#quietly and somberly

[angeart]

You say share AUs with you like that wouldn't be slightly intimidating xD

But :x AU where the Watchers steal Grian's voice (dunno why, haven't gotten that far), no talking no laughter no sound at all, and Grian acts like it's fine. It is! They have communicators! He can still talk to the hermits while X and Doc try and figure it out! Honestly he's close enough with some that facial expressions and gestures are enough to have a whole conversation sometimes. And bonus, he doesn't have to hold back his giggles when setting up a prank, Scar literally can't hear him laughing as he's tunneling under the base. .... but being in big groups is hard, he can't quip like he used to, by the time he's got a line halfway typed out the conversation moved on and the joke dies on his keyboard. (No hermit is excluding him on purpose!! Just, that's how talking flows and typing can't always keep up!) Can't hear him laugh but... can't hear him cry either.

I have nothing written, I haven't written in a loooong time, this just lives in my head. :x

-🎀

noo don't be intimidated. i'm harmless. i'm just a silly dummy. i love talking about aus and things. c'mere and share freely as much as you want! <3

OHHH mute grian! it's interesting that it also translates to any other noises. he can't cry! he can't laugh! (gathering this angst lovingly in my arms)

he can sob and nobody will hear it. he can hide and nobody will be any wiser. he— you know, he can't call for help, or call attention to himself, or even greet his friends. he can't call out scar's name, he can't say hi or bye to anyone. he needs eyes on him, or time to type and people's attention on the chat, and he doesn't always get those things.

(scar in particular forgets to check the chat, even when he's with grian. he sees him type, he just. he's a bit silly.) (grian has to make signs and meticulously place them and type on them to get scar to see any of his words, and even that has only like 50% chance of success.)

(he misses talking to scar.)

imagine cub gives him a bunch of custom horns. he means well. he tried to make some useful ones. but none of them feel like grian, or match quite what he wants to say.

his steps are still audible, but if he can't say a person's name or a greeting, he keeps accidentally sneaking up on people. he doesn't know how to alert them without it being absolutely ridiculous. they startle. mumbo especially lets out a loose comment directly after a scare, about how grian can't do that.

he doesn't mean it like that.

but maybe grian starts approaching hermits less.

[helaintoloki]

hello, I would like to make a request, a story based on the last episode of yours, Five talking to another Five in the final conversation and they talk about his wife and Canon Five doesn't have one, thanks if you want

a/n: i absolutely loved writing this ty for sending this in ! <3

warnings: language, slight angst, spoilers

summary: Five discovers his missing piece

When Five stumbled into Max’s and came across an entire diner full of alternate versions of himself, about a million different questions raced through his mind. However, the most pressing issue he found himself wanting to address was the context behind the lovingly placed portrait of a woman on the wall.

“Who’s the girl?” He asks his counterpart, his eyes remaining glued to the painting. The woman’s smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and her face the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He almost felt drawn to it in a way, as if there was some type of magnetic pull gravitating his focus to her and only her. It was like seeing a ghost or a familiar face from a dream that you’re not quite able to place.

“Don’t you recognize her?” The other Five retorts perplexed, confusion clearly etched on his features. “That’s y/n.”

“Can’t say I’m familiar,” the Boy confesses with an apologetic sigh as he finally pulls his attention away from the painting and sets it back to the Five in front of him.

“No wonder you’re such a mess,” server Five notes with a diverted smile as he tops off their coffee. Calling over his shoulder, he announces to all Fives, “The poor bastard doesn’t have a y/n.”

Murmurs of surprise and astonished laughter fill the cafe at the news, prompting Five’s face to heat in embarrassment at being the butt of a joke he has no grasp of. What do these Fives know that he doesn’t?

“Could you please be so kind as to fill me in on who this y/n is,” he requests agitatedly through gritted teeth. Reaching into his pocket, his counterpart pulls out a weathered photograph and slides it across the table for Five to see.

“Y/n is the missing piece that completes every Five. We all meet her in different ways at different points of our lives, but every time she manages to anchor us back down to earth. Y/n is the glue that holds us together when everything goes to shit. She believes in us, sees the humanity in us despite the horrors we’ve seen and the atrocities we’ve committed. She gives us unconditional love even when we think we don’t need it, when we think it couldn’t possibly exist.”

As Fives look down at the photo before him, he sees himself- or rather, another version of himself- enveloping y/n in his arms. They stand in front of a beautiful home with a picket white fence and a garden full of flowers smiling with pure bliss. It’s clear that the woman loved this version of him by the adoring look in her eyes, and it’s even clearer that she meant everything to the Five sitting across from him.

“She means something different to each of us, but I was one of the Five’s lucky enough to make her my wife,” his companion notes with an evocative smile. “That photo was taken on our honeymoon.

“Where is she now?” Five asks somberly after handing back the photograph.

“Dead,” he replies quietly, releasing a mournful sigh as he sinks back into the booth. “Lost her in an accident while I was trying to stop the apocalypse for a third time. That’s when I decided it was time to hang in the towel.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“We had a good run together, I wouldn’t change any of it,” the replica admits with a reminiscent smile. He takes another look at the photo, committing it to memory before handing it back to Five. “I think you need this more than I do. You may not have had the chance to know your y/n, but judging by the look on your face when you spotted the portrait I have a good feeling you would have loved her just the same.”

Gingerly taking the photograph back, Five stops to admire her gentle features and adoring smile before tucking it safely into the pocket of his suit. “Thank you.”

“You know what you have to do to fix the timelines,” the other Five firmly instructs him. “Just promise me you’ll do by right by my wife. She deserves a safe timeline to live in, one where she can grow old and be happy.”

Rising from his seat at the booth, Five takes one last longing look at the portrait on the wall before returning his gaze to the boy in front of him.

“You have my word.”

[giuliettagaltieri]

His Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Featherless birds fall with a splat

Warning: Angst, cursing

Word Count: 4532

Part 1 • Part 2

You aren’t exactly certain how you’d feel with Rafe walking out on you like that. 

Partly, you were glad that you somehow managed to face him without breaking but the way his eyes bore on you, it was just awful, like you were physically causing him pain.

And perhaps you were. 

JJ saw how your mood has switched after you got your drinks.  Your eyes were all blank and you were spacing out.  He made the decision for you both to head back and meet with your other friends. 

You are sitting with your girlfriends, and JJ decided to join you for the rest of the night.  He was entertaining everybody with his overly exaggerated wild stories, trying to get you to focus on him, but your eyes are wandering on a certain someone.

Rafe was gulping down beer, cup after cup.  It was too much, even for him.

You understand he’s got an extremely high alcohol tolerance but this is just sad to look at.  His face was all red and his shirt was clinging to his back, soaked with sweat.

“You know, I really thought I could finally catch your attention with Cameron all gone.”  JJ suddenly leans on the sofa next to you.  You sigh, giving a quick smile without looking at him.  “But I guess it was stupid of me to swoop in when you are literally in love with him.”

Pursing your lips together, you look away from Rafe to glance at the man beside you.  JJ was looking sullen but a trace of smirk is still on his lips, never really looking utterly hopeless.  Sometimes you wonder how he was able to master such a carefree façade. 

“I really had fun hanging out with you.”  You say sadly.  “You’re a good friend.”

He scrunches his face.  “Good friend.  Yeah.”

“JJ, come on.”  You laugh at his blatant display of dislike at being called a “friend” but he breaks into a smile.  “I really enjoyed being with you.  It’s just I don’t…It’s too soon and Rafe-”

“I know.”  He cuts you off, his eyes wandering to the man.  “He looks like shit.”  He mutters and you look over to see just in time Rafe doubling over, looking like he is seconds away from ruining the carpet.

Your back immediately leaves the sofa and you sit up straighter, ready to move whenever Rafe needs you.

“Y/N, he’s not a baby.  Let him take care of himself.”  JJ chuckles, making you bite your lip, still anxiously watching. 

Rafe looks like he’s about to collapse, he was clutching his head and grimacing in pain.  Soon enough, he was shoving people away and heading to the bathroom.

“I don’t know, J.  I haven’t seen him that drunk since…”  You squint at Rafe’ direction in the dark, trying to find a memory to match.  “I haven’t seen him that drunk.”

JJ’s brows slowly rise.  “Really?  Not even when his father found out he did drugs?”

You shake your head.  “No, not even then.”  You slowly rise from the couch and JJ lets you go. 

“Well, I suppose he can’t be left alone, can he?”  JJ smiles somberly and you return it apologetically, still thankful that he’s supporting you right now.

Your girlfriends however were not so keen on the idea.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Ladies.”  JJ starts, throwing you a wink.  “Have I ever told you about that time we fought actual gators?”

You take your time, heading to the bathroom.  Your usual caregiver spirit when Rafe is in need has been dampened and you’re not sure she’s making a recovery soon.

The music gets muffled the deeper you go into the dark hallway.  The entire house is still buzzing from the music of course but you no longer feel like the speaker’s up your eardrums.  And with every step you take, the more you hear.  You are careful where you step, making sure your feet don’t step on any creaky floorboards.

You stand there, face to face with the bathroom door, hearing Rafe being absolutely wasted.  And is he crying?  You bite on your knuckle, brows meeting just a little as you try to listen.

Quietly, you twist the knob open.  He was retching, big arms hugging the tiny toilet, his head almost all the way in.  You stand there, watching his shoulders shake.  His sobs sounded almost hysterical, ripping from his throat.

What has happened to you, Rafe?

“Rafe?”  You gently call his name and he turns to you.  His hand absentmindedly tried to flush the contents of the toilet, missing it multiple times.  You watch him sag, his entire body sitting on his ankles as he looks up to you helplessly.

“Hey.”  He drawls.  “Wha... wha' are you doin' here?”  He asks casually in a coarse voice he got after barfing his guts out.  His heavy-lidded eyes look up at you, watching you hesitantly walk towards him.  “Shouldn’t be here.”  He shakes his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Rafe.”  You say his name so gently, he closes his eyes.  He’d pay just to hear you say his name again and again.  “Are you alright?”  You ask and he looks up at you dumbly, mouth slightly parted before nodding slowly.

“Yes.”

You fish out your own handkerchief and run the tap over it, just enough to dampen the fabric.  “You don’t look like you’re alright.”  You smile, a hint of teasing on your voice and he scoffs.

“Why ask when you don’…don’t believe me anyway?”  He gestured stupidly with his hand and he stills when you grab the said hand.  He looks up at you as you wipe the sick off his arm.

“You drank too much.”  You mumble as you start to step closer to him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe at the corner of his lips.

“No, shit.”  He wanted to say but the words are stuck on his throat as he just stared at you, taking care of him, touching him, just looking at him again.  He drops his hands and his limp fingers rest on the cold bathroom floor.  He is feeling too much, how your ankles brush on his thighs, the warmth of your fingers, and the soft dampness of the fabric gliding on his chin.

Have you always been like this to him?

Rafe wonders if he just sat still while you tended to him before, would he have this sight of you all those times.  Was he so stupid he missed all opportunities to look at you like this?

“Come back.”

You pause.  “What?”

He shakes his head before looking at the pinstriped polo you are wearing.  His brows creased, teeth clenching in annoyance as he pinched the fabric.  “This…this is mine.  You’re wearin’ MY clothes while you’re kissin’ other guys!”  He fumes, hands clumsily tugging at your clothes that your knees almost buckle, your hand finding purchase on his shoulder so as to not fall.  “That’s fucking un…unacceptable!  You like ME!  You can’t go ‘round kissin’ other guys when y’ like me!”  He suddenly yells and your eye twitches.

Your finger jabs at his chest.  “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s glassy eyes widen as his breath gets caught in his throat.  Did you just…did you just curse at him?

“Fuck you, Rafe!”  You repeat in annoyance.  Blood boiling within seconds as you angrily run a hand on your hair, scoffing at the sheer audacity of this man to say those things to you. 

You glare at him again and he actually flinches.  “Don’t tell me what to do.  You have no right to decide for me.”  You angrily strip off the pinstriped polo, his head following your wild motion before you crumple it in a ball.  “This is your polo?”  You raise it and he nods hesitantly, still in shock at your outburst.  “Here!”  You throw it at his face and you watch it cover his head, his hands are sluggish as he slowly pulls it off. 

You’re heaving in frustration both hands on your hips as you look at his crestfallen face, bunching the fabric in his large hands.

“Then I can go kiss other guys now, huh?”  You say out of anger and you watch his shoulders sag as he brings his hands to the floor again, fingers twisting the fabric.

He looked absolutely wrecked and your heart starts to feel heavy again.  You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him stare at the floor.

“Why shouldn’t I be allowed to kiss other guys?  You made it clear that you don’t like me.”  His head shoots up when you say that.  “I’m not waiting for you forever.”

Rafe presses the heel of his palms against his eyes before he looks at you in agony, face all red, his bottom lip jutting out just the slightest.

“Y/N, please.”  He moves to you, still on his knees as he loosely wraps an arm around your thighs.  You looked up at the ceiling when he stared up to you desperately.  “’m sorry, please.  Don’t leave me ‘gain, please.”

You attempt to push him off but he hugs your thighs tighter, his head pressing on your stomach.  “Rafe, let go!”

“No!”  He sobbed, his shoulders shaking.  “You’re mine!  You like me! Not sharing you with that…that fucking pogue-”

“Rafe!”

He flinches again but he doesn’t respond, only hugging you impossibly tight.

“You have to let me go.”  You say more calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He shakes his head against your stomach.  You lean further against the wall, trusting it to hold you up as you surrender, sighing out your frustration as you rub his back, letting him cry on your stomach.

Perhaps JJ was wrong, about Rafe not being a baby.  You truly feel like you are calming down an overgrown toddler.  A toddler that fed on steroids instead of milk.  His arms are tightly wrapped around you, just allowing you to breathe and aside from that, you can’t do anything else.  Your free hand that didn’t get caught in his trapping hold, tried to soothe him, trying to tell him that you’re there, with him.

You run your fingers through his buzzed hair, feeling the heat and sweat cling on your fingers.

“You’re a mess.”  You mumble, a small smile playing on your lips when his shoulders eventually start to stop shaking.  “You got snot all over my belly, ugh.”

Rafe loosens his arms around you and wipes his nose, his eyes glaring at you for a moment.  You smile at him smugly as he gathers himself.  He clears his throat as he stands in front of you, eyes kept on the polo that he crumpled on his hand like a ball.

“Wanna wash your face?”  You giggle.

He glares at you again but actually does what you told him to and takes the mouthwash you casually hands him.  You nudge him with your shoulder to get him to scoot over so you can wash your handkerchief.  Rafe watches your hands get under the faucet, just calmly watching the water glide over your skin, delicate fingers wringing the fabric that you so gently wiped on his face a while ago.

“’m sorry.”  He slurred as he watched you tidying up.  “Was so stupid.  Sayin’ things that I don’t mean.”  He continues, eyes starting to get desperate as you just rifle through your bag, not even looking at him.  “Sorry for causing you trouble all the time.”  He follows you like a puppy when you move past him to head to the door.  “Please, don’t leave me again.”

You grip the doorknob tightly before it loosens in defeat.  Rafe’s eyes brighten up when you turn to look at him.

“Why do you boys suddenly become the most honest people when you’re drunk?”  You ask exasperatedly, also remembering JJ’s confession on the porch.  “But then again, you could just be spouting nonsense.”  You open the door this time but he puts a hand against it to close it again.

“I’m not.  Please!”  Rafe almost begs, his entire frame caging you against the door, his respect for personal space long forgotten as there’s nothing else in his head but to try and get you to understand, to believe.  His tongue is heavy and his head is murky due to intoxication, which made him all the more frustrated.

You press your lips together, startled eyes boring into him.  You have known that Rafe has an extreme and overwhelming side to him, his entire presence just smothering you in the best ways you can imagine.  But with you trying to hold on to the fragile thread of anger and stability, you decide to push him by his chest.  “Why don’t we uh…grab coffee?  Let you sober up?”

He runs a hand on his face, it’s becoming a habit of his when he’s around you.  “Fine.  But don’t disregard everything I said just because I’m ‘drunk’.  Please.”  He said the last word with emphasis, his eyes offering no bargaining, prompting you to nod.

“Alright.”

Rafe looks into your eyes for a couple more seconds, making you understand that he is not willing to accept a half-assed response and you need to take him seriously.  He slowly backs up, hands shoving into his pockets while you tongue your cheek, hesitantly opening the door for the both of you.

