#like obviously we will never know what was going on with him but he so lovingly describes specific features in men

[muzansfangs]

Nsfw alphabet – the Salesman (letters f, k, q, t, w)

Starring: the Salesman x f!reader;

Format: head canons;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, creampie, unprotected sex, sadism, gagging, masturbation, public sex, toxic traits, humiliation, dacryphilia, spanking, impact playing, slapping, dom!salesman, sub!reader, gun playing, handcuffing, mention to pregnancy, anal sex;

Plot: some nsfw head canons about the Salesman aka the Recruiter, based on some letters of the alphabet;

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The Salesman has manhandled you in positions you did not even think were humanly manageable. Out of them, however, the salesman loves to have you either on your hands and knees, head pressed down in the pillow, or the good old mating press.

You could say it depends mostly on his mood. If he keeps the eye-contact with you, he is feeling somewhat more romantic, more human. Even if his cock brushes against your cervix unforgivingly every now and then. Your legs, pressed to your chest, make you look vulnerable and he loves that.

And, damn, is he not talkative when he messes you up like that?

“Fuck, I was thinking that fucking you raw is like playing the Russian Roulette. If I hit the nail on the head, we are screwed” he growled next to your ear, not minding the risk of impregnating you.

If he encloses the back of your neck with his hand and pushes your face down on the mattress, my dear, he is going to ravage you until you are sore. But he loves the way your ass ripple with each brutal thrust he gives you. The words falling from his mouth are far less loving than the possibility of getting you pregnant.

“Slut, you’re dripping like a cat in heat”.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man probably has a tattoo somewhere on his body reciting ‘kinky bastard’ in capital letters. The first one is dacryphilia. To some extent, he may care for your well-being during sex. It is rough, mindblowing. Obviously, it leaves you shaking, copious tears streaming down your cheeks. You have no idea how hard he gets, when you sob underneath him, needy, hapless and on the brink of breaking down.

Spanking and face slapping are a must. He does not hit you as hard as he does to the potential players he meets at the station. However, he does not go easy on you. You are bruised, at the end of the day.

If he is upset, expect him to lure you to have some anal sex. Your whimpers when he stretch you out himself are a manna from heaven. Unfortunately, it may last not as long as it does when he is messying up your pussy. It is all about pain. The more desperate you are, the faster he spurts into you.

The mention of honor goes to gun play. He never tells you if it is really loaded, or not, when he presses it against your temple. What you know is that you are still alive.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Our dear recruiter is a busy man, especially when that time of the year comes. When he comes back home, it is so late you are already alseep. Do not think he would have remorses in waking you up, if he needs to fuck you dumb, because he would.

The thing is he needs to rest too. Quickies are not his thing, but they are necessary. He is a sneaky bastard, not sticking to have them early in the morning, or when he is about to leave.

He may stalk you down the streets, easily becoming your shadow until you end up nearing an alley. My dear, this is when he clasps his hand over your mouth and shoves you against the wall. You are used to his antics by now. You do not feel ashame to walk off with a limp, afterwards. Not anymore, at least.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This man has probably owns an arsenal of toys. And, no, we are not talking about his weapons. He is not the type to indulge in plain vanilla sex. There is always going to be some kind of an object among the bedsheets, when he pins you underneath him and reels at the lewd faces you make for him.

He is a sadist inclined to use the toys on his favorite victim: you.

Do not be surprised, if he handcuffs you to the bedpost, or involves ropes in the particularly intense sessions awaiting for you, when he had a bad day. You cry out in pleasure and pain and it is irking him? Fine. Gags it is.

He sees you as a small pet eager to please him. Drool for him, whilst he uses nipple clamps on your already sensitive buds. If you wince, when he is deep inside of you, he may just shoot his load deep in your bowels. Nothing excites him more than your teary eyes and wobbling lower lip.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is definitely territorial. His jealousy takes over easily and, along with hickeys hard, if not impossible, to camouflage with a scarf and some make up, he jerks off with your panties. He does not see the necessity to make you wear your now cum-covered underwear, if he is by your side, though.

Yet, expect him to demand you to parade around the city, unable to hide the squelching sounds of your thighs brushing together, when the cum seeps from the fabric and stains the inside of your legs, if you are going out alone. Your boss, your friends, the men you cross paths with throughout the day, well, they just have to know you have a boyfriend and that you comply to his excessively unhinged and demeaning requests to please him.

When you reunite at home, he expects you to sit on his lap and narrate the mortifying experience of talking to strangers, or coworkers whilst entirely soaked and smelling of his semen.

Author note.

Hello there! This is my first time writing for the Squid Game fandom. Hopefully, I did not disappoint the audience! Let’s just say that my brainrot for this man was eating me alive and I had to write a little something for him. Your impressions and comments are greatly appreciated!

Love,

– Luce

[whadawhaaa]

Its been two weeks since the last earth-shaking explosion rattled the bunker my family has been holed up in during the war. The past three years have felt like a blur, a monotonous chant that I can't even remember the words to.

Most days consisted of mom quietly humming as she swept away the dirt, her hair seemingly becoming more gray and frazzled each time the bunker rumbled and dirt fell from the ceiling, extending the chore like a never ending loop. My younger brother spent most of his time playing through my old DS games, not like we had internet the moment the first bomb dropped. The first few weeks he would ask "How much longer" hourly and he seemed restless, complaining about the processed food and canned veggies we had to sustain on. As the weeks turned to months, eventually years he too became silent.

I remember my dad, explaining to Mom the action plan, helping us pack our emergency bags and sending us on our way. He told us he would see us soon, but I think we all lost hope within the first few months, even though my mom still tells my brother how Dad will be so happy to see us when we finally reunite on the surface

"This is different," I remember Dad's words as he looked up to the sky before seeing us off, "I promise you will be safe, I promise I will see you soon." With one last bear hug, off we went. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere after hours of driving Mom pulled off to the side of the road. The Pacific-northwest wilderness all around us.

"Where are we?" I looked up from my phone, immediately noticing the tears running down her cheeks, "...Mom?"

"We have to walk the rest of the way," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Your dad has left markers, he told me I would recognize them."

She took a deep breath, "Grab your brother and your bags, I'll get the first aid kits and the rest of the supplies."

We got out and I opened the back seat, "Come on, Cam," unbuckling him from the car seat. He was so much smaller, only five when it all ended. "Time to walk!"

We trekked through the cold for what seemed like hours in one direction and then my mom stopped.

"There," she pointed at a pine off to the right, etched into it were to letters. "N + C" I immediately recognized mine and Cameron's initials.

As we walked towards it I could see Mom's eyes darting around, scanning quickly and taking in every detail of the area, "Nic, I need you to help me find-" she cut off as in the distance she points at another tree with the same initials, "There!" she started running, "Look for them, Nic, we need to go!"

We followed tree after tree for miles, and eventually came to a clearing with a large boulder in the middle. My mother has been a stay at home mom for as long as I can remember, but she began digging around the pine needles and dirt at the base of the rock, as if years of training were kicking in.

Finally with an "Aha!" and some tugging at the base of it, a small tremor began, a hatch lifted about twenty feet away.

"Nic, I know we haven't explained much to you at this point, but I need you to be strong, your fifteen now and I don't know how long we are going to be here." Mom looked both terrified and stern at the same time, "We will be here until Dad comes and gets us, there is a very big war that is about to happen. Do you understand?"

I looked into the shadows beyond the hatch, "Are we mole people now?"

A small wave of humor wiped across her face "Nic, this is not the time for jokes, but yes"

Ever since then the bunker has been home. We listened and waited, stocks of canned and dehydrated goods sustaining us as the ground shook around us day after day for years. When the first day came without a bomb being dropped I don't think any of us realized, after three days Mom put Cameron down for bed and motioned for me to follow her out of the small bunk room we shared.

"Its been days now, do you think its safe?" My voice was raspy, I couldn't remember the last time I spoke aloud. Weeks? Months?

"I-I don't know," she turned to me with same terrified stern look she had two years before. I realized the pressure we were under, and not just from being fifty feet below the surface. "We need to wait until your father-"

"Mom, when are you going to stop acting as if he survived? We need to figure this out." Did anyone else survive? Who won the war? How long do we wait.

"Nic, it is very important that we wait, your dad is a very resourceful man and if he said he will come to us then I believe him" She walked towards the ladder in the corner of the room and looked up from where we climbed down.

"How long?" I asked bluntly, "How long do we sit here hiding before we accept he didn't survive? Something up there has been shaking us out in the middle of nowhere for years" I start to realize the time we've spent in the dark, disconnected, "There are so many things that could be happening and we cannot guarantee anything!"

"Two weeks." she said, without looking away from the only way up. "I will wait two weeks, and if no more tremors we can go to the surface. I will go to the surface and check if its safe."

Here I am, two weeks later trying to sleep as anxiety rips through me and what is going to happen tomorrow when we wake up. Will it be safe? Is there anyone left? Slowly as I drift to sleep, these unanswered questions exhausting me I feel a small tug. No, not a tug, a lift, as if a small wave pulled me above water briefly. My eyes snap open and I look at the battery clock next to my bunk, its time.

I walk out and I see my mom standing in the main room, dressed as if she had somewhere to go for the first time in months, and she did.

"I'm going up," she said, "Watch Cameron and I'll be right back down." She picked up a small device off the kitchen table, turning it on made it click and whistle, then silence. "I need to see if we are in danger from radiation."

She grabs the metal ladder, her foot on the first rung, "If its safe, we need to hope the car is where we left it otherwise we will be walking for a while" she began to climb up into the darkness.

After about ten minutes when I heard the hatch opening echo down the tunnel and again I felt the tug, stronger this time. It felt as if I was standing in the ocean and a wave tried to lift me off of my feet, I felt a tingling sensation course though me and release as if shooting out of my fingertips. When I heard the hatch close the sensation almost immediately cut off, "Shit." I said aloud, thinking to myself it must be radiation. I grew more and more anxious as I heard Mom's steps get closer and closer to the bottom until she appeared from the dark.

"Its-" She paused, turning around her face looking like a mix of confused and stressed, "Its clear, no traces at all."

Then what was that feeling? I must've looked a certain way while thinking and Mom read me like a book.

"I don't know what the was when I opened the hatch, Nic, but you're right. We cannot sit and wait until our food supply is gone, we need to find help." She grabs our bags and sets them on the table, quickly gathering supplies. "Go get Cameron ready."

We gather everything and I get Cameron dressed, he asks a hundred questions I don't have the answer to and I just keep telling him we need to go back to the car. Finally, we get go up. Mom first, then Cameron, then me. Slowly making our way through the dark until Mom stops below the hatch. Our dimly lit abode below us looks like a small speck five stories below us.

"My arms hurt!" Cameron whines.

"Give me just a sec to-hah! Found it!" The hatch clicks and Mom pushes it open letting in a burst of light and fresh air. My body feels light again, a sudden rush pushes me and I feel like I'm going to shoot straight up like a cork in a bottle.

We crawl out and everything looks surprisingly familiar. The air feels crisp with a slight tinge of fall and wet pine needles to give me an idea of the time of year. The sensation continues to pull me upwards, I feel pressure building as if I'm a balloon being pushed under water. The tingling sensation feels as if it is concentrated on the tips of my fingers and I look down and-

"Mom, what's going on!?" I hold up my hand and as I do sparks begin to shoot from it, no pain only pressure.

"I-I don't know Nic, are you ok? Does it hurt?" She looks horrified, "Shake it off!"

I start shaking my hand, I feel tears welling up even though I don't feel hurt, just scared. The sparks fade. I look down at my hand and see light blue lines tracing along my veins and fading up my arm. I reach out and the outlines pulse as if alive. My hand is no longer shooting sparks and I move my fingers to make sure everything is ok. They meet friction when I move them, something that feels almost like my old guitar strings pushing against my fingers, a clump of chords in my hand when I ball it into a fist. I reach out slowly and run my index finger down as if to strum the invisible instrument, quickly with each passing chord, a faint blue line lights up as I move downward, one by one lighting up and fading fast behind.

I take a step forward, and besides the pressure inside my chest, there is nothing stopping me moving. I take a swing with my hand and like a harp, the faint chords appear vertically behind the motion, fading as quickly as they appeared.

A voice rings through my mind, a voice like music.

"You have a natural talent, you understand the magic coursing through you as a beautiful song waiting to be played"

"Who are you?!" I say aloud.

"Nic, who are you talking to?" Mom looks so scared, Cam looks up at me, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"Its been a long time since I have been awake in this world, so many voices, too many for me to handle. At last I can hear the music through all of the noise!"

"If you don't tell me who you are, I-I-" I stammer out, not knowing what I would do if the voice doesn't give me an answer.

"Calm down, child. I am not here to hurt you, in fact I am your savior, your muse. Soon you will understand, soon you will play such beautiful songs for me, you will compose symphonies for my orchestra. For I, child, am Mystra."

The magic weave is real, every human pulls from it. But the vast Ocean that is the weave is not infinite and as the human population rises the power one can pull from the weave becomes almost non existent. Earth just faced a apocalyptic event that wiped out 80% of humanity and you feel the weave

[katakaluptastrophy]

This is your semi-regular reminder that for all that he very much leans into being 'just a guy', John Gaius is a horribly unsettling and disturbing eldritch entity who has not been entirely human for 10,000 years:

As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you... I hid you in me. And when we were together... I became God..

We're repeatedly told how uncanny Alecto was. And how terribly ordinary-looking John is...but how deeply, deeply upsetting his eyes are to behold. They're repeatedly described as "monstrous" (on one occasion, directly before John jokes "I'm not a monster"), as well as "terrible", "like dead planets", "primordial", "chthonic", "inconceivable", and "deeply fucked up".

There are multiple descriptions of how his down to earth persona suddenly falls away and he can be seen as something infinitely more awful:

"terrible divinity clung to his skin"

"It was the first time that he had seemed at all mortal. Humanity touched him briefly, like a passing shadow"

"He was no longer human. He was immortal again"

"He was always somehow more alive than everyone else around him, and yet dislocated from what you considered living. A man-shaped eclipse."

"The Emperor of the Nine Houses - the Resurrection - the First Reborn - sat at the end of the table, his plain face splattered with gore, and his eyes were the death of light."

There's one moment in particular where Harrow perceives him as something vastly beyond human:

his great immortal age - of an enormous distance between you, of an ignition too bright for you to conceive. You were an insect standing before a forest fire. You were a cell holding a heart.

(Though of course Harrow herself is far from metaphysically straightforward - in the River, Gideon says "You were a sigil: you were an intermingled fire...you were a hunger without a stomach...")

When John describes Resurrection Beasts to Harrow - although we do not yet know that this is a confession of murder and of a sort of cannibalism by a part man, part planet - he is "lit from beneath by electric lighting, the gleam in his eyes black and wet. You caught him moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue."

Even when he's not obviously being an eldritch thing, his very normal crown of foetal bones moves on its own, and the white rings in his eyes are described as flickering. Even blithely sitting in a Cohort Admiralty meeting munching peanuts, John is in constant, unsettling motion.

As if that doesn't already sound unpleasant enough, it seems rather like there is something physically discomforting about making eye contact with John. Looking on those white rings is likened to "dying" and "a migraine", and described as "scalding".

It still hurt you a little, to look into his terrible eyes... You had never become used to it.

Making eye contact with John doesn't just cause physical pain. It also seems to open you up to some degree of suggestion or compulsion. Here's Gideon's description of making eye contact with John:

God looked at me...and held my gaze. It was this that pinned us in place. When those white rings hovered on someone else, the blood rushed back to your brain; when they flickered back to me, I went white and blank again, mute and stupid, a floating outline... Those white-ringed eyes closed, and your heart almost relaxed in your chest.

Which seems to place two incidents that otherwise might be explained as Harrow's difficulty refusing the man she has been raised to worship as god in a different light:

It still hurt you in an undefinable way, to see him lowered so: as though he offered a compliance test where you ought to flatten yourself in front of him as low as you could go. The white ring around his pupil was so white.

