their claims. Part of the reason you got into domming is because men don't know how to use their dicks, so you always get more pleasure when you're on top and controlling how your walls are pummelled.

But there's something about Seungcheol that tells you that he's not like other men. He can and will fuck you right given the chance. Still, you want to be on top in every way.

“Big talk, little one.” You huff a laugh, most of your breath affected by the pleasure of the toy you're using to hit all of those good spots inside of you with every thrust. You're not being as rough as you could be, as you often tend to be when you feel like this, but you're talking and know that you have no space left in your chest for words when you truly fuck yourself.

“Let me prove it,” he pleads. “Please, just let me fuck you and I promise you'll cum hard.”

“I'll cum hard regardless,” you hum. His expression twists in displeasure knowing that you are truly dismissing his offer. “Maybe another time,” you counteroffer, not liking that downtrodden expression at all.

He looks up at you with hope glistening his dark gaze. “Yeah?” He asks with a surprised exhale.

“If you do good enough for me this time.” You pull the toy out and point it at him. Seungcheol eyes it and licks his lips. “What? You wanna suck it?” You taunt.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs.

“Enough to suck my cock?”

He glances up at you then looks back down and nods, licking his lips again. “Yeah, can I? Please?”

“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” you approve and touch the silicone toy to his bottom lip.

Seungcheol's tongue immediately darts out to pass over the silicone and get his first taste of you. His eyes roll back and he groans before he very enthusiastically starts to drag his mouth over the toy. He moves up the length along every side, not actually putting the toy into his mouth really, but this is absurdly hot enough as it is.

It turns you on much more than you had anticipated seeing this handsome man pretty much going feral for your taste that he'll messily lave his tongue over the dildo with his eyes closed in bliss and constant streams of groans of approval vibrating out of his throat.

And when he moves back to the tip and wraps his lips around it, genuinely sucking on the fake-cock, well that's as much as you can handle. You pull it away without warning creating a pop before Seungcheol looks at you half dazed, half betrayed with a smidge of confusion.

“Get on the bed,” you demand, getting up and walking around to one side of the bed while unbuttoning your shirt.

Seungcheol doesn't even have to think; there's no mental input on his behalf as he jumps up. His legs almost give out under him as the blood rushes back into his limbs after sitting on them in one position for a prolonged period, but he powers through to practically throw himself onto the mattress.

“On your back.” He crawls and shuffles until he's on his back with his head on the pillows and chest rising and falling heavily already in anticipation.

Seungcheol's heavy gaze remains on you as you reveal your body entirely. He lets out a shaky exhale when you're fully bare and climbing up onto the mattress at his left. “You're beautiful,” he says in a tone that is far too affectionate for what is going on here.

It makes you pause for a moment and look carefully at his gaze. He still looks ridiculously horny but there's something else there now; a touch of fond that genuinely sort of worries you.

Of course, you are fond of Seungcheol; he's a very precious friend to you but your feelings don't extend further than that, further than platonic and sexual. You really hope that the fondness you see is nothing more than a reflection of your own feelings and nothing more. Him having romantic feelings could certainly complicate matters more than adding sex into the mix will.

Sex you can navigate with your eyes closed, but feelings? That's an entirely different circus.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” His hopeful tone brings you back to reality. He hasn't even noticed your hesitation for what it truly is and just assumes you're teasing him further.

“Not today,” you answer, silently deciding to just give you both what you want right now and have an actual discussion later when you're both not horny messes.

“Oh.” His lips purse into a pout but then you retrieve a condom from the side table drawer and he lights up again. “Oh!” You let out a soft amused sound at his excited reaction and straddle his thighs while opening the wrapper. “Can I touch myself?” You give him an unimpressed look. “Just to help!” He assures.

“Mm, sure, I'll allow that,” you agree. Seungcheol has his dick in hand as soon as the words are slipping from your lips and holding it upright for you. You notice the way he shudders a little at his own touch on his aching cock and don't berate him for the subtle stroke he gives himself as he rolls the rubber down his length once you put it at his tip. “Good boy,” you hum, tossing the foil aside carelessly.

“For you,” he answers, wide eyes watching as you move up his body to hover over his length that he's still holding upright. “Please.” He doesn't even realise he says it, but you do and decide you've both waited more than long enough.

As soon as you start to slide down his cock, Seungcheol's eyes roll back and his hands fly out to grip your hips tightly. It feels pretty nice so you allow it, at least for now, it's kind of stabilising to have his strong grasp centring you while his cock splits you open.

Although it hadn't looked that much bigger than your toy, you can certainly feel the difference in girth right now. Plus the fact that Seungcheol is so fucking hard in you compared to the slight give of the toy, well you're already so close to an orgasm it's kind of ridiculous.

It takes you both a handful of seconds of heavy breathing to gather yourselves when you're fully impaled on his length and seated on his hips. You don't even try to keep any weight off of him; you're certain he can handle it and even if you weren't, your legs are already weak enough from the feeling of him stretching you out even still like this that you doubt you could hold yourself up if you tried.

You haven't realised that your eyes had closed until you've got some of your breath back, enough to have a mind clear enough to want to look down at him. His eyes are closed; he's struggling more than you, which doesn't surprise you considering how you hadn't allowed him any touch until now.

Carefully, you remove Seungcheol's grip from your hips and lean over to pin his hands up by his head. The new angle has his cock hitting a delicious spot within you and you can't help but grind down against him to gain friction against it. This angle also means that your clit is rubbing against his body with every roll of your hips.

Seungcheol barely manages to open his eyes and look at you before they roll back again with pleasure as you moan over him, fingers gripping onto his wrists with your full weight. He doesn't mind at all, doesn't really register it considering you're so wet and hot and tight around him that he truly cannot focus on anything else. Yet even if he could register it, he wouldn't give a single fuck. You could crush him and he'd be into it right now.

“D-don't cum,” you order when you feel your orgasm right on the brink, eyes opening to peer down at him. His own fly open in pained disbelief. “Un-fuck-understand, Seungcheol?” He whines but nods obediently. The agreement of restraint sends you over. Pleasure shocks through your body making it jerk a little, mouth open with broken higher-pitched moans coming out.

Seungcheol's whole body tenses and his face screws up tightly as you clamp down around him. He's never fought an orgasm before but you told him not to cum and he's not going to let you down now.

He's shaking by the time you slump over him, forehead dropping to his shoulder as you fight to suck air back into your lungs, just the occasional tiny twitch of your hips when a fresh lick of pleasure shoots through you with the aftershocks of an intense orgasm.

“Did you cum?” You check another few moments later.

It takes Seungcheol a few attempts to answer, just grunts coming out at first but you wait patiently. “No,” he manages while flexing his fingers to give him something else to focus on.

“Good boy,” you praise and press a kiss to his neck. His breath catches at the unexpected action but then you do it again, and again, and again as you adjust yourself while leaning up to look down at him with your hands now on the mattress and not pressing down against his wrists in a tight grip.

You take a look at them and are relieved that there's only slight redness right now, so you're pretty sure he won't bruise. Still, you'll keep an eye on it just in case.

“You did so well, Cheolie.” You hum and cup his jaw. His lip trembles a little, eyes so big on you and soaking in the praise. It helps his shaking lessen as he relaxes from doing his utmost not to cum with the fluttering of your walls around him. “Think you can hold out longer for me, baby?”

“I...ye-yeah.” He isn't sure but he's sure he'll try his best for you. He really wants to be your good boy. Your best boy.

“Yeah?” You smile softly, pleased. He nods and smiles back a little in a natural reaction to seeing you happy with him. “That's my boy.” You tap his nose, then straighten up to sit on his hips with your hands on his solid abs. “I'm going to ride you now, okay baby?”

He nods shakily and sticks his hands under the pillow to grip it. “O-okay.”

“Colour?” He blinks at you confusedly a few times. “What colour are you right now, sweetheart?”

“Oh, green,” he answers. “Green.” The repetition makes your lips quirk up. It's oddly endearing that he's assuring you right now considering he's the one missing an orgasm.

“Good, tell me if that changes, okay?” He nods. You let him get away with not verbally responding this time and start to lift yourself up.

Seungcheol's gaze falls to watch his length appear from your dripping pussy utterly mesmerised. Up until you abruptly drop yourself back down, ass smacking down on his upper thighs audibly.

A loud, low moan tears from his open mouth as his back arches upwards. He looks fucking beautiful like this. You have to keep making him do that so you don't hesitate to lift and drop in the very same way; taking up a punishing rhythm that has his cock dragging against your walls in the most incredible of ways.

Honestly, you're half convinced his cock just being in you has you halfway to a constant orgasm because that ball in your lower stomach winds up tight so fucking quickly that you barely register it until it's there, urging you over but this isn't quite enough for you. You need clitoral stimulation but you don't think it's wise to give it to yourself right now with Seungcheol buried within you and his body trembling as he still holds back with everything in him.

At this point, he's babbling a little in amongst his constant stream of porn-worthy moans. You're not quite sure what he's saying really, you're not sure that he even knows what he's saying either.

If you cum with him inside you, you're positive that he will too regardless of your words so you pull off of him. His eyes instantly fly open in alarm and he looks at you as he lifts his head up. You just settle down again along his latex-covered cock to grind along the length.

He gasps and shudders watching his cock peek out through your slick folds. “Please, please,” he begs; his babbles now making sense while he's not overwhelmed with the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This is still a lot for him but he's much more able to be a good boy for you now. He really wants to make you proud of him. He doesn't want you to think he's a bad boy for cumming without permission, because then you won't play with him again and he really doesn't want that. He wants to be your good boy. Your only good boy.

You know what he's begging for even if he doesn't voice it. You'll make him say it in a minute but right now you're seconds from a second orgasm and unless he says red you're not going to stop.

Even though the orgasm is yours entirely, Seungcheol moans when you do as he watches your face contort with utter bliss as your hips jerk over his length a few more times before falling still. It's not quite as powerful as your first orgasm, not when you're empty, but it's still intense and leaves you breathless.

Initially, you had planned to give yourself many more orgasms before letting Seungcheol cum but you genuinely think if you draw more than one more out of yourself, you'll pass out. You don't know if it's because it's been a while and you've been so pent up that it feels so mind-numbingly incredible, or if it's because of the thick cock pressed up against you.

“Colour?” You pant out when you feel ready to go again, eyes landing on Seungcheol.

He doesn't hesitate to answer this time but he finally sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and cracking a little with the simple single-syllable response. “Green.”

“Okay.” You push up and gently lift his cock up to line with you, applying as little pressure as possible to try not to give him too much too soon and overwhelm him in the wrong way. “Positive?” He nods rapidly so you begin to impale yourself again. His breaths come in one long juddering inhale as you slide down his length until he's sheathed inside of you.

“Please,” he goes right back to pleading, levelling you with such a begging, wet gaze that you know that this will not last long at all.

“Please what, baby?” You question, lifting to ride him slowly, now focused on him and him alone yet not wanting to push him over too fast. He looks too pretty like this; skin blotched with reds and pinks in a way that makes you wish you had discussed marks beforehand so that you could leave some lovebites on his pecs.

But you hadn't, and asking for permission at this point is utterly pointless, Seungcheol is too gone to be able to give full consent to anything new. You're pretty sure he'd say yes to anything right now so long as he can cum.

“Lemmecum.”

“Hm? What was that, speak clearly.”

Seungcheol whines and sniffles. “I wanna c-cum. P-please.” He blinks rapidly as the tears gathering in his eyes overflow and spill down his temples onto the pillow under him. “Please-please l-let me c-cum,” he chokes out, close to full-on sobbing.

You give in. You want to make him cry, not sob his poor heart out, after all. “You can cum,” you consent.

Seungcheol freezes for a split second in genuine shock, but then his eyes roll back and his back bows, biceps bulging as he grips the pillow so tight and pulls it up a little with the strength of his orgasm. He almost yells your name he moans so loud in pleasure and relief as the intense climax takes over his body.

You continue to move on him slowly to ride him through it, and then a little out the other side when he flops back against the sheets and raggedly sucks in harsh breaths with only short exhales. You'd continue with the intention to overstimulate him if he wasn't laid utterly boneless and not even reacting to you anymore. It's boring to overstimulate someone with no response, after all.

He doesn't even react when you carefully pull off of him and remove the condom to tie off and dispose of in the bin beside your bedside table. You stand beside the bed on weak legs for a second to watch him in wonder and decide that he truly is too out of it right now to even notice your presence; so you dart off to get a large glass of water and drink some yourself, and a damp cloth before returning.

Seungcheol is still lying there with his eyes closed though his breathing is evening out now when you place the cup on the side table and sit on the bed at his side. You carefully start to run the cloth over his sweat-damp body; a shower is really needed but that can wait a little.

Seungcheol makes a soft noise but doesn't react otherwise.

Finally, he opens his eyes when you return from taking the cloth back to the bathroom to toss into the hamper where you also clean between your thighs quickly.

“Hey,” you greet softly, laying down on your right propped up on your elbow at his side to look down at him as your left hand soothes over his chest.

“Hi.” He smiles softly at you, then tiredly rolls over to tuck up against you. You smile at the cute action and turn onto your back to allow him to curl up against your side with his head on your chest, his right arm and leg over you keeping you there. Not that you have any intention to move quite yet.

This is nice.

Your right arm goes around his back and into his hair to play with the strands while your left hand rubs over his forearm, gentle yet firm enough that he knows you're here and not going anywhere. “How're you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired,” he mumbles, making you laugh softly.

“Just tired?” He hums in confirmation. “So you're good otherwise? It wasn't too much?”

“No. M'good,” he slurs a little, signalling that he truly is tired enough that sleep is already starting to claim him.

“Yeah, you are. My good boy, huh?” You tease lightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. You're pretty sure you can feel his cheek bunch up against your skin as he smiles in return.

“Your good boy,” he confirms, voice so thick that you know there's no point trying to get him up to shower or eat, even drink despite knowing he really should. It'll have to wait until he wakes.

“Mm, yeah, sleep now baby, we'll talk more later,” you reply, though you're certain he's too close to slumber to really catch the warning.

Regardless, you know that once he's awake and you're certain that he's still genuinely okay, clean and fed, you'll have to talk. A lot has changed in such a short time and hopefully, he will confirm that it's nothing more than sex for him too because the alternative has dread pooling in your gut.

You can't do this again if it's not entirely equal and you kind of have the feeling that there's no going back now that you've had each other like this. Yet, if you can't go forward because of potential feelings on his side, then you're well and truly fucked and not in the way either of you want to be.

Still, that's not something you can discuss right now so you follow Seungcheol's lead and close your eyes. You just hope that when you open them, everything will be alright.

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: Chapter 8, Step 3a: The Blessing

A new chapter for Pride Month! We are officially in the month this story begins in!

first, prev, next, lore, ao3

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Step 3: Ask them out after receiving their child’s blessing

Sub-step A: Obtaining the blessing

Jason was a coward.

It had been about 5 months since he had met the Nightingales in June. It had been nearly 2 months since he realized he was in love with Danny in September. Now it was mid-November and Jason was still yet to make a move.

Over the past few months, Jason has had multiple conversations with Danny both in person and over the phone. He's played with and babysat Ellie a plenty of times. They have dinner together almost as frequently as Jason does with his own family. Hell, he's officially Ellie's secondary emergency contact! He has her drawings and spelling tests up on his fridge! Jason has undeniably become just as important to them as they are to him.

So why is he still hesitating?

Jason sighs into his files, catching Fern's attention.

"Hey Chief, everything okay? Is it 'bout the Thanksgiving dinner for the one soup kitchen? Did John and Irene forget to order something because I told them-"

"Calm down Power Puff, those two didn't do anything wrong."

"Not yet at least," Fern muttered under their breath, recalling the last time Irene and John had caused a mess. They missed a produce delivery because they were too busy arguing. Fern nearly had a conniption when they found them produce-less and made them go recover the delivery when the driver was halfway across Gotham, promising to skin them alive if they came back with so much as a single lettuce leaf wilted in the meantime.

And Jason only hired people who were reliable and made good on their words.

Jason doesn't remember if he'd ever seen the pair work together better in the entire time he'd known them.

Shaking his head, he reassured Fern. "Nah, Johnny reported a mishap in product quantity with the turkey suppliers but I've already worked it out. Also our tofu option supplier fell through but my baby brother is vegan and I had Irene get in contact with one of his recs so we should be fine. So don't go scarin' the daylights outa them again just yet, I still need 'em. 'Sides I'm sighin' for personal reasons and shit."