The blasting music thrums in your ear the deeper you get into the party, maneuvering your way in the sea of hormonal teens.  A hand wraps on your wrist and you stop to look who it was.

It was JJ, heaving.  He probably ran the moment he saw you.  “Hold on, you’re leaving?” 

Rafe was quick to pull your hand away from JJ’s hold, immediately squaring up.  His chin was titled in a challenge as he eyed the flowers and bows decorating the band-aid on JJ’s chin.

“Rafe, please.”  You beg, arms circling on his bicep to stop him from doing anything to JJ, who didn’t look the least bit afraid.  In fact, he was looking at Rafe in pure entertainment.  “JJ, I’m sorry.  I’ll just talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“No, you won’t!”  Rafe seethes but you only roll your eyes at him. 

Kissing his teeth, JJ nods.  “Yeah, sure.  Let me know if you need anything.”  He eyes Rafe one more time and smiles at you in his usual relaxed manner.  “I’ll tell your friends you left early.”

When you finally made it out of the crammed up beach house, you closed your eyes at the nipping sea breeze.  You can’t believe you’re leaving the party with the person you have been trying to avoid for weeks.

“Keys.”  You mutter and Rafe hastily digs through his pocket, his hooded eyes blinking as he tries to locate his keys.

Your deadpanned eyes watch him for a few more seconds before he finally passes it to you, along with the pinstriped polo, which you hesitantly take.

He felt weird, having to take the passenger seat, especially when it’s you with him.  Rafe gets in the car, his eyes on you the entire time you drive.  You’re not exactly acknowledging his presence in the car with you, despite his entire body twisted to face you, his head that is leaning back on the chair never turned to any direction but yours.  He didn’t even know you arrived until you were taking off your seatbelt.

Rafe follows you quickly, nearly tripping on his way out.  But he plays it cool, pulling his shirt down when it rode up.  He meets your eyes briefly in embarrassment.  This entire experience is ruining alcohol for him.

Even thinking about the mess he made in the bathroom, with you witnessing, made him want to smash every bottle that will ever grace his eyes again.  That shit’s evil.  Rafe blinks at the brightly lit convenience store, not yet able to process the colors of the different flavors of ramen and chips.  He closes his eyes tightly, nearly driven to overstimulation and seeks out a chair, collapsing on it as he attempts to massage away the bounding pulse on his temple.

He feels you place a hand on his shoulder and the scent of coffee fills his lungs.  Rafe looks at you briefly and the swirling liquid placed in front of him.  You sat yourself on the chair opposite his and your glossed lips wrap on a straw, sipping on your tall cup of slushie.

After muttering a quick thanks, Rafe picks up the coffee, tentatively blowing on it and watching the steam blow off in your direction before taking a sip.

Your cheeks heat up at the groan he lets out when he takes more sips.  His shoulders are slightly hunched and you quietly admire his physique as you continuously slurp, watching his intoxication being masked by caffeine with every gulp he takes. 

Realizing that you’re staring, your eyes slowly shift outside the glass, cheeks all warmed up.  Rafe sets down his coffee and just takes his time to look at you.  He does not know if it’s still the lingering effects of alcohol in his blood or the overly bright lighting in this rundown convenience store, but you look like you’re glowing.

“Y/N.”  He attempts to speak but you shake your head.

“Give it time, please. Coffee doesn’t magically cure intoxication, you know.”  You smile softly to reassure him.

Rafe smiles back before taking another sip.  He watches you turn to the road outside again.  There you were, in front of him again after weeks of not seeing each other, just sipping on sugar and ice as you swung your feet that were clad in babydoll heels, with pretty straps that he always found cute and alluring.  Despite the cozy choice of clothing, you never go without a statement piece.  

He steals another glance at your clothes, along with the pinstriped polo you decided to wear again.  He takes another sip of coffee.  “It looks better on you.”

You look down on your clothes, lips pressing together before giving him a curt smile.  “…Thanks.”

“Sure.”  He nods.  Both of you look at each other for a while, not quite certain what to do with the still tense atmosphere before simultaneously looking away, like a couple for teenager going on a first date, it’s fucking ridiculous.

Time passed with not a single word being uttered between you.  Rafe watches how the coffee stained a line on the cup every time he takes a sip, the liquid now cooled, and your slushie cup was starting to sweat and leave trails of water everytime you move it.  His eyes were starting to focus again and once he was confident in being able to speak without slurring, he cleared his throat to garner your attention.

“Listen.”  He begins but the words lodge themselves in his throat the moment your curious eyes flit to him, perhaps this was a bad idea.  He never knew what to say.  Rafe doesn’t know if he can last one conversation without offending you somehow.  “I know I hurt you.  And I know it wasn’t just that time at the party.”  He presses a knuckle on his lips to gather his thoughts.  “I always take you for granted, when all you ever did was take care of me.”

You cross your arms in an attempt to make yourself feel protected as you lean back, eyes avoiding him.

“Your kindness and efforts.  Your…feelings.  They were so easy to overlook when you gave them to me every single day without fail.”  He tries to reach out to you but stops midway and drops his hands on the table.  “I never knew what I had until you decided to take everything away.”

Your eyes sharpen and he winces at his careless mistake.

“I mean, until I finally succeeded in pushing you away.”  He reworded his sentence, making sure to pin the blame on himself instead of you.  He hated how hurt he made you feel.  He felt like shit.  He never cared when people called him an asshole or a psycho, but after what he did to you, he felt like every label given to him was all real, and this time, it hurt.

He had girls before, and all the wanting he can associate with them is the feeling of fleeting euphoria when they’re under him, that is all.  Rafe never missed anyone, or anything about anyone.  Until you came along.

Rafe found himself in the middle of the night, missing you calling him by his name.  He missed your smile and scent.  His cheeks suddenly go wild red when he remembers the mess he made out of himself when he got your shirt, one you accidentally left in his room, up his nose during those nights when the longing just beats him up.

“I regret everything I said and done.”  He says, trying to get back on track to apologizing.  “And if you want to be my…friend again…”  He takes a deep sigh.  “I’ll do better.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes shyly meeting his, and you uncross your arms slowly.

“You promise?”

Rafe nods quickly, a small smile appearing on his lips as his hand darts out to hold yours.  “Yes, I promise!  Just don’t shut me out again.”

Gently, you shift your hand to wrap around his and he gladly holds yours back securely.

“I’ll try to be less…controlling too.”  You look away.  “I won’t bother you as much and I won’t cling to you in parties or wherever-”

“I thought we’re okay already?”  Rafe was dumbfounded.

“We are.”  You say, equal confusion in your eyes.

“Then why are you still staying away from me after this?”  He asks in frustration.

Your lips part, trying to form words but his statement just muddles everything up.

“I…I just didn’t want you to get fed up again.”  You say quietly and he grabs both your hands this time, pulling them to his chest.

“Baby, I don’t care, just come back to me, alright?”  He says quickly, you don’t think he realized what he called you just now.  “I don’t care if you call me six times a day to argue that raisins do not belong in bread or if you hold my hand in every party we go to.”

The heat in your cheeks slowly travels to your neck.  “Rafe.”

“You can have me drive you around the island when you get hungry at three in the morning.”  He beams in a surge of confidence and affection.  “I’ll let you fix my clothes as it pleases you so much, slap as many hello kitty bandaids on my face as you want.”  He laughs, making you smile too.  “I-I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, just please let’s go back to how we were before, yeah?”  He presses a kiss on your knuckles.  “I don’t want to hear any of this plan you have.  I just want you with me again.”

At this point, there really is nothing you can say and you can only nod.  You are glad that Rafe is satisfied with that response.

After a few more minutes of you catching your breath in silence, you decide to call it a night.  Rafe, now sobered up, decided to drive, and let you enjoy the passenger seat like you always do.

Despite the conversation you had in the convenience store, both of you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re forgetting something.  Like there is something you are purposefully holding back from each other, and it visibly makes you antsy, Rafe more than you.

He taps his finger on the wheel, tugging at the seatbelt every now and then as you continuously shift your eyes from the road and back to the car interior.

When he finally pulls over in front of your gate, neither of you want to move, still waiting for that something to happen.  But as another moment passes, you realize that perhaps it’s time to leave it here for now, to take things slowly, see where it takes you.  But he isn’t sure if he wants that, to see you slip away again, like the finest sand between his fingers.

“Uhm…thanks for the ride.”  You make a move to open the door but Rafe was quick to lock it, making your brows meet in a soft frown.  “Rafe-”

He cuts you off by clumsily pulling his seatbelt off, cupping both your cheeks to smash his lips on yours.  It wasn’t careful nor romantic, just pure unadulterated need and impulse.  You can feel the tremble in each other’s lips, the fear that one of you might pull away, the fear of what comes next, the fear of not having the other’s love returned in the same intensity.

But as your breath mixes, your tears soaking each other’s cheeks, your body slowly melts into each other’s arms.  He was desperate, biting and sucking your lips, everything in his kiss wanted to possess you, making your chest tighten in having everything you ever desired at this moment.

Rafe pulls away abruptly, a thin line of spit still connecting your lips when he looks deep into your eyes.  “Tell me you still love me.”  He begs while he cradles your face.

“Rafe.”  You push him away gently but he presses his forehead against yours, his shoulders shaking. 

“Tell me, please.”  He squeezed his eyes, not knowing what response he would be receiving.  He knows he’d die if you reject him, with his soul open and bared to you in its most vulnerable form.

His eyes slowly open when he feels a soft caress on his arm and you’re smiling at him with your tears cascading down your face.

“I love you.”

It felt like Rafe had winter melting in the palm of his hand, giving birth to spring.  Whatever doubt and fear is replaced with nothing else but sweet sweet warmth.  He is being shrouded with undeniable assurance that made him feel invulnerable yet ironically, impossibly vulnerable.  He had nothing moments ago, and suddenly he got a taste of everything, all at once.  He has you.  Just as you have him.

He laughs and kisses you breathlessly.  “God, Y/N, I love you.  I love you, I love you.”  He litters your face with wet kisses, making you laugh, before he kisses your lips once more, his teeth nibbling on your kiss-swollen lip.  “Mmmh, did you get a new lip balm?”

You gently pry his hands from your face as you continue to laugh.  He meets your eyes with sheer adoration, head still trying to wrap around the fact that you are his girl.  His girl.  His girl.

God, he’d gladly die if you told him to, just to prove his dedication. 

“I love you.”  He whispers gently, intimately, vulnerably.

And with equal passion, you reply, “I love you too.”

Rafe has never felt this kind of happiness in his life, not once.  You are his natural high, the ecstasy he’s been chasing.  And now that he has you in his arms, he’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you there with him.

Not Your Girl • Not Her Man

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[larcenywrites]

Hey, I saw that you were taking requests for Kurt, and I have an idea that I would like you to write please. Can you do a Nightcarwler X Reader story where Kurt had a bad day from an unfavorable encounter from earlier that day from an anti-mutant crowd, which called him a monster and demon and other bad things, despite him just wanting to help people. Kurt is now feeling a bit depressed and insecure about his unique appearance. The reader helps reassure him that he’s beautiful and comforts him, and their bonding eventually escalates to NSFW stuff. I would prefer the reader to be of the male sex, but ultimately the reader can be whatever sex you decide. Thank you so much for your time 😊

(I’m sorry this isn’t funny-)

So sorry it took so long D: but I hope this is okay :)

What It Means To Be Human

Nightcrawler x M!Reader

Warnings: male reader but no pronouns used | unprotected because I’m always a slut | do I even have to say a little tail action?? It’s nightcrawler 😏 | some light oral | “somehow” I got into my tongue and spit kink a lil tiny bit sorry | porn with plot but at least the plot is loving on Kurt 😚

Word count: ~2,100

It was hardly late afternoon, and already the day had gone to shit. For a handful of people, that is, but unfortunately, that handful included your people and, more importantly, your person. Rogue had already told you about the angry mom of humans. The usual, as she'd typically describe it. But you knew that for Kurt, "the usual" was a little more serious than the term made it sound and a whole lot more familiar— Personal, even.

You quickly made your way to your bedroom, immediately noticing the lump beneath the sheets. You climbed into your side of the bed, lifting the covers to reveal the furball underneath. "You're in bed early," you comment softly, trying to keep a lighthearted edge to your tone. He didn't respond, but after a few moments of playing dead, he finally shifted, sifting up next to you and crossing his legs. Downcast golden orbs studied the sheets.

"You okay?" You ask softly, already knowing the answer. In his silence, you study his bare chest and low-waisted pajama pants, clearly drained from his earlier encounter.

"Yeah," Kurt eventually mumbles back. He turns to look at you, tired eyes studying yours, picking up that you already know. "It shouldn't bother me anymore," he deflects, looking down again.

With a sigh, you lean against him, not taking your eyes off him. "It's okay for it to bother you," you reason, leaning against him to be shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. "You don't have to be strong all the time," you continue. "You've had to deal with their name-calling for way too long."

"The name-calling I can handle," he quickly replies. "It's being considered less than human that gets under my skin," he remarks, tail thrashing behind him and resting around you. It was tempting to just tell him it didn't matter what they thought, but for someone like him, it unfortunately does matter. He's had to spend his whole life proving it just to continue helping the very people who ostracize him.

Wanting to take away from the somberness for a moment, you suddenly push a finger between his lips to press at a fang, making him open his mouth a little. "What, you're telling me these things aren't human?" You tease lightly, watching him shrug away.

"Those are probably the most human thing about me," he retorts, clearly trying not to smile as he looks down.

"Then maybe that's why they're not my most favorite thing about you," you tease back, making him snort softly. You study him quietly for a few moments before speaking again. "You know, if they gave you a chance, they would find that you are the most human of us all," you add on much more seriously, resting on his shoulder and watching his reaction.

"That's the issue," he replies somberly, resting his cheek against your head. "I don't think any of us are going to get the chance to prove that."

The statement hangs in the air for several moments. They would never understand what he's done to be like them, nor what he's been through to be just himself, and each time getting the same treatment.

"They know not what they do," he repeats a verse that has left his lips plenty of times, fingers rising to fumble with the silver cross that hangs from the chain around his neck. "That doesn't make it hurt less," he confesses.

With a heavy sigh, you lift your head again to look at him properly. "Everything that you are now is because you don't look human," you state bluntly but lovingly, bringing a hand to his cheek and tilting his face towards you. "And is exactly why you're beautiful," you add tenderly, making him look down shyly.

"I know what I am, liebe," he replies quietly, almost defeatedly, leaning into your touch with a soft sigh. "And what I am not," he continues with conviction, a hint of a double meaning behind his words and a gleam of determination in his solid yellow eyes when they glance back up at you.

You smile softly at him, rubbing your thumb over the fur of his cheek before tracing over his lips. He may, in fact, look like a devil, but he was a handsome devil— your handsome devil.

"I don't know," you start. "They might've been right about one thing…" you insinuate, a hint of suggestiveness in your tone and a mischief in your eyes that he knows well.

"Oh, the 'handsome devil' line again; how clever," he mutters sarcastically before you can even continue, glaring at you with a badly hidden grin.

"Oh, you like it," you retort as you lean into him with a mocking pout.

"I do," Kurt's low chuckle breathes against your lips after happily leaning in with you, the grin he'd been trying to hide now on full display. The soft fur on his face tickled your cheeks and nose as you connected in a kiss. Something short but sweet, loving but innocent. Just the human connection he probably needed after today.

With lips brushing and noses bumping, both of you simply rested against one another for a moment, letting him enjoy some peace of humanity with a soft sigh. You could practically feel his sly grin as he pressed a deeper kiss to your lips, his tail unfurling from your arm to curl over your leg. With your own knowing grin, you eagerly kissed back, playing with the broad tip of his tail.

Kurt teasingly bites into your bottom lip, dragging it with him when he pulls away just enough to let you see the mischievous gleam in his golden eyes and smirking fangs, challenging you to bite back. Shifting yourself to your knees, you plant a hand in the soft fluff of his chest while simultaneously diving into his neck. This time, you sink your teeth into him, still not entirely used to the feeling of fur against your tongue, nor his slinking tail around your thigh.

Lulling his head to the side to give you more room to ravish his throat, his tail tightens around your thigh in excitement, and hands find their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides with similar enthusiasm before wrapping his arms around you instead. His tighter embrace convinces you to fall with him. Right where he wanted you.