He looked at you as though he were glad to see you... some nameless softening in his face and those white-tinged, primordial eyes. He reached out for your hands. You could not refuse him, and in any case had no choice of doing so; your body reacted long before your mind did, and the meat of your meat and the flesh of your flesh belonged to God

I don't think we're nearly frightened enough of John... Or of the prospect of John and Alecto - the man who became god and the god who became man - reunited (even if at odds) in ATN...

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[zenruu]

A Needlessly Thorough Analysis of What Hardening Actually Means for Alistair

You can also read this analysis in a Google Doc if you find that format more palatable: here.

(I do recommend desktop for the comfiest viewing in either case, but both should be serviceable.)

Disclaimer: If critical discussion of a character’s feelings, motivations, and reactions to certain in-game choices could be personally upsetting to you, maybe don’t read this. None of this analysis is me judging you/your choices as a player, I am simply looking through the lens of Alistair’s characterization and the in-universe consequences of choices. Of course this analysis will be colored by my own bias, it’s inevitable. I can’t realistically include every potentially relevant line of dialogue, but I’m always happy to discuss if you think there’s something crucial I left out.

Hardened Alistair is often described as learning to stand up for himself and becoming more assertive, but why? Is it an accurate assessment? Even Alistair himself reacts to the hardening dialogue by saying he’s going to start thinking for himself and looking out for himself more, so surely it’s true… right?

To the contrary, I would actually argue that hardened Alistair tends to put others before himself more than unhardened Alistair. Let’s start by looking at how he becomes hardened.

The Hardening Process

After meeting Goldanna, Alistair is understandably devastated to find that the family he’s been dreaming of his whole life is not what he had hoped. He’s just been yelled at and turned away by the sister he’s never met, the only family he’s ever had a chance of knowing. He’s lost his hope at finding that sense of connection and belonging he’s always been looking for.

If the Warden wants to harden Alistair, they need to tell him, “Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.”

The message being sent is basically: suck it up, move on, grow up. This is the way the world is. Stop being so idealistic.

The message Alistair seems to receive, however, is a bit more complicated. In the follow-up conversation after meeting Goldanna, Alistair tells you that his takeaway from the hardening dialogue was that he needs to look out for himself more. This is, obviously, perfectly in line with the common belief that hardened Alistair is more assertive and more willing to stand up for himself.

But is that the reality that we see reflected in hardened Alistair’s choices?

Pre-hardening, Alistair tells you many times that he feels like no one cares what he wants; he believes it’s unfair and openly complains about it. Hardened Alistair, however, knows that no one cares what he wants and he accepts that as the way things are and must be. Unhardened Alistair will freely say he doesn’t want to be king and fights against it until he can fight it no more, while hardened Alistair will accept it, even going as far as to say he wants it.

Why would he change so suddenly from saying it’s his worst nightmare to saying he wants it? Does he mean it fully? Is this truly him seeking to fulfill his own wants and meet his own needs?

What actually changes if he’s hardened?

he is seemingly less reluctant about becoming king

if romanced, he will agree to a threesome with Isabela

he will agree to make you his mistress if you push the topic

if not married to Anora and chosen to fight Loghain, he will execute Loghain and take the throne

if not chosen to fight Loghain, he will insist on being made king

if married to Anora, he will become king instead of being exiled if Loghain is spared (Alistair will still leave your party, however)

he will approve of executing Jowan in Redcliffe

With the idea of “hardened Alistair putting his own wants/needs first” in mind let’s break them down one by one:

Note: some lines of dialogue have flags for “hardened”/“changed”, alternatively referred to as Alistair’s motivation being changed from “good to glory” or “Alistair 2”. These all refer to the hardening mechanic. The screenshots do have text that’s a bit small, because I wanted to be sure that I included the flags that show when lines are exclusive to hardened Alistair.

Less reluctance about becoming king

All along he’s said he doesn’t want it. You could potentially make a case that he didn’t truly feel that way and was only saying it because he’s insecure (which he is), but I don’t find this to be a terribly compelling argument. 

This is hardened Alistair’s response to being told he would be a good king after he’s decided to sacrifice himself. There are several lines like this that I feel contradict the theory that unhardened Alistair only says he doesn’t want to be king because he’s insecure in his abilities. It’s not that his insecurities are not a factor, it’s that hardening him doesn’t get rid of those things, meaning that this factor alone would not change his attitude about accepting potential kingship. In fact, he still believes that realistically Anora is better suited.

I’d argue that someone who has consistently said one thing without fail and is now only changing the tune after basically being told to shut up and grow up may not be expressing their truest desires. He is going along with what Eamon is telling him, with what the Warden is telling him, with what he’s told is his duty and responsibility. For the greater good, not for himself.

And you might be saying that can’t be true, hardened Alistair says he wants to be king!

Personally, I’d argue that Alistair saying he wants to be king is much the same as your average person saying they want a job. Do most people want to go to work every day? No, not really, but you have to because it’s just what you need to do. So when asked, you’d say you want a job. Of course you would, because you have to have one. But removed from that necessity, would you still say the same? Likely not. I believe the same holds true for Alistair. If he wasn’t being told at every turn that him being king is what must be done, he wouldn’t feel a need to bow to that.

Hardened Alistair confidently wanting to be king is often accepted as plain fact, when it’s really not so cut and dry. We can dig into some of his dialogue and really look at his feelings on the matter.

Hardened Alistair is saying he wants to be king. Even he’s surprised by it. But what is the context of this line? He’s about to sacrifice himself. He believes that his sacrifice–not living to rule–is the single best thing he can do as king.

But is it pure happiness and willingness, or is it a man simply trying to make the best of a situation he’s locked into? I vote for the latter.

I often see the argument that having a Warden queen would make him happier with the idea of being king, but by all evidence it really doesn’t seem to be the case. Here is his response to the Warden confirming that she does want to be queen. Alistair still doesn’t like the idea of ruling. This isn’t a line exclusive to hardened Alistair, he will always have this line available.

“I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for you” … “you owe me” … Even hardened, Alistair seems to see being king as something negative being thrust upon him. A punishment, perhaps? What would his response be to being told that being king is not a punishment?

On the surface, he agrees, but take a look at that VO comment for his actual feelings on it. He does consider it a punishment. This is indeed a line for hardened Alistair, as it occurs during the mistress conversation, which is a hardened Alistair exclusive.

Even if hardened, Alistair would prefer to stay a Warden if he can.

And if you don’t make hardened Alistair king? He’s grateful. Happy. Happier.

Agreeing to a threesome

Unhardened or hardened, he will push back when you suggest this. However, only hardened Alistair will relent and agree to it. Unhardened Alistair will simply refuse. Which one sounds more like someone standing up for his own wants?

This is the path the conversation goes if Alistair is hardened. His initial refusal and discomfort with the situation remains, but if you tell him to go along, he will.

He is, regardless, clearly not as comfortable with the situation as one should be. It certainly isn’t the kind of enthusiastic consent one would look for when asking someone to engage in a particular sex act. But he had fun, so it’s okay, right?

Well… did he have fun? Isabela jokes about borrowing him in the future and it seems quite clear that he isn’t interested in a repeat occurrence. Not only is he not interested, he’s awkward, uncomfortable. “Oh, but he makes a joke about wet frocks right after this!” He does. But it’s Alistair. He’s constantly making jokes to mask his discomfort.

Agreeing to making the Warden his mistress

Again, he will push back on this at first, only relenting if he’s hardened and you push the issue. If unhardened, he’ll stand by his original statement that he feels it would be wrong. Is he just saying he believes it’s wrong, or is that what he truly believes? Based on what we know of Alistair, I’d say it’s far more likely that he truly does find the idea of making the Warden his mistress to be disrespectful both to the Warden and to his wife, and that he is somewhat disregarding his own beliefs on that to bend to the Warden’s insistence that he take a mistress.

Whether he’s marrying Anora or not, his views on the matter are the same. He intends to be loyal to whoever he marries, and he knows he cannot do so if he continues the relationship with the Warden.

It’s clear that he finds the entire idea distasteful.

Much like the threesome, you do have to press him to get him to agree. He’s quite set in his beliefs on the matter, but he will acquiesce if the Warden pushes it.

Insisting on becoming king in the context of dealing with Loghain

These are the choices where I’d say there is potentially a case to be made that Alistair is making the decision he wants to make. However, I wouldn’t say that the decision being made is that he wants to be king. I would argue that becoming king is simply a means to an end to give him the power to get revenge in the way he wants.

In the first potential scenario here, Alistair will insist on being made king if he is not chosen to fight Loghain. Why? He wants Loghain dead, and he isn’t being given the choice to make that happen. He wants the power to make that choice, all else be damned.

Here you can see that hardened Alistair insists on taking the throne while making it abundantly clear that the reason for doing so is to take care of Loghain in the manner he wants.

Unhardened Alistair does the same. Why? Because the motivation remains the same whether he’s hardened or not. Unhardened Alistair simply hasn’t become so resigned as to pretend he’s any less displeased with it than he is.

In the second potential scenario, Alistair is chosen to fight Loghain and kills him. He finally achieves the goal he’s been working towards all along: getting his revenge on Loghain. He’s running on that high when Eamon immediately suggests he take the throne, he says yes, he’ll do it. There’s not really anything to break down dialogue-wise in this scenario, as his acceptance of the throne is the exact same dialogue as it would be in any other case. He simply says he accepts when it’s proposed.

Is it what he truly wants? Maybe. You could make a case for it. However, I interpret it more as running on that adrenaline high, feeling powerful and not fully thinking it over in the moment.

Accepting being king & marrying Anora if Loghain is spared

Alistair has been tunnel visioned on getting his revenge on Loghain the entire time, and this is the only circumstance in which sparing Loghain will not result in Alistair leaving and becoming a drunk. He both accepts marrying Anora (which he isn’t happy about) and sparing Loghain (which is very counter to his wishes).

He doesn’t like Anora and doesn’t want to marry her, but he does anyway. Hardened Alistair knows that marrying Anora is politically advantageous and prioritizes that over his personal desire to enact his vengeance, though he makes it clear to the Warden that his personal feelings on the matter have absolutely not changed.

Hardened Alistair goes along with marrying Anora after Loghain is spared and leaves the party, unhappy with the Warden’s choice to spare Loghain. If this line alone didn’t make his displeasure clear enough, there’s also this one:

He refers to the Warden’s actions as a betrayal. He’s obviously not happy.

Unhardened Alistair, however, stands his ground and refuses.

Approving of executing Jowan

Another case of a changed tune to go along with what the Warden is doing. Unhardened Alistair actively disapproves of the Warden executing Jowan. We could assume that hardened Alistair is just more pragmatic, or perhaps simply more willing to accept it when the Warden tells him this is what must be done.

There is no Alistair specific dialogue to look at here, just the approval points, so it’s really just a matter of looking at what we know of him and the situation. I would say in general Alistair values life and values mercy. Are there exceptions? Yes. Loghain, for example, whose crimes Alistair has judged worthy of death. Clearly unhardened Alistair does not feel that way about Jowan. Hardened Alistair though? He approves of his execution, but is it because he personally thinks it’s best or is it because he accepts the Warden’s judgment?

I would argue that it’s the latter primarily because it’s completely in line with everything else we’ve seen from hardened Alistair. There really are just no solid cases of hardened Alistair asserting his own will when compared to unhardened Alistair, so I don’t see this case as being any different.

In Review

In each case of behaviors changed by hardening Alistair, we see him putting his own wants and needs on the backburner in favor of an externally imposed sense of duty or to bend to another’s will because he accepts that his personal feelings are irrelevant. I’d go as far as to say that hardening is really a misnomer, because what we’re really looking at would be better called resignation.

I actually didn’t include every single line I found of hardened Alistair expressing the sentiments I’ve laid out in this analysis because I didn’t want it to be too long, but there is more in the game. Now I will get into less concrete analysis and a bit more of an explanation of my own personal opinions on hardening.

Aside from looking at what hardening actually means for Alistair, we can also question its necessity. Do you need to do it if you want to do certain things in Origins (threesome, mistress ending, etc.)? Yes. But I often see people argue that hardening Alistair is necessary for him to grow or mature as a person, and I completely disagree.

My personal opinion is that hardening Alistair is neither necessary nor kind.

In terms of helping Alistair to grow as a person, I maintain that Alistair will become more naturally “hardened”, or more accurately, he will mature on his own if you give him the chance to do so. Why do I say so? Look at Alistair in Inquisition. That is not the same idealistic young man we see in Origins, and this remains true regardless of hardening status. Whether it’s Warden Alistair or King Alistair, he’s clearly grown and changed.

Sure, you can mod the game to make the hardening dialogue more palatable, but that’s an entirely different discussion. As is, you’re required to essentially kick him when he’s down, and I simply do not find it to be necessary for his own personal development.

If it’s not already completely obvious by me doing all of this in the first place, I really, really love Alistair. Of course I’m quite settled and happy as an unhardened Warden Alistair truther, but I’m always happy to discuss and debate. I’m very interested in any thoughts you might have, whether you agree with my assessment or not (as long as you’re nice).

Thank you for reading my (almost sickeningly thorough) little analysis if you made it this far!

As a treat (or unhardened Warden Ali propaganda depending on your perspective), here's my Warden, miss Neria Surana with her very happy unhardened Warden husband:

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter eight

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: it's here. Finally. Don't look at me. Can't believe we only have 4 chapters to go after this one! I have such a deep fond love for this little universe and I'm so damn thankful for all of your comments, reblogs and asks! Your kind words make my bloody year! Hope you enjoy angels x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 4.7k-ish

Warnings: angsttttt, swearing, general heartache and bittersweet goodbyes, a break in, these two make me want to listen to a heartbreak playlist all day and just cry

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The words play in your mind as you make a beeline to the public bathrooms, a relentless cycle over and over and over. Your conversation with the consultant had been mind achingly frustrating, and yet, despite knowing his little tricks and various mental hoops he gets his chosen victims to jump through, you can’t help it—you give in.

You find yourself jumping through those damn hoops, letting his words drive you borderline insane.

Jane has it all wrong—so wrong—so why can’t you stop thinking about what he said? What would give him the impression that Marcus has feelings for you? Feelings that extend beyond the expected responsibility of a leading agent, and mere guilt lingering from their shared history.

Does he see something you can’t? Has he heard something? Found something?

The bitter tang of resentment builds in the back of your throat as your mind goes down more paths, creating more questions with no answers in sight. This is what he wants.

Jane wants you to be overwhelmed with questions and what ifs and a desperation for the truth, so you’ll go to him for the answers. So he can spin words, play and pick your brain some more. It’s a cycle, one that obviously works well for him. This is how he plays, and it’s vicious and cruel, and—

—and yet you still let his words confuse you, still mull over them in your head.

You keep fucking falling for it. 

Your hands shake as they deposit your bag beside the sink, the cold water splashing over your skin doing nothing to divert your thoughts or distract you.

Of course there are no feelings anywhere.

Maybe this is just a ploy to hurt or embarrass Marcus—surely there’d be some bad energy there, given the history between them both. Maybe Jane’s not finding enough entertainment within the investigation and is instead making his own.

You don’t know. What you do know is that you refuse to waste one more fucking second wondering what is going on in that man’s head, and what his ploy is.

It hits you as you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, the obvious internal war written across your face with creases of stress and watery eyes—you can’t do this. You’re not cut out for this rollercoaster of drama. You’ve had enough. 

Jane, the case, Marcus, the FBI—you’ve had enough of all of it. You’ve done enough, and Marcus has always said to tell him when you decide you’re done. He’s always said that you’re under no obligation to do anything you don’t want to do, that you could back out at any point. Or maybe that was just another lie.

The bitter part of you churns to life, still angry, still holding onto the aching resentment from the past. Vicious thoughts and memories tainted by heartbreak flood your mind, but it doesn’t seem to cut as deep as it usually would. He didn’t lie about that. 

