#so sorry once again for the two parter

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not!”

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

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

“Nor I,” Halsin cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks,” Astarion said flatly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Halsin cleared his throat. “Another druid you say, Karlach?”

Karlach grinned and nodded. “She’s the best! Can’t believe she wants to talk to us about working together. What a day!”

And what a day it had been. 

Or, tenday, more like.

~~~~~

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

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

“Can I help you?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liking the sound of this,” Karlach nodded.

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

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

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

“Woof,” Karlach said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion cleared his throat loudly.

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

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

You blinked at him. “Breakfast in bed?” 

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

It all felt very nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re up!” Wyll exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made no move to leave your side.

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

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

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

“Well, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kicked him.

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

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

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

“Thank you…” you murmured again.

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

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

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

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

“Let me-” 

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for looking out for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

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

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

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

“Hmm,” you hummed through pursed lips.

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

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

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

You swallowed thickly. “Enough.”

He chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

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

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

“And what would that be?”

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “Okay, so what-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi Halsin,” you said nonchalantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s only natural-”

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Halsin,” Astarion waved him off. 

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

You looked over at him. “Moment over?”

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

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

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

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

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

“See?”

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

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

“Because…?”

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

“Because you’re still sore-”

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

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

You frowned at him. “Asshole.”

Kiss. “Darling.” 

“Bat brain.”

Kiss. “Beautiful.” 

“Priss.”

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

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

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

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. 

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

“One of your frequent pet names,” you waved him off playfully and went to pick up Shadowheart and Wyll’s discarded books. “It means next to nothing.”

Astarion turned to watch you. “That’s not true.”

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

“That’s different.” 

“How so?”

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

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

You stiffened, thrown off by his honest answer. “Oh.”

He met your eye. “People like feeling seen, and ‘darling’ does the job quite nicely. Call it a habit now, I suppose.”

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

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

“Good answer.”

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

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

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

You met his eye again and saw his features soften. 

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

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

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

You snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out an amused sigh. “Go on…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tsk'va!”

You and Astarion froze, your mouths inches apart. 

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

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

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

Astarion straightened and looked at his nails, bored. “Oh, is that all?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we do something?” Wyll asked.

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

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

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

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

“Harpers?” Karlach repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhaled. “Sorry about the guard dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

“Thank you, Jaheira!” Karlach said excitedly.

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

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

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

Karlach was practically vibrating with excitement next to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t imagine why,” Astarion muttered.

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

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