Despite his lithe form, Kurt easily rolls you both, switching positions to have you underneath instead. With his arms still hooked around your lower back, it was also his turn to sink his teeth into the crook of your neck, fangs pricking at your skin. You hum lowly and wrap your arms around his back, trailing over the velvety feel of his fur and playing with the longer curls on the back of his neck.

Without warning, he ground into you, making you hiss from the sudden friction. The sound spurred him on, deeply rolling his hips into yours in search of more. The rough fabric of your jeans was both frustrating and delicious, creating just enough tension to have you both twitching and humming in pleasure, but leaving far too much distance between your aching cocks. Yet, you continued, feeling Kurt's hot breath panting over your ear.

The strong hands on your back gripped onto your waist, sliding over your ticklish skin and riding your shirt up with them. He barely lifted himself, letting you take his cue to undress, hardly throwing your shirt to the side before that fluffy chest pressed against yours again. Lips passionately pressed against yours, with tongue tracing your lip and a hand sneaking down to the button of your pants.

You parted your lips only for him to pull away, sitting up to properly straddle you. Your hips twitch towards him in anticipation as he unfastens your jeans with a familiar precision. It's not long before you've both managed to shimmy the rest of your clothes onto the floor.

Now nude beneath him, Kurt eagerly flattens his tongue against your tip, fangs barely peaking from beneath his lips. At your low moan, he continues down your length, purposefully leaving behind a messy trail of saliva and licking back up to gently suck the head of your cock. He's just as sloppy, making sure to coat your length in his dripping spit and using his tongue to spread it.

You can't help but bury your hand into the soft blue and indigo hues of his hair with a soft groan, threading your fingers through his curls. Barely lifting his head enough to make your hand fall to his cheek instead, Kurt gives your palm the same treatment, licking over your skin with an obvious intent in his eyes, simultaneously hooking a thumb beneath the waistband of his pajama pants and awkwardly tugging them off. But there wasn't much time to mull over his graceless maneuver when his own hard length springs out.

As he straddles your waist again, you eagerly take his cock into your wettened hand, digging your other into the thicker fur on his thighs. His moans are soft, like the rest of him, letting you slowly jerk him off while he struggled to align himself with twitching hips. Peach fuzz tickles your thigh as that not-so-sneaky tail sneaks around your leg and tightens on cue with its owner as he sinks onto you. Your own hips thrust up to try and meet him, making the cock in your hand jump.

Kurt moans through bared fangs, caught between the feeling of your gentle touch circling under his leaky tip and heavier pressure filling him, involuntarily rolling his hips even while trying to adjust. The movement, or the lack thereof, left you just as tense and twitching inside him. Panting in frustration, you moved your hand along his shaft again, hoping to spur him on.

With another roll of his hips, he couldn't stop himself from practically grinding on you, lips parting as his gaze is drawn to where your hand pleasures him. He licks his lips at the sight, only moments later letting saliva drip from his mouth and into the base of his dick, making you curse under your breath as you spread it over his sensitive flesh.

Kurt plants his hands on either side of you, back arched and hips finally lifting. You both groan softly, slowly moving against one another. Your nails dig into his thigh and your hand on his cock struggles to match the slow pace. Desperate to chase after the feeling, it's not long before he speeds up, bouncing higher each time.

The long chain that hung from his neck dangled wildly with his movements, a hand coming to your lower tummy to steady himself a little and to brush his fingers over your skin. Lying your head back with a groan aimed at the ceiling, you peered down at him through your lashes, his parted lips panting and the thick curls that hung over his forehead softly bouncing each time his hips reconnected with yours.

The closer you got, the harder it became to keep a steady pace stroking him. With a whimperish moan, he shoos you away, taking his aching cock in his hands, movements desperate as he jerks himself off. You take the other furry thigh in your hand, holding onto him and watching closely. Kurt tenses around you and stops abruptly, working at his blush-red tip and obviously close. Just as desperate for more friction, you thrust up to meet his stilled form, making him moan loudly.

Keeping his hips in your grasp while you fucked into him, it didn't take much longer before he lurched forward, movements slowing as he finally came, dripping onto your stomach with a panted sigh that showed off his fangs. The sight had your own movements faltering, sporadically rolling your tensing hips against him as you released yourself inside him.

Kurt releases himself as you both still, hunched over you and squirming. You're both panting, your hands playing with his fur and his thumbs barely brushing at your sides. The constricting tail around your leg finally unravels itself as he lifts himself from you, falling into your side with his fuzzy cheek on your shoulder and knees drawn up against you. You quickly reached over to the nightstand for a few tissues, taking care of the pool of cum on your stomach.

With his tail curling over your waist once you settled again, he cuddles into you, kissing at your shoulder before turning to meet your lips. Entwined with you in the sunlit room, maybe this was all it took to be human. Something he didn't have to share, something he didn't have to prove. Somewhere where he didn't need to be anything other than loved.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared. 

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it. 

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact. 

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm. 

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

[run-clever-boy]

Hey! Could I request some Twelve smut? Maybe when he was blind/relying on touch a lot? Thanks in advance love you bye!

I have been wanting to write something like this for SOOOO long!! Thank you sm!!!! I’m so sorry that this took me forever to write, hope you are satisfied!!

also on AO3

Inch by Inch - 12th Doctor x Reader

Blind! 12th doctor x Fem!Companion!Reader

Words: 3,247

Summary: The doctor is having a tough time dealing with the complications of being blind. A companion of his and a very understanding reader is willing to help him navigate, but will he let her?

Warnings: Smut!! Minors DNI!!!, Oral Sex (Fem Receiving), Unprotected sex (0/10 do not recommend), Nipple play, dirty talk if you squint

You walked out of your room on the TARDIS as you heard some clambering downstairs. You assumed the doctor got into something he shouldn’t have and wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“Doctor! Wait a minute stay where you are! I’m coming!” You yell down stairs as you come running down.

You abandon trying to put on your t-shirt, considering he can’t see you anyway. You start picking up the pace in your bra and sleep shorts. You tried not to think about the fact that you would be so exposed in front of the man you’ve admired (More romantically than you care to admit) for years. It was the middle of the night after all, but you knew the doctor never slept.

You run into the console room to see the doctor surrounded by bits and pieces of some alien technology you didn’t recognize. What was most important was that he was lying on the ground, and you needed to help him.

You rush over and grab him by the arm to pull him up and onto one of the chairs surrounding the console. “Doctor? Doctor are you alright??” You say worriedly, checking over his figure to make sure he isn’t injured. “What were you doing up?”

“I’m fine, Y/n, I promise” He says, stopping your frantic hands with his own, smoothing over your skin with his own. “Even with the glasses, the depth perception just isn’t on point” He says, his hand moving further up your arm.

“I am getting a med kit, there is no way you haven’t hurt yourself by now” You say, trying to get him steady. Once he looks steady you quickly turn on your heels and hear an exasperated sigh behind you as you leave to get the kit.

You return just as quickly as you left, walking quickly to ensure he doesn’t do anything stupid. You see him exactly where you left him. You can see him lean back against the console, clearly exhausted.

“You there y/n?” He questions

“Any time you need me, I will be” you quip back. You take out the neosporin and bandaids you loaded up a med kit with and help him fix up the scrapes on his hands. He scratched those up most often when he would try to catch himself as he ran into items around the TARDIS, despite the amount of clutter you cleaned up for him.

You help him up onto a chair that sat near the console, grabbing onto his arm firmly for support. He settles in the chair and takes his glasses off, running his hands over his eyes. You can see just how exhausted he is. You know that time lords don’t need hardly any sleep, but you assume the blindness has been taking its toll on him.

“Are you alright now doctor?” You ask timidly.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to fuss over me. In fact, I truly hate it when people fuss over me. You worry too much-”

“I worry with reason, doctor.” You interrupt.

He stops for a second, and exhales. “But you shouldn’t have to” he says quietly. His voice is shaky and there was a different inflection behind that than you expected. He can’t look you in the eye, but you know it’s not just his sight that’s bothering him.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me, Y/n. I’m supposed to take care of you, that’s how this works” He replies somberly. He can’t look you in the eye but he somehow finds you hand and holds it in both of his own.

“Doctor you do so much, I can take care of you too”

He brings your hand up to his lips gently. He stands up and brings you up to stand with him. He runs his hand along the seat to find his glasses and puts them back on, hitting a button on the side that presumably helps him navigate.

“I appreciate your help more than you know, Y/n. I have been a burden and I know that, please don't protest that. It's not easy having to take care of a stubborn blind man."

You chuckle a little. There was no doubt that he was stubborn. Even more so now that he was blind.

"Follow me" He says, squeezing your hand and turning to go down the stairs and into the halls of the TARDIS.

"I feel like that should be the other way around, Stevie Wonder"

"Shut up"

You can hear his smile in his voice as he says it. He very carefully weaves in and out of the halls of the TARDIS.

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise" His Scottish accent putting emphasis on the word.

"Well aren't we 'doctor mysterio' today” You quip back quietly. He turns his head and gives you the ‘shut up’ look. (Well almost, the angle was a bit off but you can’t blame him)

He arrives at a dark blue door, with some gold circular Galifreyan details. You recognize the language after spending so many years traveling with the doctor. You’ve seen him write in it once or twice, and you always found it mesmerizing. He’s tracing the pattern on the door with his free hand and you can’t help but stare. He turns the door knob and opens the room then walks in with you still in tow. You are just now able to see the room and look around properly. It’s a bedroom with a large bed in the middle which looks like it hasn’t been touched. It’s perfectly made with TARDIS blue sheets. You turn to see bookshelves filled to the brim with books, records, CDs, and pictures lining every wall. More Gallifreyan detailing is on the ceiling and sparkles like stars in the night. The room takes your breath away. Then everything click in your brain as you turn to face the doctor.

“Is this… your room, doctor?” You ask tentatively.

“It is” He replies. “It’s hardly ever used, other than storage lately. Considering the whole ‘Time lords don’t sleep’ ordeal” He smiles.

“It’s amazing” You say in awe.

“I thought you might like it”

He unclasped his hand from yours and ran it up your arm. You couldn’t help but shudder at the action, but your attempt to hide the shaky breath you let out was futile. He ran his hand down your side in an attempt to be able to guide you around by having his hand on your lower back only to discover that your side was exposed. You chose this particular moment to curse yourself for not putting on your t-shirt before running down stairs.

His movements froze when he felt your skin beneath his fingertips. You can feel you cheeks heat up and it quickly spreads throughout your body as your embarrassment floods through you.

“I- s-sorry” you mutter quietly, looking at the floor and shifting uncomfortably. You are all of a sudden way too aware that his hand still hasn’t left your side.

“What for?” He says quietly.

“Not wearing more, I guess” You stutter through and start nervously laughing.

There is a silence between you for a minute when he suddenly moves his hand against you waist. He finds a good grip against your side and gently pulls you in front of him so he’s facing you.

“That’s no reason to be sorry, Y/n” He says quietly, his face close to yours. “The only regret I have is not being able to see you right now”

You freeze in shock for a few moments. You feel your breath caught in your throat. All you can focus on is how the doctor’s hand is trailing up your side and across your chest. His hand finally stops when it finds the side of your face and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. You stay there frozen, finally letting out the breath you were holding. He could hear the shaky-ness in your voice and smiled at you. He was nervous too, you could tell (As much as he tried to hide it)

Just then you felt him tug you closer and you feel his lips touch yours. You could feel the hesitation in his movements so you pressed back against him. You could feel him instantly relax and get more bold with you. You move your hands up the smooth fabric of his suit jacket and wrap your arms around his neck. The one hand on your waist pulled you to him and you could feel the fabric he was wearing against your skin. You gasp and part your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He felt like he was every where, just overloading your senses. You ran your hands through his hair, needing him closer. You two move backward until your back hits the bookshelves behind you. You wince slightly at the contact not expecting it. He breaks the kiss for a moment, taking a second to breath.

“Are you alright?” He asks, evidently out of breath.

“Yes, god yes” You say, equally out of breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this” it comes out as more of a confession than you meant it to be.

“I wish I could see your face, see your reactions to my touch” He says, bending down so the sound of his voice is in your ear. “But feeling you is incredibly worth it”

He kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He stops at your pulse points and sucks a hickey onto your neck and you use all of your self control to not let out the moans threatening to break free. Whimpers keep escaping as his lips work your neck and his hands are tracing your figure and exploring every inch of your body. Savoring every touch. He is running his hands and lips all over you as if to create a mental map of your body and memorize how you react. Certain touches leave you breathless, arching your back, goosebumps along your skin, and heartbeat skyrocketing.

“So responsive, love” He groans into your skin, hiding his cocky smirk behind explorative kisses.

He pulls you closer in an attempt to move to a different location, not that you minded. He guides you in the general direction of his bed, but stumbles as you both hit the edge of it. He uses the opportunity to wrap his broad hands around your waist, stroking your sides up and down from your ribs to your hips. He kisses you feverishly while he clumsily gets himself onto the bed and on top of you as you guide him. You run your hands up the fabric of his suit and gently guide the jacket off of his shoulders. He takes the hint and slips his arm out of it, tossing it carelessly to the side of the room, having no clue where it landed. You reach to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt while he pulls you closer to him by your hips. He helps you with the many buttons on his clothes in between his explorations of your body. You get everything off of his body and run your hands over the pale skin there. You can feel the roughness of him underneath your fingertips as you trace his body. He runs his hands wherever he can reach on you. From your neck, down your body, worshiping your hips and waist, and further down the run his hands over your legs. All he could want right now is to take all the time in the world to commit your every curve to memory.

His hands come underneath you and fumble around, searching for and then unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side. His lips leave yours for a moment and you almost whine at the absence.

“Show me where you want me”

His Scottish brogue is even deeper than normal. His breath is uneven and his attraction is evident within it. You know what he means now, he wants you to guide him.

You tangle your hands in his silver hair and gently pull his lips to your pulse point. He attacks the spot, licking and sucking hard. He moves just under your jaw and hits the amazing spot on your neck and a moan comes flying out of your mouth before you can stop it. He smirks into your skin as you mutter incoherent apologies. Ignoring your words, he puts more work into that spot, nibbling at the sensitive skin there which has you biting your lip in a failed attempt at concealing your whines. Your hips grind on nothing, begging for some sort of attention and the doctor presses his knee between your thighs to give you just that.

He glides his hands over your shorts and slips a finger into your waistband and slides the smooth material down your legs. You skillfully undo his trousers and he kicks them off.

You run your hands down his soft stomach and go to reach under the waistband of his boxers when his hand comes down and catches yours.

“You’ve done enough taking care of me as of late. Let me take care of you”

With that he resumes his kisses to your skin but then ventures them down your body. He roughly kisses the sensitive spots on your collar bone and then kisses the valley between your breasts. He searches for and then palms your tit, then kisses around until he finds you nipple on your other, taking it into his mouth. He licks over the hard bud lightly then puts a sudden but not unwelcome amount of pressure on it with his teeth. His other hand uses his fingers to roll your nipple between his fingers and pinches it allowing the very little pain to morph into complete pleasure. He switches his hand and mouth to give attention to both and you can barely think. Your breaths have run completely ragged and you can’t even bother to try and die down your moans. The whines escaping your lips go straight to the doctor’s cock and you can only imagine how hard he is for you. The inability to see you is only heightening every other sense he has and you are overwhelming them all.

He lowers his attention to your stomach, his hands running down the grope at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He can hear you, touch you, hell even smell you. All he wants to do now is taste you.

He runs his fingers over the cotton fabric of your underwear and you raise your hips involuntarily to meet his touch. He chuckles lightly at your enthusiasm and you curse him for his cockiness in your mind. He decides he’s wasted enough time so he slides your panties off and runs a finger through your folds. He groans when he feels just how wet he made you. He can’t wait any longer.