"Alright Chief, they live for now," the pastel punk relented.

They continued their work in silence for two whole blissful minutes before Fern piped up again.

"Right then, out with it Chief. What's got you sighin' if it ain't the terrible two-some?"

"Didn't I just say it was personal shit?"

Fern raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh please, if yah didn't want me askin', yah wouldn't have said shit 'bout it in the first place. Yah want someone to ask yah so you can get it outa yer system. So spill Chief." Fern said, reading Jason like a book.

Jason sighs in defeat.

"Okay so do you remember Danny and Ellie?"

"Yer hot neighbor and his kid who came to the soup kitchen that one time? The one Irene's always ribbin' yah about?"

"Yes," Jason glared with no heat, "that's them."

"Whatta 'bout 'em?"

"Okay so you CANNOT tell Irene this," he began. "Buuuuuut, she wasn't exactly wrong about me liking Danny."

Fern's eyes glimmered in excitement. "Oh yeah?" they questioned eagerly.

"Yeah," a sappy expression began to grow on his face. "He's just- he's a really great guy. He's kind and sweet and thoughtful. He's smart and good with his hands- and did I tell you he's working for Leo now? He fixed up my bike a while back and it's running smoother than ever! Oh- and he's an amazing dad! He's always making time for El, playing with her, protecting her. One time I saw 'im clock a guy across the face to protect her! He's-"

An amused look on Fern's face caused him to trail off as he realized he'd begun ranting.

"He's just really great." He finished weakly.

"So you've mentioned," Fern chuckled sympathetically. "Sound like you've got the hots big time Chief. So what 'bout this has got yah all out of sorts?"

"I- I really love him, Fern. Both of them really," he confessed.

"And this is an issue because...?" Fern questioned, drawing their eyebrows together.

"Because I'm too scare to tell him. I just don't know what to do. We talk and see each other all the time. I spend time with Ellie too, but I just can't seem to say anything about it."

"Well why not?"

"Something about it just doesn't feel right?"

"Come on man, stop pussyfooting and be specific. Ya worried he won't like ya back? That he'll cut you off?"

"Wha- no! No. He wouldn't do that even if he didn't like me back. He and Ellie care about me nearly as much as I care about them. He wouldn't put her through a drastic change like that. At the very least he'd still try to be friends."

"Hmmm. Is that the issue?"

"Huh? Is what the issue?"

"Are you worried it'll be a drastic change for the kid?"

"I-" Jason stopped to consider Fern's words. "Yeah I guess so? I mean there is big big difference between being a family friend she calls uncle and being her dad's boyfriend. I guess I'm not sure she'd take it super well?"

"Look Chief, I think yer overcomplicatin' this. There's a simple solution if yer worried about what the kid will think."

Jason gave Fern an inquiring look.

"Just talk to the kid first." Fern said in an exasperated voice. As if they couldn't believe Jason hadn't thought of this sooner. "Ask her if she'd be okay with ya dating her pops or whatever. She sounds like she likes ya well enough, so ya might have a chance if she approves or whatever."

"Yeah. Yeah you're right. I think I will talk to Ellie first." A determined look grew on his face. "Thanks Fern, you're the best!"

"You know it!" Fern shoved Jason's shoulder. "Now get back to work Chief! Some of us refuse to take work home with us!"

~

Jason was packing his things up for the afternoon when his phone started beeping. He opened it up to see that the family had come to life group chat:

In "The Colony":

"Dad-Man: Alfred would like me to ask if we intend to do a Thanksgiving dinner this year. Dick, I already know that your going on an off-grid trip with Kori, Donna, Victor and the rest of your friends next week, but what about the rest of you?

CoachPretzelHead: Aww B! You do listen! 🥹"

Jason huffed, even though it was encrypted line, Bruce still insisted they talk in code. 'Hmm,' he thought. 'So Dickie-bird's going on a mission with the Titans'. He kept reading to see what the other's had sent.

"BossBaby: I won't be here

BossBaby: Connor invited Bernard and I to Kansas so we'll be spending the long weekend with the Kents.

Dad-man: 🤨

Dad-man: Alright son, but be safe

BossBaby: Ugh I hate it when he uses emojis

BossBaby: Its so cringe

BossBaby: @/PurplePain I blame you

AllSeeingEye: I'll be celebrating with my dad

CoachPretzelHead: Tell him I said hi!

AllSeeingEye gave this message a thumbs up

PurplePain: same hat

PurplePain: i am celebrating with my mom

PurplePain: also sorry not sorry tim

PurplePain: suscks to suck lmao

Dad-man: Alright that's fine you two. Barbara tell Jim I say hi and Steph give my best to Crystal

PurplePain: stay away from my mom 🤢

Dad-man: Stephanie...

PurplePain: okaaay jk jk

PurplePain: chill B

PurplePain: I'll tell her you said hi or whatever

VeeseChiking: Father, I see no point in partaking in this inane holiday celebrating colonialism

VeeseChiking: Which one of you heathens has change my display name once more

CoachPretzelHead: I'm pretty sure I saw Jon with your phone at your playdate yesterday"

Oooh this seemed like a good time to jump in before the gremlin went on another rant about how this treatment was "unbecoming" or whatever.

"(D)Re(a)dSon: I won't be able to make it. I've got a bunch of different soup kitchens to manage and prep for the holiday

(D)Re(a)dSon: I'll be volunteering that night too

(D)Re(a)dSon: But tell Alfie I'll stop by sometime for some tea or smth"

That was both code and an earnest plan. He'd be working in the Catherine Johnson Center soup kitchen before he went on patrol that night.

"Dad-man: Alright lad. Alfred would be happy to have you over. Glad to hear you'll be helping out the Foundation.

CoachPretzelHead: *cough* favoritism *cough*

(D)Re(a)dSon: What part of that interaction was favoritism Golden Boy

TechnicallyADemigod: I'll be home if Alfred needs help in the kitchen or anything

TechnicallyADemigod: Also Cass is with me rn and she says she to lazy to text so to tell you she won't be going back to Hong Kong until after thanksgiving so she'll stick around for dinner if she doesn't tag along with Steph

Dad-man: Okay Chum thanks for letting me know. Tell Cass we'd be happy to have her. I'll let Alfred know we don't plan to do a big dinner this year."

Deciding this is a safe place to drop out of the conversation, Jason turned off his phone and headed to the safe house that has gone up on his list of favorites, the one which he now comfortably calls home.

Once he got home he checked messages to see a new batch notifications from the both the family chat and another contact.

Danny🕊️

"Hey Jase how ya doing?

I wanted to ask if you're free the friday after thanksgiving

I kinda need a favor

Ellie has a long weekend coming up and I need someone to watch her on that Friday bc I have to go give an in-person exam bc my prof breaks exams into 4 instead of a midterm and final

But also who gives an exam the day after a federal holiday?

Like I know that Unis aren't required to give off but like still man

There should be laws against this type of thing"

Jason pause his reading to smile. He could practically hear Danny pout through his phone

"Anyways, I'd leave her with Jazz since we're going to her place for Thanksgiving on Thursday but she's got some internship thing to do

And I know your pretty busy and normally I'd ask Trina but she's traveling to Florida so Sasha can see her grandparents for the break

Pls lemme know if you'd be available"

Jason chuckled over his friend's plight as he typed out an affirmative. He knew he shouldn't have anything going on, and he'd have a chance to talk to Ellie.

"An opportunity to spend time with my favorite Nightingale?

Sign me up!"

He smiled at his phone as Danny typed back:

"Hey I thought I was your fav :(

lol jk jk

Ellie's my fav nightingale too

Thanks, Jase! <3"

'He sent you a little heart!' the definitely-not-the-pits voice cried in his head. Yeah, he really just needed to talk to Ellie soon.

~

Jason is totally not nervous about having Ellie over. Definitely not.

He'd look after her plenty of times and she'd always enjoyed herself! The kid loved him! There was absolutely no reason to stress! He just had to relax! Be cool. It's not like he's some romance novel protagonist trying to receive the blessing of his lover's family to marry despite the fact that he'd be marrying above his station or whatever! (Although, Danny probably was out of his league.) Nope! Not one bit!

He continued to mindlessly cut up strawberries that would be his bribe snack for her once Danny dropped her off. He carried out the repetitive motion almost mindlessly.

Two cuts diagonally at the top, removing the stem and leaves. One cut width-wise down the middle.

It wasn't until he reached for the next berry, only to be met with an empty carton that Jason snapped out of his head. He flushed realizing he now had a bowl overflowing with heart-shaped strawberry halves. He tried not to think about it too hard as he slid it into the fridge for later.

Instead, he wandered back into the living room to adjust and arrange his coffee table. He set the TV remote in the middle. In the top right corner a half-assembled puzzle of a biplane from the last time Ellie was here, and on the left edge a stack of books with another Boxcar Children book, 6th in the original series: The Blue Bay Mystery, on the top.

Ellie had loved the book Jason had given her. She had been ecstatic when he told her there were more. He started searching for some of the other books, getting them either from thrift stores or the GPL (Gotham Public Library). They would often read them together when she came over. It had become like their own little thing.

Jason felt some of the tension he was pretending not to have melt out of his body as he smiled, thinking about reading to her.

He could do this.

Jason checked his phone. Danny wouldn't bring her over for another hour or so. He really should relax in the meantime. Jason picked up a worn copy of The Princess Bride that Dick had gifted him years ago, and began to read.

~

"*Mm-ach*... -and then Uncle Tuck mimed throwing up behind Aunt Sammy's back so she took her tofurkey leg and slapped him with it! And auntie Val laughed at them until Auntie Jazz called to them from the kitchen and told them they better not be getting into another food fight and making a mess or else she wasn't gonna give them desert. And then they sat down really quick like... uh..- like ducks! Yeah they sat down like ducks b'cause Daddy and I made dessert and they know we make the best-est desserts!"

Jason sat on the couch with Ellie, chuckling as she recounted her Thanksgiving yesterday between bites of strawberry.

"Sounds eventful munchkin! What was your favorite part?"

"Mmm, when Val was trying to make auntie Jazz blush! Daddy got so surprised because he thought Val liked Sammy! He freaked out and Aunt Sammy laughed and he realized they were just making fun of him and while they were doing that I was able to get an extra slice of pie from Uncle Tuck!"

"Hahaha, that's great! Maybe I should call you my little Muncher intsted of Munchkin, huh?" he joked, playfully tickling her stomach.

She burst into a fit of giggles " Hehehehehe -eek! Uncle Jaaason stah-stooop!" She complained trying to push him back.

"Alright, alright!" he relented, "I'm glad you had fun." He finished earnestly glad she had so many good adults she could trust in her life, and by extension, that Danny had such good friends. Ellie nodded back at him clearly happy.

"Yeah, it was nice seeing everyone again. I know it made Daddy happy too. Plus I got to give everyone their invitations!"

"Invitations?" Jason questioned.

Ellie looked like she'd been stuck by lightening. She gasped and tossed herself off the couch rushing to her butterfly backpack. Out of it she pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. She scurried back over and shove it in his hands.

It read, "Youre Corgially invited to My Brithday!", written in messy blue crayon with a drawing of a red cake and yellow party Hat underneath.

"This one's for you," she told him gently. She was a bit more subdued than normally, looking off to the side and tugging at her sleeves. She was nervous, unsure how he'd react.

His grip tightened just the slightest bit, a big smile naturally grew on his face as he tried to make his emotions plain. He brought his large hand down, entirely covering the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

"I'd love to attend Munch, when's your birthday happening?"

"My birthday's on December 14th! It's halfway from Daddy's so its his half birthday too! He said we should tell people before so they have time to plan!"

Hmm okay, so Danny's birthday was June 14th and he's invited to Ellie's birthday party in a couple of weeks. One that her other aunts and uncle will likely be attending.

"I'll be sure to mark it down on my calendar," he replied. "Is there any gift you want in particular?"

"Hmmmm, oh! A rocket! Or a yeti! Or or or a spear! Or maybe a slingshot or a pair of wings! *Gasp* OR A PUPPY LIKE CUJO!"

Ah yes, machinery, animals and weaponry. All normal things for a little girl to want.

"Why a spear?"

"Spears are cool!"

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Hey since its Daddy's half birthday you should get him something too! But something small since its not his real birthday." She told him, smiling yet subdued. "We were still moving during his real birthday so he didn't really get real presents, everyone just came over to help."

"Hmm any ideas what he'd want?"

"Daddy likes space a lot. And making things. He likes to you too. I think he'd like anything that made you think about him." she told him as if she wasn't dropping info that made Jason's heart leap.

He nodded a bit flustered, and rushed to reply. This was a good a chance as he'd get to bring it up. Something in him screamed "Now! Now's your chance to ask! you have to do it now!"

"I like him too. A lot, actually." he began, swallowing his pride and his nerves. "Ellie I wanted to ask you something."

"Hmm?" she tilted her head at him inquisitively. Jason crouched down and held her hand before continuing.

"Elle, I like your dad a lot. He makes me laugh and smile. He makes me feel warm and happy. I care about him. And I care about you too. Your both so.. incredibly important to me. And, well I- I wanna ask for you permission."

"My permission?" she questioned, her brows furrowing suspiciously.

"I-... Would it be alright with you if I asked your dad on a date?"

"A date?" she parroted back at him like she didn't quite understand what he meant.

"Yes. I'd like to take him out, to do something fun with him. I want a chance to make him as happy as he makes me." he tried to get his point across.

"Oh!" she gasped in realization, "you want to court Dad!"

Her voice seemed surprised but steady.

"Yes," Jason confirmed. "I would like to court him. But I'll only do it if you're okay with me spending so much time with your dad. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

Ellie kept her body language surprisingly neutral for a 6 year old. She face was blank as she carefully stared deep into Jason's eyes. He could see the deep thoughts and mental calculations in her eyes. As if she as if trying to gauge his sincerity, to examining his soul for stains. Her silence was beginning to scare him. He wondered if perhaps he had too presumptuous.

Then, wordlessly, Ellie grabbed a heart-shaped strawberry from the bowl. Slowly, looking directly into his eyes, she crushed it in her tiny fist. Jason suppressed the urge to flinch. She maintained eye contact as she brought up the pink mush to her mouth, before she chewed and swallowed. She gave off such an intense aura it nearly made him shiver. It seemed to carry the implication in her actions.

That's what I'll do to you if you hurt him.

Jason gulped wordlessly but did not look away. He could understand the subtext of their interaction loud and clear, but it didn't matter. He loved Danny. And he loved Ellie too. He'd never want to hurt them. If Ellie didn't want him too, then he wouldn't. But until she said something he would keep meeting her head on.

Suddenly, her cold facade broke, giving way to a wide grin. She began to vibrate excitedly.

"Yes! You can have my permission to court Dad!" she declared.

Jason let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you, Princess," he said, grateful and relieved. His smile grew to match hers. He drew her into a hug and she returned it tightly.

Ellie tilted her head up and gleefully whispered in his ear. "I was gonna give you permission from the start, I just wanted to see you sweat a bit first."

Jason gasped before barking out a laugh. "You little menace!" he said fondly, tickling her stomach. "Where'd you learn to be so devious?"

"Hehe- nooooo, Haha. Uncle Jason, HAHAHA, stooop!" she shrieked.

"There is no more uncle Jason," he began gravely, "Only the TICKLE MONSTER!"

"Hahahaha- noooo! Hahaha!"

~

Danny came to pick up Ellie around five. Despite the blessing he obtained that afternoon, Jason decided not ask Danny out just yet. He wanted that moment to be special. So instead he just had another normal send off.

"Thanks again for watching her."

Danny stood in the doorway as Ellie gathered up her things.

"Like I said, its no problem," Jason waved him off, "Anything for my favorite neighbors." he teased.

Danny just smiled back fondly as Ellie rushed over with her bag.

"Alrighty then Ell, ready to go?"

"Yup! I just gotta say good by to Uncle Jason!" She turned and he crouched down to hug her. Similarly to what she had done earlier, Ellie placed her arms around his neck and brought her face close to his ear.

"Goodbye Uncle Jason!" she said at a normal volume before tilting her head to whisper in his ear. "Also, please try not to mess up with Dad. I like you and it would be a shame if you had to get knee surgery."

Jason really shouldn't have been as distracted as he was based on her prior behavior. She released him from her arms and in a flash she was bouncing down the hall as her dad trailed her.