He said you were in control, he gave you his word—and you took it. You trust it.

Would he be disappointed?

You did tell him that you’d help, that you’d do what the FBI asked of you and get them the information they need, but at what cost? Your mental health was already taking hits, an array of emotions continuously assaulting you from merely being around Marcus again, let alone being bombarded and interrogated by some wanna-be mentalist freak from California.

No. He’d understand.

You dry up, blotting the paper towel across your throat and willing your heart to slow down as you look over your frame in the reflection. The wire’s still perfectly hidden, tucked deeply away under your jacket from where Marcus had pinned it, but the mere thought of it sitting there has a cold dread creeping along your veins.

That whole conversation with Jane had been recorded.

Marcus is going to listen to it. His team is going to listen to it. You can’t deal with the fallout of that. You can’t be humiliated like that. What would he do? What would he say?

Though of course you know the truth and that the idea of Marcus having any type of romantic inclination towards you is fucking ridiculous, you’re still not exactly fond of the idea of sitting there and listening to him explain why he does not, and would not, ever have feelings for you.

Maybe—maybe you could get ahead of it.

Surely if you just tell him, ask him, that the recording be discarded as you’re backing out. There’s nothing on there, there’s no need for it. Just delete it, forget about it and move on. 

You grab your things and leave the safety of the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline as you begin to make your way towards the exit, but then you see him. He’s a good distance away from the path you’re taking, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if you weren’t suddenly highly aware of every person milling about the building.

Edward Thomas.

Someone who had played a big part in your life before everything went to shit. He’d been involved with some of your replicas, their creations and the deals around them once they were complete. You weren’t aware of his exact place in all of it, but you know damn well it was much higher on the food chain than you.

He looks the same, despite everything. Did nothing happen to him when it all fell apart? Was he not arrested along with everyone else?

Probably not. He had money—serious money. He had connections. He had the network you had ensured to keep out of. Perhaps you would’ve been better following his footsteps, kissing asses and sucking up to the underground elites of the world, making more of a name for yourself behind closed doors. You would've been untouchable, invincible. 

Where would you be now? Back in your penthouse, mostly unscathed and living life as normal.

There’s no use dwelling on it. It’s a can of worms you could continue to open and close for the rest of your life, wondering what if until it drove you mad.

Doing what Edward Thomas did, does—it’s not you. It wasn’t you back then, and it wouldn’t be you now. You just wanted to paint, you weren’t in it for the money. Although, admittedly, it did help.

You want to move towards him, to hover in the background beyond the group of smartly dressed people surrounding him, enough for him to see you, to peak his interest. This could be what Marcus, the FBI, needs. This could, potentially, help the investigation, if he is still doing dealings under the table. 

But then what? You’d be stuck having to go further. There’d be no backing out. There’d be more drama, more headaches, more mind games, more lies. You can’t do it.

This has developed into something you don’t think you have the nerve for. The idea of it all seemed so easy when Marcus came to you, but the reality of it? You don’t have the mentality for it all. You’re not an agent. You’re not trained for this. You don’t have people behind you, covering for you and protecting you.

You turn away.

Rigsby lingers by the bathroom you had exited from, nose in a pamphlet showcasing the must sees of the museum, but his eyes flick to you as if to check on your movements. You swallow, give a barely there shake of your head and then continue on your way out, leaving him to alert Marcus that you had left.

—

You’re only a mere few feet away, but he can feel the distance that now stretches in between you. Distance that could never be removed or forgotten. The thick sheen of glass hides him from your gaze, but that doesn’t stop him from flinching when your eyes glance at the mirror upon entry.

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. He intentionally sat out on the move today, refused to be a part of the team bringing you in, all because he was scared of seeing your face and the look of betrayal in your eyes. Shit, he’s still scared now. Maybe that;s why he stays behind the glass, refusing to be a part of the interrogation.

You’re holding on so fucking strong, he’s damn near proud.

Jenner throws everything at you. He does all that he can, but when you don’t budge, he throws an apologetic glance towards the mirror that you thankfully don’t catch. It’s time to pull out the ace card, to let you know they had more on you than you think, and it makes him fucking sick.

He can’t move.

You’re confused when you hear the mention of his name, his real name, and why wouldn’t you be? You have no idea who he is, who he really is.

Sweat slicks his palm as he pulls at the door to the interrogation room, builds on the back of his neck under the crisp collar of his shirt as he takes a seat. He can’t look at you. He can’t look at you because he’s a piece of shit coward, unable to confront all the shit he’s done.

Bile stings at his throat.

It takes every fucking bit of him to keep it together.

The file is heavy in his hand as he slides it across the table before he finally manages to meet your gaze. It cuts him to the very core. He feels the hit of it deep in his chest. His jaw starts to ache from the pressure of keeping his teeth clenched tightly together, forcefully swallowing down every flicker of pain and guilt and self fucking loathing until he’s nothing but a blank slate.

Tears start to build rapidly in your eyes and he knows then and there that he’ll never forget that look of pure and utter heartbreak creasing your face. The face he had stroked so softly, kissed so lovingly.

“Special Agent Pike,” you rasp softly, almost choking on the words.

It’s a viciously harsh blow to the system and he falters almost immediately.

I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry—

You don’t look at him anymore, and he’s almost glad for it. You’d see how he starts to crumble, how his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a panic and how Jenner makes a small gesture for him to take a deep breath and cool it before he says something that’ll end him in deep shit.

“I want a lawyer.”

—

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Any of it.”

He seems to be expecting the words, taking them in with nothing but a small reassuring smile and a simple, “Okay.”

Honestly, you were expecting a little more. Maybe a few questions fired as to why you couldn’t do it when you seemed so intent on following through with it all originally, but when he says nothing else, you deflate. You wet your lips, wondering if there’s some sort of catch, but Marcus remains silent, watching the flutter of emotions pass over your face.

“That’s it?”

“When I told you that you’re in control of this, I meant it. If you’re done, then you’re done.”

Hearing him confirm it brings such a sweet relief to your mind, you can practically feel the weight of it all start to seep from your shoulders, but despite that guilt still sits in the pit of your stomach, uncomfortable and relentless. It falls from your mouth before you can even think to stop it—

“I’m sorry. I thought—I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would feel different, or be easier than it actually is. I think I’m just… tired. Of everything. I want—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he cuts in quietly, giving a small reassuring smile when you glance at him. “We asked a lot of you, and I understand that. It’s okay—really.”

Your conversation with Jane plays back through your mind, almost tauntingly. A small part of you wants to tell Marcus about it, he should know Jane’s off parading about on his own path without a care for the plans or rules or whatever it is that gets set in place during an investigation, but then what?

He’d want to know what he said, and you don’t have it in you to look him in the eyes and tell him. You don’t want to open yourself up to that embarrassment. Of course what Jane said is all bullshit, it’s ridiculous to even think about yourself, but to have Marcus bluntly tell you so would be a bit of a slap across the face.

“The recording,” you start with the creepings of hesitation, tongue rolling along your lips in an effort to bring the words out smoother, “what happens to it?”

 A flutter of a frown creases his brows as he eyes you from across your kitchen before he gives a noncommittal shrug, finding no harm in your curiosity.

“It gets put in with the rest of the evidence.”

“Even if there’s nothing on it?”

“It would need to be cleared by an agent first, but if there’s nothing of use on it then it just gets discarded.”

“If—if I asked you to delete it now, without listening to it, is that… would you?”

The frown immediately deepens.

He seems to stand straighter, something seeping into his expression as your question lingers in the air, and you watch, waiting for the suspicion that doesn’t seem to come. He just seems concerned, whether on your behalf or his investigation you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know that Jane had jumped on you at the museum, surely that would’ve been something he would address immediately upon seeing you after the last time,  so you’re positive he’s unaware of what’s on it.

“I—” he stops, tongue running along his lips, “I can’t risk the case—”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you. There’s nothing worthwhile on it, but if I wanted you to forget about it and delete it, would you?”

Would you trust me?

It goes unspoken, but it lingers behind your words. Despite the anxiety churning in your stomach and the panic building in your chest from how he’ll take your request and what he’ll think of it, you’re curious. He has no reason to trust you whatsoever, especially given your history, but some sort of shaky foundation had been built between you over your time working with him—how far did it go?

His concern grows, and he takes a careful step towards you. “Has something happened?”

Should you tell him? No. Just be done with it all.

“Just answer the question.”

“What happened?”

“Marcus.”

The frown remains steady between his brows, his eyes unwavering as they focus on yours and study your features, but eventually, after a few moments of searching your expression, he gives a small careful nod. You can’t help but recoil slightly in surprise, not expecting the answer. You don’t even know what you were expecting.

Your first response is to call him out, because surely he wouldn’t, but as you watch him and the way he starts to shift almost nervously, you start to believe him.

“You would?” You question softly, brows pulling together. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to.”

That’s it? That’s all it would take?

He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as his hands find his hips. “Are—are you asking me to?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

It’s not an answer he wants, but he seems to accept it. His frown stays on you, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as he attempts to work out whatever you may be thinking. You see the conflict play across his face, the urge to push for more answers, the want to understand.

Something seems to click behind his eyes and you don’t know what to brace for in the seconds that follow. Anger? Accusations? 

He strides towards the kitchen counter, takes the little device in hand and holds a small button along the side until it gives a small beep followed by a clear confirmation of ‘recording deleted’. It’s over and done with within the span of thirty seconds and you’re left reeling.

Holy shit. He did it. You stare, wide eyed as he tosses it back down and runs a hand over his mouth, before turning and pacing the small width of your apartment. 

You watch him go.

There was nothing on it other than your little spat with Jane, but he didn’t know that. You could be hiding anything. You could’ve turned on him, evaded Rigsby’s watchful eye, found someone in your old circle and told them everything you and the FBI have been doing. Anything could’ve been on it, and yet he listened to you.

He trusted you.

“You could’ve just deleted evidence,” you breathe, still stuck in disbelief.

He knows it wasn’t. He fully believes you would never ask that of him, but at that very moment, he couldn’t have cared less if it was evidence. He would’ve dealt with it, like before. Technology isn’t always reliable, and issues almost always arise during cases with something tech-related. No one would know. No one would need to know.

“Yes,” he states plainly, and you’re so perplexed by the word and how he seemingly shrugs off his actions that you need to take another moment to process it.

“Just like that.”

He finally stops pacing, turning to face you fully.

“Just like that,” he echoes quietly.

This was a bad idea.

Not just the erasure of potential evidence and his apparent nonchalance regarding it and the risk to the position he had gruellingly earned over the years, but the whole thing.

The whole fucking thing.

He should never have bought you into this. He should never have knocked on your door. He’s right back to where he was back then, stuck and doing some very questionable shit he would easily lose his job over all because he’s an idiot.

You don’t hide away from his gaze, and he doesn’t shy away from yours. You’re still trying to work out his thought process, the logic behind his actions, and you keep coming up with nothing. There’s no reason why he would do something like this, for a nobody like you. There’s no motivation, no need on his side to do as you ask and blindly delete shit without questioning it further…  unless—

Unless, what Jane said holds some merit.

Why else would he do it?

No.

Maybe he’s just doing it as a favour, to try and make up for all of the shit he put you through. That makes more sense than him having feelings for you. He hasn’t been around you enough to justify any sort of feelings—he doesn’t know you. Or is he carrying them from your previous relationship? But it’s been ages since you were together, and that was all fake back then. There was nothing real there, it was all a lie. 

The headache is coming back.

You exhale slowly through your lips, eyes falling away from him and to the simple black device once more. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You don’t need to know any more. It’s all done. It’s over, and you can finally get back to your quiet little normal life. You can move on.

“Thank you.” And you mean it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, clearing his throat. “I know this must’ve been very hard for you, and we appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into this investigation. I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you half smile, the pull of it natural.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he huffs softly in amusement, slowly coming closer to pick up the device from the counter and tuck it away into his pocket. 

“I mean, I wasn’t thrilled to begin with, but… it turned out okay.”

He smiles fully, and it hits just like it used to. You don’t look away. There’s no harm in taking it all in one last time. You won’t see him after this. You didn’t know last time, before it all fell apart. You didn’t get a chance to enjoy all of the little things you liked. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“Well, I’ll—I’ll leave you to it. Thank you again. There might be some final paperwork, but I’ll post it out.”

You nod as you follow him slowly to your door, tucking your cardigan around you and crossing your arms tightly across your chest. You ache. Somewhere deep inside your chest twists, and your throat starts to tighten. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking when you call out to him before he can reach for the door, and you’re left with nothing to say when he pauses and turns to you.

There’s nothing to say. He doesn’t bother filling the silence. You stand there, eyes roaming his face in an effort to picture him as he was back then, when he was Alex. He lets you. There’s something there, something hanging in the stillness surrounding you both because you can feel it start to tug and twist at your insides.

Finality.

This is goodbye—a proper one.

It’s not Marcus you want to say goodbye to.

Slowly, deliberately, you step into him and he doesn’t move a muscle. He stills under the hand you steady yourself with on his arm, breath all but hardening in his lungs when your face nears his own.

Your lips press ever so softly to his cheek, only mere millimetres from the corner of his lips, and the shaky little exhale he lets out confirms it all for you.

Jane was right, but you have no idea just how much. He was in deeper than you could have possibly ever imagined. Everything was still there, simmering right under the surface and threatening to be his entire undoing. He doesn’t speak, can’t speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing and fucking this last little moment up.

He relishes in it, in the one final tender touch of your lips that sends his pulse to a heavy hammer beneath his skin. It kills him, destroys him, but he takes it willingly with an open heart. The final punishment to close the last chapter of your story.

His eyes are closed when you pull away, but they soon flutter open to meet yours, and they swim with all the apologies and guilt he doesn’t let himself say anymore. You’re thankful for it, you don’t want to hear it. Not now. Your lips tingle, and a warmth spreads along the skin of your cheeks. 

“Bye Scribbles,” he rumbles finally, and you swear there’s a slight shine of tears in his eyes.

They mirror the ones suddenly building in yours.

Goodbye Alex.

“Goodbye Marcus,” you return softly, and then he’s gone.

—

He wants to tell you to run.

The words sit on his tongue: a beg for forgiveness, a plea to just get on the first plane out of the fucking country and disappear, and he damn near draws blood to stop himself.

Though he tidied up as much as he could, ensured there were appropriate plea deals in place and a chance for you to get out of this better than the others if you cooperated, he still dreaded the next few days.

You have no idea.

No idea that your world’s essentially going to shatter and come down around you, and it’s all his fault.

Your kisses feel like a punishment. Each one threatens to cut through his restraint, and when you whisper those three sweet words in his ear he wants to vomit.

He wants to tell you everything. He wants to explain that this fake persona you had given yourself to so fully was still him—it was all him, just under a different name. 

He doesn’t.

He lets the guilt eat away at him, lets the heartache practically tear him apart from the inside out until he feels raw. There’d be no salvaging this. There’d be no walking away from this with you still on his side, and rightly so. This will fucking break you, and he’ll carry that for the rest of his life.

He sits up long after you fall asleep, studying each dip and curve of your face and committing it all to memory. He traces over your skin, attempts to smile when you sleepily wake from his touch and hides the presence of his tears by scooping you into his arms for the last time. 

—

It’s surprisingly easy to return to life as it was before he knocked on your door. A weight had been lifted free from your shoulders, a promise of new beginnings born from finally gaining closure. Was it what you expected? No, but it was no less welcome. 

You managed to get your old job back at the diner, and spent days sketching aimlessly in the park.

It was normal, until it suddenly wasn’t.

The door’s pried open when you return from a late night shift, the obvious signs of a forced entry with the wooden edges of the door chipped and the frame split from pressure. Your hand shakes as you push it open, stomach turning as it gives way to the utter chaos that is your little apartment. Your home.

Your things are everywhere, drawers are opened and the contents spilled out onto the floor, furniture upturned and tossed carelessly to the side. Someone had been looking for something, but you know you have nothing of worth. Not anymore. They wouldn’t have walked away with anything of significance but still, there’s a bitter sting of loss, of intrusion that seems to rattle you to the core.