All of a sudden you can feel him everywhere. Licking stripes up and down all over you. Sucking your clit in his mouth. Sliding fingers around your entrance. It’s incredible and so much to take in at once. He has you bucking your hips into his hands and whining for him. He slides 1 finger into you. It’s just enough for you to squeeze onto. He continues his ministrations while curling that one finger to reach a spot inside of you that you had never felt before. Your eyes rolled back into you head and your back arched. You were so breathless even your moans had turned almost silent. He pressed his weight into your hips to stop their frantic movement as he added another finger which prodded at the most intimate areas he could possibly find. You didn’t even have time to think about the embarrassment that came with coming so quickly as you let out a desperate moan and your vision went blank. All you could feel was the white-hot sensation of the pleasure flooding through your every nerve. You could hear the praise and groans coming from the man you so desperately loved distantly as your consciousness came back to you. You didn’t realize that you were gripping his silver curls tightly as you came on his fingers. What you did see when you look down, however, was the Doctor licking his fingers clean with one hand and stroking his impossibly hard erection with the other.

This time you pulled him up and kissed his lips, desperate to taste yourself on him. He kissed you sloppily, his tongue sliding over yours and you biting his lip as he pulled back. You slid your hand into his boxers and grabbed his erection, pumping him slowly. His head fell onto your shoulder as he muttered a Gallifreyan curse.

“Fuck, Y/n. If you do that any more I won’t get through the night.”

You slid his shorts off his body and then wrapped your legs around his hips. You hooked your ankles into his back and pulled him closer. He hit your sopping wet entrance and a small whine escaped his lips. You reached between your bodies and lined him up with your entrance and pushed your hips forward.

“Take me like it’s the last time you’ll ever get the chance”

That was all he needed to kiss you fiercely on the lips and push into you, inch by agonizing inch. He bottomed out and waited for you to adjust to him. He felt like heaven, stretching you out just enough to where is felt like you were filled to the brim. You moaned at the thought and he took that as affirmation to start his thrusts. He hit the perfect spots in you and stroked every inch of you perfectly. It wasn’t long before the both of you were on the edge of complete bliss. His hips snapped with the fervor of a man much younger than him and his touch set a blaze on your skin. You had never felt someone pour so much into being intimate and it ignited a fire deep within you. He reached down and (with no vision might I add) expertly massaged your clit until you were writhing and screaming his name. The feel of you clenching around him had him gasping and stuttering out his orgasm quickly after yours, riding out your high to prolong this incredible moment. His hands still ran up and down wherever they could reach, but this time he hardly needed any guidance what-so-ever.

“If that’s what you can do without your vision, god knows what you could with” You joke, the words coming out breathlessly.

He pulls himself out of you and lays down at your side. “I don’t think I’ll need it”

“Why not?” You question curiously.

“Because…” He pauses to turn towards you and run his fingers down your torso. “As much as I would love seeing you under me, I can already tell that I’ve committed your every move, noise, reaction, and curve of your body to memory.” Sliding toward your ear as he says it. “I know you said to do this like it was the last chance I’ll get, but you greatly overestimate my self control if you think I can resist this for long”

You smile and lay your head down on his chest which is still heaving.

You couldn’t wait for him to explore your body once again, inch by inch.

[milliesfishes]

hello your writing is so beautiful and has deadass made me cry i love you so much !

could you write one about billy accidentally snapping you and feeling really bad about it when you get upset about it?

again i love you so much thank you for being my favorite writer!!

thank you lovey!! <3 (this took an angsty turn) 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓼𝓷𝓪𝓹𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

Silence stretched out across the room, doing a lap and settling back on top of you and Billy, sitting on the bed side by side.

You were staring at your lap, eyes wide and filled with tears. All you could focus on right now was not letting them fall. And you knew with one look at him they would come pouring down.

The thoughts swirling through your mind were panicked, and worst of all, uncharted. How could you have ever been ready for this? At your age, with your lack of experience, how could you have known love and new lust would lead to this result?

Your hand twitched, wanting to cover your tummy, but you resisted. The new life inside you was daunting, terrifying. You feared it, even though it was already coming to fruition. With this new knowledge had come improved vision apparently, because now the slight curve of your stomach was visible, your body having made room for the forming baby inside you without your knowing consent.

The news had stiffened you. It stitched a line between you and Billy, one that would leave your lives changed forever. Who knew one night could have such an impact on you? Suddenly you felt a thousand years older. Yesterday you had been so foolish, so naive.

Finally, Billy broke the silence. He shifted in his spot, turning his head to look at you. "Honey...this ain't your fault."

You looked at him somberly. "Right."

"I mean it, baby," he said quietly, reaching out for your hand. Grasping it in his, Billy squeezed your fingers. "I know you. I know you'll find a way to blame yourself whether it's really you or not."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. The only thought that turned the corners of your head and came back around had been that single one of guilt. You had made a choice, one that had lasting consequences. And now here you were, unmarried and pregnant at nineteen. You could practically hear your mother's voice in your head scolding you.

Putting your head in your hands, your fingers curled around your eyes as if wanting to tear them out. “What have I done?” Your words were dry and self-loathing, cursing yourself for what had happened.

“It isn’t ideal,” he agreed, the hand you’d dropped reaching up to rub your back. “But I don’t wantcha blamin’ yourself.”

“I was so stupid Billy,” your words tumbled out of your mouth like dominoes, a decrescendo nearly into tears, though you held back. “I was so stupid-“

“Wasn’t just you, baby,” he said, words bordering on firm. He hated it when you blamed yourself for anything. “I was there too.”

“But you didn’t-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head. “It was my job to make sure this didn’t happen.”

Billy exhaled once sharply, shaking his head right back. “Sweetheart. Ya can’t shoulder all the blame for this. I’m as much at fault ‘s you are.”

“I could have prevented it, could have stopped it…” you mumbled, ignoring his words. Anxiety coursed through your veins as you thought of what you could have done, inevitably leading to more anger at yourself for not thinking of it at the time. "It was a mistake."

Billy cupped your face in his hands, eyes solid, voice unyielding. "A mistake? Was it a mistake to love each other like we've always done?"

Devastation crept into your voice. "We weren't careful."

"And what do you want me to do? Regret it?" His words were a boy's but his promise was a man's. "I'll never regret makin' love to you. Never."

"But now we have this," you gestured at your stomach. "Billy...we're not even married. I'll be the town pariah if anybody finds out. I made a choice and now look where it's gotten me." Clenching your fists, your nails dug into your palms. "I failed you. I got too caught up in the moment and I wasn't thinking-"

Billy clenched his jaw. "You weren't the only one makin' a choice. I coulda stopped. Coulda pulled out. But I didn't. I know what it takes to not get you pregnant and I didn't do it that night. I didn't take care of you."

A chasm of sadness opened up in your chest. "It wasn't your job-"

"It was my job to protect you!" he snapped, face firmly set. "It was my job to make sure you were safe. If anyone's failed, it's me."

Your face faltered at that, and you drew back, eyes wide. He'd never used a tone with you before, always been gentle and kind. Fear flickered in your irises, and you could see that he noticed, because his face softened, and he ran a hand over his face, head bowed for just a second. Then he looked up, eyes subdued.

In all the time you'd known him, Billy had been nothing but gentle. He was dangerous to the rest of the world, but a haven for you. Aware of this, he'd separated the worlds of his work and his love with steady arms, making sure you never had to see a whisper of the way he made a living. But now something had slipped through the cracks. The rope of his patience had been pulled taut until it unraveled at your degradation of yourself.

You felt your lower lip trembling, and you folded your arms around yourself, his apparent anger the final straw. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks, and you sniffled to yourself, turning away from him.

Billy had always been self-aware, and you could practically hear him realize what he'd done. A hand touched your shoulder, and smooth, soft words drew from his lips. "Oh, sweetheart...angel, 'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap...'m sorry my love. I didn't mean for it to come out that way..."

You lifted your head slowly to look at him, the tension of the day and the suddenness of his snap weighing on you. It had broken you down into pieces at Billy's feet. But looking into his earnest blue eyes, he knew he'd stop at nothing to put you back together.

Holding out his arms, he whispered, "C'mere," and you fell into him, tears silently soaking his neck. He buried his nose in your hair, laying gentle kisses there. "'m sorry angel. I know better than to snap at m' girl."

You looked up at him tearfully, the other reason for your crying coming to light. "I didn't realize...I didn't even realize you felt guilty too..."

"I wanna protect you," he whispered, and you could see, hear and feel his sincerity. "And this...this puts you at risk. I don't wanna risk my baby for nothin'. 'Specially somethin' that coulda been prevented..."

Sighing softly, you clutched at his shirt, tears slowing down. And as you took in his words, you began to look at the situation from a new angle. A baby. Half of him, whom your soul was drawn to like a magnet, who you loved with all your heart, and half of you. And it was born of something so pure and wonderful, out of your shared love.

Now you didn't see a mistake. No longer was the child in your stomach a red tally marking an error, but a gift.

You reached up for Billy, kissing both his cheeks, and framing his face with your hands. Pressing your forehead to his, you murmured, "Billy..." You kissed his lips once, gently. "It's gonna be okay."

His eyes stayed open as you kissed him, a lost little confused look in them. "Honey?"

Picking up his hand, you put it on your belly, and something in his face changed. He hesitated, then splayed his fingers out over the space, rubbing it softly. The look in his eyes was tender, loving. He whispered, "You...?"

"I'm scared," you murmured, and he nodded, searching your eyes. "But...this is part of you, Billy. I..." An influx of love overwhelmed you, and you smiled softly.

In that moment you knew he understood. He knew you inside and out, and he could read you like a book. Billy's expression grew tender, and he leaned in, kissing you fervently. You melted into it like you always did, and his hand on your tummy slid to your waist, pulling you right into him.

He pulled back, resting his forehead to yours again. "It's you 'n me, sweetheart. You 'n me always." Now his eyes trailed down to look at your tummy, as if he couldn't believe there was a new life inside. "You 'n me 'n the little one."

You threw your arms around his neck, burying yourself into him. He kissed your forehead, murmuring, "We're gonna be okay angel. We're gonna be okay."

[hon3yyslvt]

The fireplace was lit. Your husband and you lay together on the couch, your head his lap as his sharp claws ghostly trace the definitions of your face, gently scraping crimson against your features, you lay quietly.

He stare somberly, eyes meeting your empty ones.

If only he had been able to gaze so lovingly before you would leave this realm.

A true shame your beauty went to such waste.

Truly a shame.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Such a Lovely Face Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

~1.5k words

Synopsis: After a bad day, you find yourself sitting on a rooftop to calm down, and end up encountering Hobie Brown. The two of you have a nice conversation.

TW: Mention of police brutality, explosions, slight implication of the reader having depression/being depressed

A/N: I tried something new with the lyrics being a part of the story, so if it doesn't really work I'm sorry 😭. I'm really trying to accustom myself to new writing styles cuz I'm still fairly new to fanfictions, so lmk if it doesn't make sense or could be better!

____________________________________________________________

On a dark desert highway Cool wind in my hair

You were sitting atop one of the many rooftops in Camden, London, quietly humming one of your favorite songs to yourself as you looked out into the distance. The cool breeze was refreshing compared to the stuffy atmosphere of your tiny apartment downstairs, and you decided you'd stay up here on the rooftop for as long as you could, until of course you were caught by the police for breaking the curfew. It had happened before.

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim I had to stop for the night

You hugged your knees to your chest and rested your chin atop them, breathing in the night air softly, the moonlight shining onto your face as you looked up at the stars. But you could barely see them, the entire sky covered in a thick layer of fog, gases emitted from the thousands of horrific factories littering the streets of London, courtesy of the one and only President Osborne, a hopeless tyrant with nothing better to do than pollute.

There she stood in the doorway I heard the mission bell

"What're you lookin' at lassie?"

You swiveled your head around, heart beating out of your chest as you stumbled back, nearly falling off the rooftop, searching for where that voice had come from. "Hey, don't worry. I'm not a cop" A man appeared from the shadows with a wink, wearing a bright red and blue costume, completed with a leather jacket and skinny jeans on top. The one and only Spider-punk.

"Whatcha doin' up 'ere all my y'self at this time of nigh'?" He asked, plopping down next to you, mask lit up by the light coming from the night sky. "O-oh just hanging out" you stammered, a bit taken aback by his cool, playful nature. You weren't expecting to meet the vigilante at this time, and you definitely weren't expecting him to take a seat next to you.

And I was thinking to myself This could be heaven or this could be hell

"I heard you singing somethin'." He leaned in toward you slightly, head tilted sideways as he looked down at you. "What song was 't?" You fidgeted with your fingers, sitting in a criss-cross position and keeping your gaze on the distance in front of the two of you. "Hotel California" you said quietly, a smile appearing on your face as the lyrics crossed your mind. "Its a nice song". He nodded, looking out at the distance like you were. "Tha' it is."

Then she lit up a candle And she showed me the way

"You didn't answer m'question though" He said, looking back at you. "What're you doing up at this time of night all by y'self?"

"I was just thinking."

"Thinking 'bout what?"

"Everything."

There were voices down the corridor I thought I heard them say

He blinked. "You gonna keep acting like a priss or are ya gonna tell me?" You shot him a scowl. "There's just a lot going on in my life right now, okay? Besides, I'm sure you don't want to hear about it. There's probably plenty people out there that you need to save" you said somberly, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked away again.

"Look 'ere peng," He said, snapping his fingers at you. "I'm London's friendly neighborhood Spider-man. I'm not just here to save people. Whatever you 'ave to say, I'm here to listen too."

Welcome to the Hotel California

"Really? So I can ask you anything?"

"Anything."

A moment of silence followed, a moment you took to think about what your question should be. And then it hit you.

"Why do you do what you do?"

He looked a bit taken aback by this question, the white eyes of his mask widening slightly. "Jumping right into it, are we?" He asked with a soft chuckle, looking down over the rooftop. His fingers fidgeted, picking at a rip in his jeans as he thought up what his answer would be. He hadn't been expecting you to ask a question that would require such a complicated answer.

"You did say I could ask you anything..." Your voice was slightly cocky, enjoying how tongue-tied he seemed trying to give a response. The question may have seemed innocent, but you were genuinely curious.

Your life wasn't terrible. You came from a fairly well-off family, you attended a good college, you lived in a clean neighborhood in a nice apartment. But you were so sad all the time. There was no reason for it, it was just as if you didn't understand the point of anything you did. Like nothing mattered. Like you didn't matter.

How was this man supporting the weight of the world on his shoulders without voicing a single complaint? How could a person be so strong? Why was he so strong?

"I do this-this Spider-man gig-" He gestured as his suit, "-because if I don't, nobody else will."

He looked back over at you and noticed your head slightly tilted as if you were waiting for a longer response. "Thats it. Tha's my reason."

"Oh?"

He stammered for a moment, gears in his head turning as he tried to explain what he was trying to say. "Look, I'm the only Spider-man in this city, right? If I'm gone, what'll happen to the people I'm s'posed to protect?" He pointed out towards the distant lights of the inner city, "The people in the slums, the punks and protestors of London, I'm their voice." He sighed softly, looking up at the stars, the light making the eyes of his mask shine brightly, an almost ethereal glow emanating. "I have to do this. I have to fight for these people. I'm their only hope."

Such a lovely place Such a lovely face

"I see." You said quietly, a slight smile spreading across your face. He wasn't as perfect as he seemed. The poor guy seemed pretty stressed from the look of it. All that pressure..., "I was expecting you to say it was for the freedom. Or the fame." You added in a slightly teasing tone, nudging his shoulder gently to snap him out of his somber trance.

He jumped slightly at the touch before a grin returned to his face. "What fame? Half the city hates me and the other half think I'm a saint." He shook his head. "I'm neither."

"You're not a saint?"

"I'm not a hero."

You were a bit taken aback by this declaration. "What are you talking about? If anyone's a hero it's you." you said, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckled softly, looking at you, the white of his mask boring into you. "Guess you're part of the second half then."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Mate, you're the sole reason London's not up in flames at this moment. That seems pretty heroic to me."

"I've been the reason for a lot of other things going up in flames, though" he countered teasingly, leaning in towards you slightly, that playful tone returning to his voice.

"Yeah but that's all Osborne's crap. Nobody's complaining about it."

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

"Hah. Damn right."

Another moment of silence followed, the quiet tension almost deafening. "Not as perfect as you seem, hmm pretty boy?"

"You think I'm pretty?" He gave you a sly wink. "You haven't even seen my face. But you're probably right about the perfect part." You smacked his arm playfully, laughing as you did so.

You hadn't expected your spirits to have been lifted so easily, but he just had that effect. A can-do attitude and a cocky tone could do wonders for a bad day. "So? Did your friendly neighborhood Spider-man save yet another boring night?" He asked smugly, tilting his head and putting his hands behind him to support him as he leaned back. "Honestly? Yeah. Thanks." You said, offering him as fist bump. He took it, gently bumping his suited fist against yours and making a pop noise with his mouth as he pulled it away.