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

You nodded. “Yes.” The truth.

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

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

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

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

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

“A long journey, indeed,” Gale said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll join him,” said Wyll.

“Right behind you,” Karlach agreed.

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

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

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

Lae’zel shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion said your name, his voice laced with worry.

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” Gale asked. 

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

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

“The room,” Astarion said anyway. 

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

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

“Ooowww,” you moaned.

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

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

“Ow! Gods, it hurts!” you wailed.

“Get out of here!” Astarion practically yelled at the wizard.

Gale sighed. “Goodnight you two.”

“Goodnight Gale!” you called after him sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

[cerisereids]

𝗖𝗮𝗻'𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗦𝗲𝗲 𝗜 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝗔𝘁 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁?- 𝗦.𝗥. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟭]

Pairing- PostPrison!Spencer x Bombshell!Reader

WC- 5k and this is only pt 1 belle shut up challenge

Summary- The BAU receives an invitation to the annual FBI gala. Spencer can't seem to handle the amount of attention you get.

Contains- icky men flirting a lot with reader, avoidant attachment!Spencer, spencer low-key gets in a cockfight with another guy at the event, fight, angsty, fluff in pt 2, reader's dress is inspired by sabrina's grammy dress, only kind of proof read, ending heavily inspired by ness in the new girl ep where cece almost marries shivrang

A/N- first time doing a multi-parter Spence fic in so long!!! I hope everyone likes!! I once again cannot find where I got this divider from I'm so sorry everyone

Part Two

Your fingers delicately grasp your pink perfume bottle, the floral scent falling over you like fresh rainfall. The scent ends up mixing with all the others taking space in Emily's expansive apartment. Your coworkers whiz past you in all directions, J.J., Tara, Penelope, and Emily scattering to get ready. Emily's kitchen island and master bathroom are now transformed into a provisional beauty parlor, endless arrays of lipsticks, eyeliners, and mascaras littering every inch of counter space.

The infectious beat of ABBA's Dancing Queen floats through the room, seeping its way into your veins. You can't not dance along as you aimlessly finagle your gold hoop into your earlobe. Penelope catches you, moving swiftly into your stride as she dances alongside you. Her own wine glass is perched in her right hand as her left offers you a fresh one. You gladly accept, toasting Penelope's glass before taking a sip.

The acidity tickles your throat, the alcohol oozing into your bloodstream in record time. You make your way to the kitchen island in search of your favorite lip gloss, settling on a stool. You study the rest of the group in your moment of solitude. They're all still frantically puzzling each piece of their intricate looks into place. You've already accomplished your hair, makeup, and now accessories- a routine that's as easy for you as the ABC's. So, you're left alone to revel in the chaos that is the BAU's first annual FBI charity gala.

You're not alone for long, of course, as Emily and Penelope quickly find you, taking their own breaks in your makeshift reprieve. You can tell exactly what's on their minds by the sinister smiles stretching their lips.

"Sooo..." Penelope drags out, taking another generous sip of wine. "How are things going with The Good Doctor?" Emily can't help but nod, enthusiastically supporting Garcia's question.

They're the only ones who know you've been seeing Spencer. Well, if you'd consider three dates and an absolutely incredible kiss seeing each other. You hope he does, though he's still a bit standoffish. You've been telling yourself that he's just readjusting to life outside of prison, but you can't help the small, petrified feeling resting in the pit of your stomach.

"Good, I think..." you snap out of your daze, cheeks heating to an uncomfortable temperature. Your eyes dart anywhere but the women in front of you, and you know it's a dead giveaway, but you can't seem to care.

They squeal, and you self consciously hush them, cheeks now ablaze. Your eyes dart to the other two ladies on the other side of the room, seemingly unphased by the shrill giggles emanating from the kitchen.

They only screech higher, louder, when you smile like an idiot. You can't help it when it comes to Spencer. Your forefinger and thumb find your temples as you hide your face with your hand.

"Oh, you like him!" Emily scoffs, lightly shoving your arm. Penelope nods emphatically, gulping down the rest of her drink.

"It's still so new, I'm not quite sure what I feel yet." It's not totally a lie. You're completely head over heels. You're just not sure he feels the same.

Emily's brow raises, immediately clocking the way your face falls. "But...?" She questions, and you roll your eyes at her all-knowing gaze.

"I'mjustnotsurehowhefeelsaboutme."

It jumbles together on its way out of your mouth, clouded by a deep sigh.

"What?!" Both women exclaim at the same time. Your stomach sinks, and you bury your face in both hands with a dramatic groan.

"He's just so...closed off. Like, when I try to get to know him more, he shuts down. It's like he wants to open up, but all of a sudden can't at the last minute. I just don't know if things are moving too quickly since his release," you confess, biting your lip. You're shocked by how much lighter you feel getting it off your chest.

You were hired on the team while he was behind bars. You served as an extra set of analytical eyes as the team worked night and day to free him, along with any other cases that came across Emily's desk. You remember the moment you first saw him, could never forget it, really.