Heart beating heavily in your throat, you carefully step over the mess and further into your small apartment, and beyond the thunder of your pulse you hear nothing else out of the ordinary. Whoever had been here was long gone, leaving nothing but destruction and questions in their wake. Who the hell did this?

He’s the first and only person that comes to the forefront of your mind, and when you shakily reach for your phone and find his name still saved in your small list of contacts, he answers after the second ring despite it being so late. You almost feel guilty for bothering him, but something about the way he seems so immediately concerned placates any doubt.

“Hi, I—I’m sorry, I don’t… someone broke into my apartment—”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement on his end that crackles down the phone. 

“Get out of there,” Marcus demands, before you can even finish working out the right words to say.

He doesn’t tell you to call the cops, he doesn’t tell you it’s not his problem and that you’re on your own now. You feel a slight wave of relief, but facing the disaster of your apartment has a wave of vulnerability hitting you and your eyes start to burn. 

“There’s no one here,” you mumble around the sudden dryness of your throat, “they’re gone. Can you—”

“I’m on my way. Listen to me, I need you out of there, do you understand? Do not touch anything, leave everything as it is.”

You nod, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it, and step back out into the quiet corridor of your floor.

There’s no one around.

Your skin prickles with worry, your nerves working into overdrive to stay vigilant. Every quiet shuffle and bump beyond the walls of neighbouring apartments rattles your senses, and the hand holding your phone starts to shake. He must sense your panic, hear the way your breathing starts to pick up as your chest starts to tighten.

“It’s okay, I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay,” you exhale as a tear tracks down your cheek, leaving a cool trail in its wake.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe it’s just some random burglary, someone out to get a quick bit of cash for whatever they need, or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not all over as you had hoped. Has someone found you? Do they know who you are? Do they know what you did?

You feel sick.

Your voice catches in your throat, “Marcus—”

“I know. I’m coming.”

[larluce]

First I wanted to say hello and tell you that I love your works. They really have me on the edge of my seat every time I read them.

Second. Can you imagine that Merlin, in some new alternative universe, for some reason, upon arriving in Camelot, arrives with a baby? It's all still a Merthur ending, it should be noted.

Like, we know that Merlin was already a bit of an outcast in the village for the reason that nobody knew who his father was and even more so because strange things were always happening around him.

The situation gets much worse when he finds a crying baby in the middle of a burnt tent near the village.

Will and his mother try to help him for a while, but with the visits of the evildoers to the village becoming more and more frequent, Merlin and the baby have no choice but to go to Camelot.

And so the adventures begin!

Only now Arthur wonders if they can make crowns for babies, because he is willing to marry Merlin and legally adopt the baby as his own.

And Morgana… well, she and Gwen enjoy dressing up the baby in all the clothes from her old dolls. Not to mention that she notices that by taking naps with the baby she no longer has nightmares.

The knights become, in some way or another, glorified nannies. The servants and maids must chase after a baby who never stops causing mischief in the castle.

And Merlin just wants to survive colic season and potty train his baby… and everything would be easier if there weren't a murderer or a resentful wizard trying to kill Arthur every 3 minutes.

First, thank you so much for the compliments! 🥹🤧❤️

About the concept. I love it! I don't think going to Camelot to live would be Merlin or Hunith's first option for a baby that can't control their magic at all. So I firmly believe Hunith would send Merlin with the baby there so Gaius can take them to a druid camp so they could take refuge there.

The problem is, before Gaius can do so, Merlin is made the prince's personal manservant. Merlin can't exactly deny the king and he does need the money to take care of his baby so he decides to stay to Gaius dismay. Gaius and Merlin try to keep the baby hided at first so they take turns taking care of her (in my mind is a her) in Gaius' tower in secret. It works out for some weeks but then the plague (Nimueh's Afanc) happens and Arthur searches Gaius' tower.

Arthur: (enters Merlin's room) Merlin: (running inside) Arthur, wait! Baby: (sitting on the bed, looks up at Arthur and gives a cute giggle) Arthur: (Turns to Merlin slowly) Merlin? Merlin: Yeah? 😅 Arthur: Why is there a baby in your bed? Merlin: (in panic, shouts the first thing that comes to his mind) She is mine! Arthur: ... Arthur: What? 😧 Merlin: (repeats more quietly but more firmly) She is mine. (runs to hold her up and embraces her) She is my daugther. Arthur: (thinking) But... but he is so young. (says) Where's the mother? Merlin: (with pain as he remembers the burnt tent) She passed away. Arthur: (his heart hurting for Merlin) I'm so sorry. But Gods Merlin, why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have given you so many chores if I knew... (thinking) And I almost sacked you. I almost sacked a single father with a baby in arms! (says) And why the hell are you hiding her? Merlin: I... wasn't sure if I could keep her. Arthur: Of course you can keep her! What kind of master do you think I am? Knight x: (from outside) Sire? Arthur: (shouts back) In a minute! (to Merlin) What's her name? Merlin: Brigitta. Arthur: (repeats softly and smiles) Brigitta.

From then on, Arthur doesn't give Merlin as many chores and raises his salary considerably. And then everybody else finds out about Briggitta and go "I've only met Brigitta for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself".

Some events would change, obviously, and some would remain the same but with a new perspective. I don't think Merlin would have time to make Lancelot a fake seal, for example, having to look after Brigitta and all. I can imagine Lancelot becoming Brigitta's first unnofficial babysiter, then Arthur makes it official so poor Lancelot has a salary and a place to stay in Camelot. The Poisoned Chalice episode would remain the same, except Arthur would be more in panic mode and desperate because MERLIN HAS A DAUGHTER! BRIGITTA CAN'T LOSE HER FATHER TOO!

I think it would be The Beginning of the End where Arthur and Morgana find out about Brigitta's magic and Merlin's magic. Not because they discovered her, surprisingly, but Merlin decided to tell them all the truth about her and himself after seeing how they saved Mordred. Also, since Merlin saw Brigitta's possible future in Mordred, he wants to leave Camelot too to keep her safe. Screw all what the dragon told him about destiny, his daugther comes first.

So Merlin and Brigitta are about to leave with Mordred with the druids. They are having a heartfelt goodbye with Arthur, who scorted them there, but then...

Brigitta: (cries very loudly in Merlin's arms and the earth starts shaking a bit) Merlin: I know, I know, baby, but we have to go. Brigitta: (cries more loudly and extends her little arms to Arthur) Arthur: (barely containing his tears) I'll miss you too, Biddy. But this is the best for you- Brigitta: ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (open his eyes wide) What did she just said? Brigitta: (still crying and making grabby hands at him) ATHU, ATHU, ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (tears roll down his eyes) She said my name... Merlin, she said my name! (grinning widely) Let me hold her one more time, please! Merlin: (gives Brigitta to Arthur) Druid leader: (urgently) We need to leave now! Merlin: (looking at Arthur and Brigitta tenderly and smiles) Leave, we'll stay.

I also can imagine Nimueh going after Brigitta's life instead of Hunith, and having to confront not only a very furious Merlin, but a feral protective prince.

That's how far my imagination can go. If you have any ideas of how Merlin and Arthur or other character would act in other episodes now with Brigitta in the equation, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be happy to read you 🥰

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

i'll be honest i haven't done as much Illario Pondering up to this point as some others. but i am Rotating Him now so gonna do my thinking out loud on my already too long post just because...

obviously Illario and Lucanis responded to their childhoods in very different ways/grew up into very different people but i think if you want to trace Illario's Issues back down to this level you can see how that would turn him into who we see in the game/stories too.

while Lucanis ends up as a loner with "no one else" (that he Counts anyway), Illario seems to have way more connections when we meet him as an adult--he flirts with anyone, he's into nightlife, he hooks up with random people at parties, the other Crows will mention him like he's a known presence in their lives--yet none of them know what he's Really up to. So his relationships outside Lucanis & Caterina do seem to exist in plenty, but they also seem to be very shallow. Unless he has some offscreen never mentioned confidant, no one seems to know what he's up to, with either Lucanis's or Caterina's "deaths", or his alliance with the Venatori/Gods. he's kept that part secret while keeping up all these other social connections. in theory maybe he got some of the other off-screen talons on his side who knew the whole story but we don't have any evidence for that either way I think (though I don't remember all the codex details so I could be wrong).

[sidebar: yes, Zara, i know. apparently they were deep enough in whatever they had going on to have love-y pet names but like... clearly not enough that Illario wasn't willing to kill her to cover his own tracks; and personally i have my doubts that the relationship was without any ulterior motives on Zara's part either. even if they did care for each other on some level they were or weren't willing to admit (since that's entirely within our realm of interpretation now) it clearly took lesser priority than their other goals)]

SO. Illario's a conniving man (intentionally!) who isn't sharing everything he knows with his "allies" probably on either side, but at the same time... he is still a very emotional man. i don't think the whole "use people and drop them" thing is his actual desire as much as how he's gotten used to operating in the world. while Lucanis seems to have self-isolated as a way to protect both himself & those around him, I think you can interpret Illario as instead learning that he can achieve the same result by instead having a large amount of very shallow relationships. By spreading around his desire for connection he creates a situation where Caterina can't possibly remove them all from his life, but has the plausible deniability of not being actively close to anyone so he doesn't risk punishment falling on himself either.

and i don't necessarily think his approach was a WORSE one compared to Lucanis', at first. in many ways something's better than nothing and Illario seems to have a better understanding of himself & his emotions (not saying he always does or it's a GOOD understanding, but "better than Lucanis" is not a very high bar), plus way more experience in general at just. social anything. because now that they're adults, ILLARIO is the one who has managed to stand up to Caterina, and change the direction of his own life, even if he did pick the most ruthless path to it. Unlike Lucanis (in The Wigmaker Job & first parts of Veilguard) he DOES show great deal of autonomy, understanding that his tiny family is the thing holding him back from what he really wants. But he also has no one else jumping over to help him, no one left he can manipulate, and so he reaches past the crows to the Venatori/Gods as the next step.

so the true downside to this is in fact based in reputation more than anything else. because he's spent years seemingly playing with the emotions of everyone else while never really giving them a way in, as a coping mechanism... he's already burned those potential bridges in a way Lucanis hasn't. people aren't willing to extend extra graces to him the same way. possibly it even contributed to why Caterina liked him less as a successor, since he was less controllable by her personal rules/whims. i dont really have a thesis statement here like before since i haven't been mulling it over as long but i think it's a fun way to interpret their dynamic.

man... in Veilguard it really is so so clear how much Lucanis yearns for connection, how much he laments having barely anyone who is a tangible long-term presence in his life. Illario and Caterina are IT until he meets Rook, he tells them.

but he grew up in the Dellamorte estate. A huge, huge manor that would not just have servants, but STAFF. payrolls full of people who clean and cook and keep the place running. And we know he had some amount of free reign around the place. He explored in the tunnels and basements and found the secret entrance/exit while playing alone. He learned how to make churros and cook other food from the kitchen staff. Someone taught him to knit. So... where are those people? Where's the kindly cook who became a second mother, or the maids who watched him play? He would know their names and remember them, if they were around long enough. And it's NOT just some rich boy privilege that makes him forget they're there, because we know he sees the working class as people who with real lives. In The Wigmaker Job, he knows elves in the alienage, who think well enough of him to let him use their secret routes around the city. He risks the whole mission and breaks rules to let one single serving maid go--they're not invisible or somehow lesser to him. He was raised as a Crow, he's been trained since he was a boy to be observant--he'd listen for the names and details about the lives of servants who were around him all the time as a child. And he is also kind and gentle, so he would reach back if they offered him any kind of affection

Which means their absence in his life is intentional. Caterina must have had the staff rotated often enough that he couldn't learn who they were, and discouraged anyone from talking to or connecting with the Dellamorte boys--she probably thought she was keeping them safe. Keeping them from having people who might matter and therefore could be used against all of them--not to mention it's way easier to slip a poisoned treat to a trusting child, or convince them to follow you out of the estate to an undisclosed location. Her paranoia after losing all her children and other grandkids warped into isolating the Dellamorte boys utterly from any kind of connection and affection outside of herself, and then she withheld it anyway, because she was afraid of getting hurt again too (<- not an excuse, still abuse). And she is NOT a kind woman, who would look over a transgression--servants disobeying her orders about staying away from her grandsons would mean losing their job at best and probably physical punishment along with it. Or maybe you just never saw that coworker who dared say something kind to a crying child again.

It's so sad. And makes it so much more meaningful that there WERE occasional times he got away with it anyway. I wonder how much those cooks risked when teaching him how a kitchen runs, and to make his favorite dessert. If they had some excuse for it, or were all sent away once Caterina found out. Of course he'd stop trying to make friends with any children of the staff his age, if any time he did, the whole family got moved to work at a summer villa in the country instead. If the people who cleaned his rooms were different every month. He'd notice that anyone who he tried to get close to just ended up out of his life entirely, and so eventually Caterina wouldn't need to keep isolating him intentionally as he grew. Lucanis learned. He started doing it himself.

[parker-artio]

Bruce Wayne is super good with little kids and babies- like scarily good with them. Sure, he’s got six kids of his own and even a few honorary children, but all of them came at a point when he didn’t need to know that. None of them were in diapers, they knew how to get dressed themselves, how to communicate their wants and needs, ect. They were old enough to not need to know the baby, toddler, pre-school/early-school, time period stuff.

But Bruce knows how to do that stuff. He knows how to change a diaper, how to give a baby a bottle, how to help a kid get dressed, how to make a kid understand their decisions, ect. He’s good at it too. No one knows how he knows this. Not even Alfred. Bruce plans to taking this to the grave, no one will know, and he hopes no one find out.

But there is one person who knows- well a small group of people who know, and that’s a group of young women who have kids all about 9 to 10 years younger than Dick. (Around the same age as Tim and Stephanie.) The only reason they know is because they learned it with him.

Bruce was young, impulsively adopted a young kid who he saw himself in and when he finally realized what he did. But he couldn’t stop it, he’s grown attached to the kid already. So he did the only rational thing. He looked up ‘Parenting Classes for New Young Parents’ and he got very few results. But that was probably on him for being so vague. He goes to the first class and immediately realizes his mistake. The class he picked was for young expecting mothers. Or young mothers who just had their baby’s. Not for 8 year olds.

Obviously the ladies were surprised to see Bruce fucking Wayne at a parenting class. He was older than some of them, younger than other of them, but what they all knew is that this was Bruce Wayne. He had a reputation. So what does Bruce do?

He plays along- obviously.

The Teacher (literally shitting bricks): Hi… how about we all go around and introduce ourselves?

No one goes forth all still just a bit stunned.

Bruce (also shitting bricks and trying to make a cover story on the spot): Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne… you probably knew that, but I’m here to learn about how to care for a baby. You never know with me.

One of the other ladies: Best to learn early!

All of those ladies have a cover story on how they met Bruce Wayne, none of them will actually admit it, especially since after all of the classes were over he revealed to have taken in a kid who was already about 10 years old. They immediately realized why he looked so confused walking into the class the first day. No one knows. But that small group of ladies. Bruce might recognize one of them out in public and greet her by name, and they’d do the same back.

So when Batman find a baby after a wide scale attack and knows how to care for it- before any of the other Justice League members can- they don’t ask any question’s. Hell he looks scarier taking care of the baby than he does when he’s all moody and brooding.

[hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you]

Plot points I hope to see in season 8b/9

(this is long because the writers have a lot to make up for)

• Airport scene

• Eddie gives Buck his St. Christopher necklace

• Buck's coping mechanism of briefly turning into slutty Buck 1.0 after Eddie leaves. Only this time it's with guys that resemble Eddie but he doesn't notice. Maddie does. And she wishes desperately that she wasn't pregnant so she could drink

• Buck actually uses the word bisexual or bi to describe himself

• Finally getting to see Eddie's sisters. And maybe while he's in Texas he facetimes Buck and they come into frame. And in true little sister fashion, they embarrass him: "Oh, Edmundo! Is this the Buck we keep hearing about? He IS cute!"