Suddenly, you heard an explosion from the distance, probably the result of yet another instance of police brutality, Osborne's pigs being well-known for their trigger-happy fingers and exclusively deadly weaponry. There wasn't a day gone by where something didn't get blown up or a group of people wasn't killed. But that was just life in London. "I suppose that's my cue to leave" Spider-punk said, hopping up and stretching out his arms, cracking his neck to the side. "It was nice meeting you, Ms...?"

"Y/N"

"Y/N." he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "Lovely name for a lovely face."

You shook your head at him. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" You asked, suppressing a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around, darling." And he was off.

Anytime of year You can find it here

"See you." you whispered as you watched him swing away, his guitar slung over his shoulder, just barely holding on. You smiled to yourself before you got up, ready to go back inside. You were feeling much better now.

You knew that next time you were feeling down, you'd be sure to call him over. After all, what's the point of having a friendly neighborhood Spider-man if you can't make use of him?

____________________________________________________________

Taglist: @s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe

[hp-hcs]

the middle — sweetie pie! theodore nott x gn! grieving! reader

prompt #11 of the slytherin boys x reader thingy i made

11) Theodore Nott + angst + fluff + The Middle — Jimmy Eat World

why is this man so babygirl

requests open

the request asked for afab she/her but i wrote this entire thing and only just now realized there’s literally nothing in here that makes it gender-specific so- hopefully that’s fine 🫠 (a couple mentions of reader being smaller than theo though)

TWs: heavily implied background character suicide, background character death, non-sexual nudity

i wrote this plot mostly for myself, but you can read it too i guess

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Based on these lyrics from Jimmy Eat World’s The Middle:

‘It just takes some time/ Little girl, you're in the middle of the ride/ Everything, everything'll be just fine/ Everything, everything'll be alright, alright’

~~~

You slam the door to your dorm room shut, one hand pressed over your mouth and the other wrapped across your stomach as you slide down the back of the door. Sitting on the floor in your dark, cold dorm, the dam of tears finally breaks, quickly spiraling into chest-heaving sobs.

The only sounds are the shuddering gasps of air you draw in before another round of keening cries claws it’s way from your throat.

How could he?

How could I not have noticed?

Your hands tremble.

Did it hurt?

You can see your skin prickle with goosebumps, but you can’t feel any chill.

You’re just numb.

Through your cries, you can hear a tentative knock on your door.

“Go away!” you shout, voice cracking.

“Y/N?” A voice—your boyfriend, Theodore—calls out softly. “Can I come in, darling?”

“No! Go away!”

Theo is quiet for a moment before his muffled voice drifts through the door again. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

You can hear him hover by the door for another moment before he leaves. Scrubbing your hands over your face, your eyes red and bloodshot, your skin sticky with tears, you drag yourself off of the floor and collapse into your bed. You start sobbing heavily into your pillow, curling underneath your blankets and shaking with sobs.

True to his word, Theo doesn’t bother you. He just lets you be. At some point, however, you do hear a muffled alohamora and the quiet sound of your door opening then closing again.

You roll over to face the door with a scowl and an order to leave me alone, but instead see no one there except a new addition of a plate and bowl on your desk.

He must’ve brought you dinner.

The smell of the slice of freshly baked apple pie wafting over to you is tempting, but even the warm cinnamon and sugary crust seem lackluster.

You roll back over.

~~~

You wake the next morning to Theo crawling into your bed quietly, laying down next to you and looking at you with those lovely tea-with-cream colored eyes. He says nothing, but brings a hand up to cup your cheek, stroking over your cheekbone with his thumb. You break, mournful sobs wrenching themselves from your throat. Theo slides his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, gently pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. He shushes you softly.

“W-why di-d he do i-it?” you stammer out between cries and heaving sobs. He just shakes his head.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he says softly, somberly. “I just don’t know.”

“I sh-should’ve n-noticed.”

“Hey, no. Don’t blame yourself, baby. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

You press your head further against his chest, hiding your face in his shirt. He tightens his grip around you and starts combing his fingers through your hair, shushing you gently and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

Eventually, your sobs die down, him still petting your hair soothingly. After a long moment, punctuated only by your occasional sniffles, Theodore sighs.

“Baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” he swipes his thumb under your eye, wiping off the now-drying tears. You sniffle once more before nodding, your lower lip trembling.

Theo slips out of bed, tucking the blankets back in around you, and pads off towards the bathroom. A few seconds later, you can hear the water running as he starts a bath. He pads back in, hovering by the bedside before suddenly scooping you up.

You squeak in surprise, clinging onto his shoulders. He just carries you into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter. You pout at him, shivering in the slight chill. He mock-pouts back at you, mimicking your expression playfully. Theo stands between your knees as your legs dangle from the counter, before tugging gently at your rumpled tie.

“Can I take this off, baby?”

You nod slowly, beginning to unbutton your uniform shirt to help. He knocks your hands away to do it himself, helping you out of the rest of your clothes while keeping his eyes respectfully averted.

He lifts you off the counter and sets you on your feet, holding your hand as you step into the bath and sit down. He starts to leave when you lean over the edge of the bathtub and catch his sleeve.

“Stay? Please?” You plead quietly.

Theo’s face softens as he shuts the door, turning back to you. He tugs off his shirt (a nice sight), then kicks off the rest of his clothes (an even better sight). You scoot forward in the tub so he can climb in behind you, settling down with his legs on either side of you.

Theodore gently tugs your shoulders back so you lay against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. He kisses the side of your neck softly.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he mumbles against your neck, his thumb gently rubbing your side, along the bottom of your ribcage.

You sigh and lean further back into him. He says nothing, just holding you. Just being there for you.

He helps you dunk your head under the surface, then massages shampoo into your hair, his nails gently scraping your scalp. Theo helps rinse out the shampoo, handing you the bottle of his favorite soap as he does so.

You lather your body, the warm scent of vanilla and sandalwood being a nice, familiar comfort. When Theo’s finished washing your hair, he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and clambers out of the bathtub. He helps you out, wrapping a fluffy towel around you and drying off himself.

Theodore gives you one of his t-shirts, which fits more like a dress, and a pair of his plaid pajama pants that you have to cinch tight around the waist in order for them to fit. When you’re both dressed, he scoops you up again and carries you to your bed, dumping you onto it and joining you as you burrow under the covers.

As you curl into his side, he wraps his arms around you again. Theodore says nothing, just letting you think and grieve.

It’s enough.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i am not doing okay 🤠👍

not edited, written while i was sprinting to a lecture on the complete other side of my college campus <3

US National Suicide and Crisis Hotline: 988

Trevor Project Hotline: 1-866-488-7386

Trevor Project Textline: Text START to 678-678

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

[helaintoloki]

hi can you do a ben hargreeves x reader where you comfort him after a mission because you know how he doesn’t like to you use his tentacles and how feels like a monster. Just major fluff I miss ben

a/n: i love writing ben fluff your wish is my command anon <3

warnings: brief mentions of blood, lots of comfort and fluff

Blood cakes itself into the crevices of your finger nails as you diligently scrub the metallic scented stains off of Ben’s favorite sweater. The sound of the running water from the sink fills the somber silence as the boy sits quietly and watches you work. He hasn’t said a word to you in over an hour, but you know better than to push him. This isn’t the first time Ben has sought out your company after a miserable day, and you surely doubt it will be the last.

You’ve lived across the street from the Umbrella Academy your whole life, and ever since you were five the Hargreeves have always been your closest friends. Despite their lives being full of heroism and extraordinary power, they enjoyed the normalcy of your life and relished in being able to live vicariously through you. They loved to hear you recount your day at school or your trip to the local mall; they asked about a million questions regarding your family and what it was like to have a real mom and dad. You were their window into the real world and the person that could keep them grounded even on the toughest days. As a result, whenever one of the children was having a particularly rough day they’d seek solace in the refuge of your bedroom.

And that’s exactly why it didn’t surprise you to come home after school and find Ben waiting awkwardly in the center of your room as he tried his absolutely best to avoid getting blood on your carpet. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know why he was here in the middle of your bedroom, and you didn’t press him for details as you immediately got to work cleaning the mess.

After some time you’re able to get his sweater perfectly spotless and hang it to dry before joining your friend who sits somberly upon your bed. He’s too ashamed to look you in the eye, but he doesn’t push you away when you carefully wrap your arms around his figure and pull him into your chest for comfort. Out of all the Hargreeves siblings, Ben seeks you out the most, so you’ve come to learn that all he usually needs is a soothing hug during times like these. It isn’t long before his shoulders quietly begin to shake in time with his sobs, his fists grabbing handfuls of your shirt to ground himself into the present as you reassuringly rub his back.

“You had to use your powers today,” you prod gently, though your words come out as more of a statement than a question. You already know the answer based on his demeanor, but you feel this is something you must voice aloud anyway.

“I’m a monster,” he cries miserably into your chest prompting your heart to ache painfully in response. You hate that he sees himself in such a way; Ben is perhaps the kindest boy you’ve ever met, and you wish he could view himself through your eyes and realize just how special he is in spite of his abilities.

“You could never be a monster, Ben,” you assure him with a tight squeeze before pulling back to see him eye-to-eye. “Every day you and your siblings fight to keep the world a safe place. You are so selfless and kind and important, and the portal in your chest doesn’t change any of that.”

“Is that really what you think?” He utters meekly, sniffing back his remaining tears as he slowly loosens his death grip on the fabric of your school uniform shirt.

“I would never lie to you, Ben” you reiterate with sincerity in your tone. You offer him a kind smile and use the pads of your thumbs to wipe away his tears before confessing, “I love you too much to do that.”

His breath hitches softly in his throat at your words, and he’s quick to swallow down his nerves before stuttering out a rushed, “I-I love you too.”

Your room grows silent until the only sound that fills the space is your quiet breathing. A look of understanding is shared between you then, and now it is Ben who pulls you into his embrace for the tightest hug imaginable. While he had once feared having you anywhere near the monsters’ den, he now held no trepidation at having you so close to his chest. He loved you, and you loved him in spite of the thing he hated most about himself, and in the safety of your room he could finally feel whole and at peace with his flaws.

Ben will always come to you in search of comfort, and you will always be there to give it to him.

[secretsofblackthornhall]

Emma to Cristina

Dear Cristina,

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I realize the message I just sent you probably didn’t make a lick of sense, so after you’ve read it, toss it and read this. I was in kind of a hysterical state when I wrote it — I’ve been wanting to tell you all about what was going on with Mina being kidnapped for days, but I couldn’t. Then, when I could, it all just kind of poured out. Again, sorry!

It was awful not being able to say anything to you about what was happening. I’ve always hated politics, as you know—but however unusual your (and Mark’s) position, the Seelie Court would certainly consider you part of Kieran’s retinue, and we were expressly forbidden from contacting either Court about the fact that Mina was kidnapped right out of her bedroom here at Blackthorn Hall. And we obeyed to the letter.

So, it turned out the person who’d spearheaded the kidnapping was Mother Hawthorn, the nursemaid to the First Heir, who chose to marry a Shadowhunter. She’s had a complicated relationship with Shadowhunters, especially Herondales (who DOESN’T have a complicated relationship with Herondales, I ask you) ever since — and now she was demanding to see Kit if we ever wanted to get Mina back.

Nobody wanted Kit to do it, even though everyone was desperately afraid for Mina. But he was determined. There was no stopping him. So arrangements were made through a bunch of faerie go-betweens for Kit to meet Mother Hawthorn. She had demanded a rendezvous near river water, so we went down to the Promenade in Chiswick. There’s an itty bitty park there, and a little bandstand. We all — me and Julian, Tessa and Jem and Kit — walked down there, pretty quietly and somberly. Tessa kept stroking Kit’s back, and it was clear she was trying not to cry. Jem looked like he wanted to kill someone. Kit just looked determined. And Jules — well, I’ll get to Jules.

We stayed some distance away while Kit crossed the dry grass toward the bandstand. As he approached, Mother Hawthorn came out of the trees, holding Mina, and started walking toward him.

Jules and I both tensed up, in case either Jem or Tessa made a break for the baby. We wouldn’t have blamed them, but we knew they couldn’t be allowed to do it – Kit had to be able to try to get Mina without a violent fight. All I can say is, you can kind of see how much they’ve both been through and endured over all the time they've been alive. They clutched each other’s hands and neither of them moved, even though you could see how desperately they wanted to run to their children. It was an incredible display of control, and heart-breaking too.

Kit and Mother Hawthorn came together in front of the bandstand. Of course we couldn’t hear anything of their conversation, but we could see that Mina immediately put her arms out for Kit. Kit tried to reach for her, but Mother Hawthorn held up a hand. She clearly wouldn’t give her back, and they started arguing. I could tell how angry Kit was, even though he was trying to hold onto control. He kept shaking his head no over and over, almost every time Mother Hawthorn spoke.

Anyway, after a couple of minutes of that, Mother Hawthorn started to laugh. She looked over — she clearly saw us and didn’t care — and snapped her fingers. Kit was flung to the ground; he rolled over and came up on his feet, but by then black vines were whipping up out of the ground, slashing at him, winding around his legs. Mina was screaming so loudly we could hear her.

“That’s enough,” Jem snarled, and started across the street. But Julian put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and we all stared at him — you know I have utter faith in Julian, but for a moment even I wondered if he’d gone crazy.

And then. Then there was this huge noise. I thought it was a helicopter at first, or maybe a bunch of helicopters, but then I realized no, the sound was stranger than that — it was hooves, beating against the sky. They passed over us and—it was Gwyn and Diana! I mean, it was the whole Wild Hunt, there were a couple dozen of them, some on horses, some on winged creatures I’d never seen before. But in front was Gwyn, with Diana on another horse behind him, her hair streaming out behind her.

Diana swooped down and grabbed Mina right out of Mother Hawthorn’s arms. Gwyn was right behind her, and seized up Mother Hawthorn in one arm—that guy is, uh, pretty strong I guess—and kind of slung her over the back of his horse. It looked pretty dangerous for Mother Hawthorn but you know, not a lot of sympathy for kidnappers here.

Diana swooped (the Wild Hunt does a lot of swooping, as you may recall) over to us, and gently handed Mina off to Jem and Tessa. Then Diana winked at us and rose back into the sky, and she and Gwyn and the whole rest of the Hunt ascended faster than I would have thought possible. I guess they had to get Mother Hawthorn away from us, which made sense. Anyway, they disappeared into the clouds and were gone.

I have to say, Diana’s wink was pretty badass. It made me miss doing badass stuff, a little. I think I’ll take Cortana out back tonight and seriously behead some weeds.

So anyway. Kit was running back toward us, and Tessa was crying in relief and Jem was staring at where the Wild Hunt had disappeared. Mina, of course, was fine. She kept saying, “Horsies!” which was hilarious, and then Kit got there and started fussing over her, and Julian and I stepped away to give the four of them space for their reunion.

Julian had one of those Looks on his face, and I had a hunch. “That was you, right?” I said. “You contacted the Wild Hunt.”

He shrugged. “Mother Hawthorn said not to contact the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, but the Wild Hunt is neither. They don’t swear allegiance to anybody.”

“Neither does Mother Hawthorn,” I said. “So it was like, ‘Wild fey, come get your wild friend, she is getting too wild?’”

“Something like that,” he said, and his voice was casual but I could tell he was pleased with himself. And all right, fine, I was pleased with him too, and I told him so.

On the way back to the house we asked Kit what it was Mother Hawthorn even wanted. He said she wanted to tell him he was the descendent of the first you-know-who (I know Kieran has told you something about Kit’s faerie heritage, but not all of it, and most people don't know) and that she had come to take him to live in Faerie where he belongs. He said he tried to make it clear that he didn’t want to live in Faerie, that he was satisfied with the life he had (although he kind of looked over at Jem and Tessa while he said it and I think satisfied is maybe less embarrassing to say than how he actually feels, which is much better than that). She just kept telling him it was his destiny and his duty, his fate would come for him soon enough if he didn’t bend to it, blah blah faerie stuff, you know how they are. (Uh, no offense if you’re reading this too, Kieran.)