Jason stood slowly, shaking his head. 'That precocious little spitfire had really threatened me. I should find it as cute as I do', he thought.

~~~

Group Chat Name Guide

I tried to make it obvious who was who but just in-case:

Dad-man: Bruce, play on Batman

CoachPretzelHead: Dick, he's a gymnastics coach in this au (not a cop) and it references his flexibility

AllSeeingEye: Babs, reference to Oracle

BossBaby: Tim, bc he's still currently CEO of Wayne enterprises

PurplePain: Steph, reference to Spoiler and the Prince song Purple Rain bc her mom likes the song even though she personally doesn't actually listen to his music

VeeseChiking: Damian, a play on his canonical love for the video game Cheese Vikings

(D)Re(a)dSon: Jason, play of words on "dread son", "red son", "read son",and "Jason"

TechnicallyADemigod: Duke, reference to how canonically his bio dad, Gnomon, is some immortal god dude

Also Not featured in this chapter but:

GrandBattementOfJustice: Cass, reference to the ballet move: grand battement (which is a high kick) and also to Black Bat, and the term "Hammer/Fist of Justice"

Mr.Bond: Alfred, its bc he's British and will use guns

[frvnkiedolll]

⋆༺𓆩 mister 𓆪༻⋆

synopsis: you and your daughter are targeted and cornered by the mob, about to be murdered… until a certain ex-marine swoops in to save the day

cw: good mix of fluff and angst, violence, guns, italian, frank is so sweet to you both, gave your daughter a random age and name don’t kill me, lost a bit of steam at the end.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ! I swear to God I didn't do nothin'!"

Held by the collar of his shirt, Asshole #3 struggled against his attackers grip, frantically pawing at the rough, worn sleeve of a black cargo jacket as it dragged him toward the edge of the roof.

For as long as he could remember, he'd worked as muscle-for-hire for the mob, making a living busting kneecaps, shutting up witnesses, and tossing bodies in trash compactors.

Sickeningly, he thought it to be an honest living, and prided himself upon it because it taught him a skill invaluable in his line of work.

How to recognize a wise guy.

It had saved his ass more times than he could count, and allowed him to keep his face firmly intact over the years.

But as he ran through his mental checklist of cues, the attacker's features began becoming steadily more visible, the man entering the dim haze of a single streetlight—which overlooked the back-alley down below.

Eyes widening, they trailed down to the assailant's chest, every vein and artery in his body turning to ice as he came face to face with a snarling, silver skull, spray-painted onto a thick, Kevlar vest.

'No... Fuckin'... Way.'

This... is where Asshole #3 realized he was in deeeep shit.

Letting out rasped wheeze of fear, Asshole #3 began struggling like never before, snorting and panting like a pig on the way to slaughter as he threw his hands up in surrender.

"Dio, aiutami! I know who you are! You got the wrong guy! I'm tellin' ya, I didn't do nothin'!"

Frank paid his pleas no mind, sizing him up with a disgusted glare as he let out a sharp exhale from his nose, finally winding up and slamming the bastard's face into the concrete ledge.

A wet crack echoed through the air as Asshole #3's cheek collided with the sharpened edge, a whimpering scream of pain quick to follow as Frank pressed his boot into the back of his head, further slicing into the flesh and exacerbating what was—without a doubt—a shattered cheekbone.

"Cazzo!" Asshole #3 screeched, hands frantically grasping for anything to hold on to as the boot split his face further and further. "I swear on my mother's grave, I ain't do nothin'! You got the wrong guy!"

Frank scoffed, almost amused by his blubbering.

Guys like him had no honor, and lies flowed out their mouths like water.

You couldn't trust them as far as you could throw them.

(Which, in Frank's case, was pretty far, but who was really checking?)

Without a single falter, he pressed his boot harder against the man's skull, waiting until he heard another sharp crack before letting up ever-so slightly.

"The hell you doin' up here while all your buddies are inside, yeah?" Frank's voice rumbled from deep within his chest, revulsion leaking from his every pore as if talking to the creep would give him hives.

With a familiar click-click, he pressed his sawn-off, double barrel into the man's toupee.

"You lie... I paint your brains all over this roof."

"I'm 'sposed to be lookin' out for the cops!" Asshole #3 answered almost instantly. "They upped the number of cars on patrol 'bout a week ago, and our guys've been gettin' picked up left an' right!"

He grunted, as if suddenly remembering an annoying detail.

"The woman they got in there's a fuckin' loudmouth. Couldn't take no chances."

At that, Frank's brow furrowed, worry spiking in his chest almost instantly.

Woman... loudmouth... lookout.

It was safe to say his mind was already running toward the worse case scenario.

As if on cue, the back door of the building was kicked open, the sound of scuffling feet and struggling grunts reverberating through the alley below.

"Fuckin' assholes!" you exclaimed, thrashing frantically against the harsh grip of the two men dragging you out. "I still got a week left! I'll get you the goddamn money!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Asshole #1 barked, shifting his grip to strike a cruel, ear-piercing slap across your face. "M'sick of hearin' your fuckin' mouth!"

"Too goddamn bad!" you quickly recovered, snapping your head over to him and spitting a glob of blood in his face.

"Che cazzo!"

"Tone, I think the bitch broke my fuckin' nose," Asshole #2 winced, lightly tapping his painfully crooked sniffer as he held his head back, halting the steady flow of blood pouring out his nostrils. "Oh, God, is it bad?"

"Who gives a shit, asshole, you weren't pretty to begin with," Asshole #4 scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Let's just get this done, alright? I got an early mornin' t'morrow."

Nodding in agreement, Assholes #1 and #2 assumed position, holding you up by your arms as #4 stood before you.

Weakly lifting your head, you let out a humorless laugh, your teeth flashing in a weak, bloody grin as you sized up the man before you.

"What?" you scoffed. "You bastards gonna bust my knee 'cause I didn't pay you a week early?"

#4 smirked, amused by your lack of fear.

"Maybe..." he shrugged, indifferent. "What would ya say if we did?"

"Tough shit," you glared. "I'll serve drinks in a boot."

At that, the men burst into heartless laughter, absolutely tickled by your response.

"Well, I hate to break it to ya, sweetheart... but that's not gonna happen."

Suddenly, the back door burst open once again, another man exiting, but with a certain something in his arms that drained all the color from your face.

'No... no, no, no, no, no, no!'

"Mommy!" your four year-old daughter cried, tears streaking down her cheeks under the man's tight grip.

"Mia!" you gasped, eyes wide with fear before you snapped your head over to the men with a sharp glare. "You bastards! She's got nothing to do with this! You keep her out of it!"

With a sigh, #4 shrugged once again, slowly drawing a handgun from his pocket.

"See, the boss thinks differently," he stated, twirling it around on his finger. "We had an agreement, (y/n). We lent you money, you kept your apartment."

His gaze sharpened, expression turning stony as he glanced at you.

"But my sources are tellin' me now that you was plannin' on skippin' town."

"Bullshit!" you barked, thrashing once again in their grip. "If I had the cash to do that, I wouldn't be takin' loans from you!"

"Well, either way, the boss thought what better way to relieve your financial burdens then dispatchin' the main money-eater in your household," he turned, drawing his gun and aiming directly for your daughter's face, Mia screaming at the sight. "I know kids can be such a pain."

"Motherfucker! You touch her, I swear to God I will fucking kill you!" you shouted, frantically, tears welling in your eyes as you desperately tried to break free. "She has nothing to do with this! You keep her out of it!"

"This ain't up for debate, sweetheart," he chuckled, clicking off the safety.

"Hey! No, no, no, no no! Please! She didn't do anything wrong!" you sputtered, heart breaking as they shoved her to the ground, dirtying her light pink puffer jacket. "I'm right here! Just fuckin' take me! Don't do this!"

"Mommy, I'm scared!" Mia wailed, her tiny hands reaching out for you in fear as Asshole #5 pinned her down with his grimy boot. "Mommy!"

"Goddammit! I will fucking kill you, you hear me?! I will fucking kill you!" you barked, struggling violently against the men's hold. "Fucking shit!"

"Say goodbye, kid," #4 grinned, pressing the barrel of his gun into her forehead.

"NO! Let her go! Look at me! I'm right here! Please! She's got nothin' to do with this! Let her go!"

"MOMMY!"

"PLEASE!"

"AHHHH!" a deep, loud, and furious voice roared, a man with a skull on his chest emerging from the shadows guns blazing, his first shot completely blowing the face off of #4.

Instantly, the men forgot about you and Mia, dropping you and opening fire on your mystery savior as your daughter let out a terrified scream.

"Mia!" you called, scrambling to your feet and limping toward her on shaky legs.

The bastards had already done a number on you inside—especially since you couldn't shut your mouth—so to say you were hurting was an understatement.

But you couldn't care less.

They way you were feeling, you might as well have been Wonder Woman.

"Momma!" she cried, running toward you with puffy cheeks and bleary eyes.

Utterly relieved, you pulled her into your chest, having just seen your whole world flash before your eyes.

"Oh, my sweet girl!" you muttered into her hair, peppering kisses all over her face as you rocked back and forth. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you? You were so brave for me, honey. My big, brave girl."

"Momma, I wanna go home!" she sobbed, her tiny hands fisting the fabric of your shirt with an iron grip, her shoulders flinching at every gunshot.

"We're goin' home, honey, we're goin' home," you promised, quickly scooping her up and turning around, making a run for it. "Just keep your head down, baby, okay? Don't look up."

Carefully, you pressed your hand into the back of her head, burying her face in your shoulder to shield her from the carnage behind you—blood and blown off limbs strewn all over the place.

"La puttana se ne va!" #2 shouted over the gunfire.

"Vai a prenderla, cazzo!" #1 ordered before taking a bullet to the shoulder.

Quickly, #2 gave chase, running after you both at a terrifyingly fast pace, the sound of his wing-tips clacking against the ground getting closer and closer.

'Fuck!'

"Torna qui!" he spat, shooting in your direction.

Mia let out another terrified scream as bullets whizzed past, burrowing herself further into your shoulder as your breath hitched, your eyes trained on the area in front of you as you focused all energy on your escape.

Nothing else mattered.

Not the bastard trying to kill you.

Not the mystery man trying to save you.

Not even yourself.

At that very moment, your prime objective was ensuring your daughter survived the night, no matter what murderer or mobster stood in your way.

"Puttana!"

Another shot fired, whizzing through the air with a faint whoosh, only to finish with some sort of wet twick!

At first, you believed it flew past, too occupied with running to think.

But as a sharp burning sensation began to erupt from your side, you were suddenly hyper-aware of what had just happened, eyes widening slightly as you fought the urge to clutch your stomach.

Desperately, you tried to keep up your fast pace, but the pain quickly grew debilitating, forcing your legs to lock up and stall in place.

With a sharp gasp, you fell to the ground, tightly clutching your girl as you fell to the cold, hard ground.

"NO!!" the furious voice yelled, the sound of heavy boots echoing throughout the alley as they frantically thumped in your direction, audibly tackling Asshole #2.

"Momma!" Mia gasped, large eyes wide as you used the last of your strength to shove her to her feet.

Your heart broke at the sight of your blood splattered across her jacket, and the horrified look on her face.

"Mia... run!" you heaved, unable to catch your breath as your hands pressed harshly against your wound, the burning sensation now that of molten fire. "Now!"

"I'm not leaving you, Mommy!" she sobbed, dropping to her knees and snatching up your hand, holding on for dear life.

Panting, you were rendered unable to argue, your body taking over and desperately trying to get some oxygen into your lungs.

Those action movies and superhero shows had it all wrong; getting shot wasn't some little injury you could shake off

It hurt like a bitch.

"No, no, no, no," the mystery man finally made his way over, eyes wide and face splattered with blood as he dropped to a knee next to you both. "Hey, hey, hey..."

He moved to cradle your head, but Mia was quick to put a stop to him.

"No! Don't hurt my mommy!" she sniffled, draping herself over your body as a shield.

The action would have melted his heart were it not for the dire circumstances.

"I'm not gonna hurt your mommy. I promise," he quickly assured, rough voice having a slight shake as he threw off his jacket and tore out a section of his shirt. "I'm gonna help fix her booboo, but you gotta move out the way so I can, okay?"

Warily, she nodded, large eyes giving him one more once over before she sat back up.

Quickly, he moved your blood-soaked hands, a loud wail ripping from your lips as he tightly pressed the fabric against your wound.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart," he softly apologized, attempting to soothe and talk you through the pain. "Gotta keep the pressure on."

"Mnnne... my baby," you ground out through gritted teeth, soft gasps pulling air back in after every other word. "My baby."

"She's right here, alright?" he assured, quickly, attempting to throw on a smile. "Your girl's right here. Not a scratch on 'er."

Frantic, your hand grabbed his forearm, the tightness of your grip surprising him considering your weakened state.

"You... mmmmm... take her!" you sputtered, determined to get your message out. "Far! Mnnnnne... protect!... mob!"

"Easy, sweetheart," he cooed, free hand carefully resting over yours. "I've got 'er. Nothin's gonna happen to your girl while I'm with ya. I promise."

With a soft grunt, he scooped his hands under you, getting ready to hoist you up.

"I gotta pick you up now, alright? Gotta get you fixed up," he lifted you—much to your discomfort—with little to no effort, before turning to Mia. "What's your name, honey?"

Quickly, she glanced toward you, looking for confirmation.

You nodded, albeit faintly.

It's okay.

"Mia," she mumbled, quietly.

At that, he flashed what looked like an uncharacteristically warm smile.

"Alright, Mia, you stay right by me while we're movin', okay?" he ordered, already starting down the alley. "Hold on to your mommy's ankle."

She nodded, complying without protest as the three of you neared the street, the sounds of civilization finally flooding back through your ears.

"What's your name, mister?" Mia asked, her tiny, tired voice like a punch to the gut.

He paused a moment, before settling on his answer.

"Frank."

She paused, too, almost mimicking him, before gracing him with a faint grin.

"Thank you for saving my mommy, Mr. Frank."

If his heart didn’t melt before, it was mush now.

With a grin, he gave her hair a soft pat, glancing down at her face with a wistful look.

“No problem, sweetheart… no problem.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Love Conquers All (one-shot)

Synopsys: The wedding is finally afoot. Astarion and his love have fought for it tooth and nail, but could there be more to life after happily-ever-after?

Set after the main events of BG3 This is a follow up to Homecoming (one-shot). Would probably advise reading it beforehand :)

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst, insecure Astarion, but just pure teeth-rotting fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA

Word count: 8875

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Astarion knew ever since he met Y/N, she was the only one he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. They had gone through hells and back for one another, quite literally going head-to-head with a devil. They’d fought for their happily ever after tooth and nail, and now, the biggest day of their lives (yet) was here.

           The vampire spawn woke up from his trance jittery and excited for what was to come. It had been ages since he’d felt this way, such joy while looking forward to what the day had installed for him because he was finally going to marry the love of his life.

           Their day would be perfect, Astarion had done everything to ensure it. He’d taken to wedding planning like a cat to cream, making sure that once their day arrived, even the smallest detail would be flawless.

           It had taken them two years to settle on a time of the year, let alone a date, but that had given him enough time to grow the flowers for the arrangements that now decorated their house, fussing with them like one would with a child (and sometimes threatening a certain rose if it didn’t grow the way he wanted it to). He even invertedly created a couple of new variates in the process, but those were specifically relegated as the flowers Y/N would weave in her hair for the ceremony.

           He had even meticulously studied cookery books, having his parents along with his love be his taste testers, seeing he couldn’t really enjoy eating human food, but he’d be damned if something disgusting would be served in his house, no less on his wedding day. Unless it had a ten out of ten approval from everyone involved, Astarion scrapped the recipe and started over. He was fairly certain the caterers hated him because he’d made them prepare the food before and until they got it absolutely right, he was on their asses day and night.

           But if he had to pick a favourite process throughout all the planning, it was when Y/N had come to him late one night as he burrowed himself in his sowing room and requested, that he design and make her wedding dress. Astarion almost got down on his knees in reverence as she looked at him with such tender eyes. And, well, let’s just say – during fittings, his hands might’ve skimmed the inside of her thighs on more than one occasion, and his head might’ve slipped below the skirt to taste between her legs, wholly unprofessional.

           Oh, and that dream of a house with a grand library, where shelves of books stretched from one corner to the other, and a large ballroom to host parties until daylight broke – no longer was it a simple dream, but rather his reality. Not only that, he could hear people fussing all across the house as hired staff prepared final details and decorations for the ceremony.

           The new house, or let’s be honest, the manor, Astarion and Y/N lived in, had not come easy though. He’d pretty much brought his lover to the end of her wits when they’d gone on the search for their dream home. In the end, it boiled down to her threatening to make them live in the forest like Halsin, sleeping on the hard ground, if he didn’t come to a decision.

           Astarion was aghast at the suggestion, crossing his arms and pouting hard. “Why are you so upset about this?” He couldn’t understand what the big issue was with him being so picky. “We’re looking for the place to start our new lives in! It has to be no less than absolute excellence! Do you not want that?”

           “Of course, I do!” Y/N rolled her eyes, putting her half-drunk wine glass on the bedside table and shifting her body to completely face him. “But nothing is perfect in this world, Star.”