"I never said that!"

Buck: "...you don't think I'm cute? 🥺"

• Maddie, Sofia, and Adrianna meeting and bonding over their dumbass brothers

• Everyone else finds out that Buck is in Eddie's will and they all just stand there, mouths agape cuz how THE FUCK do they not know they're in love?? Everyone else can see it!

• Buck tells literally everyone at the 118 about his feelings for Eddie because he needs advice. And Chim makes a joke like,

"He already has everyone crushing on him! Why can't someone have a crush on me for once??"

"...dude, you're my brother-in-law."

"So?? We don't have to tell Maddie!"

• Buck admits his feelings but Eddie ends up not leaving so Buck avoids him out of embarrassment like jk pranked ya!

• Buck NDE because I NEED to see Eddie lose his shit

• Or they both have a close call and later have a serious 'spousal' discussion about what would happen to Chris if they both died. And then they share a moment of comradery, trash talking Helena & Ramon and hoping they never get custody again

• Speaking of Shitty Parents 2.0 (Shitty Parents 1.0 being the Buckley's) we need more screen time hating on Helena. Ramon got multiple scenes showing how awful he is and Eddie calling him out on it. But Helena is a selfish woman that keeps trying to manipulate Eddie into giving her Chris. And even when Eddie tries to keep in contact with his son while he's in Texas she just brushes him off and doesn't try to get Chris to talk to him. All because she got her way so she doesn't care, pushing Eddie further into his pit of self-hatred. And for that she must be punished

• Eddie talking to Bobby about his Catholic guilt in relation to his sexuality. And then going to Michael for advice about the transition of believing he's straight and having a heterosexual marriage and family to where he is now. The 3 of them need to go on a fishing trip or something. They'd have it all sorted out within the weekend

• Eddie and Maddie having ANY kind of interaction on screen. The writers know that if they teamed up they'd be besties instantly and they're keeping that from us!

• Chris needing dating advice but as soon as his dad tries to help he cuts him off like: "Not from you, you're obviously gay and all of your straight relationships sunk like the Titanic. But thanks anyway. Hey Buck!"

"Wtf? His relationships weren't great either!"

• Eddie having more discussions with Hot Priest™️ about his guilt and he just smiles fondly at Eddie, "I don't know about you, but my god doesn't judge. Not when someone lives their truth. I think you're more afraid of your family's judgement. If I were you, I'd go back and think of every time I thought God was judging me and consider the possibility that I was putting Him in place of my parental figures." and Eddie just blue screens for many minutes as Hot Priest™️ patiently waits for him to catch up as if he hadn't just changed his entire fucking life

• A scene where either Hot Priest™️ or Bobby or Buck asks him: "Would you judge Christopher if he questioned his sexuality?" "What? No." "Would you tell him to go to confessional or try to pray it away?" "Of course not!" "Would you ever discourage him to be anything less than who he truly is? Or stop him from doing something that makes him happy?" "No!" "Then why do it to yourself? Why set that example? Even if it turns out your parents or Abuela aren't comfortable with you exploring your sexuality, you can always do better than them. Break the cycle for the one person who matters most to you. Be happy, be yourself, be what you want to be, not what others expect from you. And I know you, you won't do it for you. So do it for Christopher. Show him that it's okay, great even, to be you."

• Josh getting all giddy while talking to Eddie like he did when Buck asked for gay dating advice

• Eddie talking to Hen and Karen about how they coped with their foster kids leaving. Like, how do wake up every morning to a quieter house and empty bedrooms, knowing the breakfast table is going to be lonely? They exchange bittersweet looks and hug him

I will accept no less than 80% of this becoming canon. Thank you and good night.

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Brumes behind the cut; "interdimensional whoring for Timkon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim’s other self bares his teeth; bites the back of his glove and digs his fingers into Kon’s shoulder again. Kon digs his fingers into his ass again and lifts him just enough to take him off his feet and really put all the other’s weight all behind his hips. Tim’s other self curses. He tries to brace himself with the hand on Kon’s shoulder, and Kon grinds his chest up against his cock, and also keeps working his mouth and throat just as determinedly around Tim’s cock. Doesn’t half-ass his attempts at learning how to suck him off or even slow down or do a single thing that’d make it any easier for him to get Tim to outlast his other self. 

Noticing that makes it very hard for Tim to outlast his other self. 

Though of course Kon would do that, because when did Kon ever half-ass anything he’s asked him to do since they got over their initial friction? 

“Jesus Christ,” Tim’s other self gasps, and Tim shoves his cock fully down Kon’s throat again, and Kon purrs around it. “Jesus Christ!” 

The purring vibrates through Kon’s chest the same way it does his throat, Tim knows very intimately. 

“Aw, there’s our cute little boytoy,” he hums lowly as he tightens his fingers under Kon’s jaw, and doesn’t even sound like he’s gotten hit in the gut with an I-beam. 

Two-by-four at worst. 

“You really need to shut the fuck up,” his other self grits out, and sounds like he's gotten hit in the gut with an H-beam. 

“When do we ever?” Tim asks him wryly, curling his fingers under Kon's jaw. “It's sweet of you to let us come on your tits, baby. Especially when you're all dressed up.” 

“Ngh,” Tim's other self chokes, so maybe he was a little too distracted to register what the obvious result of coming on Kon's chest while he's suited up would be until just now. “You–you're such a–” 

“Yeah, most people think we are,” Tim replies, still wry, and rubs his fingers down the length of Kon's throat. Kon swallows much more roughly underneath them. 

So cute. 

So yeah, he should definitely be a little merciless with himself, he thinks. Just give Kon a little bit of support, that’s all, because Kon has very obviously earned it. 

Well, when doesn’t he, really? 

“I’m going to fucking kick you through that portal in the morning,” his other self snaps breathlessly, his voice rough and half-shredded and face all flushed and just barely sweating. Honestly, Tim was probably even more flustered the first time he fucked Kon, but in his case his Kon had been the one who’d been coming onto him and there hadn’t been an alternate reality spotter who already knew everything they were both into, so really, he thinks his other self should be a little more grateful right now? At least for politeness’s sake, if nothing else. 

“Well, that’ll be in the morning,” Tim replies mildly, curling his fingers in lightly just under Kon’s jaw, and his other self glares at him, and Kon swallows tighter around his cock and grinds his chest up even more eagerly against his other self’s as he kneads the other’s ass in his hands. Tim’s other self curses sharply and grabs the underside of Kon’s jaw too, digging his splayed fingers into the bone where there’s so little give as to be basically nonexistent and in against Kon’s lower lip, which is nothing but give. 

Tim’s other self curses again, and Kon slides his tongue out past Tim’s cock just enough to lick the tips of his dug-in fingers. 

Tim’s other self curses. 

“You never half-ass anything, do you, sweetheart,” Tim says fondly. “You want our come on your shield that bad? Would that make you happy? Make you really feel ‘Super’ for a while?” 

Kon lets out a moan of a purr that rumbles like a damn engine, his whole throat and whole ribcage vibrating with it. Tim only doesn’t immediately come because he knew to expect the reaction and was already braced for both the sensation and the intensity of it. Or, more specifically, because he’s used to it. 

His other self, obviously, is not. 

“Fuck!” Tim’s other self gasps as his whole body seizes up, his cock spilling wet, messy stripes across Kon’s big broad engine of a chest and S, and Kon makes that one brainless, blissed-out sound that Tim will never get sick of hearing and croons adoringly around his cock, and also drools all over it. 

Tim sighs in soft, affectionate approval and buries his cock all the way back down his throat. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, because that’ll make Kon purr again, and the moment the other does, Tim comes himself without even having to try. Kon keeps purring for him through his whole orgasm, because he’s just the sweetest like that. 

Coming in Kon’s mouth really is one of his favorite things, Tim reflects contentedly as he catches his breath in careful, measured inhalations and finally pulls back from the other. Kon whines in disappointment the moment he's not gagging on a dick anymore, and Tim’s other self makes a strangled noise about it and manages half a step back, but nothing else. Tim’s frankly impressed he even managed that, because he knows exactly how hard it is to even shift back from Kon when he’s like this. 

Though in this case, it does give them both a very nice view of his chest. The El crest is stretched as tight as it can go across Kon’s pecs, especially with his body bent backwards like this, and looks as good as it always does with a fresh comeshot smeared across it. 

Tim smiles down at Kon as he strips off his condom to toss out and tucks his cock away again, then trails his fingers along the drooling mess of the other’s well-fucked mouth. Kon gasps for air he doesn’t really need, his chest still rising and falling in erratic little stutters, and drunkenly leans back into the contact without even trying to talk, his spine bending back just a little farther and messed-up mouth reflexively opening farther itself under the light little brush of Tim’s trailing fingers. His eyes are half-open and completely glazed over, and he looks dazed and out of it and more fucked-up than any baseline human should ever be able to get anyone with even the slightest bit of Kryptonian DNA in them. 

Same as always, really. 

Tim’s smile widens. Kon just gets so sweet for a good dicking, every time. 

Then he lifts his head and smiles at his other self instead, pleasant and merciless, and mentions: “If you wanted to be the one to give him his kiss, I personally always think he's the sweetest about it after he's just had his mouth fucked.” 

His other self makes a choked sound. Kon lets out a whimper, tiny and breathless, and his head does the exact same reflexive please kiss me tilt that Tim’s own Kon’s always does, even with his spine bent backwards and his head hanging back on his neck like this. 

His other self makes another choked sound, but it’s not even fully out of his throat before he’s grabbing Kon’s face to yank up and lunging down towards him in turn. 

And then Tim’s other self actually does something that surprises him a little, because then the other–stops, just for a second, and stares down at Kon’s glazed eyes and flushed face and dazed and overwhelmed expression and the spit-soaked mess of his mouth, and then just–cups his face instead of gripping it–cups it very gently, in fact–and kisses him very, very softly. 

And even more surprisingly, Kon actually lets him. 

Huh, Tim thinks, just barely tilting his head. That’s different. 

Well . . . it is still an alternate reality, really. 

His other self kisses Kon long and slow and soft and lingering, very clearly taking the time to both savor it and to make sure Kon gets to savor it, and Kon kisses back all clumsy and messy and just a little bit out of sync, like he’s not really processing what the other’s mouth is doing ‘til a few moments after he does it. Tim’s felt Kon kiss like that before, but only seen it as an outsider observer a handful of times. 

It took a lot more and a lot longer to get him here those times, though, even the times with Bart or Cassie or even both of them involved. So–it’s different, yeah. 

Definitely not a difference that Tim’s complaining about, though it’s kind of a funny one to get from the repressed reality, all things considered. 

He pets Kon’s hair, for a little while. It makes Kon purr again, though this time the sound of it comes out stilted and breathy, and cracks around the scattered little whimpers that the kissing’s drawing out of him. Tim can feel Kon shuddering; can feel his TTK field shuddering, even, which is a very difficult sensation to describe but always an interesting one. 

He can feel Kon trembling, too.

[gallifreyriver]

Reblogging again for the above addition (I had forgotten to add it with the first bit it due to still recovering from the realization the bit I did add hadn't been Ai) and also to include the following from the notes:

because both are relevant to what I'm going to say next, which is that we need to have a conversation both about doublespeak and gaslighting.

To just jump right in, Trump did indeed describe Elon Musk's knowledge of voting systems as the reason he won Pennsylvania. (Timestamp) And yes, Elon very much did the hitler salute, not once, but twice, after his speech. (Video) (Also the shooting a person bit- Trump said that too, but I'll bring that back up later.)

I bring those two up first to address how the first set of tags mention that the bit about Trump talking about rigging the election could indeed actually be meant about his delusion that Biden rigged the election in 2020- but it could also be doublespeak.

(Before I start tho, the first set of tags obviously mean well and this is in no way an attack on them. I'm not even saying they're wrong- I'm just saying this opens up a conversation that needs to be had)

To explain what I mean, I need to again mention how that before he says,

"...and we got the World Cup too- and you know it's only because they rigged the election that I'll be your president representing you there. You know I got both of them. I got the Olympics, and I got the World Cup. Then I said, 'You know it's too bad- one was in 2026 and the other was in 2028," and I said, "I won't be there, I won't be your president!" ... but then they rigged the election and now we won so I'm going to be your president for the Olympics, and for the World Cup."

the comment about Musk, the voting computers, and Pennsylvania was already mentioned, where he said:

"...and then he journeyed to Pennsylvania, where he spent like a month and a half campaigning for me in Pennsylvania. He's a popular guy- and he was very effective- and he knows those computers better than anybody- all those computers, those vote counting computers- and we wound up winning Pennsylvania like in a landslide, so it was pretty good. It was pretty good. So thank you to Elon!"

Clearly, due to his massive ego, he wants so badly to brag about what he did, but can't.

His comment about Elon was pretty damning- possibly the closest we'll get to a confession. However, because he never outright says the words, "Elon tampered with the computers," that leaves just enough doubt for it to be said that he's was just complimenting Elon on being "cool" and "smart" and that the "landslide" just so happened because people obviously just loved Elon so much (barf)

And because he's never shut up about claiming the 2020 election was rigged, it's also very easy to come to the conclusion that, "Well, when he says "they" rigged the election, he must really mean Biden in 2020."

And I can agree to a point- he very well might have meant Biden! However, this just as easily could be doublespeak as well- another confession said in just such a way that it's very easy to claim he meant something else.

And it's kind of time, due to everything else he and his supporters have said/done yet gotten away scot free with- like people trying so hard to brand that nazi salute as literally anything else, and how his supporters tried to brand the insurrection as tourists visiting the capitol, and the fact that Trump has shown that he can say and do whatever he pleases with no consequences to the degree that he committed 34 felonies yet still was allowed to not only run but also be elected president- that we kind of need to stop giving him that benefit of the doubt.

Again, I agree that he could have meant Biden- it is possible. But also the exact words he used were "but then they rigged the election and now we won," which is a weird way to say it if he meant Biden in 2020, and combined with the fact that he made no effort to specify 2020, or Biden, anywhere in that whole paragraph it took him to say it- I'm reminded of one reporter, Zachary Wolf, who had been covering Trump back in 2017, who said "What does he mean when he says words?" (You may remember the line from an episode of John Oliver's Last Week Tonight about Trumps copious lies)

I fully understand not wanting to possibly spread misinformation- because that's what "they" do and we don't want to feel like we're as bad as Trump supporters or fall into pulling their tactics-

But I also say it's time we stop giving him the benefit of the doubt- because look where that has gotten us.

Doublespeak and gaslighting are designed to confuse and to make you not want to call out what you hear or see because you're afraid to look stupid or "crazy", and it's also designed so that people who are afraid to make waves will default to either believing the more innocent possible meaning or ignoring the problem altogether, because it's easier than fighting back- especially when you see those around you staying silent, downplaying the harm, or even outright denying that the less-innocent meaning is even a possibility. (eg: "It's just locker-room talk" or "It's not a hitler salute- he's just awkward! He was throwing his heart to the crowd!" or "They were just tourists")

All of which only emboldens those who are engaging in the harm and their supporters because it means there are no consequences for that harm. To the point that even when there are people calling out the behavior, many people, even prominent people, it still doesn't matter- because there's just enough doubt that the supporters will happily give the benefit of said doubt and fight for them, or at very least not oppose them.

And it works so well that there's now a chance we might never have another election again.

Again, maybe he really did mean Biden and 2020. But there's also the chance, given everything we do know and have seen, that he really didn't.

Did Trump just admit to rigging the 2024 U.S. Elections????

LIVE????

ON. NATIONAL. TV??????