He was dysregulated, almost unengaged from the world around him as he walked into the BAU for the first time post-prison. You remember the peculiar, distrusting look in his big, gorgeous eyes. The fear in them, the hurt. It took him a few weeks to warm up to you, a new member of the team disjointing the routine he knew prior.

Once he did, though, one of many doors opened in The Mystical World of Spencer Reid. You'd gotten to know each other slow but sure, Chinese takeout in the break room, hunching over case files until early morning. Each time, you fell harder for Spencer Reid.

It's a delicate situation, not only his emotional state, but yours as well. You like him, more than you've ever liked anyone. You will not let yourself throw it all away by being too bold, too brass. Though you know he'd never say that, you'd been told that too many times by too many men. It lives within you like a bad habit.

"Oh!" Penelope lilts. "Well...maybe you can put some feelers out tonight, y'know? See if he wants anything more than just casual dates?" Her brows raise inquisitively, and you sigh.

"I don't know, I'm not sure if tonight is the most appropriate night for that..." you trail off, but you know it's a crock of shit. The proof is hanging on the door directly parallel to you.

As if on cue, Emily furrows her brow, her classic 'yeah right' face penetrating through each one of your walls. "Uh-huh..." she trails, her tongue tapping the roof of her mouth. "So that gold, sparkly number is, what, for fun?" Her gaze is pointed, cocking her head towards the long golden dress that hangs from her closet door.

Your spine straightens, eyes flitting to the fridge behind the interrogating women. Yet, there's that smile again. It's impossible to keep it at bay when it comes to Spencer.

"Is a lady not allowed to look like a smoke show at a work event?" you're sly, slinking off the bar stool with your glass perched in your fingers. You reach for the dress, sauntering into the bathroom, fully aware of the show you're putting on for your friends.

It took a total of four women to help you get into the dress that now adorns your figure. Glittery gold fabric cinches and flows around your waist and hips, a tight corseted bust accentuating your chest.

You're no stranger to having all eyes on you, and tonight is no different as you enter the dimly lit ballroom. Round tables with black cloths take up most of the space, with a dance floor at the front. Men from other units scan your frame as you walk through the space towards your team. You ignore them, the only eyes you care about are the brown ones you found the second you entered the room.

Spencer stands slightly off to the side, his free hand shoved into his pocket as he watches you greet the rest of the team. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, the heat of his gaze searing right through you. When you finally turn to him, those godforsaken doe eyes light up. It's like your eyes make him feel whole again. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you finally greet him. You take him in, a black suit fitting him snugly. You can't help but swoon. It's not often you get to see him in such formal regalia, and you're going to soak up every second you can,

He opens his arms to you, pulling you in for a sweet hug. His hand splays across the expanse of your back, his fingers lightly grazing your exposed skin.

"Hi," he whispers in your ear, his lips barely grazing the skin there. You shiver at the slight contact.

"Hi," you respond, tightening your grip around his broad shoulders.

The hug lingers just a bit longer than what is deemed professional, but you can't seem to care. His cologne is intoxicating, infiltrating your brain at a rapid speed. You stay in his arms even when you pull out of the hug, resting in the crook of his elbow.

His large hands find your waist, splaying over the fabric covering it. His fingers dig in ever so slightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles where it rests. You settle into his even further, ignoring the knowing glances and smirks Penelope and Emily wear.

"It's good to see you," he mutters, lips now pressed to your temple. "You look phenomenal," he punctuates with the softest kiss to your hairline.

"Thank you," you turn in his arms, hands fastening on his bow tie. "You don't look so bad yourself."

You shoot him a siren's gaze, hooded eyes peering up through thick lashes. He avoids eye contact almost immediately, a telltale sign you've already gotten under his skin. It's only 7:15. A glimmer of satisfaction beams in your stomach. You're only getting started.

"May I say, you ladies look phenomenal," Luke lifts his glass in salute that makes you playfully roll your eyes. "Where did you get this?" He turns to you, referring to the gold dress that has already drawn the eyes of half the people in the crowded room.

You flip your hair over your shoulder, confidence on full display. "Just something I had lying around in my closet, y'know?" You respond playfully, receiving a mix of chuckles from your team.

"Well, you look incredible," he says, and it's not creepy or forward, just kind. It doesn't stop Penelope, though.

"Stop trying to get us to fall in love with you, Alvez, and get me a drink," she quips, turning him by the shoulders towards the bar.

You chuckle at the scene, but a peculiar feeling strikes your chest when you feel Spencer tense behind you. His hand freezes where it rests, his spine straightening. His hand now hovers over your back now, and the break in contact makes you ache.

"Do you want to go with them? I can come with you to get a drink?" he clears his throat as he speaks, another giveaway. This time, of discomfort, uncertain. You haven't been seeing each other for long, but you've made it a habit to memorize him a long time ago,. His ticks, quirks, the cadence of his voice. They all tell you something new about the elusive man before you.

"Yeah!" You say, your mood perking up ever so slightly. "That's a great idea."

You link your arm through his as you make your way to the bar, a clear sign to anyone- any man- whose eyes tend to linger.

You lean your elbows on the bar as you wait for the bartender, eyes scanning over the menu on the screen above.  Spencer’s beside you, facing away from the bar, though his body turns into you all the same. You’re contemplating whether or not you’re in the mood for a dirty martini or a cosmopolitan, when another black suit saddles up on the other side of you. You can tell, just from the acrid stench of his cologne, that it’s nobody that could possibly interest you. 

“What’re you drinking tonight, gorgeous?” the man next to you crooned, and you can barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Nothing you need to know about, thanks,” you’re polite, but firm all the same. This isn’t your first rodeo. 