           When he narrowed his scarlet gaze at her, she huffed and shifted to sit on her knees, cupping his face between her palms. “Nothing in life is without its flaws, but that’s the beauty of it all. It gives us a chance to grow and change. And it’s the same with a house. Floors are fixable. Sofas and divans can be reupholstered. Walls can be repainted, those dilapidated wallpapers ripped off, hells we can knock the wall down if we want to… but we will never find our perfect home if we don’t put the work in and make it ourselves.”

           Y/N’s soft thumb ventured up to smooth out the grumpy lines that had appeared on Astarion’s forehead. “If you want perfect, you have to do the work to make it so. Because that last house we saw, the one you said could be ours, if it didn’t have those stains on the table or that feeling wallpaper or the hole in the roof that needs fixing – that was someone else’s perfect home because they made it that way.”

           Astarion scrunched his nose. “Did a shitty job, that’s for sure.”

           If Y/N could roll her eyes any harder, he was sure they’d get stuck in the back of the skull like that. “My point is, we have to make it that way. Yes, the whole process will be long and tedious and I’m fairly certain, there will be moments where we want to kill each other, because, gods forbid, I want the blackout curtains to be emerald not burgundy. But none of that will matter because it will be ours… what can be more perfect than that?”

           The vampire always had a comment on the tip of his tongue, he always had a sarcastic remark or some sort of critique to offer, but to this, he had nothing to reply, as he pondered the words.

           Y/N tilted her head, a smile blooming on her lovely mouth. “I know you want everything to be exactly how you see it in your head, right from the very start. I know you don’t want to fight anymore, and gods, my love, you don’t deserve to fight for anything, but this isn’t it… this is change. And I think you’re more scared than annoyed at all the little things that might need mending.”

           Astarion averted his gaze, looking past Y/N and to the window, the bright light of the moon illuminating the woods beyond. From the corner of the eye, he could see her engagement ring, the ruby glinting like a star in the sky. A finger brushed over his brow, soothing him. “I think you’re nervous to go after what you want, so you’re trying to find any possible reason as to why every house we’ve viewed has had something unfixable to it.”

           Closing his eyes, Astarion leaned into her touch. “I hate it when you can see through me like that.” He hated to admit it. It felt like some sort of weakness to be seen so clearly, but he also knew Y/N would never judge him for his fears. But it was still hard to voice them. “I just – I’m scared it will be different.”

           “It will be.” She shrugged. “But different doesn’t mean it’ll be bad.”

           He didn’t seem convinced though as his mind and attention drifted off, and she had to tilt his chin towards her, a kiss to his forehead bringing him back into the moment. “My Star, we can always stay right where we are. I love this house. And as long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we make our home.”

           “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, my love,” Astarion let out an undignified scoff. “As darling as this place is, I still want that library. And, well, maybe a tailoring room would be lovely. And I can’t say I would be opposed to a walk-in closet, instead of that little dresser we have now.”

           More and more his lips turned into a smile and his gaze lightened as they went on until the morning dawned, talking and mapping out what their perfect abode would be like. They talked about the colours of the walls, where they’d like to hang paintings and how many mattresses their bed should have. Astarion insisted on at least three, so it would feel like resting on a cloud. Y/N thought it was a bit ridiculous, but if that was what he wanted, it’s what he would get. As long as he promised her to have separate duvets, the cover hog that he was.

           They settled on a manor near the city, but far enough from the crowds to still keep some sort of privacy. She had been right about the restorations being long and mind-numbingly taxing and took them over a year and a half to return the manor to its former glory. All of their funds sank into it, and as Y/N had also warned – there came a moment where it seemed like they would rip one another’s heads off, having to spend a night in separate rooms. But now they got to relish in the fruits of their labour as the ballroom Astarion had manifested was being transformed into their wedding chapel.

           He lazily stretched out his limbs, curling around his still-sleeping love. If he’d had a tail, the cat that he was, he would weave it over Y/N’s middle and curl it, trying to pull her closer if possible.

           The woman grumbled something unintelligible, tightening the hold she had on one of the four pillows she had.

           “Good morning, my wife. Our big day is here. Time to get up.” Gently, he brushed strands of wild hair from her face, placing them behind her ear, to which he leaned down and gave a playful nibble. To Astarion’s delight, he felt a shiver run down her spine, her toes curling against where she’d pressed them to his calf.

           “Not your wife yet,” Y/N grumped, turning so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck, tickling the sensitive skin there with warm puffs of breath. “And your bride needs her beauty sleep unless you wish for her to look like a troll at the altar. Didn’t give me much of it last night.”

           A wicked grin formed on his mouth, one incisor lightly biting on her earlobe. “I didn’t hear you complaining though. In fact, I didn’t hear you say anything but my name.”

           Teasing fingers brushed against her ribs and the underside of her breasts, a breath hitching in Y/N’s chest. When he splayed his hand against her stomach, she hummed in pleasure, the sound reverberating through his chest and seeping into his bones.

           Her own palms moved from hugging Astarion’s side to his back, nails softly scratching up and down the skin there – so very tenderly over the scars, but with a bit of a bite right above his rear. If he could purr, he would be, but alas, he just moaned and melted like an icicle in the sun.

           It was almost tempting to just stay in the bed like that, twining together and just relishing in one another’s touch.

           “When are your parents getting here?” Y/N yawned and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Your mother promised to help me with the dress and hair.”

           “Right as the sun goes down. We should have plenty of time before the moon is high.”

           They had decided on a night-time wedding, so the following celebrations could be moved outside into the lavish gardens Astarion had so lovingly created. He may not be able to walk in the sun anymore, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy at least the moonlight. Besides, daytime weddings were so casual, and he was anything but.

           He rested his palm in between Y/N’s breasts, but he just kept it there, didn’t try and stray any further. He simply wanted to feel how her heart beat against his palm, the rhythm a steadying and grounding feeling, and it somewhat calmed his fluttery nerves.

           “Then we have a few more hours to sleep,” came Y/N’s slurred response as she hitched a leg over his naked hip, but she didn’t try to go any further either. “And you are not getting out of this bed, my personal pillow.”

           Astarion smiled at her words and kissed her forehead. He’d been smiling an awful lot since he met her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

           And even though he itched to go downstairs and supervise every single thing, he allowed the peace that came with being next to Y/N to settle over him as well. It was their day. His day. And starting it off with his little human sweetheart wrapped around him like a vine, keeping him close to her, was nothing short of wonderful.

           At some point, she did fall asleep again, Astarion’s movements as his deft fingers massaged the back of her head, lulling her to dreamland. His mind drifted a bit but remained more alert than when he tranced, wandering to how exactly he’d gotten to a moment where in just a few little hours he’d become someone’s husband.

           Not only did he have Y/N, but he had his parents to relish in the moment with. He had friends, something that was competently out of the question for two hundred years, and all of them would be arriving to witness the most joyous day of his life. Him! With friends! He even had a true sister, something that’d surprised even him.

           That had come about when Astarion had ventured into the Underdark once and reconnected with Darylia. At first, he’d thought there would be too much bad blood between them, no pun intended. It’s why he’d strayed away from the region after he’d freed the rest of the seven thousand spawn from Cazador. Too many painful memories bound them, but instead of admonishments, he found comfort.

           He’d bumped into Dalyria at a tavern as he was tracking down an artefact. Astarion was nothing short of astonished when she invited him to a tavern for a drink. The conversation was awkward at first, but as they talked more and more, she seemed to be actually happy for him as he confirmed he was still with Y/N, had a little house by the forest to call their own and spent his days keeping in touch with the party that’d formed during the tadpole adventure while trying to get a sowing business off the ground. She was even more ecstatic to hear when Astarion announced he was engaged.

           Dal had a wistful smile on her face. “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t envy you, but… you deserve it. All that happiness… after what Cazador put you through, you deserve all that’s good.”

           He didn’t want to, but a ball formed in his throat at her words. “Cazador wasn’t kind to any of us.”

           “No,” she mussed. “But you did free us from him. And when you had the chance to take his power for yourself, to become the most powerful vampire in existence, you didn’t. You allowed us to go out there and regain the years we lost under his control. To make our own lives. For that, you deserve only the best.”

           A snort escaped him as he swirled the remains of his wine. “Y/N would say not committing mass murder is quite a low bar, if that’s why I’m worthy of happiness.”

           “Maybe, but no one would fault you had you gone for it.”

           “Maybe…” Astarion pondered. “But I would not have been worthy of Y/N, then. That is for sure.”

           Dalyria clinked her glass of blood against his before emptying it, and he was glad he had not been drinking himself as he sure would have choked on the drink. “Will you teach me how to find love? I – I think I’d like to find what you two have. Become… worthy of having it.”

           Astarion didn’t know how to respond, but ultimately said he could only try, yet unless the change came from within, there wasn’t much he could do. And the hardest part wouldn’t be learning how to find love, but learning how to love oneself. Only then you could learn how to love others.

           “Seems awfully tedious,” Dalyria’s brow had furrowed.

           He chuckled and nodded. “It is. But I’ve learned, as much as it can be boring, it’s worth it in the end.”

           It had taken time for the vampire to start the process of self-acceptance and processing the trauma, but Astarion was right there by her side, and now, she would be by his, a partner of her own next to her, a human at that, as he tied the knot.

           Y/N’s nose scrunched in her sleep as their blissful moment was interrupted by a bell chiming through the house. She grabbed a pillow and smushed it over her head hitting him in the face in the process. “We should’ve eloped.”

           “My love, you know as well as I do, our dear friends would’ve hunted us down like prey and dragged us before an altar by the ears. And honestly – I would help them with that.”

           When they had rolled out the announcement of their engagement, Astarion’s mother helping them write beautiful little cards to send to their party most had actually shown up to congratulate them in person.

           Karlach had been the first one to arrive, banging on the door to let her in, seemingly bursting with excitement. “If my engine wasn’t fixed, I think I would have levelled a whole block when I got the card!” She jumped up and down as she smothered them in a hug.

           The second the Tiefling reluctantly released Y/N and Astarion from her grasp, Shadowheart appeared, a bit more subdued in the way she showed her happiness, but still very much so thrilled. She’d even brought along a bottle of wine, as such an event had to be celebrated.

           Gale along with Tara teleported right into the living from straight from Waterdeep, a chest of tomes with him, a gift for the library Astarion wanted.

           “I even cancelled today’s lectures, and my students were so delighted, they also got you something.” He extended a smaller box, a gorgeous set of feather pens inside. “A thanks for the day off and congratulations on the engagement.”

           Wyll, now Grand Duke, joined the festivities right as the sun started its descent.

           “I would’ve come sooner, but duties call.”

           “Ever the honourable man.” Astarion hugged the once Blade of Frontiers. “I’m lucky Y/N doesn’t care much for honour, otherwise I would be fighting a losing battle.”

           “It’s all the blood loss,” she chimed in, hugging Wyll as he congratulated her. “Questionable decisions are not uncommon when oxygen is depleted in the blood.”

           Her vampiric love pointed a finger at her. “Well, there are no takebacks, so deal with it.”

           Oh, how far he’d come such jokes didn’t sting, and instead he could laugh at them because he knew she wouldn’t leave him. It was certainly not something he ever had to fear.

           Halsin and Lae’Zel were last to join Dalyria accompanying them as the night settled, completing their little group.

           They spent hours drinking and laughing, enjoying red drinks, some wine, and some other ethically sourced, of course, substances as they lounged by the fireplace.

           “So, when will the actual wedding be?” Gale asked as he stretched over a loveseat, Tara having claimed his lap as a napping spot, her purrs echoing through the room. “I would be more than happy, and well, my students most definitely, to cancel the exams for it. Such an affair cannot be missed. Two heroes of Baldur’s Gate wedding each other.”

           Wyll pointed a finger at the wizard. “You know, you are onto something. I might just have to make it a day of celebration in the city!”

           “Actually…” Y/N shifted next to Astarion. “We were thinking of just going to a magistrate and signing the papers as soon as possible. Nothing grand really.”

           A stunned silence settled before Dalyria snapped her gaze toward her brother. “You must be joking,” she deadpanned. “Astarion, I think you might need to lay off feeding from her for a while.”

           “Y/N was thinking that,” he rolled his eyes at the outburst. “I disagree.” Turning on his best pout, the vampire glanced at the woman pressed to his side. “You would so willingly deprive me of seeing you in a wedding dress like it isn’t the most important day of our lives. I, for one, wish for this to be my only wedding, yet you break my heart into pieces with your words.”

           Lae’Zel let out her signature “t’chk” of disapproval at Y/N’s amused huff. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but the spawns are right. A ceremony must be held. None of this magistrate nonsense, but a real, proper ceremony.”

           “You all just want a party.” The Y/H/C-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest.

           Halsin boomed a chuckle. “Well, we will not say no to the one a wedding comes with. But if you do not wish to have your dearest companions, people who love you most in the world, to be next to you on such an important day, that is completely dine. It is your wedding after all.”

           “Oh, come on!” Y/N threw her hands up with a laugh. “That is so unfair! I mean, I just don’t care for the pageantry of it all.”

           “Sweetheart, you are marrying the most pompous man to walk this earth. No offense, Astarion.” Shadowheart looked at the elf, but he simply shrugged, as it was true. “And you mean to tell me there will be no grand display of love?”

           Her lover nodded at the cleric’s words, batting his lashes at Y/N. “Besides, would you truly be so cruel, that you’d deny my parents such a day? After everything they’ve gone through.”

           “Alright, now you’re just blatantly blackmailing me.” She gave him a humour-filled look.

           Astarion put a hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Blackmail my darling intended? I would never! However, if I were, I would also mention that the ring on your finger did belong to my mother, who so lovingly passed it onto you, saying she wished for you to wear it when she saw you next. You know, just a little information, to tug on your heartstrings.”

           And tug at her heartstrings it did, as Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes widened, no doubt mind whirling from the statement.

           “This is your mother’s ring?” She looked down at the piece of jewellery like it was the most precious thing in the world. “You didn’t tell me that.”

           He didn’t intend for her to cry, but he wiped at her cheeks as a couple of tears rolled down her face. “She gave it to me the night we went to see my parents for the first time. I was already preparing to do it, but it just gave me the final push I needed to actually ask you. Even though I technically never did ask.” Astarion nudged her side, and Y/N snorted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

           “Wait, hold on.” Dal leaned forward, a scrutinous gaze turned towards the elf. “What do you mean he never asked the bloody question? First no wedding, now no proper proposal?”

           Karlach though seemed to have other more pressing thoughts in her head. “Holy shit, Fangs, you robbed your mother’s grave!? I mean that is messed up even for you!”

           “Rewind.” Gale swirled a finger in the air. “You have a mother?”

           All these questions and statements were said one over the other as the room exploded into a full-blown interrogation, everyone flinging queries their way. It took Astarion and Y/N about an hour to respond and tell the full story, but not before they stopped laughing.

           At that moment though, Astarion clad in his silk pyjama set, the face greeting him was so full of delight, Karalch shone brighter than the set sun.

           “I feel like I could just burst!” The tiefling hugged him, and he responded in kind. It’d become one of his favourite physical ways to show and receive affection. “But where is the wife-to-be herself?”

           “Still in bed. You know Y/N and mornings, well, nights I guess, do not mix.”

           “Ah, yes,” a male voice agreed and Karlach stepped aside to allow Wyll to enter. “You know, there were moments during our adventure when I genuinely thought our fearless leader would be the one to end us. Remember that time Gale woke her up before dawn because he needed an artefact to consume? His poor eyebrows.” The Grand Duke shook his head. “Honestly thought it might’ve very well have been the last moments of our dear wizard.”

           “And yet, it wasn’t!” As if summoned, the Wizard of Waterdeep himself poofed into existence in the foyer. “I live to see yet another day where I can bless my friends with my presence. Eyebrows intact this time.”