@drawing-dinos82

[love-byers]

"Not Kids Anymore" connection

who ordered more byler music coding??

alright, so the OST song that plays during the byler rain fight is titled "Not Kids Anymore", obviously quoting mike's line "But we're not kids anymore." the line that triggers the song, so the line that changes/emphasizes the tone, is "It's not my fault you don't like girls!". it cuts to will's reaction and the music begins. i know we all know the rain fight by heart, but i'm gonna add the dialogue anyway

Mike: Will, come on. You can't leave, it's raining. Hey, I said I was sorry, alright? It's a cool campaign it's really cool! We're just not in the mood right now.

Will: Yeah, Mike, that's the problem, you guys are never in the mood anymore! You're ruining our party!

Mike: That's not true!

Will: Really? Where's Dustin right now?

Mike: ...

Will: See? You don't know, and you don't even care, and obviously he doesn't either, and I don't blame him! You're destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

Mike: El's not stupid! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Will: ...

Mike: I'm not trying to be a jerk. Okay? But we're not kids anymore. I mean what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Will: Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.

*Will gets on his bike and leaves*

Mike: Will. Will! Will come on!

we will come back to this in a moment

the only other time "Not Kids Anymore" has played is in s4 ep1. It plays when lucas dustin and mike are arguing over the basketball championship and hellfire. again i'm gonna show the entire convo just to have full context since it's pretty much all going to be relevant.

Lucas: I don't get the big deal. Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.

Dustin: "Just talk to Eddie."

Mike: Why don't you just talk to your coach and get him to move the game?

Dustin: I think that's a great idea, Mike!

Mike: Thank you, Dustin!

Lucas: This is the championship game!

Dustin: This is the end of Eddie's campaign! A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need you!

Mike: Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

Lucas: That's not the point.

Dustin: Please, arrive at the point.

Lucas: If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.

Mike: Has it ever occurred to you that we don't want to be popular?

Lucas: So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?

Dustin: We are nerds and freaks!

Lucas: Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be!

*Not Kids Anymore begins*

Lucas: Look, I'm tired of being bullied. I'm tired of girls laughing at us. I'm tired of feeling like a loser. We came to high school wanting things to be different, right?

*Mike and Dustin nod*

Lucas: So now we have that chance. I skip tonight and that's all out the window. So I'm asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie, get him to move Hellfire. Come to my game. Please.

you're probably starting to see where i'm going with this lol

before i go into it i want to say that it is undeniable that these scenes are connected, clearly. there are over a hundred other songs in the ST OST albums and they chose this one. there is undoubtedly connections and subtext.

so clearly lucas is saying he is aware of the fact that he is a nerd/freak, but he doesn't want to be. he wants to get in with the popular crowd. hanging out with them and being on the basketball team despite always being on the bench is something he's doing on purpose, a choice he's making, because he wants to be perceived a certain way. he wants to be perceived as cool, as normal.

lucas is skipping out on dnd because he's trying to be normal.

so what's the connection here? is it just that lucas and mike both don't want to play dnd? cause that's not really the case, at least for lucas. he wants to play dnd, he just wants them to move it to a different night so he can go to the game. it's a cool campaign, it's really cool! we're just not in the mood right now.

lets compare some other lines from these two scenes

Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year. You're destroying everything, and for what?! So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!

mike and will are both saying the sacrifice being made is stupid because the action is empty and boring and meaningless.

this also reminds me of that ted quote "You're on the bench, son." obviously talking to/about mike.

you could also look at it as will saying (not literally saying, but a coded way) that he actually needs mike while el does not, clearly, since all they do is make out meanwhile will genuinely loves mike and wants to connect with him. will needs mike. Yeah, and the Tigers don't. You've been on the bench all year.

So you want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?

Yeah. I guess I did. I really did. We are nerds and freaks!

i feel like these are kind of self explanatory lol, i can't really think of anything to say about it

i guess the fact that they're both insinuating that this is what will happen to themselves if they don't act. lucas doesn't want to be stuck with the nerds and freaks, and mike doesn't want to be gay lmfao. dnd in mikes basement is canonically a metaphor for will's love for mike, so thats not delusional at all sorry

If I get in good with these guys, I'll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too. What did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends?

i've always found that mike line interesting. it's not the way someone who is in love talks about their bf/gf. mike didn't fall in love (at first sight), he got a girlfriend. he acquired a girlfriend. saying it like that kind of gives the implication that mike sees his relationship as an action that everyone must take at a certain point in their life, like it's just what you're supposed to do. that's what normal people do.

lucas knows what he is. he's a nerd, he's a freak, but wants to change. he wants to be perceived as cool and normal. and he is purposefully pulling away from his friends to spend time with other cool, normal people which will make him cool and normal too. and he wants his friends to want the same things he does.

Yeah, but maybe we don't have to be! It's not my fault you don't like girls!

these are the lines that trigger the music, so the turning point of the scene, the climax. how are they similar? well, it seems like both of them are acknowledging a choice. lucas is acknowledging the choice of getting in with the popular crowd, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he has already made, and a choice he wants dustin and mike to make. soooo it seems like mike is acknowledging the choice of liking girls/dating girls, a choice he has already made, even if it means pretending to be someone you're not, a choice he wants will to make (or is at least acknowledging that will has not made that choice yet, and that it's not mike's fault).

they are both acknowledging the choice to conform.

"It's forced confirming. That's what killing the kids. That's the real monster."

i will also point out the differences in the cinematography of these scenes. the rain fight is an over the shoulder (we can see the back of wills head and his shoulder in the corner) and is closer up than the s4 scene. the s4 scene is warm and colorful while the rain fight is pale and desaturated. that's color grading, which is all done in post production. basically, the rain fight is way more intimate and serious because this is an argument between two people who are in love, meanwhile the s4 scene is an argument between friends.

its also generally interesting that mike is in the both of these scenes, but on opposite sides. in the rain fight he is the one conforming, and in the s4 scene is anti-conformity. so if mike doesn't want to be popular, doesn't care if he's associated with nerds and freaks, proudly deems himself a nerd and freak, what was his deal in s3? easy question, he's queer. next

this parallel, in my opinion, carries over into another scene which i talked about in this post. it all makes a lot of sense tied together!

have a great day byler nation

[devnmon]

to atone with revenge

astarion x gn!reader

summary: astarion hasn't forgotten how you teased him more than a tenday ago, but oh how he's plotting to give you the payback you deserve...

pt 2 of my one shot, on account of attention. read part 1!

warnings: [porn with a little bit of plot] tadpole use, teasing, begging, multiple orgasms, creampie, piv sex, doggy style, oral (m!receiving), dom astarion, sweet aftercare, use of magical bindings, use of the word cunt

wc: 7.6k

a/n: i got totally carried away with this fic but i had so much fun writing it. here (a month later) is part 2! have all my brainrotted thoughts in one fic. i heart astarion <3

Red piercing eyes. Tantalizing ones caught your attention all day long.

You felt him everywhere, at your back in the taverns and shops, staring at you when you were in conversation with anyone and everyone... including right over your shoulder whilst the hairs of your neck stood upright. Everywhere he went, there was a chill that followed, occupying whatever space he did. Whether it was his undead nature or just a sense you developed about Astarion, his presence continued to be known every passing moment. 

You wouldn’t have noticed his change in behavior if it weren’t for the night you broke his reading concentration with your greedy little hands. The vampire knew exactly how to get under your skin: be close enough to you that you notice his presence continuously, but deny you of anything more than a kiss. 

Astarion knew how to play the long game, and gods, was he good at it. 

Days passed anticipating his next taunting move, which you found rather difficult. His cunning and skills under the shadows made him very unpredictable. Unforgetful of the fact that he was a skilled rogue, there was no way to predict what he was going to do next.

Constantly without fail, you found his gaze multiple times a day. Something in the way his eyes never faltered even upon catching him staring. As if that wasn't distracting enough, Astarion took advantage of your shared tadpole connection to leave the filthiest of thoughts within your mind.

Somehow with every image he placed, the visions were vivid like a drug induced dream. His hands felt as they were around your waist, trailing down your figure. Between your legs as you gasped for more, holding you down while you called out for him.

All of it was torturous, unrelenting and making your body burn hotter each time. Once every so often you'd push back into his thoughts to reprimand him. The task, though, became increasingly difficult.

That wasn't all– it never was with him.

He stood a step too close out on the road, inhaling your scent much too obviously whenever he could. Deep breathing in your ear, or just off to the side that you were the only one to hear. He’d whisper amatory things in your ear when he felt the group was far enough ahead, and flourish his weaponry around when he knew you were looking. Astarion was much too good with his hands for you to not notice, and rarely did he not show off.

When he did so, your eyes were a magnet to those hands flipping the blades around effortlessly. You pondered if you need to be paying more attention to watching him in battle, to know how those knives really moved in his grasp. 

"A bit clingy today, aren't we?"

Before he's up close, whispering, "Oh, darling. You have no idea what clingy looks like on me. I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine."

"That's hardly comparable to how you're acting right now."

"Like I said, you have no idea."

–

Once your party finally ventured back to camp, Astarion left his shenanigans at bay. For a few hours, you were without his boyish teasing. He ended up lingering a bit too close and brushing an arm or hand against the small of your back or waist just to keep you on your toes. Within the hour of camp settling, you felt the prod into your mind once again.

Love, I can't stop thinking about how our bodies move together like perfection... effortlessly. Like waves of the ocean, constantly in sync.

Followed by more images of moments with you both pressed together in harmony, underneath the linen sheets of the beds at Elfsong. One especially long night you spend wasting restoration scrolls just so you could keep worshiping his body till the sun rose again.

You felt your regret that morning, not only by an overwhelming soreness, but a verbal lashing you got from the others for using up everyone’s spare scrolls. And then there was your bloodless woozy state.

You slightly jumped at the vampire’s voice in your head, almost dropping what you were working on. 

Astarion, please... Now is not the time. I'm mending something and I need to focus, lest I prick my finger.

Another poke against your mind.

Oh? Focus, you say? What an odd thing... I remember not being able to afford that when I was trying to read some nights ago... Now I'm just thinking about you underneath me, crying out my name, begging for more. Begging for me to give you more. To go faster, harder, deeper...

"Fuck..." you hissed, quiet enough so no one still lingering nearby could hear.

But then your glance scales over to Astarion's tent, and there he is, red eyes locked on yours, electrifying as the first day you saw them. A smirk grows on his lips before he cheekily waves at you and goes about his business, completely unbothered with his teasing nature. 

You shake your head and attempt to continue your task. That tone of his voice always succeeded in bringing you to your knees, both mentally and physically on occasion. His voice in your mind was ever so distracting, and he knew for a fact it was doing more harm than good.

Did I distract you, love? I'm so sorry. I've been thinking about our last night together... ceaselessly. My hunger for you will only deepen in the meantime.

Your hands began to lose track of their task as easily as his voice slipped into your mind. The slightest distraction was a slippery slope with Astarion. His words made your hands sweat and you couldn’t grasp what you were working on as easily as you had before. Just a quick nudge from him, and your focus had been ruined. 

Camp had settled down for the night, and you found your place in the tent you shared with your elven companion. 

"Well hello, lover." Astarion spoke, as you closed the flap of his red enclosure. His area always smelled like rosemary, a classic scent he chose time and again. With it came the memory of meeting him that day after the ship crashed into the Sword Coast, and everything that followed. 

You reluctantly gave him a look and tried to settle in. But you knew once you gave him an inch, he would take a mile.

"Good evening, Astarion."

"And how is my favorite pet tonight?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Fine, and yourself?"

He saunters up behind you, "Oh, just fine? That's not what I'm picking up now... I've been thinking about you all day."

As if that wasn't clear enough, you thought. He chuckles like he can hear your words, and walks a step closer. You hear his deep, breathy inhale next to your ear, rosemary and bergamot surrounding you.

"You delectable little vixen..." he purrs. 

His figure nears yours another inch, hands becoming magnets to your waist. No doubt the buzzing transferred from his touch to your skin. But if you let it show, you were almost certain he'd take advantage of it and lose himself in you.

Though you've felt his touch countless times before, there was something more infectious about his touch when he was distracting you with it. It squeezed your body the slightest bit, already feeling his arousal growing from the contact. You attempted to step away, and his hands pulled you in tighter- clutching you close to his body. An inch more, and you would've been pressed up against his longing. 

Astarion lingered as you prepared to rest, offering to do most things just for you– mainly for the captivating touch. It felt like ages until you ended up finally conceding to stop prolonging your rest. He sighed in content as you finally settled for the night and cuddled up close. 

"You're so pretty lying next to me."

You sigh, “I’m exhausted, Starion. Please…”

"I just can't help how I become when I'm close to you. It's certainly not my fault what dastardly hold you've got over me."

You chuckled, "Are you trying to flatter me?"

“Possibly… Is it working?” He smirked, fangs catching the light. You sighed, leaving him without an answer which he could’ve figured out by how much he’d been a damned nuisance the past days. 

Once you found your comfortable spot, his body intertwined with yours as he did every night. Yet his touches were keeping you wide awake. Hands wrapped around your torso, one of his legs folded between your two. 

As if he knew you were dozing off, Astarion prodded into your mind as easily as he could pick a lock— with little to no effort on his part. An image of him towering over you popped into your head, devilish grin and fangs shimmering as his hips continually kissed yours. How hot the air had become between you two, words of devotion and affection passed between you and your lover. The taste of wine on his lips as he’d kissed you like a man dying of thirst looked at a mountain spring. You can faintly feel his grip on your waist as it was that night— greedy like he’d never been so enamored before. 

Then, another appeared of you tucked away in a bedroom with him, on your knees indulging in a most rousing activity. Even if you were sore after the fact, his huffs of hot breath and whispers of your name in that amorous voice made up for it.

There truly was no way to keep Astarion out of your head, failing to gather up the strength it would take and letting him indulge once more. You’re just exhausted enough to give up on resisting his utterly dirty images he kept placing into your head. 

First his hands only rested on your waist, softly grasping at times, but then they moved up your back, to your shoulders— and oh, how they ached. 

Sighing at your relief, you heard him chuckle behind you. Truth be told, his touches at a time like this would put you to sleep faster than you could imagine. But then your mind connected the images in your mind to what he’d said earlier, and they turned overwhelming in a split second.

"Stari..." you mumbled, hoping he would relent and let you sleep– but this was Astarion.

"Am I keeping you from slumber, my sweet?" he questioned, playing coy.

"Mhm..."

"Terribly sorry, love. You’re so soft under my touch that I lost myself. Like I’ve done many a time before. Every inch of you whispers temptation… Who am I to not indulge?"

"Mmmh..." you whine, "So tired. Your hands..."

Sneaky, conniving bastard couldn't help but give you a taste of your own medicine. Those images and the sound of his voice in your mind was enough to spark an incessant heat to grow between your legs. 

“You’re not allowed to sleep yet, darling. Not when you’ve got some making up to do.” 

He taunted, watching as you rolled over and looked up at him, pleading through your furrowed brows. 

“But, I’ve nothing to make up for…” 

“Oh, no. Don’t play innocent now.” Astarion gestured with his hands, “You know exactly what I mean. Little minx, I’ve half the mind to tie you up and have my way with you for even suggesting you’re not to blame.” 

Astarion grabbed your wrists, pinning you under him while dragging his eyes over every detail of your face. His sudden movement ran your cheeks hot, smirking as they pinked up. 

“I mean, look at you. Still hiding how hot and bothered I’ve made you, when you know it’s all you want. Those little images were just a taste of what I’ve planned for you. Besides, I just don’t feel like letting you off that easily. Your body’s practically given you away, darling.” 

Astarion pouted, mocking the innocence you painted on. His face cranes downward, inching closer to yours. His rosemary scent thickens around your head, one of his hands tipping your chin up to meet his eyes, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. 

In his eyes you can see the glimmering of that roguish charm putting you under his trance as he’s done so easily many times before. 

“For the record, I’ve been thinking about this since that night.” 

Depriving you of his touch for long enough that you’d falter so deliciously under his fingertips from it was one of his favorite things to do. All that fatigue was replaced by the hot and heavy sensitivity your body gave off under his touch, lit aflame by the deprivation of his sweet musings. Hooded eyes locked onto him, deliriously overtaken by the vampire’s wit. 