I don’t think he was telling the whole truth, though, because Mother Hawthorn went to a lot of trouble just to send a message like that. I mean she could have put that on a postcard. It wasn’t anything Kit didn’t already know, basically. I am sure there was more she said that Kit didn’t want to share — I could tell from his expression. I hope he’ll tell Jem and Tessa, when he’s ready. At least we can be pretty sure Gwyn will make sure Mother Hawthorn stays away from him  — it’s one less thing to worry about.

That’s about all the news from here, and I’m so relieved to be able to share it with you finally. I guess if Kieran needs more information he should reach out to Gwyn; I’ve told you pretty much all I know.

Take care, and talk to you soon, and love to K and M!

Emma

[willowsages-blog]

public restaurant: Dbf Sebatian Stan x female reader

summary: against your better judgment, you somehow falter and let Sebatian, your dad's best friend, do what he will with you at dinner, right underneath your parents' noses.. without your father finding out

warnings: swearing, exhibition, public fingering, daddy kink, dbf.

"Stop it, we're in a nice restaurant." You softly smack his hand from traveling to your inner thigh, mumbling your words in a cruel manor.

"I don't really care," Sebastian glides the tips of his fingers up your leg slowly and somberly, resting his big hand severely close to your aching heat.

"Well, I do care.." Once again, you remove his warmth from your own, humiliated that the softest touch of a man could make it so difficult to focus.

"And just because my parents are in the restroom, doesn't mean we can mess around, Sebastian." what if someone finds out looking around trying to see if your parents were close by especially your father would go crazy if he saw the two of you together close.

"They're probably fucking." Blandly, he says, staring at you with an ornery glint in his florescent eyes.

"Gross." You blow a disgusted huff through your teeth, watching your parents emerge from the back of the building, looking pure as ever.

"If it were up to me, I'd have you taking my cock in the bathroom too." His words slipped right down through you and caressed your arousal with his grueling words, forcing an unwanted, tainted red to spread among your cheeks like wildfire.

"You shouldn't say things like that.." Wary, you kept your eyes lowered, fully ashamed of the affect he had now bestowed upon you.

"Flustered, my Love?" He gave you a convincing look of concern, but he had "arrogance" written all over his face, settling his damned hand atop your knee smoothly.

"Y'know, you shouldn't wear this," He pulled the small, delicate strap of your dress off your shoulder, "Makes me want to ruin your nice little dress.."

"Stop, Sebastian..." You pull the loose strap back up to its former place, grimacing once his hand crawls up the slit of your dress and settles against the molten cove, he calls his own.

"Stop what, Y/N?" He shifts his eyes on yours, raising a brow in question. "I've hardly laid a finger upon you.." He curled his finger under the silk fabric of your panties, massaging your little rose bud soft and nice.

You fall silent to his wishes, eyeing your parents who had made a stop at the bar and were laughing with another couple while you sat there, a mistress to whatever Sebastian decided to do.

He rolled your clit between the pads of his fingers as you let your head fall back slowly, chewing on the pillowy softness of your bottom lip to suppress your pleas for more.

"Sebastian.." He slid his long index into your pulsing folds, and you wrapped both of your hands around his bicep,

anchoring to him as he deflowered you amongst the eyes of the public. You struggled to keep your legs still from under the table, and his pace of pleasure quickened.

Softly, you whimpered through your lips, undeniably hushed by his arousing acts of unbidden desires.

You squeezed your thighs together, whilst enveloping his hand at your very center. It was terribly hard to keep quiet, and even Sebastian struggled with the want to praise his little princess for doing so well.

"Such a naughty girl," Sebastian chides, watching you fall apart so delicately, amidst the oblivious beings that scatter the room. His eyes travel down the lengths of you, the sore throb in his cock swelling each time your thighs shook around his hand.

He pumped his thick digits slow and masterfully, while sweat dotted your brow, sweeping your hair with a gleam.

Your chest fell rapidly, and you felt the overwhelming sensations of his languid touch begin to brink at your nearly come orgasm.

, please.” Involuntary bucks broke from your hips, and you let your head fall to his shoulder, a cascade of whimpers and cries quietly evading your wordless mouth.

“Go ahead, princess, come on my fingers. Let everyone see how messy you are.”

His lips moved against your ear, and you couldn’t help but free yourself from the bondage wrapped around the pit of your stomach in several knots, and he unwound everything single one of them with ease.

Careless of what eyes could be scouring you, you let your body rattle through your orgasm, coating his fingers with your juices and an unapologetic moan emptying from your lips with passion.

It felt so good.

You sigh as Sebastian removes his fingers from you, hazily watching as he slips them in his mouth unbothered.

You let your breathing smooth back to normal, eyeing him with the same lustful desire you withheld still only minutes ago.

Confident, you led your hand right over his hardened erection, sliding your palm tenderly against the noticeable indent in his trousers. Sebastian gave you an evil look,

dismissing whatever silly little idea you had in your mind. He swept your hand away, intertwining your fingers together instead.

“Not now, baby.” Concern lathered his voice and the both of you looked up, watching your parents make their way back to the table you all were sharing.

Though Sebastian would stare with intent, you kept your eyes lowered, ashamed of the escapades that went on right under their noses.

"Oh honey, what's gotcha so wound up? You look like a tomato." Your mother, bright as always, ponders aloud, making you shift your eyes in her direction.

"It's really hot in here, Mom." You fan your hands at your face, Sebastian's shit-eating grin in your peripheral's.

"Well, maybe you should cool down with some desert! I'm sure a little ice cream and pie would help you out." She widely smiled, taking her former seat in front of you and signaling a waiter over. You were going to decline your mother's suggestion, but she looks so happy, and pie sounds just too good...

He stands from his seat, yea do you mind driving me home were right beside each other I just think Mom and Dad would like to have a little more time to themselves, Honey are you sure' No you say it no biggie I'm little tired and I'm sure Sebastian wouldn't mind,

bidding your parents goodbye and forcing you to do the same. You walk beside him through the restaurant, confused but nonetheless glad that you didn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of knowing what the both of you had done.

“What the hell was that? You frown as the two of you exit the restaurant, met with the humid air that engulfs your bodies tightly. Sebastian grabs your hand firmly, coyly pulling you into his hard,

“And I want a taste of that pussy, been craving it all night.”

[tatterings]

Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 11 - A Fertile Flower of Hope

AO3 LINK HERE

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin

Rating: Explicit for the full work, this chapter is E for everyone.

Tags/warnings: Mention of sexual slavery.

Word count: 8,000 (this chapter)

Header art by @solmesia.

Work below the cut as well!

As the door opened, a slender hand thrust into the room, accompanied soon after by a loud thunk onto the floor below - Astarion's drowcraft armor. The door opened wider, creaking on its iron hinges, permitting the entrance of Jaheira. She was an imposing force, a hero of Baldur’s Gate, and though Astarion was not one for hero worship (besides, perhaps, Drizzt Do’Urden), her sheer presence oozed ‘respect me’; even when she barged in rooms essentially unannounced.

The vampire slipped from Halsin’s arms and turned to face the High Harper, taking a moment to compose the sheepish expression he would hate for her to see. Though Jaheira was no young woman anymore, her vision was as sharp as a panther’s prowling on a hunt. When Astarion met her eyes, Jahiera's expression was mixed. Her silver eyebrow arched in suspicion but also playfulness, and her wrinkled hands were perched on her hips.

 "When you both caused a scene a bit ago, this popped out of thin air, right onto the war table. I suppose it is yours?" She said in her thick accent, gesturing with a wave towards the armor. "Plenty of poisons and daggers. Astarion, you may be a  man after my own heart," she said, chuckling to herself.

"That would indeed be mine," Astarion said, crossing his arms with a huff, feigning dissatisfaction in the high Harper's approval of his well-stocked weaponry he kept close at hand. "But rather rude of you to insist was our fault for causing the scene."

Jaheira merely smirked and shrugged, "It is all the same. Regardless, you may resume your…activities" her words trailed off as she waved her hand and waggled her fingers in their direction, before turning on her heel and closing the door. Astarion turned to face Halsin, the tips of his ears flushed, and both the men laughed quietly to themselves over the silliness of the intrusion, the shattering of the tension which had their nerves tied in knots after their run-in with Raphael.

Astarion huffed a sigh and picked up the armor gingerly to don it. He patted about his bracers and the chest piece, verifying all his hidden daggers were still there. Gods bless the Drow for making armor with so many wonderful hiding spots for knives and poisons and other handy little accouterments that never failed to give him the upper hand in battle. He felt better with his armor on. No one needed to see the carvings on his back, to perceive him laid bare, exposed. To know about any poems or curses, or how he wanted to feel the wide, hot press of Halsin's hand across his back.

He cleared his throat softly, looking up at the druid, whose expression was one so full of... something. Tenderness perhaps? Curiosity? Either way, the soft way that he gazed at Astarion was almost unsettling.

"Well. Shall we.. get on with it? Do whatever needs to be done to help the boy?" Astarion asked, tilting his head as he spoke, studying the large man beside him. No need to dwell on the outburst nor Raphael nor infernal carvings. There was work to be done, and bastards to hurt. He was in a vindictive mood, feeling as though he had been flayed by the cambion for the world to see.

Halsin nodded somberly, and opened the door, gesturing to Astarion to go forward first. Astarion appreciated that the druid rarely questioned him when he wanted to move on to another topic.

***

The day had been full already, between Raphael’s appearance and his brief respite in Halsin’s’s arms, and yet it was only mid-afternoon. But mid-afternoon in these cursed lands was just as dark as a starless midnight. The Selunite priestess Isobel had provided a blessing to them earlier, barring the need to carry a moon lantern or torches to navigate the endless shadows. Still, Astarion wished he'd brought one all the same. Not that he was unnerved by the dark, since darkened alleyways and dimly lit taverns were his only companions for 200 years. And this magical darkness, though it was much heavier than a moonless night, opaque and unseeable, even with his darkvision - wasn't as unnerving as the concept of Halsin truly comprehending, perceiving those scars that lay underneath the circular keloid-scarring on his back.

They were close to where Halsin had last seen flowers in the shadow lands, and although the curse seemed lighter here somehow, shadows still lurked in the edges of the vision. Different shadows lurked in the periphery of Astarion's mind. His mind replayed on a loop the memories of Halsin’s tenderness and care in their… intimacy - Astarion hesitated to call it lovemaking - and the druid’s protectiveness when he had been stripped bare by Raphael. Both times was as though Halsin had held a torch to the scarred, dark insides of Astarion. While it had brought him warmth and comfort at the time, recalling the inescapable vulnerability of the moments they shared made his muscles tense and his stomach coil tightly. Astarion longed for a torch for the simple fact that he would prefer something to hold and grip onto, without cutting crescent moons into the palms of his hands as he clenched them into fists.

Halsin now was fully aware of all his scars, now that he had seen the physical ones. The ever-observant druid had already detected, as if he could smell them, the deeper and arguably more inescapable ones in his mind that he himself hated to acknowledge. It nagged at the back of Astarion's mind, lingering like a headache that throbbed despite all the herbs and potions one could take. Would Halsin still want him, once his own problems are resolved, and the scars of the shadows are lifted from this land and the druid’s deliciously strong-beating heart? Would he still want to deal with Astarion's scars - no, his wounds, for they still hurt him on a level far beyond his skin - after completing his 100-year quest to cleanse the shadows?

Astarion was skeptical that the answer could possibly even be "yes". If it was, Halsin was the most noble of the biggest fools. The vampire was lost deep within his thoughts when the sound of a child's laughter ripped him from the fog of emotions. Although, as Astarion heard it again echoing in the distance, he realized it was almost like a child's laughter. It had something deeper in it, a mixture of the sharp grating of steel on steel and the wail of a rabbit being crushed by a predator’s jaws. But it was still a laugh, and it seemed to echo around them. Only after swiveling on his heel, dagger in hand to survey his surroundings did he notice a small tiefling boy, whose head popped up over the windowsill inside a decrepit house.

Astarion hadn't even noticed the house, so lost he had been in his thoughts, his eyes cast low watching the ground beneath him. But the dilapidated house was rather large for the area, despite falling apart. The only life, if it was truly alive, was the boy peeking out at them from the paneless window. The vampire drew up beside Halsin, who had frozen in his tracks, and nudged the druid slightly.

Halsin had seen the blonde-haired boy long before Astarion had. He was staring at him, his thick bushy brows furrowed deeply as if in discernment. His lips were pursed, the lines on either side of his mouth etched deeply with concern.

"That’s him. Like an echo of Thaniel, remolded by the curse," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. “We need him, if we’re to put a stop to all of this." His words were under his breath, unintelligible by the boy, who emerged from the doorway of the ruined shack.

Astarion couldn’t hide his shock, his scrunched nose and narrowed eyes once he got a better look at the boy. Though still a child, he had been twisted by the curse, from the tips of his curling horns to the blackened and gnarled claws at his toes. It was so tragic that Astarion nearly laughed. A child. A picture of innocence. There was no justice in this world, truly.

"Thaniel?" Astarion asked, looking mostly at Halsin, but jerking his head of silver curls towards the boy. He slipped the dagger back into his drowcraft bracer. Sadly, not all problems can be cured through stabbing, he was learning.

"My name is Oliver. Not Thaniel," pouted the boy, crossing his arms and stamping one foot. Either dust or shadow spiraled into the air with the motion - Astarion wasn't sure which. It unnerved him, as the motes swirled around the boy’s body.

"Okay, Oliver," said Halsin, crouching as he stepped closer, his palms low to the ground and open - as someone would approach a fearful dog in an alleyway. "I am Halsin. I'm a friend of Thaniel's, and I think Thaniel was your friend too. Would you like to see him again? Play with him again?" Astarion's ears perked up at the slight crack to Halsin's voice as he questioned the boy. His soft, warm voice had an uneasy edge to it. An undercurrent of pleading, begging, that was so unusual for the typically stoic druid.

The boy growled and balled his little hands into fists at his side, shadows swirling behind him. Astarion eyed him down the bridge of his nose as he looked on. Could spirits be manifest by his very will alone?

“No!," Oliver shouted, stamping his foot into the ashes again, "Why should I go back to him? He abandoned me! But here... I’ve made a family, and I can play all the time! Just leave me alone." His words were a jumble, so fast in his squeaky voice, echoed by a deep monstrous growl that seemed to come from the shadows behind him.

"What a temper this little brat has," Astarion muttered to himself, sneering at the child. He was dirty, looked full of mange, and frankly too far gone to help. He was thankful Halsin didn't hear him - or didn't act like he did, anyway, and that Halsin knew how to handle delicate situations and people with smokepowder bombs for hearts. The boy paid Astarion no mind, and glared daggers at the druid who inched ever closer. Halsin had drawn so very close to the boy, within an arm's length. He kneeled and leaned onto one knee to remain at eye-level with the child. 

"Oliver, nobody is making you leave. This is your home. But it is dark, empty… lonely," Halsin's voice dropped an octave lower at the last word, and if Astarion wasn't mistaken, nearly seemed to break with emotion. The druid cleared his throat, and continued. "I know your pain, I truly do. Thaniel is my friend also. I played with him, and he was ripped away from me, same as for you." 

The boy seemed intent on Halsin's words, his eyes' eerie glow flickering with emotion. It was a stark contrast against his pale skin as the boy’s face contorted in multiple different ways over the next few moments. He seemed hurt, then confused, if the vampire were any judge of body language, and the cloud of thick tension settled between them all seemed to lighten. Astarion was agog at how Halsin knew exactly what to say in what moment. It was inarguably impressive. The boy remained silent, watching Halsin like the cornered dog, unsure if the hand reaching out towards it would feed it or beat it. "But you need not be alone any longer," Halsin said, continuing with the same tender tone, a soft smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, "You need not invent friends. Thaniel is back, and is real. He is waiting for you."

Astarion stood silently, watching the boy. Waiting for his decision. He heard sniffles and little whimpers coming from the boy before Oliver finally peered up at Halsin, his glowing eyes brimmed with tears… and the faintest of smiles on his face.

"Fine, I’ll do it. it might be nice to be with him again," Oliver said, still with a hint of a pout. But now, his words lacked the echoed edge of the shadows. In fact, the whole boy lacked shadows overall, and had begun to glow a soft golden-green. And had also begun to levitate. His ruby eyes darted between the boy and Halsin, unsure of what to make of the scene, until Oliver disappeared in a dazzle of gold.