           Astarion couldn’t control the eye roll as it was almost reflexive when it came to Professor Gale Dekarios, but he couldn’t deny the happiness rushing through his veins seeing the man. If he ever saw Mystra in the mortal plane, she’d better start praying to a god herself, for what he put his friend through.

           “It was… quite the look, I have to say,” Lae’Zel commented as she entered the house, joining their group. It seemed like they had a tendency to appear in the same places at the same time even without scheduling such a thing. “But do not attempt to upstage the bride, Gale. Astarion will already be doing his best. Though if these are your chosen clothes,” she gave him a onceover. “I believe Y/N has absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”

           Astarion scoffed. “This is handwoven silk.”

           “That is poor excuse for wedding attire.” Shadowheart appeared behind them all. “For once we agree, Lae’Zel, so enough with the chitchatting. A wedding needs to happen, and you need to get dressed.”

           The only reason he’d decided to put on some clothes was because the thought of his parents walking in on him naked, was enough to pull out all the stashed winter attire and cover himself up so much nothing but his nose would be showing. Now though, Astarion almost wanted to rip them off just to spite the gathered crowd but abstained.

           Before he did scamper off, he showed where they could go and mingle while he checked on the final details, especially how the ballroom was looking, and he had to admit, the drow in charge of decorations had turned it into something from a fairy tale.

           The room had high windows, all the shutters open to let in the pale light of the moon garlands hanging from the ceiling and walls, the many mirrors on the sides, giving an effect that the room was larger than it truly was, creating an illiusion of a forest inside their home. At the very end between two columns of chairs was the altar where Shadowheart would officiate, two golden cups already placed on a velvet pillow.

           There was hired staff in the gardens where food and drinks were being handed out.

           Astarion took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. Everything was going to be just fine. He had promised as much to Y/N. This nervousness had been one of the reasons he’d wanted to take on the whole wedding affair onto himself.

           “I don’t want you to lift a single finger.” Astarion had brushed his nose against Y/N’s cheek after it was settled a full-blown wedding was happening and their friends had dispersed, leaving the two lovebirds on their own. “Just leave it all to me.”

           “I mean, I can’t do that,” she exasperated. “It’s our day. We both should be involved. I won’t put such an event all on your shoulders.”

           “But I want you to! Listen to me – me getting to order others around as they have to bend our every wish and whim, while all you have to do is nod for yes, and shake your head for no – sounds like a great time to me.”

           “Sounds very unfair to you.” Y/N was still sceptical frowning hard at Astarion’s proposition.

           “Look,” he sighed, taking her hand in his. “Let me do this for you. For us. You saved me back when I thought I was beyond it. I fully believed I was relegated to nothing but a life of pain and darkness and then… you showed up. You helped me through so many horrors, held me when it felt like the walls were pressing in… I would not have been able to do so without you. So please… let me make this day something you can enjoy and not have to worry about. I am very convincing when I set my eyes on something I want.”

           And when he pulled his puppy dog eyes on her, Astairon knew he had her right where he wanted. Y/N could never resist him when his eyes got all soft and round. He could practically see her resolve melting then and there like fresh-fallen snow.

           “Alright,” she conceded, and with a passionate kiss against her lips, he pulled her to sit in his lap. “But if it becomes too much, you have to promise to ask me for help.”

           “I swear it.” Astarion pecked her lips once more, and though he had no intentions of letting her lift a finger, he was truthful when making such a vow. With Y/N, he’d learned it wasn’t a crime or sign of weakness to request aid.

           He left the door open, surely more guests would be arriving, but before he could disappear, two more frames rushed up the steps, his mother and father practically beaming with pride as they saw him.

           “I think your druid friend is also on the way,” his mother said, pressing a light kiss to Astarion’s cheek and pulling him in for a hug. “But he stopped to pet a flock of sheep along the way.”

           The vampire snorted. “Well, we can only hope Halsin actually arrives for the ceremony on time. Or doesn’t bring the lambs as guests… appetizers though.”

           She gave him an amused smile, before squeezing his hand. “I’ll just go and say hello to that wizard of yours. I think I saw him walking somewhere in the gardens and then I’ll be right up with Y/N. Has the sleeping beauty awoken yet?”

           “Yes,” he mumbled, frowning. It was a well-known fact his love was a notorious sleepyhead, but that was not his reason for watching with a grimace how his mother practically skipped to the terrace in search of Gale.

“How does she know him?” he directed the question at the male elf standing beside him.

His father sighed, looking at his wife as she disappeared behind the corner, but not before she made sure she looked good, fluffing up her hair in the mirror before the grand entrance to their house. “She’s been quite obsessed with his cookbook. Just be glad she didn’t bring it along for an autograph. But enough of that. You need to get dressed, my Star. The moon is almost nigh.”

All other thoughts vanished from Astarion’s head as he noted how the white orb was pretty much at its peak, and the notion of getting married suddenly became a tangible thing. In just a few hours, under the pale light, he would vow to protect and cherish Y/N, they’d fill one another’s cups and drink, before tying strands of magical gold around one another’s fingers as a symbol of their unity in the ancient elven traditions. Astarion was about to become a husband with Y/N as his wife. If his heart had still beaten, it would’ve been jumping out of his chest.

“Did you feel like this as well when you married Mother?” the vampire’s hand shook as he entered the sowing room he’d claimed as his dressing room for the day. A naked mannequin stood at the corner. It’d born Y/N’s dress which was now surely being slid onto her frame, perfectly fitting against her body, and it was just another reminder of what was to come.

His father closed the door, going over to a suit that was hanging on another mannequin and slipped it off, laying it gently onto a settee. “Like what, Star?”

“Like unless in twenty seconds this whole thing is over, you’ll pass out.”

The deep chuckle the older elf let out was like a reassuring hug, somewhat calming Astarion. “Yes. Very much so. Add onto that wanting to throw up and black spots across my vision, I was pretty much hopeless. But then I was by the altar waiting for your mother, and when she appeared… nothing else mattered. It’s just the waiting that’s horrible.”

“Gods, maybe Y/N was right,” Astarion breathed out, sitting down by his tailoring table, head in his hands. “We should have definitely eloped. I mean it’s not normal to feel this way, is it?”

“Dear Star, it might have taken us two hundred years to find you, and we’ve only been lucky enough to have you back for two, but make no mistake,” his father deadpanned. “Your mother is not above murder and physical restraint if needed.”

“Yes, I know, you kidnapped my bride,” Astarion said. “But, I mean, what if it’s not perfect?” He looked at the elf. Blue reassuring eyes stared back, but even the conviction he saw in them couldn’t quench the lingering fear. “What if she isn’t there? What if I’m left a fool standing by the altar and she does not come?”

Those last words were barely a whisper, shame running through his veins as he said them, but it had been something plaguing his nightmares for weeks on end – Y/N finally realising she deserved so much better and leaving him heartbroken.

When he awoke in a cold sweat and she asked what was wrong, Astarion wrote it off as having a bad dream about Cazador. In truth, he hadn’t dreamt of his master in a long time, his only fear being Y/N tossing him to the side for something better.

           “Astarion,” his father said sternly, but not unkindly. “That woman has walked through literal hells for you. And taken on a devil, as you yourself have told us. I highly doubt now would be the moment she gets cold feet.”

           Deep down in his heart, he knew the words rang true. Astarion remembered after having killed Cazador, how strongly the urge to Ascend took over. Such power right at the tips of his fingers, yet at the cost of seven thousand souls. But at that moment, he was willing to pay it. He’d never have to be afraid of anything anymore if he finished the ritual. All he needed was for someone to copy the runes on his back. He’d turned to Y/N, someone who he knew supported him, but to his shock, she refused.

           Fury took him over. He’d thrown insults so vile it made bile rise in his throat nowadays when thinking back on it. Words wishing her a painful and slow demise, telling her he hoped she died screaming. Astarion had expected her to leave, yet as his mind had cleared, processing the grief and agony he was going through, she was there by his side.

           Even though he didn’t deserve it, Y/N held him as he cried, and whispered comforting words when he could do nothing but slump over himself in physical and emotional exhaustion. She was there for him like an unmovable rock, that not even time or tide could erode.

           “I’m sorry,” Astarion had begged that night for her forgiveness while she cradled him in her arms. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was – I was blinded by the power. By what I could be, what I could do… I – reality was no longer visible to me. And I’m sorry.”

           “I know you are.” Y/N’s kiss was a balm to his wounds, especially those that no one else but her could see or soothe. “And I forgive you.”

           Astarion’s father put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of the reminiscing. “She will be there because if there is one thing in this world I don’t doubt, it’s her love for you.”

           He wrapped that thought around his heart. She would be there. Y/N would always be there for him. But first, he had to be the one to await her, so with his father’s help, he stood up and got ready.         

           After a year of getting reacquainted with his parents, he’d told them some of what Cazador had done. With Y/N holding his hand through it, he even felt brave enough to show his scars. There were a lot of tears and hugging, and much to his surprise, talks of resurrecting the vampire lord by his mother, just so she could drive a stake through his heart. And Y/N was very eager to agree.

           His love had a vicious glint in her eye, and Astarion had to swallow his arousal as she leaned closer over the table where they’d been drinking afternoon tea and said, “I know how to skin a man and keep him alive the whole time.”

           “Yes!” His mother accepted the idea immediately. “Let’s do that! My Star, how do we contact that Withers friend of yours?”

           Honestly, the fact that Astarion was the one trying to quench their bloodlust and be the peacekeeper, for a moment, made him think he’d been thrown into some different universe. That was not how he expected the conversation over some tea and biscuits to go.

           His father smoothed down the back of the white linen shirt and Astarion tucked it into the white trousers while the older elf helped with the cuffs, onyx squares glinting in the warm light of the candelabras. Looking down, he surveyed the intricate frock he’d slaved over days and nights.

           It was matching a ivory to that of Y/N’s dress, the chest decorated with weavings of golden threads, much like what he’d sown across the bodice and through the hemlines of her gown. Astarion smiled, a gentle finger skimming over his work, knowing what the scribbles meant.

           To the unknowing, it looked nothing more than a pattern of leaves and flowers, but to those who could read ancient elvish, the truth was laid bare. The idea had struck him late one night as he’d sketched Y/N’s dress. With the help of his parents, as his memory of what once used to be his mother tongue was not so good, he stitched into the fabric little love confessions.

           Throughout her wedding attire, he’d sown the words of his undying love, of what she meant to him, and on his own jacket, he’d sown the promises he intended to keep as a husband, to always make sure she was safe and loved.

           By the time he was tying the cravat, Astarion’s knees were shaking, and his father had to take over, tucking in the piece of cloth by his chest.

           The vampire ran a quivering hand through his white hair. “So?” Gods, even his voice was trembling. How was he supposed to say his vows and not sound like a growing youth whose voice was on the verge of breaking? “How do I look?”

           For a moment, his father didn’t say anything, just smoothed down the fabric over his shoulders. “Like a man ready to start the best chapter of his life.”

           “Good.” Astarion nodded. “Because now I’m feeling that nausea you talked about.”

           The older elf let out a warm laugh before nudging his chin towards the open window and when he looked over, he saw the moon shining bright in the sky, a smattering of millions of stars behind it. “It’s time, Star.”

           With a shaky breath, Astarion nodded. He was ready. As long as he remembered how to move his mouth and say words, nothing could go wrong.

           As he walked back towards the foyer, gentle music greeted him, meaning the string quartet of bards had arrived and their family and friends were filtering into the ballroom.

           It was as if he was floating, barely being able to acknowledge the gathered people. Some patted him on the back, some asked if he was excited, and all of his responses were like through a haze, especially as he took his place by the altar.

           Shadowheart was already there, giving him an encouraging smile.

           “Don’t you clean up nice.”

           Astarion wanted to give some sort of a sarcastic quip, but all he could manage was a hum of acknowledgement. He was really truly, nervous. The breath entering his lungs was shaky and came out the same way. He didn’t even need to breathe, but if he didn’t, he might just pass out.

           “If it’s any consolation, Y/N is calm as a cucumber,” the cleric said. “Or maybe she’s just a better actress than you.”

            The vampire’s pale brows scrunched, as he looked at the woman. She just shrugged.

           “She said she knows you’ll be here. What more is there for her to want or be afraid of?”

           And that trust, the belief Y/N had in Astarion, settled something in his heart, and when his parents entered, taking their seats in the front row, both elves beaming, all that fear disappeared like mist in the morning.

           Beautiful music swirled around them, and all of the guests stood.

           The whole world stopped turning the second he laid his eyes on Y/N.

           Her body was clad in the white gown he’d poured all his love and care into, the gold thread shimmering in the candle and moonlight. Her hair was free as she always preferred, but small, intricate braids inlaid with diamonds as if rain had settled atop her head, a flower crown gracing the top of it. Y/N’s skin was also covered in a shimmery powder, that made her absolutely glow, as if from within, and the Y/E/C eyes he loved to get lost in, were lined with kohl giving her gaze an intense look. Had it not been for her rounded ears, Y/N would be the epitome of a true elven queen.

           Astarion released a breath that’d gotten stuck in his chest and tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

           He’d been lucky, especially in these past few years where he’d been able to witness a lot of beautiful things. But nothing was as beautiful as her walking toward him.

           Y/N’s head was high, as her gaze bore into his – his scarlet not looking away from her Y/E/C ones – her lips pulled in the widest smile he’d ever seen on her face.

           Gods, she was beautiful, and his ego also revelled in how that grin was directed at him. At only him. It seemed like it took her ages, but at the same time not even a couple of seconds to be standing before him, handing off her bouquet of lilies of the valley to his mother and placing her palms in Astarion’s awaiting ones.

           He couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N, but she couldn’t take hers off him. Vaguely he heard Shadowheart offer blessings and words of wisdom for the new couple as they started their joined lives. Astarion only snapped back to reality when it was time for him to take the golden thread and tie it around her finger, an ancient elven tradition – instead of simply exchanging rings, one would take a twine of gold and imbue it with the power of their words, before the vows were sealed.

           No longer did his hands shake, and his voice didn’t crack once as he said his vows, as he gently twisted the twine and looped it back around where it moulded together by magic on their own, creating a gorgeous ring.

           Then it was Y/N’s turn.

           “I vow to protect your life as my own,” her voice was soft and steady as she spoke. “I vow to walk the dark paths and lead you to the light when needed. I promise to be your reassurance when doubts come, and I promise to love you until the stars no longer shine.”

           Astarion didn’t care as more tears slid down his cheeks and wetted the neckline of his frock when finally, the golden thread connected and solidified itself on his ringfinger.

           He was married. He didn’t care that Shadowheart hadn’t said yet he could kiss his new wife, that they needed to drink the blessed wine from the cups, as he surged forward, taking Y/N by the wrist and smashing their lips together. From somewhere afar he heard whoops and cheers, and a “you could’ve waited for just a second more,” but it was all background noise with no meaning as his love’s palm slid to cup his jaw and pull him in for a deeper kiss.

           All the nerves had been worth it. All the pain and suffering he’d gone through – it was all worth it just for that moment alone, when Y/N had to press him back a bit, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as she took in greedy gulps of air, but put her forehead against his, not straying far from his touch.

           “I love you, husband.”

           His cheeks hurt from so much smiling. “I love you, wife.”

           They didn’t get to stay in the small bubble for long as people were stepping up, congratulating them, and pulling them in embraces from left to right.

           The revelry slowly moved outside where drinks and food flowed without stopping. Slow melodies turned into fast foot-stomping beats, as people twirled and danced, celebrating the union between two of Baldur’s Gate’s heroes.

           It was during a moment of reprieve when Y/N was chugging down glass after glass of water and champagne, Astarion following suit with some blood, when his parents came up to them, a small, yet intricate box in their hands.

           The frame was of old oak, no doubt, scuffed at the edges and corners, while the top of it was engraved with a whole flora and fauna piece, but that didn’t matter. He’d said them being at the ceremony would be enough of a gift and that him and Y/N didn’t need anything, yet here the two elves were.