Astarion had enough power over you with a single look, but with such an invigorating one, he could bring you to your knees in a second. 

“Every inch of you is mine…” he practically whispered in his low tone of voice, a raw need and reminder he’d sewn his heart to yours. 

“Yours…” you breathed, and his smirk grew tenfold. “I’m yours, Astarion. Please, no more teasing…”

“No? Maybe I should give you exactly what you want. Hm?”

“Mmhh… Astarion, please.” 

“I want to hear you beg for it.” 

He desires your total submission to his whims, fervent and passionate in his plotting. Within you, a notion of desperation stretched over your entire figure. It called out for him, for his hands to know every inch of you. To press into the plush of your thighs and feel how your body responded to his touch. Astarion stoked the fire of your endless wanting, burning brighter with every passing moment. Pushing deeper into his playfulness to tease and make you as riled up as you’d gotten him, well, he knew how to do that splendidly. 

“But–”

“You heard me.”

You’re hesitant to say a word, though you know if he doesn’t get what he wants, it will end very badly for you. So you hesitate, and his brows furrow. 

“Perhaps you don’t understand. See, I was trying to concentrate on some very nice reading and you… took it upon yourself to distract me. I’m simply paying you back for that. Now.. where were we?” 

Your cheeks become impossibly redder, accepting your fate and letting the aching need for him you take over. 

“‘Stari’n… need to feel you touching me, everywhere. Gods… please me with those hands I can’t stop thinking about. Those hands I want to worship, along with the rest of you. I don’t need anything more than that… than you. I can’t wait any longer. Shit– please…” 

Syllables of your begging crescendo around his ears, followed by heavy breathing and your intoxicating figure glowing in the moonlight. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to touch you? Run my hands all over your precious body and feel you come undone under them? Darling, I’d love nothing more.” 

Astarion was first to initiate his lips in a kiss, leaning into you with all the sanguine greed he allowed himself. One kiss and you were gasping after he pulled away, unaware how much the deprivation of him dawned on your entire body. It began to buzz after the slightest touch of his entered your bloodstream. His kiss was venom sliding down your throat, passed through his lips to your very insides which only ached hotter. You wish the taste of him would last forever if you had the chance, an aphrodisiac he’d planted on those pretty lips of yours. 

Much too caught up in prolonging the last of his taste, his grip moves upwards to where your wrists lay. 

“Stay very still.” he whispered into your ear, the tip of his nose ghosting against your soft skin there. Confidently watching you with his tantalizing gaze, he muttered an incantation and your hands became tied to the ground. 

“Wha– Astarion…!” 

Naturally you strained against the bounds that wrapped themselves around your wrists, unbeknownst to the fact that this was just the beginning of his teasing tonight. 

“Don’t whine. Or your legs are next.” 

A whimper escaped you upon protest, still deeming this as an unwarranted act… but then you knew Astarion, knew what he was like when his buttons were pushed. Thus, you digress. 

“There you go, looking so pretty when you’re tied up.” 

“Stari you promised…” 

“Mhm, you’re right… what shall we do about it?” 

His lips craned towards your face, pressing softly against your cheek, then your ear, which he nipped at as he did so. Your heartbeat bumped up speed, the palms of your hands sweating. 

“Oh, love, your heart’s racing. Have I got anything to do with that, hm?” His voice was a low purr, one that’s only present when he’s relishing in the moment. 

“By the gods, you know it does… please. Do whatever you want with me. I’m yours.”

A heat pooled in your stomach, threatening to spill already. Partially his fault, but he knew you and knew the power he held to his advantage. He inhaled deeply, chest barely an inch away from yours, to take in your natural aroma. A low growl rumbled from his chest, the close proximity of his vampiric senses letting him absorb much more of you. 

Astarion’s fingers make quick work of untying your camp clothes and tossing them to the side. With each piece he discards, he’s sure to leave a chaste kiss on the most sensitive parts of your skin. Between the valley of your breasts, pinching the hardness of your nipples, down your stomach to your navel and the soft tuft of hair between your legs. He’s down to your underwear when he spots the very prominent wet spot, and his senses are on fire. Cheekily, he rubs his thumb against the stain thus earning a sharp breath from you and a slight shake of your legs. His palms splay out over your thighs to keep them parted, while pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Missed me that much, did you?” 

“Yes, Gods, yes…” you whispered. 

When he fully discards your panties and sees what a mess you’ve made, his red eyes dilate and darken. The plush of your thighs threaten to close around him, so he repeats his incantation on your ankles. There you lay out so perfectly for him, a vision with your hair thrown about, cheeks running hot from his incessant teasing. You were a vision, already blissed out because of him and he hasn’t even touched you where you truly need him. 

Pulling your panties down is the next thing he does, a cool touch of his fingers aiding how much your arousal throbbed for him. 

“You know, I should edge you for the stunt you pulled.” 

“Don’t– please don’t…” 

“Hm. I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands… But I won’t.” 

Astarion’s lips pressed another kiss right above your most sensitive part, fully aware he was making it worse for you. His digits ghost right over your pussy, practically glowing from how responsive and sensitive you are. Every inch of your body is on fire– for him. There was nothing he loved more to see. He leaned down to press a kiss against your wetness, relishing in your arousal spread over his lips. 

Astarion sighs, “I missed the way you taste. Mmm…” 

The tip of his angled nose pushes right up against your clit, the tiniest spark of friction surging inside you. Every touch has you clenching around nothing, while his tongue greedily flits through your folds, collecting as much of your taste on his tongue as he could. He groaned into you, and your hips buck fervently, more than you can control. Before you know it, Astarion’s looped his biceps around your legs to hold you down. It’s hardly fair, him now having complete control of your body. You’re unable to keep quiet while he laps at your entrance, fully ignoring the sensitive bundle of nerves just an inch higher.

“Ahh… starion…nnn…” 

“Shh, darling. Wouldn’t want the others to spoil our fun…” 

You moaned desperately for him. 

“Quietly, now…” he whispers, glittering eyes looking up at you from between your legs. You stifle a whimper and glance at his cheeks– he’s enjoying this thoroughly. 

Out of nowhere, Astarion moves his tongue to circle around your clit, and your moans are muffled by whatever reserve you had left. Hips stuttering under his cool touch, your skin runs hot, aroused and flushing your cheeks with every little movement he makes. Swirling three times over, the ocean of ecstasy grows with the coax of his tongue. He prods two fingers into your entrance so easily while he sucks and laves, and you’re all but gasping his name in a whisper before you gush all over him. Running through you as if you hadn’t been touched before.

“You came so fast, and I’ve barely touched you.” His words paired with a smirk on his face are just enough to make you come again, until you see the tent in his pants and immediately swoon once more. 

His two fingers continued to move inside you, curling against that perfect spot to make you see stars. As fast as your orgasm passed over you, the semblance of yet another was already beginning to build. The vampire’s fingers were deft, slender and he just about fit another one in before his thumb flicks over your clit again. 

“Asta…ah– s’starion…” you uttered, overwhelmed in such an otherworldly sensation. 

“You'll come as many times as I want, got it?" 

You’re sent throwing your head back, gasping yes and whispering his name. Astarion doesn’t slow at the sight of you undone- no. He leans in deeper, quickening the movements of his fingers to devour you with his tongue. Spreading you all over his mouth was another vexing action he took, submerging himself in each inch of pleasure he could pull from you.

You try to find the words to beg him, but nothing seems to form other than a whimpering noise of pleasure and a bunch of words jumbled together. 

“You can barely speak, so cute.” he pouted. 

Your slick of wetness surges again, this time over his hand and fingers so messily. It made a vulgarly loud and sticky sound as his fingers pulled out, lifting them so you could see just how much of you covered his hand. 

“Go on, clean my fingers. This is your mess, after all.” he gestured, to which your bindings dropped. Quick to suck his fingers into your mouth, you let a sick pride fill your chest with how his eyes fell on you, dazed and glossed over. His pants were still tightening as you finished cleaning off his digits, glancing down at the prominent outline his length made. 

Moaning with every pass of your tongue over the pads of his fingers made his assurance of bringing you pleasure grow. It throbbed in fact- right under his leathers. You dared to close your legs around his torso, that he would lift you up and have his way, showing you everything he knew you were craving. 

Astarion noted the way your eyes glossed over when you took a glance at his bulge, practically aching to be out of his confines. 

“Want to prove you’re sorry?” 

You nodded slowly, never breaking his eye contact. 

“Get on your knees. I want to see how you look begging for my forgiveness.” Astarion spat, propping himself up with a snide expression. How gorgeous he looked in moments like this, slightest sheen of sweat gracing his forehead, presenting himself to you on a silver platter. His current way of eyeing you revealed that he’d gotten off on the whole ordeal. Not to mention his flushed cheeks, raging hard on and that look in his eye. 

Positioning yourself in front of him was a task in itself, the soreness from your previous bindings began to ache as you took your place. You ended up laying your heat right on a point of pressure to give you a bit of friction. To have your figure on display for him like this was an art form; the way you sang his name, when he pulled sounds of pleasure from you that no one else has heard before. Having you seated like this in front of him did nothing but fuel the vampire’s ego, how easily he got you to bend to his whims. 

“You know what to do.” 

Astarion’s rubies darkened a shade while locked on your figure moving closer, unrelenting and overpowered. Touching him sent sparks flying under the tips of your fingers, a sensation you relished in after a week of deliberate scheming. Your hands slid selfishly over the skin of his navel, taut stomach flexing under the contact. His pants and other nightclothes were discarded and thus lay his stunning figure to you in its entirety. 

Not only was his length upright and swollen, it was practically begging to be touched. From the way a drop of precome slid down the front of his tip, he was just as eager as you. Wrapping your hand around the base of him was enough stimulation to make him groan. He threw his head back a bit, shutting his eyes before glancing back at you. 

“Fuck, just as I thought. You look so good on your knees for me.” 

His sultry voice spoke again- a slight purr, running his tongue over one of his pearly white fangs and smirking.

Your lips neared his cock and Astarion could only watch as you pressed a kiss to the underside of him, relishing in the taste he left. He couldn’t help but cup your cheek in his palm, running his finger over your bottom lip the same way he’d done before. 

“Look what you do to me… lover.” 

A jolt ran up your spine, those hooded eyes unmoving from you. 

Your tongue flattened against his base, licking a stripe all the way up before circling around the tip. A low grumble vibrated from his chest, music to your ears as you continued. Swallowing him down inch by inch, your tongue ran down the underside of his length. To try and contain the pleasure you were experiencing whilst indulging him was harder than you conceptualized. Your hands became eager, running one over his thigh, the other holding him while your head bobbed lower. Each flit of your tongue down his shaft was greedier than the last, your cunt throbbing below you just because of it. 

Astarion’s hand raked through your hair again whilst you hollowed your cheeks to take another inch of him down. Your eyes rake up and down his taut stomach, relishing in the gorgeous sight of him before you. Gaze dropping back to his cock, you felt his hand cup your cheek again. 

“Eyes on me, darling.” 

His command locked his rubies to yours, while gripping your hair with a slight push on your head. An inch further and you felt his tip at the back of your throat. You gasped for air upon pulling him out of your mouth for a moment, before catching the glimmer in his eye. A trail of saliva connected your lips to him after you came up, swirling your tongue and peppering kisses down his length. Once to his base, you cupped him with a soft hand, savoring the way his abdomen flexed again. 

Growing impatient, Astarion took charge and placed your lips upon him once again. This time, he submerged his hand into the tresses of your hair and pushed more than eagerly. He hit the back of your throat much faster now, prodding to go further but he felt you hum against him. 

“You can take it.” he encouraged breathily. Grunts and moans escaped his lips upon pushing you further down, the pathetic image of you enough for him to buck his hips once or twice. Astarion’s breathing became heavy with each thrust down your throat, letting your lover have his way with you. After everything, he should get to use you for his own satisfaction. 

That’s it…

Fuck, take all of me…

Begging is such a good look on you.

Echoes of his voice reverberate inside your head, and your eyes dart upwards to see Astarion’s caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Smirking, he encouraged you on. 

Soon enough, the shakiness in his breathing surged tenfold and you knew he was inching closer to release. 

“Keep going… make me come. Then I’ll see about rewarding you.” 

Your vampire spoke clearly, breathlessly, but the slightest hesitation on his words told much of what was in his future. Lips covered in your saliva slid down his length, kissing his base without ever leaving his cock. Dedication and admiration flowed from you to him effortlessly, with every pass of your tongue against him. It was welcomed fully with no hesitation— his flexing thighs, the grip he held in your hair, the slight pushing each time you went down another inch. You wondered if this were the closest thing you’d get to a divine purpose in life. 

Many gods existed, but there was no altar you worshipped at more than Astarion. 

“That’s it… thaaat’s it— fuck.” 

He bucked ceaselessly, until his hips stuttered one final time and spilled into your mouth. Pulling up a few inches, you held him in your hands among the constant twitching of his length. There was so much of it— his warm cum pooling on your tongue— that it began to leak from a corner of your mouth. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

Astarion clicked his tongue, and swiped what was escaping back between your lips. He sighed with content as you did so, your lips pulling off of him, swollen and sensitive. 

“You taste so good, Stari. Mmmh… so good.” 

“My love,” he purred, “your tongue… does wondrous things to me. But now I think it’s time we both get what we want. Hm?” 

“Yes— yes please…” 

Your hands ran up and down Astarion’s firm thighs as his length lay against his sternum, remaining upright as he brought your lips together. Though yours are puffy and swollen, eyes the slightest as well and teary, you’re glowing. Perhaps satisfied and even more aroused because of what you’d done to him, which made his cock swell even more. 

Sitting on your knees for as long as you’d been had them aching, nonetheless you sat looking towards the dashing man before you. 

“Now… before I give you your reward and lose myself in you— and I will lose myself,” he trails off, dragging his eyes down your figure for a moment, "I need you to know that through all my teasing, I truly love you. I am only saying this because I have every intention of fucking you like I don't.” 

“Love you, ‘Starion…” you murmured, your admittance the only thing you could speak aloud amongst the hoarseness of your voice. 

Sitting upright for a moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours whilst snaking his tongue into your ever eager mouth. Calculated and strong willed, they collided ceaselessly, his fangs scraping just the slightest against your lip. Each sound you made drove him further, saliva mixing with yours to create an overtaking toxin. Amongst him finally pulling away, you were left yet again craving more of him pressed against you intoxicatingly. 

“Now,” your vampire purred, “my little love doesn’t get off that easy.” 

Dazed eyes entrance you as Astarion began to inch closer, caging your figure in with his arms the moment your back hit the bedroll. Intensities of his familiar bergamot scent infected your senses wave by wave, unfaltering as he drew in to you. 

“Open your legs for me, I want to see you.” he tuts. 

Upon his command you spread your legs, one of his thighs then hooking under yours, spreading you open further so he could have a fine look. Astarion clicks his tongue observing the amount of slick still painting your cunt. Fingertips ghost over your inner thigh, making their way up to the crease of your leg and dragging upwards. As soon as they trail over one of your nipples, a desperate mewl escaped your lips. 

Entire body aching for him to split you open, to slip into you and finally satiate the urge you’ve both had for continuous days on end. In the moment you thought he was about to tease you more, he used to flip you onto your stomach and press himself into your back. His hardness laid just outside of your dripping cunt, chest pressed against you.

“Arch your back for me.” 

Your courteous arch was nothing if not a position Astarion wished to sear into the backs of his eyelids before placing his cool fingertips against the small of your back. Daunting contact that came with all of his touches sent you squirming, entrance aching impatiently for him to satisfy. The same hand he has on your back slowly travels down your thighs to swipe two of his fingers through your slick. 

Damn him for moving over your clit while he did so, jolting your body towards him more in sheer desperation. His chuckle was fuel to your fire that burned beneath your skin. 