When Halsin turned to face Astarion, his smile was so bright, that the pale elf felt his expression alone might radiate enough joy to banish the shadow curse. The vampire tried to compose his face, to twist it from an expression of being completely perplexed, into one more neutral. Either way, Halsin didn't seem to notice; he was too busy nearly launching himself at Astarion. Both his large hands gripped onto the vampire's arms, gripping them firmly, giving them a little squeeze. Astarion couldn't help but grin back at the druid, whose smile was, quite frankly, contagious.

His grin was interrupted by the press of Halsin’s lips against his, and the pull of his body to Halsin’s bulk. Astarion kissed back tentatively, a bit confused but pleased nonetheless to be a recipient of Halsin’s affection despite the druid being so preoccupied by Thaniel and this boy recently. After a few exchanged breaths and gentle nibbles to Halsin’s lower lip, the druid pulled away and beamed down at Astarion.

"It's done at last," Halsin said, his voice ebullient with joy, "Soon the land will be unshrouded. With the oak father’s blessing, the shadow curse may soon be no more. Come, let us check on Thaniel and see how he fares." 

Astarion was pulled into another bear hug, his face pressed to the cool leather of Halsin’s armor. He couldn't nod or shake his head in agreement or disapproval, with how tight of a hug Halsin had pulled him into. He was thankful that the thick muscle of the druid's chest and his armor obscured his lopsided grin.

******

Halsin was disappointed, but not surprised, that restoring Oliver and Thaniel together did not result in an immediate end to the Shadowcurse. Rarely in nature were things so easy to rectify; balance was something that was not easily attained, nor easily broken, nor easily restored.

As Thaniel had stirred, he had described to Halsin and the rest of the party how an anchor still held the shadows in place. Most of their excitement had faded when he revealed that the anchor itself was Ketheric Thorm. Nothing good comes easily, indeed, Halsin thought to himself bitterly. Even getting honey requires the risk of a few bee stings. 

Still, he couldn't help but argue with the insistence of their group - starting with Karlach, echoed by Wyll and Gale, and later agreed to by Lae'zel and Shadowheart, that they should take the evening to celebrate Thaniel's recovery and the opportunity that is so tantalizingly close. Astarion, always one for luxury, had also immediately echoed the sentiment of deserving of a little treat.

Halsin couldn't disappoint the party with his nagging concerns; in the realm of shadows and fight against evil, every little victory should indeed be appreciated and celebrated. He'd offered to speak to Jaheira to get the Last Light Inn properly prepared for the celebration, and had left prior to any of the other adventurers. It was only a half-lie, because it would be prudent to inform the Harpers and others to expect their ragtag crew of adventurers. Being the bearer of good news was also always welcome, and he was sure that the Harpers would appreciate having a morale boost. But mostly, Halsin suspected that Jaheira could provide aid for some additional tasks he wanted to complete; he would also need solitude to do so.

***** Halsin's head jerked towards the entrance of the Inn as he heard jubilant chatter echo from outside. Karlach had arrived, he presumed, and was proven correct when she rushed into the inn with a cry of "Cold ale for all!", arm linked with Shadowheart. She had her tail wrapped around the wrist of a sheepish, blushing Wyll behind her. Lae'zel followed the three with an expression less severe and uninterested than typical. After her strode in Gale with his typical good-natured cheer, waving to Jaheira and the others. Astarion took up the rear, ending the party's entrance with less boisterousness and more subtlety. The adventurers had gotten the camp tidied up before joining Halsin; after several rounds of ale at the Inn, and a likely hangover, they wouldn't want to deal with it later, that was for certain.

Halsin had plenty of time for both of his side-tasks before nestling into the corner of the inn that appeared much like a library. One of his side-tasks had included acquiring a book regarding infernal pacts. Jaheira and her Harpers were clever and studious, and an old dusty book on just that topic was available for the druid to borrow. He hadn't intended to make a fuss of looking into the topic, but the choice was taken from him as soon as he felt Astarion lean over the armchair in which he had settled. The vampire's cool breath lingered on his cheek, and Halsin tilted his head gently to press his forehead against Astarion’s jaw. A slender finger came down on the tome and slowly slid across the lines as, Halsin assumed, Astarion read over his shoulder.

A scoff from the vampire ruffled his stray hairs, making them fall into his face.  "Halsin, you’re not reading that on my behalf are you, darling?" Astarion said, nearly spitting his words as he’d shot upright after skimming only a few sentences. He placed his hand on his hip and sauntered over to sit in the unoccupied armchair beside Halsin, separated only by a tiny round table on which he placed a glass of wine. He arched an eyebrow at the druid, studying him down his nose. 

Halsin shot him a crooked grin, shrugging his broad shoulders at the question. "No matter how long I live, I will always strive to remain a keen pupil. Only a fool would think he could absorb all knowledge of the world. There is always more, infinitely complex," he spoke with his hands, gesturing towards both the book and Astarion for his next words. "Additionally, it behooves us to prepare for the challenges ahead. Both yours and Wyll’s… Infernal dealings are one subject of which I have not studied deeply,” he admitted with another shrug. He had spent too much time trying to rectify his mistakes with the Shadowcurse to fuss with fiends in the hells below. 

And he currently wanted to spend his time on a more worthwhile pursuit - chatting to Astarion. Halsin's fingers slid up the edge of the book and folded the page in half to mark his place. His hand jerked away as a small droplet of red wine landed on the page.

Astarion had sputtered in his wine cup and tried not to choke. Halsin's head tilted to the side as he watched the vampire's vexed expression. Though Astarion didn't need to breathe, this was the second time Halsin had somehow made him choke on his wine.

"Halsin, what in the hells are you doing?!" Astarion gasped, his voice shrill in shock. One slender hand was pulled to his chest, as though he were on the verge of heartbreak. "I was going to let it slip that you're insisting on doing research on my behalf, but I cannot abide by you defiling a book!" He clicked his tongue in disappointment, and reached towards the tome in Halsin's hands. The druid snapped the book shut and set it beside him on the armchair, chuckling to himself about Astarion's dismay for dog eared literature.

"Ahh a purist, are you Astarion?" he said, winking at the vampire, whose face flushed with a tinge much like the color of the wine he sipped again, glaring at Halsin over the rim of his cup. The druid just grinned wider, his crows feet deepening, and continued. "I must admit, books that show no shelf-wear are visually appealing, and the smell of new books is intoxicating…but do tomes bearing visible markings not intrigue you more than those unmarred by use?" 

Astarion lowered his wine glass a bit, narrowing his eyes to study the druid, and seemed unsure of what Halsin was trying to get at. Or, Halsin figured, perhaps still offended by the dog eared page. "But think of it, Astarion, a dog-eared book means it has been well loved. What information did it share to their reader that was so valuable? What is the story contained within, and even is the story of the book itself? Just as a person's skin bears sun spots and scars, books marked by their readers have fascinating stories to tell,” Halsin explain.

Astarion had perched on the edge of his seat, leaning heavily on the armrest with his chin in his hand. He had sat quietly during his monologue, one silver eyebrow arched up to his coiffed curls. He had even taken another sip of wine to keep his sharp tongue busy on something other than a retort, Halsin assumed. The beautiful elf was always quick with a witty remark; his intellect was something Halsin greatly admired. The vampire set his wine glass back down and brushed at his trousers, flicking away at imperceptible dust that Halsin didn't see at all.

"Well," Astarion started, his words heavy with his unmistakable pouty tone, "you always have a wise response to excuse your habits." Astarion crossed his arms, tapping his fingertips on his biceps, watching carefully as Halsin picked the book up and opened it back to the page. "Still, I knew you had plenty of faults, Halsin," he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, "your stubbornness. Your bleeding heart. But mutilating the books?”

The shadow of a grin crossed Astarion's face; his words were heavier with tease than the threat of a tantrum. It was endearing, and it made Halsin's heart soar to see some playful banter come from the vampire, who just recently had been so distraught after the run-in with Raphael.

Halsin ached to make the playfulness last. He licked his finger agonizingly slowly, and flicked the book to the next page, dog-earing that page as well. He grinned wickedly and watched the vampire from the corner of his eye - blood was rising to his face, but clearly not out of anger. This side of Astarion - the baffled, caught-off-guard side - was delightful, and Halsin enjoyed finding it. The sound of his calloused finger on the book’s rough parchment was accompanied by an overly dramatic harrumph from the pale elf. 

"Well, did you find anything out, at least, in your tome-torture?” Astarion said, with very little venom, but his eyes glittering with curiosity. He brought his wine to his lips again and drained the glass.

It was Halsin's turn to sigh, and he snapped the book shut again, laying it flat on his lap. "Very little, unfortunately," he admitted, angling his broad body to face Astarion better. He shook his head, his auburn braids falling in front of his shoulders, whispering across his collarbone. He noticed how Astarion's eyes constantly shifted, exploring his body, his surroundings. They darted back up as Halsin continued to speak. "I wish there were more information on the topic, but devils aren’t in the habit of bestowing insight into their trickery."

Astarion scoffed again, and waved his hand as if dismissing the idea. "Of course not," he said, his eyes rolling once before settling back on Halsin's face. The vampire, too, had angled his body in the armchair and had leaned forward on the armrest, his hands dangling over the small table between them. One hand fidgeted with the empty wine glass, a long nail clicking as it flicked back and forth over the rim. The vampire had many nervous tics, small things he did when deep in thought, or when anxious. This particular moment seemed to be full more of  anxiety than his own mulling, but Halsin didn't feel it appropriate to disturb Astarion's thoughts. The vampire finally spoke again, after a moment of silence which hung heavy between them.

"I appreciate you. Looking into this, I mean," Astarion said quietly, raising his eyes to Halsin's and peering at him through pale eyelashes. "It's a cruel irony, you know. Having been given my freedom by a parasite, given hope that it might not turn me into a monster… and then to learn that my mas-... Cazador might have etched something even more nefarious into my very body. And the only way to learn more about it is to work with a literal devil." His voice was soft, low, and almost seemed to break at times. It lacked any of his ebullience or drama that he so liked to sprinkle into his speech.

Halsin sat patiently, nodding while listening, studying Astarion's expression. It pained him to see how pained Astarion was as he described his exhilaration of freedom that so soon fell to agony, then hope, then complete uncertainty. And how his former master still haunted him. Halsin frowned, his lips pursing tightly together. Of course Cazador plagued the vampire’s mind. It had only been a handful of tendays since he had broken free from his imprisonment. Halsin swallowed at the thought, choking down his own anger at the inhumane cruelty of slavery which Astarion, and many others, have had to bear.

“Though it is distasteful to deal with fiends…finding out more is an opportunity that you must pursue," Halsin replied, his kind hazel-green eyes meeting Astarion's. He reached out, slowly, and curled his hand under the vampire's, encircling it and rubbing his thumb softly over the top of Astarion's hand. He cleared his throat, steeling himself for a level of vulnerability and honesty that he had not shared with anyone in over a century. “I too have had the unfortunate experience of being at the mercy of someone else.”

'Unfortunate experience' was a misnomer, Halsin knew deep down, because merely recalling his imprisonment made his stomach lurch. And yet he had told himself it was a youthful misadventure for decades upon decades to avoid deeper reflection. Until discovering so many parallels between his past and Astarion's. His thick brows knit together as he pondered on how to explain the whole escapade. Lost in his thoughts, he was unable to see how Astarion's eyes had widened, his brows raised. Unable to realize that the pale elf's cool grip on his palm suddenly tightened, fingertips pressing firmly on his hand.

Halsin nodded a few times as he allowed himself to creep into the deep recesses of his memory. He hardly noticed how he had inhaled and held his breath to steel himself against the memories themselves until he began to speak.

"I was a foolhardy young druid at the time, intent on seeing the beauty of the Underdark's otherworldly fauna and subterranean glow for myself. The botanical illustrations truly did not do them justice, I’ll admit,” he smiled softly at Astarion, recalling one of the only positives about the journey. He cleared his throat to push down the lump he felt forming there. “In my explorations, I had wandered too close to one of the larger Drow cities and…" his voice trailed off, but his mouth was slightly open as he looked for the best way to phrase the predicament he was in for years. "I found myself in the position somewhere between a guest, a prisoner, and a consort of a noble drow house for a time. The house matron took an interest in me and the patron also. They saw me as a…novelty."

Astarion's eyes narrowed at Halsin's expression and words. "Rarely do the drow have guests, darling. Do you care to explain further?" His words were minced, as sharp as the daggers he hid in his drow-crafted armor. The air between the two was palpably heavy, as Astarion seemed to pick apart Halsin’s words with surgeon-like precision, digging deeper into the meaning behind them.

The druid's throat bobbed as he swallowed, thinking of how to phrase it most carefully. It had been a trying time, for him, as a youngster. Once in which he feared for his very life. It was perhaps the most dangerous and unpredictable few years he'd ever experienced, and yet, he realized, he'd been shoving it to the back of his mind and classifying himself as a 'guest'. He realized how his jaw had begun to ache, so intense was his frown.

"I was chained in their bedchamber for nigh on three years," Halsin explained, his eyes darting away from Astarion's briefly, before meeting again for his next words. "During that time, I did what was necessary to survive." The vampire's eyes widened, his porcelain brow cracking as his expression twisted into something like pity, if Halsin had to place the emotion. He nodded to himself as he recalled the memories, the sights of his time trapped in the stalagmite prison of the drow matron. 

"The preserved skins of surface elves hang on the walls of noble Menzoberranzan homes for display as trophies. I did not intend to add a bear skin to their collection," Halsin said, shrugging as if the weight of the memories was on his shoulders, as if they did not burden him. He liked to think they did not; they didn't affect his current day-to-day existence, so the experience must not have been too bad, he had told himself for over a century. Certainly they did not haunt him as severely as the shadow curse.

"So you were a slave," Astarion said, his expression unchanged, "used for their perverse pleasures." The pale elf sat so rigidly he could have been made of stone. With how cool his hand was, Halsin could have believed he was indeed carved out of alabaster.

"I… cannot argue against that. For two centuries I've thought of it rarely, whether that was intentional or not," Halsin said, his lips thinning in another frown. "I feared for my life and, lacking freedom, I was indeed enslaved to my masters." His voice was softer at the end, lighter, as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

The pale elf's expression softened, his brows knitting upwards in what Halsin assumed was curiosity. "However did you manage to escape Menzoberranzan? Let alone find your way from the Underdark?" Astarion asked, his voice lacking its usual teasing or sarcastic tone. He seemed genuinely intrigued, leaning towards Halsin further. He seemed enraptured by Halsin's story, unaware of how his nails pressed into Halsin's large hand. The druid didn't mind, and gently squeezed back.

"Patience, mostly. Biding my time. My moment eventually came, when some rivals of my hosts sought to unseat them. In the midst of the fighting was pure chaos, and in that moment I took my chance," Halsin looked at Astarion, his expression more severe and serious than the vampire's, for once. "I never looked back until I breathed fresh air again…and I never learned what became of my masters." His large shoulders lifted and dropped again.

Astarion hadn't seen his shrug most likely, as the vampire's eyes were downcast, darting back and forth, as though he were formulating a conversation in his head. Or perhaps simply deep in thought. Either way, Halsin sat patiently waiting for his reply. No need to rush. Nor was there awkward silence, as the background noise of clinking glasses and happy chatter filled the inn - at least most of it, save for their quieter corner. Karlach had made a bet and was armwrestling someone, Halsin overheard. As well as the unmistakable voice of Gale, so generously sharing his endless knowledge and stories. Finally, Astarion raised his head to look at Halsin.

"You had family, though. And no one.. ever came to look for you?" Astarion asked. Halsin was surprised by the humanity in his tone, his concern. He sighed softly and offered a weak half-grin for the vampire.

"The Underdark is a vast network of caverns, so it would have been almost impossible to track me. And exceedingly dangerous," he explained. It had hurt, though, the years he was down there, knowing that no one was likely coming to his rescue. The pain resurged slightly, causing Halsin's stomach to flip and his skin to become hot. He shifted in his armchair uncomfortably. "This was also well before the Grove became my family. I've long had the tendency to roam and travel, instead of settling down. So as far as anyone knew…I was simply traveling."

Astarion shook his head, as if in disbelief, his beautiful brow wrinkled in dissatisfaction. "A pity," he said, squeezing Halsin's hand before pulling his own free of the druid's grasp. "But I am glad that you escaped. And to have met you." Halsin's heart leapt at the admittance, at the slight tinge of Astarion's ears and cheeks turning red, before the vampire realized what he had said, that he had let his mask slip.