           “Don’t even start, my Star,” his mother interrupted Astarion’s rant before he could even go on one. “There was no way we would’ve come empty-handed to your wedding. Besides, we think this might be of great interest to you two. And of use”

           Gently, as if the box might crumble if touched any harder, the older elf opened it. Inside, laid on green velvet sat two golden bracelets, their visage moulded like wreaths of leaves and budding flowers.

           They were handmade, that was certain, and ancient if his eye for jewels and jewellery didn’t deceive him. And it rarely did. But the oddest bit was the sensation it radiated as if it was imbued by vibrating energy, barely contained in the circlets.

           “Could it really be – but no. That is only a legend,” Halsin’s and Gale’s eyes were wide as they beheld what lay in the box as the two had snuck up on the group and shadowed behind them. The druid gave Astarion’s parents a bewildered gaze. “How in the worlds did you come by this?”

           “Let’s just say, you are not the only ones with connections.” His father threw Halsin a mischievous smile, but Astarion didn’t like that.

           “And the cost for such a thing?”

           His mother smiled. “My dear, you talk like your skill of words and stealing didn’t come from somewhere. We might be old, but that doesn’t mean we cannot have adventures of our own.”

              “I’m sorry for interrupting this moment,” Gale said, “but can we get back to the fact you have the True Love’s Curse sitting in that box.”

           “The what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, but no one bothered to answer as Gale went on.

           “I can feel the magic.” The wizard laid a reverent palm above the bracelets but didn’t touch them. “The Weave… I’ve never felt something so strong. As if it could change the matter of the cosmos around us at any second.”

           Astarion lifted a finger, just as confused as his love, pointing at the bracelets. “What exactly is this curse? And, I do apologise, mother, as we appreciate everything you've done for us, but why in the worlds did you think a curse would be a great gift?”

           “True Love’s Curse is simply the name,” Halsin said. “It’s an old elven legend of two lovers – one forever meant to walk the dark, the other meant for light. In the myth, they are so convinced they are soulmates and meant to be, they create two bracelets, symbols for their loves, imbued with a mirroring spell, but not just any average enchantment. It gives the nightwalker the ability to walk in the sun, but there is a cost – if the other person is no true love, no soulmate, the nightwalker will succumb to the rays and perish forever.”

           Y/N grimaced. “Seems quite harsh. And unfair.”

           Astarion’s father closed the box. “It’s why it’s called True Love’s Curse. But if there is anything we all can learn from you two, is that love conquers all.”

           Hope ignited in the vampire’s chest, as he accepted the box.

           Could there really be a chance he would be able to live his life with Y/N by his side, and also live it in the sun?

           He used to be scared of what the future held for him, especially what the future with Y/N would be like. He’d had his doubts – that she probably didn’t actually love him. How she was with him only for pity or to use his body like so many others had before – but those no longer existed. She’d meticulously shattered every single brick of the wall that was his mistrust and built a castle of love in his heart. If what Astarion’s parents said was true, he had nothing to worry about – Y/N had been ready to walk her life in darkness with him and not asked anything in return apart from his devotion.

           But he pushed the thoughts of the bracelets, of the True Love’s Curse, to the side as he was pulled in a dance by Dalyria, then her girlfriend, and at some point, even Lae’Zel allowed him to lead her in a slow waltz before once again returning to Y/N’s side. His rightful place

           His arms wove around her waist, while her cheek leaned to rest against his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes.

           Astarion pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head. “I don’t know what I might have done in a previous life, but whatever it was, it had to be something exceedingly good for me to end up with you.”

           She hummed in contentment. “You deserve all that is kind in this world, my love. I am the least of it.”

           He wanted to argue, to tell her she was his whole world, but instead, he closed his eyes too and smiled, relishing in the love. He did deserve good. He deserved all that was kind. It was time Astarion finally embraced it, and if that was Y/N in his arms, he would hold on a bit tighter then.

Hours later they stood alone by the cliffside, a slight breeze ruffling their hair as they waited for the sun to fully rise, the gardens empty, their house as well, as the wedding party had ended, leaving people satiated and tipsy on their way home.

           “What if it doesn’t work?” Astarion asked. “What if they were wrong?”

           “Then I have the cloak right here, and all the shutters have already been closed at the house.” She took his hand in hers, the bracelet clicking against his.

           She didn’t try to convince him, give him false hope of how it would work, because not everything in life did. Not everything was perfect and not everything was supposed to be perfect. Of course, he would be devastated, if the True Love’s Curse was not real. But Astarion also knew he’d never be alone in it. He’d have Y/N by his side, as he always had. She wasn’t going anywhere and that was enough.

           As the sun rose, the sky turning from a deep blue to pink, then orange and red, Astarion took in a deep breath. Then – on the first day as a married man – the first rays of a new day touched him for the first time in four years.

           A tear rolled down his face, scarlet eyes not daring to stray away from the stunning view that was the dawn and greeted the sun like a long-lost friend.

           Y/N gave him the widest smile ever, a match to the one she’d sported when seeing him by the altar. “Where to first, my love? We have the whole world for the taking.”

           He looked at her, cupping her face. “First, to home. And then – to the very edge of the universe.”

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I've re-written this whole thing like 3 different times because I just couldn’t get it right, but now I feel like this is how it's meant to be :) I do have like extra 8k words of stuff I might release as smaller fics set around these two specific versions of the characters. Let me know if you'd like that or want to be tagged in future fics :)

I might edit this at some point a bit more. English is not my first language, so I need time to step away, before I can see additional mistakes.

Please don't repost on other platforms without specific written consent! That is called plagiarism

[rockrosethistle]

A list of Nightmare Time episode ideas that I thought of and I think would be cool:

1.) Mr. Chasity has been trying to sell the old Waylon Place for far too long. After trying and failing over and over, he decides to take matters into his own hands by going in himself to see what all the fuss is about. But nothing could have prepared him to meet the real ghosts of Waylon Hall. And boy oh boy do they have shenanigans in store. (The episode would be called 'Unholy Ghost') .

2.) It's been a few months since Hatchetfield was destroyed in that awful 'accident'. Emma and Paul have been living under the aliases Kelly and Ben Bridges. (there can be a joke where Emma doesn't even pretend to care about her alias and Paul cares too much.) They live in Colorado now. Emma's finally started her pot farm, and Paul is working in marketing. For the most part, they have a good life. Only Paul's acting a bit different lately. Emma caught him humming company jingles, tapping his foot to a beat she can't hear. Maybe those spores he inhaled had some effect on him. It's probably nothing, but he's never sung in the shower before...(I don't have a name for this one yet.) .

3.) Max Jägerman is failing remedial algebra. In fact, he's doing so poorly that his dad shells out and hires him a tutor, PJ. (Bryce's nerd from 'Literal Monster.) He reluctantly lets her help him. At first it seems to work and his grades are rising steadily, but as PJ lets her guard down, Max starts to notice some things. Strange symbols scribbled in the margins of her notebook, almost like...jagged smiles? Weird stains on her hands, when she gets too close she smells like roadkill. And there's this white spider that keeps showing up in his room. Sometimes he feels like it's trying to tell him something. Or warn him. Without knowing what he's gotten himself into, Max has to evade getting his soul swallowed by a hungry god of darkness. (The episode is called 'Dirty Dude Soup') .

4.) Charlotte Sweetly is jealous. Her church friend, Carol Davidson, has exactly the kind of life she wants. Charlotte's seen the way her boss talks about his wife, and would give anything for Sam to feel that way about her. One day, Charlotte finally gathers her courage and asks her how she does it. Carol takes pity on her, and decides to reveal an important secret: it's all the product of a ritual, an ancient spell she stumbled upon on a trip to an amusement park. She claims that ever since she did it, her husband can't get enough of her. "I am all he sees. He calls me the apple of his eye." Charlotte doesn't believe her at first, but Carol gave her the instructions, and why the hell not? She tries it. Unfortunately, Charlotte messes up the wording. The spell still works, but not quite as intended. And an all-seeing police officer could be a good thing, but Sam is not a good police officer. (maybe let's call this one 'Omnipocop'. But that's awful to spell so suggestions are welcome) .

5.) While trying to be an assistant, Steph accidentally botches one of Pete's science projects. He forgives her, but she still feels bad even as he assures her it's no big deal, throwing the mix of chemicals out his window just to prove it. What he doesn't know is that the last family that lived in the Spankoffski house buried their dog in the backyard, and Pete's chemical slurry just brought it back to life. On a probably unrelated note, Paul has been trying to ignore the damage he's finding in his apartment. He's been chalking most of the tipped over garbage cans and torn apart cushion up to rats--giant rats?--or maybe a squirrel. But when a decades-old "missing dog" poster shows up on his doorstep, he can't ignore the truth for any longer. (the episode would be called "Patches' Revenge" and I thing it would work because it's just the right amount of weird. It would end with Paul teaming up with the nerds to defeat undead Patches with science.) .

6.) To his utter delight, Miss Holloway finally agreed to go out with Duke on a proper date. Nothing huge, just some ice cream and a walk on the beach. They're both enjoying themselves when Miss Holloway hears something. Duke can't hear it, but he still follows her down the shore to some kind of cave grotto, where she claims the noise is coming from. She tosses a pebble into the water, testing how it might react. A few moments later, the pebble come flying out again. Duke is stunned, but Miss Holloway tosses her ice cream cone. Sure enough, a few moments later is comes flying back, perfectly dry. They've clearly discovered something, and over the next few days, Duke and Miss Holloway experiment and try to learn about the grotto and the water in it. It's too deep to see the bottom, so their tests mostly involve tossing different things to see how they'll react. Little do they know, there was a reason Miss Holloway could hear a noise coming from the cave. There's a reason it drew her in, too. There's something singing to her, something that lives at the bottom of the grotto. And with each thing they feed it, it becomes a little bit stronger...(and then it's called something unassuming like "Wavecrest Cave")

So that's Nightmare Time season four all lined up. Please tell me if you have a good name idea for episodes 2 and 4. Also if anyone wants to use these as writing prompts, be my guest (just tag me so I can read them)

[evandorkin]

Hello Mr.Dorkin,

If possible would you be willing to share your thoughts on the comic & movie Tank Girl?

Thank you for your time!

I liked Tank Girl alot, I was lucky enough to be the only American contributing to Deadline back in the day, I was doing original Milk & Cheese comics for them and then later on some other stuff and reprints of older work (like Eltingville). I got to hang out with Alan Martin and Jamie Hewlett a few times in Scotland and London, along with many others from Deadline, while doing cons and a signing tour in the UK. Tank Girl was a fun, great-looking but very one-note comic, much like Milk & Cheese (only with much better art, and way more popular/influential). Everyone was asking about when there'd be a Tank Girl movie and personally, I always thought it shouldn't have been made. There really wasn't much to Tank Girl beyond style, attitude and jokes. A lot of that would be lost in a film adaptation, because a lot of the character's appeal was in the graphics, the design, the energy and style of Martin and Hewlitt's lines and drawings. Much of the appeal in personal comics comes from that personal style, and you lose that when you hire an actor or actress, and build creatures and film live action. Even in animation there's still something lost, or worse, nothing gained. People have tried to option M&C as a feature film, and I've tuned down all offers because they MAKE NO SENSE as a feature film. It's like trying to turn a punk 45 into a four-record rock opera. It loses so much of what makes it unique and fun stretched out to the length of a film. Tank Girl, despite having more characters and some background and a setting, never really had an engaging storyline. And the film sure as hell didn't come up with one. I would have liked to have loved the film, but it was a big misfire. There wasn't enough of a structure to the comic to provide solid material to build a movie on, it would have taken way more time and thought, imho, to bring in anything substantial. It needed a better script, better jokes, better action and the animation, as much as I liked it (and was happy Alan, Jamie, Phil Bond and others were getting paid), didn't add anything to the film proper. Imho. The kangaroo suits were atrocious, which didn't help. Jet Girl helped, but only so much. It's juts a limp, messy movie, it tries hard but it's on fumes all the way. Later audiences seem to be warmer towards it, perhaps because they're discovering it anew without all the hype and buildup and hopes from back in the day. Which is great. I don't earn anything by not liking it, or by anyone else liking it.

Fun trivia #1: Lori Petty, who played tank Girl, did the voice for Livewire in the first Superman script Sarah and I wrote for the animated series in the 90s.

Fun trivia #2: The woman who directed Tank Girl, Rachel Talalay, was in touch with me back in the day because she was interested in adapting the Eltingville Club into live action. I might still have some postcards around from her.

Fun trivia #3: Back in the Deadline era I traded Jamie Hewlitt a Milk & Cheese page for a Tank Girl page. Many months later he sent me a Fireball page instead. I love the page but I was a little disappointed, because I knew there was no way I could ever buy a Tank Girl page. Things happen. I also have a painted Fireball UK convention booklet cover that I won in a charity auction, before Hewlitt's art became unaffordable by regular folks.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Wanna hear some heartbreaking shit?? I GOTCHU

1. Gabriella (most likely) knew Peter.

We see from Miguel's simulation that Peter was there when she died. We can see him helping civilians.

And after Gabbie dies, he's behind Miguel as well.

So not only was he there to see her die, but Gabbie and Peter most likely knew each other through Miguel. If we can believe that, it makes me wonder if she'd met Jess too.

Imagine Miguel being so delighted to introduce his daughter to his friends 😭😭

We have no frame of reference when Gabbie died, or how recently. It's not a stretch to believe that Gabbie could have still been alive after Mayday's birth - Gabbie might have even held Mayday herself.

Jess is very far along in her pregnancy too. If Gabbie died less than 9 months ago, maybe she even rubbed Jess' belly 😥

2. Gabbie knew she was dying.

Before her death we're shown shots of people already depixelating even around Miguel.

We don't really know how long it takes a universe to collapse and it seems to happen fairly quickly.

Despite that, Gabbie isn't one is the first to go. Already seeing the destruction around her, Gabbie probably knew she was dying.

3. Gabbie died knowing her dad was Spider-Man.

In his last moments with her, Miguel is wearing is suit already. Whether or not he hid his identity from her was a mystery, but in her final moments she knew her dad was a hero who wanted to save people.

But in that moment he couldn't save her.

4. The ATSV team hired a voice actor for Gabbie

- even though her only lines are her calling out for Miguel

I ain't even got nothing to add about this one why the hell would they do that 😭😭

Because Gabbie'e universe is gone, and her death was so sudden -

5. Miguel likely has nothing at all to remember her by.

I just wanted to add that last one in cause I think about it ALL the time. All Miguel has of her is videos and clips - many of which aren't even of him, but his double.

Her soccer trophies, stuffed animals, clothes, etc - anything tangible that Miguel could've kept is gone. Like she was erased from history. The only proof she ever lived are the videos.

Ain't that fucked up. That's super fucked up.

Anyway BYE HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY

[thatoneweirddreamer]

The Media Demon: Speedrun Time! (Part 1)

[Note: This is part 3 to the chain of Media Demon AU posts that I am writing with inspiration and idea originating from @that-hazbin and this will be chapter based on all the shit Alastor does to speedrun into becoming an Overlord that I can think of. And only a part of it will continue until, give or take, Alastor meets the disguised Royal Family in an outing.]

Part 1 Part 2

1933

Alastor starts things by gathering ingredients and deciding that this time, rather than relying on Soul Contracts, he will rely more on what his Maman taught him when she was still alive and what he practices and uses even in the original timeline. For the entire year, he spent his time preparing and consolidating more and more power. With his memories and knowledge of the future, he was able to gather the needed ingredients and have the proper rituals done by more or less at the end of the year.

1934 - 1935

During this time, Alastor practiced his powers and got good at them, and I mean good, he also never once stopped gathering ingredients and amassing more and more knowledge and spreading his shadows across Pentagram City. One of the new things he found out he could do, use the shadows of the people against them, the largest information network that will continue to grow. It is exhausting to maintain 24/7, as that means he hears everything they do, and that is both sensory and information overload. While he has shadows stationed on every demon in Pentagram City, he rarely ever uses them unless needed. The blackmail will always be useful. This is also when Alastor started to gather information surrounding the Overlords that need to go, ones that he needed to execute with Angelic Steel. Carmilla Carmine, Zestiel and Rosie are the ones he knows may stay.

1936 - 1937