With what arousal of yours he’d collected, Astarion covered himself with it, letting it paint his hardened cock. 

“Please…” you murmured breathily. 

“What was that, hm? Use your words.” 

“P-Please… make me feel good, like no one else can,” you began, “There’s no one else I want as much as I want you. Ruin me, Astarion. Do as you please with me… I am yours.” 

“Oh my love, that’s all you had to say.” 

His words were punctuated with his cock pushing into you, so deeply nestled into your heat that his tip was right against your perfect spot. Upon his intrusion you clenched, every inch and vein dragging against your deprived walls like no other. Astarion then leaned over so his chest pressed up against your back once more, pulling your hair to grip it in his hand. 

His lips pressed to your shoulder as he inhaled your scent. As he pulled his weight off your back, his length pulled out of you until all that was left inside was his tip, before bottoming out inside you again. With your hair in his grip and your figure below him, the pace he began moving at into you was anything but kind. 

“Astarion, hnng– gentle…” you whimpered, losing every single train of thought with the way he moved inside you. 

“You want gentle?” he scoffs, “Never should’ve teased me, darling.” 

His pace never faltered- steady and rough with each kiss of his pelvis to yours. Erotically spreading your slick upon each movement. Bruising were his thrusts, a hand gripping your hair with the other around your waist. 

Astarion groans, the entirety of him throbbing as he bucks his hips into you. Feasting on each sound you make and absorbing it all triggers his ears to twitch in their redness. Each time he spears himself inside, a chorus of sounds emerge from your lips. The world spins as you whimper his name, a mumbled mess you’re trying to keep contained. But you’re going limp beneath him, forearms aching before descending yourself to lie on your chest as he takes you. Thrust by thrust splitting you open with his cock shoving against your sweetest spot. 

“Gods, you’re so perfect every time… like you were made for me, my love.” 

Astarion raises you by the grip on your hair, just enough to push himself in deeper. He’s losing himself by the second, giving you all you deserve. What a naughty minx you’d been, testing his concentration and patience that night. What a gift it felt getting back what you’d done to him, tenfold. 

You pant, hazy with lust upon his kissing into your skin. A vast difference than his cold lips against your skin running hot. 

“Yes, yes…” you utter, feeling the wave of his pleasure tie itself to yours. It’s consuming, resistless and overtaking, and you aren’t sure how much longer you could hold out. 

Once furious you’d teased him to such an extent, Astarion’s mind flies through every emotion he’s experienced whilst being with you. You weren’t just another victim he’d bed and serve up to his master– no. You were his love, the light of his life, and nothing would ever change the way he melted around you. A surge of appreciation builds in him, love, the desperation of it all, every moment with you, that his pace turns to a much slower, deeper one than before. His thrusts halt, pulling out of you before flipping you on your back. 

“There’s that gorgeous face.” he purrs before sliding back inside you. 

“Astarion…” you call out again. 

“That’s it, my little love. Say my name. My sweetest… I love you.” 

“I love you, Astarion– ahhg fuck…” 

Behind all his endless teasing was this version of your lover, the softest, most caring and dedicated side of him. Everything you’d done was for the both of you, what was romance without a little mischief, anyhow? His intensities bled through to an all consuming side of him you knew had been hidden a few layers deep. Layers that had been pulled out of your view. His tenderness never faltered, until you’d wanted it to. 

He leans over you, swallowing the whimper that escapes you when his lips press to yours. Little grunts of desperation vibrate between each kiss you share with him, enamored with every part of him he shows so vulnerably. Your breathing and his deepens once he pulls back, smirking at the image of you blissed out below him. He spears inside you with each thrust, to the hilt over and over against the spot that almost makes you explode all over him. 

Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. 

His palm trails down your body again, stopping over your pelvis to feel himself inside you from under your skin. It’s erotic, how the tips of his ears redden a generous amount, before pressing kiss after kiss across your cheeks and down your neck. 

“I am… infected by you, my sweetest Astarion.” 

Your voice rings out sultry, but with a softness you used with only him. 

“S-So good, for me– hah… g-gods. Taking it, taking all of me…” 

A kiss to your earlobe. 

“I can’t get enough of you.” you whisper. 

Another kiss to your neck, letting his tongue glide along your skin. 

You know he’s salivating at the scent of your arousal, just watching your blood slide under the surface of your skin. Differently than before, he’s looking at you with appreciation in his lust drowned eyes. The squishing sound made while he continues to press into you had been magnified by the level of slick that’d spread from your cunt. 

“I love the way you look when I’m inside you.” Another thrust to punctuate his sentence. 

Those words alone are enough to fuel the fire inside you, flames of desire burning even more intensely. Every instance where Astarion has brought you to a higher plane of pleasure was marked with his love for you. Your eyes squeeze shut upon his words reverberating in your mind, clit throbbing upon the impact of him surrounding you. 

“Let me see those eyes.” he purrs, sliding his palm up your body to cup your chin. With his words, you obey his command, glancing up through eyes star filled and brimming with lust. Your pupils were blown wide, unsurprising to his glance into your glossed over look into him. 

“Pretty. So pretty.” 

“You’re pretty…” you mumble, moaning again at the wave of pleasure surging inside you. He smiles, flashing his fangs at you and licking his lips.

Inch by inch you light ablaze, sharing your heat with him at the point you two connect. By using your body for his pleasure he’s also bringing you the same, delighted to be given such a thing from him. You were used to the natural chill that filled you when around him, but never something so intense like this. 

Perhaps it was the tenday being deprived of his indulgence to pleasure you, the bastard. He knew everything he’d done would lead to this moment– there was no doubt in his mind. When his pleasure began to build, Astarion was reminded of just how much you loved him; to allow him the trust and boundaries to push with you was just another statement to the love you shared. 

It made you smile, knowing how hazy you’d become under his touch, the world spinning whilst you looked up at him. Another thrust and his cock was twitching, the drag of his length inside you enough to make you explode then and there. 

“Ah– starion… I’m– I…” you gasped. 

“I know, my love. I know… I– ah, I won’t make you beg this time. Darling, I want to feel you come around me. Come with me now… I-I can’t hold back anymore.” 

Astarion nuzzles against your neck, kissing and sucking into the crevice of your shoulder. Without another word, your eagerness peaks, body exploding while your hips stutter in unison, drenched from each other’s arousal. He releases inside you, spurt after spurt of his warm seed coating your walls. His breath hitches, exhaling next to your ear and you believe this is the most feral and fucked-out he’s ever been. Enamored entirely to another level. 

He groans, dropping his torso onto yours whilst the sweat down his body soaks into yours. You sputter his name again, out of breath and his lips find their way up your jaw and to your cheeks. The coolness of his lips helps your breathing slow on the afterglow of however many orgasms you’d had so far. It was timeless no matter how many nights you spent with Astarion like this, there was nothing better. Some of his curls stick to his forehead with how much he’d been sweating, continuously kissing up to your lips. 

He connects with yours, fangs scraping against your lips again as the moment changes from passionate to soft in seconds. You can taste it against him, the satisfaction with how he’s made you crumble underneath him. Astarion lets out a quiet hum of appreciation against you, to which you smile. 

“I love you, Astarion.” 

“And I love you, my dear. Now you see,” he begins, “that is what happens when you get carried away with your incessant teasing.” 

He rolls off you, getting comfortable on his side and cups your face, propping his head up in one of his hands. Watching you dotingly as you snuggle up under the blanket of his bedroll.

“You seemed to quite enjoy it, if I’m remembering correctly.” 

“You may be right, my dear. Although none of this would’ve happened if you’d’ve just kept your filthy little hands to yourself.” 

You can’t help yourself from giggling, the realization of your actions leading to this moment. 

“Yes, but… then we wouldn’t have had that glorious moment together just now…” 

Astarion’s smirk turns to a smile, his eyes sparkling. 

“I suppose so…” The way his hands move over your body is entirely different than how they were before, slow and doting as if touching the most breakable glass.

“Hope I wasn’t too rough with you, darling. Are you feeling alright? Nothing hurting? At least not too much…” He chuckles. 

“Well, whether I’m able to walk in the morning is debatable. But, I wouldn’t have signed up for anything I wouldn’t be able to handle. I trust you with my entire self, Star.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, although you know I am here for whatever you need. Anything.” 

“Anything? You’ve already given me the world… Though, maybe some water?” you ask, smiling up at him. His toothy grin shines back as he reaches for his pack, grabbing a jug he’d put aside. 

Your hair, mussed as it is from his manhandling before, splays out messily with a few strands falling in front of your face. Taking a few gulps of the fresh liquid, you’re refreshed even with the fatigue of your activities. As you hydrate yourself, Astarion is gazing lovingly in your direction. 

“What’re you staring at?” you asked, a drop of water falling from the corner of your mouth. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view. My favorite view.” His lip tugs under his pearly teeth, thumb rising to your face to swipe the drop away. You place the jug down, smiling at his gesture and shuffling your body into his arms. 

“Your weeklong stunt proved worth the effort, I have to admit.” 

“You mean the stunt that you began?” Astarion chuckles, “Yes, quite worth the effort it seems. I didn’t know how long I’d last at that rate. You’re so very distracting at all hours of the day.” 

You both lie on the blanketed ground, head cradled on his chest whilst your fingers absentmindedly draw shapes into his skin. 

“And yet you persisted… Glad to know I wasn’t the only one tortured by your teasing.” 

“You have no idea.” His arm rubs up and down your back, soothing you into a calm state. It was a naturally relaxing touch to help you wind down. 

“I’ll have to think twice next time it pops into my head.” you take a deep breath and settle into his figure, eyes closing peacefully. 

“Yes, do, please. For both our sakes. Or don’t… it’ll be more fun that way.” 

“We’ll see about that.” you mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. 

“Indeed we will, my love. Indeed we will.” 

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Ok there seems to be some people still unconvinced with having a reverse crush with Sonic and Amy so Im going to give my input about it, in my opinion it's even logical at this point:

The Sonic from the videogames and the Sonic from the live action movies are obviously different, Videogame Sonic is often portrayed as someone very confident, someone who is already a hero, too cool for school, someone so free that even though he has a lot of friends he seems to like and treasure his time alone, also it's been confirmed that SEGA doesn't like Sonic having strong emotions, also he has already knowledge of his homeworld and was never surprised to see other people of his kind and the first portrayals of Amy were too pushy, stalky and obsessed with him, he was annoyed by her and it was doom to be a one sided crush until the recent changes in her behavior that as simple as she is still openly in love with him but she isn't forcing it on him and as a result he is more comfortable with her and he doesn't reject her as much as before or at all so we don't have a relationship confirmed but we got a ambiguous relationship like: "yes there is something cooking but you only get to smell the food, you'll never eat it"

Then we have the Sonic of the movies, this Sonic barely knows nothing about his homeworld aside the parts his caretaker who was an owl and not his biological mom allowed him to be and is also aware of the echidnas because he was attacked by them before coming to earth. Then on earth he was heartbreakingly lonely for years and that made him be socially awkward and clumsy even though he is an extrovert even pretending he was familiar with Tom and Maddie before he actually became their "son" , this Sonic had to learn to fight on the way through the movies while dangerous things just suddenly kept happening to him, he wasn't a match for knuckles at the beginning because knuckles was already an expert fighter and Sonic wasn't, he wasn't immediately accepting with Tails because he was not confident enough to trust someone he just met even though Tails was helping him and he almost killed Shadow on a fit of vengeful rage, this is not how videogame Sonic behaves, he isn't this much awkward and emotional teenager, movie Sonic is more energetic than Sonic Boom's Sonic and just as chatty as Sonic prime's Sonic and almost nothing like SonicX's Sonic (I don't know the other series he has), also Shadow is literally the first other Hedgehog he ever saw in his life. Also movie Amy is already a badass fighter, that comes from his homeworld, she probably already saw other hedgehogs, also I'm sure she has also the Tarot cards skills she has in the games (and that's why she is there), THIS is the Amy that presents herself to Sonic: a badass female hedgehog that saved him under the moonlight, the second Hedgehog he meets but specifically the FIRST FEMALE hedgehog he ever sees! So given the clumsy wannabe cool dork teenager personality he has, being the first time he sees a female of his species, saving him with such a badass move, an encounter alone in the night... Do you really think is realistic to expect him to be cool and collected about it? This is a huge deal 😂😂, there's no way logically speaking this Sonic isn't going to be nervous and awkward, is impossible to think he is not going to be into Amy 🤣🤣 after that.

But I don't think this is a "reverse crush" I totally think that obviously Amy is going to have a crush on him too, just not as outrageously obvious and obsessive, I think is going to be: "he acts clumsy, she thinks he is cute" and then she'll fall harder once she sees his heroic side, something like: "he fell first, she fell harder" what do you think?

Also, I just noticed that Shadow is kinda in the same situation as Sonic... I mean this time he isn't a creation but a finding inside a meteorite... He has never seen a girl hedgehog either right? Anyway giving his personality I doubt he would be a clumsy dork with her like Sonic would be... I mean it's Shadow 🤷🤷 but maybe she is a bit into him and Sonic gets jealous... Who knows 😏 a bit of Shadamy doesn't hurt.

But again, don't expect anything canon canon, it's probably going to be as I said before: "something is cooking but we only get to smell the food and never eat it"

[munnmolads]

"Who are you?" - Rafayel's Nightly Stroll Theory/Headcanon

My thoughts about Rafayel's jabs about forgetting MC during Nightly stroll and theory on what might have happened before the game events. Spoilers for Nightly Stroll, Under Deepspace main story and Rafayel's story branch.

Recap from Nightly Stroll - Rafayel gets injured and gets into the hospital. He calls MC to visit him in the morning, and she arrives there late at night. Angry at her lateness, Rafayel pretends to forget MC.

Later in the story we learn that this is a jab at MC actually forgetting him. They met much earlier as kids and made a promise to meet again the spot next year.

Only later in the story branch MC gets to know about her forgetting Rafayel.

Something I want to point out with the branch relating to their meeting even if it's slightly off-topic, their meeting happened 14 years ago, so MC was around 7-8 years old, and Rafayel was 10. I believe MC is referring to the experiments that we can read more about "Sealed in Dust" World Underneath story, and her age during those experiments was specified in Under Deepspace Chapter 5-1. MC still doesn't know the full extent to her experiments and doesn't connect yet that those memory losses are related to them.

While Rafayel says that he didn't ACTUALLY wait for her, he still seemed to hope that they would meet again. As if this isn't heartbreaking enough, I have wondered one thing... How he knew MC truly forgot about him?

In main story chapter 2 when they meet "for the first time", he doesn't seem to be surprised about the fact that she doesn't recognize him. He seems like he already knows she has forgotten about him, and keeps up the facade of not knowing who she is. Only after chapter 7 he shows how bitter he is over it.

Then going back to him mentioning "settling a score with her"... While I feel that we might never know what that actually meant, I feel him "forgetting" MC back is one of his ways to get back at her, in a very specific way. In addition to Nightly Stroll, he very momentarily pretends to forget MC again because he's angry with her. If you don't log in for 30 days, you will get a new interaction with the guys in the cafe, he will say this:

(thanks to SORAII for uploading a video of it, I am way too obsessed with this game to do this)

While this moment is shorter than in Nightly Stroll, it has the similar theme: He asks who MC is, and mentions that she looks kind of familar. I don't know about in other languages, but in EN voiceover he also raises his pitch a teeny bit here, and in Nightly stroll it's obviously higher.

Here is where my theory/headcanon comes in; MC has said those words to him. They met again after MC forgot everything, and ironically, has forgotten about it. And he's mocking her for it.

I imagine Rafayel did approach her after finding her - being ecstatic that he finally found her, only to hear those words. It also makes sense considering how convoluded his methods of trying to involve himself into her life have been but still never approach her until the main story starts. Also, considering how bitter he is about it and how he sincerely wanted MC to use the bond to make him not to hold a grudge anymore.

And for her, she thought she just met some guy who mistook her for someone else.