"I certainly would hate having missed the opportunity to try bear blood," Astarion said, his voice full of that false mirth. His high pitched giggle filled their little nook off the main part of the inn. He winked at the druid. Halsin chuckled to himself and grinned, shaking his head slightly. He wouldn't push the matter further; Astarion's deflection queued the end of the conversation.

Or that topic, at least.

**************

Astarion was still stunned at Halsin's revelation of his sexual slavery; and appreciative that the druid knew when to keep quiet and leave him to his pensive moods. He struggled with the idea of Halsin under the thrall of anyone, let alone a diminutive Drow matron. As soon as Halsin shared his experience, Astarion's mind had run amok, conjuring the image of the large druid bound and tethered against his will… it made a knot tangle in his stomach. Astarion disliked both the knot and the fact that it had formed so quickly. Loathed how quickly his mind could so easily launch into a thousand scenarios of bound hands, sharp knives, and blood-stained floors. He hadn't realized he'd been staring into the distance for quite some time until Halsin spoke his name, and he had to blink rapidly to get his vision to refocus.

"Astarion, are you alright?" Halsin asked, tapping his forearm lightly with his thick fingers, resting his heavy hand on Astarion's delicate wrist.

As though by instinct, Astarion's other hand flipped in the air, as if batting away Halsin's concerns. "Of course, darling. Just the wine you know," he lied. Wine tasted of vinegar to him, and largely left him unaffected by intoxicating effects. "Although everyone else is rather…exuberant." 

Karlach was a doll, but gods could she be loud. Lae'zel of course, besides her blasted sword sharpening, wasn't obnoxious. Gale being endlessly verbose coincided with Wyll's chatterbox nature. Only Shadowheart knew when to keep her mouth shut, besides Halsin. The inn was full to bursting with songs and laughter.

It was rather annoying, and made brooding even more difficult. Yes, of course, they'd rescued the boy, there was hope for a cure of the tadpole… for the others, at least. Astarion's jaw clenched thinking of what could happen if the tadpole was removed. Would Cazador so quickly take power back over him? He had to get answers about those wretched scars before that could happen.

His thoughts were interrupted - again - by Halsin, this time by a gentle squeeze. "Would you like to go somewhere quieter, Astarion?" Halsin asked, his voice as gentle and reassuring as it had always been.

Ah, quieter, of course, Astarion thought to himself.

Halsin's expression darkened slightly and he shook his head. "Seduction is not my intention this evening, Astarion. Truly, I thought that you might appreciate someplace different to rest for the evening other than a camp bedroll."

Astarion hadn't realized his expression had changed enough for Halsin to notice. The vampire tried to reset his face to neutral; that mask of seduction melted like snow from sun-warmed stone. Old habits, dying hard, etcetera etcetera. He would like to have some place to repose in peace, though he enjoyed wanton parties as much as any good deviant. Still, some place better than his threadbare blanket - not to mention sharing more time with Halsin, was an opportunity Astarion couldn't pass.

He nodded and stood, stretching his arms overhead as he unfolded himself from the armchair. Halsin offered his arm Astarion's way, and nodded his head toward the room to which they'd retreated after Raphael's literal dressing-down. 

"Such a gentleman," Astarion purred as he slipped his hand into the crook of Halsin's arm. He couldn't resist gripping the druid's thick forearm muscle in a squeeze before relaxing his hand. Halsin's body heat, his strength… the memory of how he had been at Astarion’s request - no, the command - and so obediently followed the vampire’s lead to their mutual ecstasy… it sent a shiver down Astarion's spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise.

Halsin seemed not to notice as he waved a 'goodnight' to the rest of their companions, leading Astarion to the room he must have reserved when he had come earlier to Last Light, prior to anyone else's arrival. Though it was the same one they'd been in just a bit earlier, Astarion felt as though he were seeing it for the first time. Perhaps that truly was the case; he had been in distress the first time they'd been here after all, and sight-seeing hadn't been his priority. He raised his chin, surveying the room with curiosity and pleasure. Two clicks behind him signaled that Halsin had closed and locked the door.

"Well now, this is more like it! It’s quite a fine guest suite after all, even in the middle of a wasteland," Astarion chirped, loosening his hand's tether to Halsin and roaming about the room. He appreciated the thick fur and hide rugs that cushioned his footsteps as he took measure of his surroundings. His fingertips danced on fine antique wooden furniture - possibly as old as he was - that was clean and aged with a nice finish. A sideboard was laden heavily with candles, all lit and making the room smell faintly of honey. The side tables of the room also had candles, as well as a carafe of water and two goblets. The bed seemed plush enough, with pillows both decorative and functional at its head.

Astarion chose to settle himself at the head of the bed, kicking his boots off onto the floor, and shrugging off his armor. "So darling, what possessed you to reserve this room, hmm, if not for more of what we enjoyed the other night?" he asked, one slender eyebrow arched. Atop the copious pillows, Astarion reclined in the easy manner he had practiced over centuries.

Halsin's genial chuckle brought warmth to Astarion's cold chest as he settled beside the vampire, slipping off his own sandals and sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I've no ulterior motives, Astarion, and have been fully transparent with you," he said, his tone and grin as affable as always. "I thought it may be a fitting way to show my appreciation for you, and all you've done for me. For Thaniel. For the good of this land and the nature within it." He leaned forward and placed his large palm on Astarion's thigh, and raised one of the pale elf’s hands to his lips. Halsin pressed a gentle kiss atop his fingers, then settled his hand back down.

A shiver ran down his back again, and Astarion wiggled his shoulders further into the goose down pillows to will it away. "That's… very kind of you, Halsin," Astarion offered, brows rising in surprise, a slight flush growing at his cheeks. "It is rather nice to lie on an actual bed instead of the ground. I'd dare say we deserve a bit of comfort after all of our efforts."

The crow's feet at Halsin's eyes crinkled with his grin. "I thought you might. Comfort doesn't come naturally for me," he said, his voice a bit lower, softer. His hand traced along the surface of the soft linen quilt below him. "I am restless, and roaming. Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen. I live for the wilderness." A large shrug of his shoulders blocked the candlelight from his side of the bed, then revealed it again, outlining the druid in an orangey golden halo.

Astarion couldn't resist snickering and rolling his eyes. "Oh I'm well aware darling; if you had it your way, we'd be lying naked in a field somewhere, gazing at the stars." He gestured with his hand at the ceiling, though he could only keep his eyes on the druid. How handsome he was, how striking. How full of delicious depth. His soft nature despite his inner beast. His wrinkles from age and experience. His hand on Astarion's thigh, calloused from hard work. He indeed was not made for creature comforts.

Halsin grinned and inclined his head towards Astarion, leaning in close and peering at the vampire through his dark eyelashes. "You read my mind, Astarion. But I thought of an adequate compromise for each of our comforts," he explained. Astarion's head tilted as he studied Halsin's face. "Could you humor me, dearheart, and close your eyes?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed. "Oh? Do you have some sort of lewd trick coming my way?"

"Not at all, Astarion. Just a surprise, on my honor." He squeezed the vampire's thigh softly and rose to stand beside the bed.

Astarion harrumphed and crossed his arms, wiggling further onto the pillows and crossing his long slender legs. "If you insist," he drawled, tapping his fingertips on his arms. "I do hate surprises. But I suppose I can grant that much at least." He closed his eyes and the fine linens, the candlelight, the large druid, all disappeared behind his eyelids. His sensitive hearing picked up the soft padding of Halsin's feet along the floorboards and rugs. 

For once, Astarion didn't want to break the silence with his own voice, for that would prevent him from picking up hints of what the surprise was based on the small sounds of Halsin's movements. The sound of blowing; he was snuffing the candles. The click of the lock on the door. And, oddly, the soft hum of a spell of some sort being cast. It was almost painful, the ache to open his eyes and see what on earth the druid was doing. His curiosity was never sated; and yet, he ached just as badly to please Halsin by humoring his desire for this surprise, whatever it was.

He heard Halsin pacing back towards him, the soft exhale of breaths as he slid onto the bed beside Astarion. He felt the larger elf's arm slide behind his lower back, Halsin’s warm hand wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, pressing him to his side. Astarion flushed again, wriggling slightly to nestle into the crook of Halsin's arm.

"Well? Are you quite finished?" Astarion asked, his patience wearing thin, but his curiosity growing.

He felt a soundless chuckle rumble in Halsin's chest. "Thank you for your trust, dearheart," he said. Astarion noticed he didn't mention patience. "You may open your eyes now."

As soon as Astarion opened his eyes, his mouth dropped open as well. How had he not noticed? Had he been too preoccupied with the allure of an actual bed to bother to look at the ceiling? Or was it that Halsin had used some sort of druid magic to mask their presence? Astarion wasn't sure, nor could his thoughts linger on the confusion he felt as his eyes roamed the ceiling, his fangs glinting in the reflected light from above.

All along the ceiling glimmered hundreds of tiny stars; each no bigger than a gold piece. They shone like gold, too, just as the sun glinted upon coins cast into a water fountain in a Baldurian street square. They twinkled and pulsed with magic, creating a dazzling starscape above him. It  mirrored beautifully the stars in the night sky that he hadn't seen in the entire time they'd been in the Shadowcursed lands.

His mouth was dry from hanging open; Astarion licked his lips and swallowed, his hand crawling towards Halsin, grasping his tunic in wonder. He felt Halsin's warm hand lay atop his, a soothing weight grounding him despite feeling as though his head swam in the stars above. Halsin had to have prepared this when he came to the Inn earlier. And also planned the candles, the timing… the minor cantrip of 'daylight' that he must have cast on each individual star. Astarion squinted, his night vision finally adjusted to the dimmer light. Each star appeared to be wooden; they had been whittled. By hand - by Halsin.

“What…what is all this for, Halsin?" Astarion asked, his eyes fixed on the wonders above, "How long did it take you to carve…?" He felt himself being pulled closer to Halsin, their torsos pressed together, Halsin's strong arms encircling him, sending goosepimples all down his body and a warmth in his chest and belly.

He couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at the edges of his lips as he felt the press of Halsin’s soft lips against his forehead, and how they were curled into a smile. "I've been working on it for quite some time… despite only mentioning it recently," Halsin said, his contentment warm and solid, radiating from his deep voice. "Even if we cannot admire the night sky in these lands…I wanted to lie with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine."

Astarion felt as though his heart had started beating, with how fiercely his chest tightened as he realized that though he had never even considered it, he wanted that too. He wriggled his body against Halsin's, aching to be closer. "This… is nice," he said. And he meant it.

[crisis-starter]

This is a retelling of the Promise Event written in third person through Bonnie’s eyes. I adhered to the dialogue of said event, mostly playing with thoughts and emotions.

This is a part of the CIAS AU!

I also gave up on using the nicknames, since I was already using words that wouldn’t ever cross a child’s mind.

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Snack time.

Third floor snack room.

Talk of death and funerary procedure.

They heard the adults talk amongst themselves, and then they felt something… someone looking at Bonnie. There was a pause in the air. An eerie stillness. That someone definitely realized that they stopped working on the snacks.

That’s when Siffrin spoke up, albeit quietly, “…Bonnie?”

Bonnie was silent for a few moments. Then they responded, “…What?” They had no filter. They wanted to express their thoughts. But it seems that it was that simple word that shook everyone else to the core. Made them realize they made a mistake. But Siffrin continued, somberly, “Were you listening to us just now?”

Bonnie paused again. They stayed silent, unable to meet Siffrin’s eye, which glistened with concern. “…I don’t wanna talk about it…” and that’s when the emotional restraint fell and turned to dust, “I don’t wanna talk about it! I don’t want to talk about any of us dying!”

Isabeau expressed his shame in his own actions, “Oh, Bonnie…” The tone and expression was enough to mark that as fact.

Mirabelle tried to comfort them by trying to maybe explain, calling their name in a voice laced with guilt and worry.

Siffrin was saying nothing, but his expression was that of a mix between slight panic and concern. He almost looked frustrated with themselves for what they did. He wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out. Not yet.

Odile started, trying to ease Bonnie even though that isn’t her strong suit, “Please, listen to-“ But they didn’t let her.

Bonnie’s emotions were just too raw. They cried, “No! You’re all stupid for talking about this! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” They suddenly heard footsteps. Siffrin was approaching them. They didn’t know what Siffrin was planning to do, but they didn’t want it. The rogue had his hand extended to do something, and that’s when Bonnie started to make mistakes.

A pain was starting to grow in the back of their head. Bonnie yelled, anguished, “Don’t touch me!” Their voice lowered a little, but the words didn’t lose their deadly edge, “Curse you, Frin! Don’t come near me! I don’t want you to touch me, I don’t want you to talk to me, I don’t want you to even LOOK AT ME!” Tears streamed down Bonnie’s face, their voice wavering in tandem, “I don’t want to think about ANY OF THIS!”

The pain was getting worse. The air felt weird. But Bonnie wasn’t paying attention to that. They just knew Siffrin was trying to approach them again, so they retaliated with more venomous words, “NO! STOP, STOP! DON’T COME NEAR ME!”

Then they made their biggest mistake yet. The air is around them was weird. It smelled weird. It smelled wrong, yet Bonnie had to say something, “I HATE YOU, FRIN! If you like to talk about how everyone will die then you should just get it over with and die, Frin! I don’t care! I hate you!”

Siffrin’s face fell into something Bonnie wasn’t used to seeing on him. It wasn’t sadness no, it was… deeper than that. Part of Bonnie wanted to stop talking, stop sharing, stop saying anything at all, just to stop Frin from showing him that face, letting them discover what despair looked and felt like. That part of them wanted to just make them smile again. But no. Bonnie dug their grave deeper, despite the smell of caramel getting worse, getting thicker, getting nauseatingly abundant, “I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou I HAAAAATE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!” And one last one to finish off this horrible display, “I HATE YOU FR-“

Bonnie didn’t even finish their sentence before something happened. Their headache was gone. But Siffrin was no longer in front of them. They weren’t facing their friends. But then Bonnie heard Mirabelle, “…What about you, Siffrin?”

Siffrin looked utterly lost. Their expression was unreadable. They weren’t meeting anyone’s eyes. The were silent for a moment before handing a frankly very blunt statement, “Bury me somewhere. Can we talk about something else?” Belle responded, “Oh…” Isabeau looked away, seemingly ashamed, “Yeah, sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

Bonnie remembered what they said. Then they started to feel horrible. Sick. How could they say that to Siffrin? Now Siffrin was upset! But well, they had to do something to make the rogue happy. Bonnie didn’t want to apologize just yet… they didn’t know how to. They needed to ask Isabeau how to apologize to Siffrin for such a thing.

But now, it’s snack time!

Bonnie paused, looking at everyone. Then they continued, “…Hey, are you done talking? Because…” Bonnie bounded into the circle of friends that were talking about death just a second ago, “It’s snacks time, baby.”

At least Isabeau was smiling as he replied, “Oh, it’s a serious business snack time. I’m listening.” Bonnie responded, “Snack times are always serious business, dummy.” Bonnie was hoping that Siffrin would smile at the ridiculousness of this needlessly stern introduction. But Siffrin couldn’t look at Bonnie in the eyes. It hurt Bonnie, to know they were the cause of this. Nonetheless, Bonnie continued.

Bonnie introduced their snacks. Madeleines, pineapple slices, and fish head. Bonnie secretly glanced at Siffrin every now and then. Siffrin was… spacey. Like they weren’t paying attention. But at least Siffrin answered Bonnie when prompted, “I’ll try the pineapple.” Siffrin’s tone wasn’t right. It sounded kind of like they were… not completely in the moment. Like they were stuck in their thoughts. But hey! Bonnie was happy that Siffrin liked one of their favorite foods!

The amount of fear and worry that filled their entire being when they heard Siffrin start to wheeze upon swallowing the bite of pineapple was unmatched. So scary, they forgot what they said to Frin to make him so upset. The air smelled sugary again. It felt very weird for a second before-

Bonnie woke up. They looked at the field in front of them. Were they… here before? This felt almost too familiar. They were back in Dormont! But weren’t they in the house just a second ago? Weird…

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Gonna write more :>

Isabeau’s is next hehe

Let’s hope it goes well!

Have a nice day (or night, wherever you are)!