All the annoyances are either double dead or they no longer have any power or influence as an Overlord; Alastor made sure of it. The ones that were able to escape aren't high on his 'Must Murder' list, but they are not allowed to be around as they will only be a detriment to his plans. Rosie, Zestiel and Carmilla are the only Overlords remaining, they are the ones he can tolerate and ally himself with.

During his 'first' meeting with them in this timeline at least, they were shocked at how fast he rose to power and how high his current power levels are. Even during the previous timeline he wasn't this powerful, this fast. With some discussions and his plans when it comes to hell, he once more left them speechless because his plans make sense, why have none of them ever thought of that. A deal and an alliance were made that very night.

1938 - 1940

Alastor had found Sir Pentious, who is now working under him, with Carmilla helping oversee Sir Pentious. And the rest of the past Overlords are all double dead after a bit of hunting from him. Sir Pentious is being funded and backed by 4 Overlords to give Pentagram City a makeover, with his machinery ideas, Carmilla's factory and his ideas of modern and ancient architecture Pentagram City is getting it's ass remodeled. It will take time, but with the backing of 4 Overlords and Alastor taking over the media, all media, they now control the public's perception.

Alastor all but taunted them, turning their pride against them. Telling the demons living in Pentagram City how drool the architecture here is and how there isn't a hint of culture here. For him, shockingly, no one has tried to spray paint their ways, their culture onto the walls or tear down those walls so that everyone can see what they take pride in. And then he gave them something to strive for, especially with the exterminations and the royals no longer caring, he played their pride and made them want more, to make themselves the best and to make themselves better than Heaven.

1941 - 1945

Alastor continued to hire more people under him and has had multiple meetings with Carmilla, Zestiel and Rosie about temporary safe contracts. Which they approved of as not only will it be much safer, but that means they will have more underlings. After some insight from Carmilla on how the safe space in the contract clause cannot be the demon's house, as domestic abuse is very much possible.

After some brainstorming, technological and magical experimentations, space-expanded apartments unable to be accessed by anyone other than the demon that signed the safe contract unless said demon gives their explicit permission, and these safe houses/apartments can be used as bunkers during exterminations as well, they realised this when they moved onto the topic of angelic metal medical research which Carmilla will lead.

1946 - 1950

Zestiel had decided to lead the more humanitarian efforts, aka introducing new sinners to hell, and its history. He decided he wanted to be in charge of the education of all the youngins that never got the chance to learn for one reason or another. Rosie decided to be in charge of fashion and food as she knows not all denizens of hell are cannibals. So far, about a third of Pentagram City has been updated, no thanks to the exterminations, with all the modernization of the 21st century that he has brought/remembered with him. Everyone is living a much more fulfilled life, as everyone is allowed to enter the media, so long as their ideas are good enough. From music, to news, to stories, to everything!

Schools have been built in hell, and anyone is allowed to learn there for free. Knowledge is meant to be shared after all. Rosie had made several restaurant chains from vegan, meaning 0 meat; regular, meaning 50/50 between meat and vegetables; carni, meaning 100% meat; and canibal, meaning human/demon meat. Hospitals have been built, but with how diverse every demon is, some generalization was needed, and those that were vets when they were alive were considered the most prominent in this growth of medicine. Hospitals are more focused on angelic metal/holy wounds rather than normal ones, and both tech and magic are used within the hospital. Nifty found him.

1951 - 1955

Alastor has never been so fucking thankful for both magic and technology, because he knows for a fact that if even either of them did not exist in hell shit would've taken even longer to improve hell. He made Nifty the leader of an organization focused on cleaning up Pentagram City, whether it be normal trash that sometimes falls or the aftermath of exterminations. Ever since things began looking up about 5 to 8 years ago he had begun treating exterminations like a natural disaster. Full on using his influence over all media to broadcast the unstable and dangerous parts of Pentagram City in the aftermath, the missing denizens that haven't been found and the death count of those who have been found, but dead by angelic steel.

There have been talks and discussions with Carmilla, Zestiel and Rosie on the possibility of some sort of home defense system that only activates during exterminations, but currently it is still under testing, and with how things are progressing, there is already a lot on everyone's plate. Vox had shown himself and tried to get into the media industry, the TV-oriented one anyway. He was successful once only; his script was good at first, but when he tried to submit the same script, with little to no changes unaccepted. He is so proud of his trained editors and beta readers.

This was also when he started a TV series about how a hellborn and a sinner fell in love, got married, and even had a family. He knows this will become popular soon. This will have quite a few episodes. He needs to curb the discrimination fast. He has also begun thinking of pride parades, but rather than just being about ones sexuality he was thinking the parade will be more about what someone is proud of, whether it be their talents in all manner of ways and about themselves they feel better in a dress or pants or who they are attracted too. Anything and everything they are proud of can be shown during the parade.

1956 - 1960

Alastor discussed the idea of the parade to Carmilla, Rosie and Zestiel. This year, they gained another Overlord! Zeezi was welcomed with open arms and had interesting insights and suggestions on everything they have built so far which Alastor took with stride and accepted her suggestions which will help him improve, he also encouraged her to go with parties, music and dancing as her specialty when asked wouldn't that be stepping on his toes. He laughed and told everyone needs a little competition to grow. Zeezi grinned at this and accepted the challenge.

Two thirds of Pentagram City is complete with the renovations, again no thanks to the golden blind twat and his army of yes-women. The schools have become more popular, the restaurants are slowly but surely expanding and finally less unemployment across Pentagram City. The research on angelic metal has only blossomed and the hospitals have gotten interesting. There have been whispers of a black market in something. Alastor hasn't looked too deeply into it, he had been too busy with other things.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 3

Okay.

Is this part basically that one scene from Arcane with Jinx and the flare? Yes. Yes it is.

Did I listen to Guns for Hire by Woodkid nonstop while I was writing this? Yes. Yes I did.

Am I ashamed? Absolutely not XD

Thank you guys so so much for the support this fic has received so far. I've been having an absolute blast writing it, and that's largely because I know you guys have been enjoying it. So thank you :)

Oh also, you missed part 2, all good, you can read it here

As usual, there is violence, angst and general 40kness under the cut, as well as hella lore inaccuracies both for the sake of the story and bc research is hard (I did try, though lol). Apologies for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Thanks so much for reading and I sincerely hope you enjoy!

"Down there. You see them?"

Ellicent followed Gadriel's outstretched hand with the optical scope. She adjusted the knob on its top, focusing the lens on where his index finger was pointing.

Her eyes widened. "No way."

"Oh yes, " Gadriel chuckled. "I've been following them all day."

Ellicent lowered the scope to look at him. "The hell are a bunch of topsiders doing all the way down here?"

Gadriel shrugged. "Same reason people go to zoos, maybe?"

Ellicent rolled her eyes. "Har har." Crouching on the edge of the rooftop now, she put her eye to the scope once again. The tourists looked like Mid-hivers: merchants, maybe, other some other kind of artisan-type. No where near as wealthy as those who lived in the spires, but compared to what those in the Underhive had, they might as well have been. There are two groups of them- roughly three in each. They're walking on opposite sides of the street, as if pretending not to know each other. With their real-cotton clothing and long embroidered coats, however, they're more than conspicuous anyway.

"Seriously though," Ellicent said. "What are they doing down here?"

"If I had to guess? They want to hit the marketplace."

"You mean the black marketplace?"

"Guess there are still things topside doesn't have that we do."

"Yeah. It's nothing good, though"

"Who knows, then," Gadriel said. From his tone, Ellicent could tell that he had no interest in discussing the topic any further. She rose to her feet, folding the scope up and handing it back to him. "So. What's the plan?"

"Simple pickpocket, I think. Anything too loud, and we risk alerting the Arbites."

Ellicent nodded. "One group each?"

"Yeah. But we'll stagger it. Make it look random, lest they think we're working together."

"Gotcha."

Gadriel smiled. "One other thing." He stuffed the scope in his trouser pocket, then opened his jacket and reached into the pocket sewn into the lining. From it, he extracted two, metal objects. Ellicent thought they looked a little like pistols. She looked at him sharply. "What are those?"

Reading the expression on her face, Gadriel shook his head. "Don't worry. They're only flare guns."

"Flare guns?"

"Yeah. You know, the things soldiers use to signal each other with? They shoot a big bright light into the-"

"I know what a flare gun is, Gadriel," Ellicent said. "What I don't know is where the hell you got two of them from."

"Same place I got the scope from."

"Which was?"

Gadriel chewed the inside of his cheek- the way he always does when he's thinking. "Do you remember... uh... you remember that Arbites supply drop that landed the other day... "

Ellicent's mouth fell open. "You didn't."

He shrugged. The non chalance of the gesture absolutely infuriated her. "Gadriel!" she hissed.

"I know I know," he said. "And before you say it, yes, if the Ultramarines were to somehow hear about it, they'd never let me join."

Ellicent hadn't been about to say that. Now that she'd heard it, though, she couldn't resist. "If that's the case, maybe I should tell them," she muttered.

Anger flushed Gadriel's face. But after a second or two, it fades into resignation. "Ellie," he said. "Can we please not do this now?"

Ellicent clenched her jaw. On her tongue, a retort waited impatiently to be spoken. But in the end, she swallowed it. As grated as she was feeling, she also empathised with him: she didn't want to do this right now, either.

Gingerly, she reached towards him, plucking one of the flare guns from his hands. She held it up to her face, rotating it in her grip as she examined it "What have you got these for, anyway?" she asked. "If their not good for sticking up the top siders, why do we need them?"

A silent "Thank you" flashed across Gadriel's face. Then, holding up the remaining flare gun, he said. "I thought we could use them as warning signals. You know for when we're not together. If you were to find yourself alone anywhere and you needed me, you just fire it in the air, and I'll come find you. I'll do the same with mine."

Ellicent tested the device's grip in her hand. Felt just like holding a pistol, except lighter. "Are they loaded?"

"Yes. But I wasn't able to get any other shells for them. The only one they've got is the one in the chamber."

Ellicent smirked. "So it's only a one use thing?"

Gadriel's cheeks coloured slightly. "It's better than nothing," he replied.

Ellicent rolled her eyes again. But, nevertheless, she decided to humour him and pocketed the device anyway. "Was there anything else?" she asked him.

Gadriel shook his head. "No."

"Time we earn ourselves dinner, then. I'll hit my topsiders first?"

"As always."

Ellicent gave him a smile. Stepping in close, she wrapped her arms around his neck while he wrapped his around her waist. Craning her neck slightly, she kissed him hard on the lips. "Be careful," she whispered.

"You too," he said.

Without another word, they parted ways; Ellicent scampering down to the street while Gadriel followed from the rooftops.

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That little job had gone off without a hitch. Ellicent had chosen the mid-hiver in the middle of her group: a fat man in a three piece suit and a ridiculously large moustache. She'd pretended to be a beggar, stumbling out of an alleyway and shoulder checking the old man. As he struggled and swore, trying to shove her off him, Ellicent had swiped a purse from the inside of his coat. There'd been an entire handful of gold in there. Between that and what Gadriel had scored from his group, and they'd been fed for two whole weeks.

She hadn't need her flare that day. And for all the days that followed, she hadn't needed it either. But she'd kept it anyway. Even after Gadriel left and never came back. Even after her life became the hell scape that it is now, and the last of her hope had shrivelled and died, she'd kept it. Just in case. Just in case she needed it.

Just in case she needed him.

Just like the day he had given it to her, Ellicent stands on the edge of a rooftop. She doesn't know what sort of building this is: only that it's the tallest she could find in the time she had. Her gauss cannon was heavy on her shoulder- the alien gun was almost as big as her- but she couldn't not leave without it. Even if Gadriel didn't come, Severus almost certainly would. He knows about the flare. When he sees it, he'll know what it means, she's trying to do, and he'll want to kill her for it.

It's not worth it, her mind tries to reason. It wasn't even him. You know it wasn't.

That's the thing, though, she argues. I don't know. That's why I've gotta try.

Just in case.

Ellicent clasps the flare gun in both hands. Rests a finger on the trigger. Slowly, almost cautiously, she raises the device above her head.

If you were to ever find yourself alone... just fire it in the air, and I'll come find you.

Anxiety is a serpent in her gut, wet, heavy and slithering. Her throat is dry as sand and as she clutches the flare gun its metal clatters from how much she's trembling.

Just fire it...

... I'll come find you.

Before she has the chance to have a second thought, Ellicent squeezes the trigger.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The flare shines more brightly than any star or ship light. Its smoke is the colour of blood; its light, that of a bleeding heart. It hurts Ellicent's eyes to stare at it, but she can't being herself to look away. Half an hour, it burns for. Feels longer. Like an eternity. Like another fifty years. Hope and despair war within Ellicent's chest as she watches it. She doesn't know which is winning, they're both so evenly matched.

The smoke is the first to dissipate. Shedding layer upon layer until its colour is no longer discernable. The flare hangs on a little longer, spitting and spluttering like a soul clinging onto life. But, eventually, it too runs out of strength. Ellie watches it tumble from the sky, a shrivelled blackened husk of solid ash. The dark of night returns with a vengeance, and all Ellicent is left with is a hazy, silhouetted view of the city's jagged skyline. Tears prick her eyes. Seems the war in her chest finally has a winner.

"Stupid," she whispers. Dropping her arm, she looks at the empty flare gun. Her lip curls with contempt. With all the strength she has left, she hurls the thing off the rooftop. "Stupid!" she shouts after it. The only reply she receives is deafening, sickening silence.

Ellicent covers her face with her hands. Another self-reprimand is already poised on her lips, but when she opens her mouth to voice, the only thing that comes out is a sob.

Stupid girl, she thinks to herself. What were you thinking?

The plating of her necronian hand is freezing against her face. She presses it so hard into her brow, that she reopens the cut that Severus had given her just hours earlier.

It wasn't him. It was never him.

He's gone.

He left you.

He's never coming back.

So consuming is her anguish, that Ellicent doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her. Even if she did, though, she wouldn't have reacted. Only person it can be is Severus- if he's going to kill her, she'd rather his face not be the last thing she ever sees.

Then she hears his voice.

"Ellie?"

Ellicent's heart stops dead in her chest. She drops her hands from her face.

It's not him, her thoughts cry. It's not him. It's not him. It's not-

Ellicent turns around.

She has to look up to see his face. He'd always been a little taller than her, but whatever procedure the Astartes use to turn boys into Angels of Death has swollen his body to almost five times its original size. Dust and grime stain his blue armour. The aquillia on his chest is severed down the middle by the particle beam she'd fired at him earlier that same day. The right side of his head is a mottled mess of angry red skin and silver cybernetic studs.

But, just like his voice, his face is just as she remembers.

"Gadriel," she whispers.

His face is a riot of emotion. Shock, disbelief, sadness, joy, everything else in between.

Gadriel walks up to her with hulking steps, heavy enough to shake the roof. They bring Ellicent back to the night's on the roof of his mother's house; how it too, would rattle and shake under his weight. Dropping to one knee, he sets his hands on her shoulders. The ceramite gauntlets they're encased in are cold and heavy.

His expression, though, is anything but.

"Oh, Ellie."

Before Ellicent can speak, he embraces her. Careful not to bruise her on his armour, crouching low enough that her head can reach his neck.

At first, Ellicent doesn't react. She doesn't know how. Her mind is still playing catch up. Trying to process what's happening, what it means, whether or not it's even...

"Is this real?" Her voice is weak and frayed. It feels like her mouth is full of broken glass. "Are you really here?"

Gadriel draws away and slips his thumb under her chin. As gentle as if she were made of porcelain, he tilts her head up so he can look her in the eye.

"Yes," he says softly. "It's me. Gadriel. I'm here. I'm right here."

Ellicent's heart detonates. A fresh wave of sobs rises up in the back of her throat. The first one escapes as something crosses between a whimper and a cry. She throws her arms around his neck. Buries her face in its crook. Breathes in his scent and feels his skin against hers.

It's him. It's really him.

Her sobs return stronger than before; almost enough to knock her off her feet. This time, though, they are not of despair. They are of sheer, unadulterated joy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Gadriel does not remember the last time he'd been embraced. He doesn't remember the last time he'd given one, either. Astartes do not partake in such displays of affection. Forearm grips and shoulder clasps were common enough, but anything more than that is just simply not done. Such things are for humans- for families, friends and lovers- and Astartes are not human.

That message has been drilled into Gadriel ever since he had joined the Ultramarines; ever since he was eighteen years old. And yet, when he sees Ellie standing on that rooftop- the tears in her eyes, the blood on her brow, the emotion on her face- he wasn't an Astartes anymore. He was a teenager. A boy. Back in the Underhive, on the roof of his mother's slum, staring up at the stars with the girl he loved curled up in his arms. Like his cheek-chewing habit, these are things that his re-education could not stamp out. It may have quietened them, covered them, forced them into the recesses of his thoughts. But they were always there. And while first seeing Ellie had awoken them, the sight of her flare and the sight of her standing before him now brings them to the very forefront of his mind.

Gadriel holds Ellie as tightly as he can without crushing her against his armour. Her tears are hot against his skin. Her arms, both human and robotic, squeeze his neck so tight it actually hurts. But Gadriel couldn't have been happier. He doesn't think he's ever been happier. Not since the last time he had held her; the last time he had been human.

That's it. That was the last time I was embraced.

It had been her...

Gadriel's eyes start to sting. Before the tears can fall, he buries his face into Ellie's hair. But the feel of it, the smell, the memories they both bring flooding back, only chokes him up more.

"I can't believe you're here," he breathes. "I... I thought you were dead."

A shudder runs through Ellie's body. It's difficult to tell, but Gadriel thinks it might be a laugh. "Yeah," she says meekly. "Yeah, I've thought that a few times myself, too."

The quip takes him completely off guard. Despite himself, he lets out a short choked laugh of his own. "I... Throne, Ellie. I can't even..."

"Things changed when you left," she said. The way her voice breaks across the words wrench Gadriel's hearts like nothing he's ever felt before. "I changed."

Drawing away from her slightly, Gadriel frames her cheek with one, enormous hand. Throne, she looks so small. Small and fragile. Nothing like the tough young woman he remembered. "I know, Ellie," he whispers. "I know. But it's not your fault. You did what you had to to survive. I know you did."

Ellie's arms unfurl from his neck and fall to her side. The leather tunic she wears is sleeveless, giving Gadriel a full, unimpeded view of her necronian left arm. The grafting is expert, but untidy. The edge where it attaches to her clavicle, shoulder and chest is ribbed with scar tissue. As her shoulders tremble in time with her sobs, that tissue stretches and flexes, as if they were wires buried underneath her skin.

"Where have you been, Gadriel?" she asks. "You mother and I, we waited for you. We waited and waited, but you never came back."

Gadriel can't bear to look at her. Dropping his gaze to the ground, he winces as a vice closes around his chest. "I'm so sorry, Ellie. I wanted to come back, I promise I did. But..."

His voice trails off. But what? How could he possibly explain it? That he'd been forced to forget her? That his duty had left no room for him to think about anything other than service? That, as part of his transformation, his heart had not only been duplicated, by reprogrammed to beat for the Imperium instead of her?

No. He couldn't say that. Couldn't say any of it. It's not an excuse. Even though they are the truth, they don't justify what he's done. What's happened to her.

Gadriel's tongue turns to sand in his mouth. Without anything to say, any answer to give her, all he can think to do is pull Ellie into his arms again.

She does not return his embrace, this time. It's the most excruciating thing Gadriel has ever felt.

"Sergeant!"

Gadriel freezes. Under his breath, he mutters a curse.

Ellie wrenches away from him with unnatural strength and speed. Her face twists with fear and her hands reach to grasp the gauss cannon hanging from her shoulder. The weapon is too large for her to hold like a rifle, so instead, she holds it like a heavy bolter; down low and aiming from the hip. She points the weapon past Gadriel's right side, at something to his back. But Gadriel already knows what- who- it is.

"Who's he?" Ellie asks.

Steeling himself, Gadriel turns. Titus stands on the other end of the rooftop with his helmet on and his bolter raised. His face is completely hidden behind his visor's permenant glare, but Gadriel knows that whatever expression he's wearing is even fiercer than that.

Eyes never leaving Titus, Gadriel extends a palm towards Ellie. "It's alright," he says gently. "He's a friend."

"He doesn't look like a friend."

"Sergeant!" Titus' voice booms over his vox speakers. "Step away from her now!"

"Titus," Gadriel pleads. "Listen. We can work this out. "

"There is no working with heretics." The lieutenant takes a step forwards. "Get away from her now! I will not ask you again."

"I knew it," Ellie says. "I knew it was too good to be true."

Gadriel whips around. "Ellie-"

"This is a set up!" She steps away from him, levelling her cannon so both he and Titus are now in her sights. Her fingers touch the trigger, and the gaping maw of the alien gun glows a sickly green. "You're not here for me," she hisses. "You're only here for Severus. You're trying to play me!"

"That's not true." Gadriel's voice is thin and desperate. "I couldn't care less about-"

"Watch what you say, Sergeant," Titus warns.

"Damn you, Titus!" Gadriel shouts, throwing the lieutenant a vicious snarl. "Just let me-"

Ellie's shriek cut both space marines off. "Both of you shut up!"

The look in her eye, Gadriel can only describe as wild. Terror, anger, grief, pain, they're all raging within her expression. Twisting her features so terribly that for a second, Gadriel struggles to recognise her.

But he doesn't give up. He won't.

"Ellie, listen to me," he says, striding up to her. Ellie points her weapon at him, but with his forearm Gadriel shoves it to the side. "I'm here for you," he says. "Only you. I don't care about Severus. If I'd known you were here, I'd have abandoned my mission sooner.`

Ellie stares at him with wide, watering eyes. She breathes hard through her mouth. "I..."

"Fire that thing at me if you want, but I'm not going anywhere." As the next words leave his mouth, Gadriel's breath hitches in his throat. "I will not abandon you again."

He reaches for her again, this time to touch her arm. Ellie flinches from him, glaring like she's anticipating an attack, but not before Gadriel's fingertip brushes her shoulder. Startled, she steps away, the grip on her gauss cannon visibly tightening.

Gadriel swallows a mouthful of tears. "Ellie-"

"Did you hear that?"

He blinks at her. "What?"

Ellie shifts her aim away from Gadriel and points her weapon towards the sky. "That noise," she whispers. "Like humming."

Gadriel pauses to listen. She's right. If the night hadn't been so still, he doubts anyone could have heard it; but just beneath the whisper of the moving air, there is, in fact, the a slight, energetic hum. Stranger still, it's a sound Gadriel recognises. From where he isn't sure, but he can't shake the feeling he's heard such a thing before.

"Gadriel!"

He turns at Titus' voice. The lieutenant's visage is unchanged, but his tone is suddenly laced with alarm. "Get out of there, now!"

It's then that Gadriel's mind finally clicks.

The humming... It's the sound of a cloaking device.

Without a second thought, he leaps for Ellie. Grabbing her around the middle and holding her to his chest, shielding her body with his own. The moment he does, hundreds of sharp, heavy projectiles start raining upon them.

The humming sound ceases as the cloaking field disappears. In its place rise the thunder of a spacecraft and the scream of firing weaponry. Gadriel recognises both; not from experience or even from training, but from the mission brief he and his brothers had received just this morning.

"Severus is a known xenos collaborator. Specifically, he has formed some twisted working relationship with a war band of Dark Eldar..."

The thunder is the engine of a combat skiff. The screaming, the sound of shredder weapons unleashing a hellfire of razor-sharp spikes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And part 3 is done babyyyyyyy

Hope you liked it ^^

Part 4 should be up in a couple of days

Till then, stay safe out there kids

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @justfreakynothingelse

[that-punk-adam]

This is not at all a new take on life here in the US of A however I feel as though I will peel my skin off if I don’t say it;

People are seeing death as a valid option to the current state of the world + the future and now I am fully understanding why.

There is no more ‘village’. There are no reliable social safety nets installed that are realistic or easy to access. You H A V E to drive EVERYWHERE if you’re even able to drive. If your area has a bus it has to fight on the road with every other driver. To get 9 miles away from point A to B takes 2 hour out of your day. No one is hiring or they are paying minimum wages for you to run their whole circus operation damn near by yourself. Average 1 bedroom apartments are $1.1k a month for 500 sqf and if you SOMEHOW get a roommate and get them to agree to split rent and utilities then y’all are going to battle for personal space. A 2 bed is out of the question bc there is no way in hell that you can save anything if you are spending more then half of your wages on rent. You want to go out and have a sense of what it means to be fulfilled as a human? Don’t even dream about it, you have your bills coming up.

Get a second or 3rd job? Wait… you were able to find one? They didn’t ghost? Lucky you; now you are better off & you can now sleep knowing that the 2nd job will be able to pay for the gas ($3+/gal), insurance (3X what it used to be but still making you open up ur wallet before they step in), and your car note! (Wayyy too much for a used).

What is fun? What are get togethers? What is a ‘cheap meal’? What’s a bucket list? What’s a vacation? What’s a hobby? Wait, you can afford to replace items and not get anxiety over it? You can afford more then an arm full of groceries?? Will you be able to retire by the time you’re 60 with enough money in the bank to not just exist, but to do the things you’ve always wanted to do during those working decades? What will elder and death care look like? Will your children be able to not live in poverty?

We as young people are seeing death as a valid option because we know we will NEVER see an adult life like those before us prior to the 90’s. Starting a family or adding on to your family will put you in poverty. Buying a house if you’re fortunate enough will put you in poverty. Renting will put you in poverty. Working more jobs will put you in poverty. Having a car will put you into poverty, not having one will keep you from ever getting one. We will just work and work to never ever have anything to show for it. This is not the lifestyle that I’d doom more life to do for the rest of their lives. Something’s gotta change sooner rather then later and it’s gotta be grass roots. We have to be willing to break some rules to get to where we need to be.

Things. Must. Change.

[roanofarcc]

please do a part two of “see me not” i love it sm (and all of your writing :3)

thanks sm!! I hope you enjoy <3

SEE ME

read part 1 here! masterlist

pairing. sasappis x alive!reader

summary. adjusting to your job at woodstone and the paranormal company, sass grows even more fond of you than he would like to admit

warnings. some seemingly one-sided pining; a more ambiguous ending

word count. 900 | a/n. once again, sorry this took me 100 years

Sasappis hated the feeling he got when you arrived at work every day. Hate was strong, perhaps. But it made him feel weird. And his hands sweat. How the hell did ghosts sweat? He didn’t even have working organs, but still, there was a strange fluttering inside his chest, as if he’d captured a moth or something inside and it was struggling to make its way out.

All in all, he found the feeling unfair. How Sam managed to hire someone stupidly attractive and nice and able to see ghosts, he didn’t know. It felt as if the universe was punishing him. If you had been any normal person with no clue of his existence and he was able to admire you like some dream, he’d be fine. He was totally cool doing all of that yearning and pining pathetically over someone with no clue of his existence. But no, not only could see him, but you liked him. You sought him out and told him good morning. You let him linger around your cups of coffee because he liked the smell. And you were so sweet.

It made Sass want to scream into his pillow sometimes. He felt like a loser. You were alive, flesh and blood and working organs. And he was a spectral being that most people didn’t even believe in.

Trevor had said there was nothing wrong with having a crush on a living. He followed that up by saying he’d had a dozen or so himself. But Sass didn’t know how to deal with it, and the last thing he wanted was you finding out about his crush and fleeing or trying to let him down easy.

He thought about maybe avoiding you, but that was impossible too. You always seemed to know where he was casually trying to hide in the mansion. That, and he liked being around you too much to avoid you. It was a messed-up combination, if you asked Sass.

While his crush twisted up his insides, you remained your usual friendly self like you had no idea he acted differently around you. He never got bored listening to you, and he always found your jokes funny. It grew more and more obvious to everyone around him; he could see it in the raise of their brows and smirks. He brushed them off, ignored it as best as he could to pretend like he didn't think of you before he fell asleep.

When the other ghosts were around, it was a little bit easier for Sass to hide his crush. He tried to pay more attention to them than you, for everyone's sake. But, in the rare moments when you two ended up alone, it felt impossible. Maybe he was being overdramatic; you didn't know him nearly as well as the other ghosts and thus likely couldn't clock the differences in his personality when in your presence alone. But you seemed different around him too.

You were good at quick banter, matching jokes, and fitting into the group of livings and ghosts like you had been there for much longer than you had. But around Sass alone, you were more soft spoken. There was a comfortable air that surrounded the two of you, like basking in the sun, Sass thought. He didn't know if you felt it too, but something in your relaxed features and smile told him you did. What that meant, however, he had no clue.

The more time he spent in that space, though, the more he found a comfortable place to rest in with his feelings. Sure, you made his non-existent heart race when he made you laugh, and there were times when he had to physically hold him back from reaching out to you in even the smallest capacity. But it shifted from him feeling pathetic to him accepting the peculiar nature of ghost feelings.

He thought it would crush him, the zero chance of ever having a 'normal' kind of relationship bloom from his crush. He thought it would be unbearable because he'd never he able to touch you or really be 'yours.' But the longer you stayed working at Woodstone, the more his crush would become less soul-crushing. And it wasn't because it went away or lessened. No, it did the opposite of that for certain.

There was just an unspoken thing, a lightness and fun that came from the two of your interactions. It wasn't a relationship; it could never be. But for some reason, that eventually didn't upset Sass like he imagined it would. Nothing in his afterlife had been 'normal', whatever the hell that even meant. Why would that be any different?

There was no prospect of 'dating' or anything that came with that. But there was still you, smiling at him every morning and listening to him tell stories when the mansion was slow and quiet. And while Sass had once thought that wouldn't be enough, and he'd be crushed under the weight of never having what most people got in their lifetime, and sometimes in their afterlife, he became okay with that.

He didn't need a relationship, not really. He just wanted your friendly greetings and kind smile in the mornings. He just wanted your jokes and sweet words. Really, he just wanted your presence, however that looked, and for however long you decided to gift him with it.

[rosenclaws]

For the ask game... I have 3 (I'm greedy).

1. "Beneath Starlight" with Old Man Logan

2. "When Summer Ends" with 70s Logan

3. "Don't Look at Me" with Worst Logan

ooo okay okay i love these!!

Beneath Starlight

This is a sweet Old Man Logan fic where he takes you out to a small spot in the desert where the light can't ruin the sky. He feels bad because he's been so busy and he's not the kindest man. He lashes out and drinks too much and hates himself so much that he knows he's not easy to live with. So he decides to do something nice for you. He drives you out to this place and lays out a blanket. He brought snacks and spends the whole night sitting with you as you stare at the sky. You point out each constellation and he listens. He also tells you that he remembers when they sent those damn rockets to space. He watched it on TV at a bar and he shuddered at the idea of that. Ain't no way people are meant to be up there.

2. When Summer Ends

OO okay so this screams summer fling with 70's Logan. Imagine he's hired to look after you an up and coming actress. Summer in LA is hot and Logan hates the crowds almost as much as he despises being muscle for some stuck up actress. But slowly the two of you fall in love as you're out promoting your latest film. Logan protects you from annoying fans, creepy costars, and your own father who's hell bent on exploiting you for ever penny he can. Logan helps you find your own way, making a name for yourself without sacrificing your integrity. He also punches your dad at some point. But he can't stay forever. He knows that people aren't kind to his sort of people and to be plastered on every paper isn't good. When the summer is over he knows he has to leave you but he promises that he'll always keep an eye out. You two share one last night together before he disappears, running like he always does. He keeps his promise. He sees all your movies, watches your interviews, reads the articles. He's so proud of you. Maybe one day he'll come back to you but for now he's happy watching you be a star.

3. Don't Look at Me

Oo okay so. You were Logan's close back in his world but his constant ego and negativity soured your friendship. On a mission his ego got too big and he made a costly mistake that lead to you going missing. Logan was distraught. He was so angry at himself, so ashamed for what he'd done that he stopped caring. He drank more and rolled his eyes when the team asked for help. He was an X-men but he really didn't care anymore. Then everything happens and he ends up in the void where lurking in the shadows of the hide out was you. It was for sure the you from his timeline. Logan felt like he was going to puke. He avoids you like the plague. Putting up his walls as he doesn't even spare you a glance. You end up confronting him. How dare he pretend he's too good for you after what he did. He breaks down and ends up pouring his heart out. Yelling about how much of a coward he is. How he is at fault for everything and he hates himself so much for it. He wishes it was him, that if he didn't have his stupid healing he would be long gone by now. He just falls apart. He never believed in the man he could be and you tell him that this is his chance to change that. Start by making amends with you, show you that he's changed. That he truly cares he will try and not fall back on his old habits. He'd ask if things would ever go back to how they were and you say no but that doesn't mean it won't be okay. That you two won't be okay.

send me the title of a made up fic (with the character of your choice) and I'll tell you what the plot would be/write a blurb from it!