“Playing hard to get, I see,” the man chuckles as he waves two fingers at the bartender, almost like he’s calling a dog. It makes your stomach turn. 

You feel Spencer tense beside you, much like he did when Luke complimented you. You rest a delicate hand on top of his. The thought of this absolute fool making Spencer upset shakes you more than anything. 

“Yeah, definitely,” you respond, a sugary sweet cadence lacing your tone, “because when women show you clearly that they’re not interested, as they’re standing with someone else, that obviously means they’re playing hard to get. You nailed it! It’s no wonder you made it to the FBI!” Sarcasm pokes through as the bartender finally comes over to you. You hear a small chuckle from Spencer behind you, and you stand five feet taller

“I’ll take a cosmopolitan. He’ll take nothing,” you smile as if you’re Medusa, and could turn him to stone with just one look. “There’s plenty of girls here tonight. Try it on them.” You pat his bicep in a placating manner, and he walks off before you can shame him even more. You hear him scoff, muttering a low ‘bitch’ under his breath. You roll your eyes, placing a soothing hand on Spencer’s forearm as he stands taller, away from the bar.

You can tell by the wild look in his eye that he's not happy. His lips are pressed in a straight line. He creates another inch of space between you two. Your heart cracks ever so slightly.

"I'm okay, just let him go," you croon, a desperate attempt to calm him.

His muscles relax only slightly. He rests against the bar once more, tension now thick in the air.

 You give a polite smile to the bartender, now offering your drink. You accept gleefully, your glossy lips wrapping around the edge of the glass and taking the first sip. The acidic, fruity flavor coats your tongue, tickling your throat on the way down. 

You turn, mirroring Spencer as you now lean back on the bar. You rest your head against his shoulder, a bold move given his rigidity. Each of you taking frequent sips from your respective drinks as you silently people watch. You both know you should be networking, but you can’t seem to care that much. Not when he’s in such a fantastic suit. Soft jazz music floats through the dimly lit hall, mixing with clinking glasses and rich laughter. 

“Do you want to dance with me, Spencer?” You ask, and he looks at you, almost surprised. 

“Yeah,” he answers, a sly smile painting his lips, “yeah, that sounds nice.” 

He leads you to the floor, and your hand finds his shoulder, your free one lacing with his. He sways you to the soft, lucrative beat, and you settle into a familiar rhythm, like you’ve done this a hundred times. Really, though, it’s the first time you’ve held each other like this, so intimate in a room full of people.  

“You really do look incredible,” Spencer mutters, before spinning you out and pulling you back in. You smile up at him and he chuckles, his eyes flitting to the floor, the disco ball, anywhere but you. It kills you now, when he’s so close. You can see the small freckles painting his nose, the various scars he’s collected from over a decade on the job. From prison. You see all of him, even in the low light of the ballroom. But he can’t see you. He’s choosing not to, and you don’t know why. 

Your heart drops at his avoidance, sinking slowly into your stomach like a rock in the ocean. You have an idea of what might be going on, considering the context of both times he’s tensed up on you. You’re desperate for it to be untrue, though, so you continue to sway with him, squeezing lightly on his bicep to redirect his eyes back to you. 

It works, his honey brown irises piercing straight into yours. His gaze is different now, though. Intense and fervent, almost possessive. It makes the hairs on your arms stand, a shiver unzipping your spine. He feels it, you can tell by the way his eyes immediately soften, the comfort of his hand splayed against your back. His fingers rub soothing patterns along the bare skin left by the scooped back of your dress. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his regard for you gentle now, as if he could read what’s been on your mind in the past two minutes. “You look so beautiful. C’mere.” His voice is nearly strained as he pulls you even closer to him, now chest to chest. 

Your chin rests on his shoulder, your temple meeting his jaw as you continue to sway to the music. He leaves the most delicate kiss to your temple, and you close your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. Your heart beats impeccably fast, and you know he can feel it against him. He spares you some dignity in not mentioning it. You bury your face ever so slightly in the crook of his neck, a pathetic attempt to ingest more of the woodsy cologne he put on for tonight. You can just feel the smirk on his lips, though the soft chuckle shaking his chest gives him away regardless. 

The intensity of the moment is broken by the end of the song, a brief moment of silence cutting through. It’s probably a good thing. The things you want to do to him in this suit are…unprofessional to say the least. He pulls back, holding you at arm’s length so he can look at you again. Your face heats under his pointed gaze, like he’s inspecting every part of you, committing it to memory. Not that it’s hard for him to do, anyway. 

The band shuffles off the stage as a stuffy looking man in a tailored black suit takes their place. You recognize him, just briefly though, from similar events to this. The head of the bureau itself, someone so high up the ladder you couldn’t reach him in six inch heels. You don’t move from Spencer’s arms as the man begins to speak, oblivious to the other people staggering off the dance floor. 

“Good evening, everyone,” he begins. “My name is Benedict Carter. Thank you all for joining us tonight in the name of Care For All. This is an organization that speaks deeply to me, and I hope it reaches all of you as well,” his voice is low, sharp, and succinct. It cuts through the room like glass, and you can’t help but let out the smallest scoff at his clearly scripted words. 

You regret it almost instantly, though, and not for the fact that this man is a mere five feet away. No, you regret that it calls attention to your position with Spencer, attention he skirts away from almost immediately. He nearly jumps from you, as if you’re repelling magnets. You can’t really blame him too much for it. You’re the only people left on the dance floor. Still, it doesn’t ease the dull ache in your chest from the sudden release of contact. He does gently take your hand as he leads you back to the table, where you’re greeted by the knowing eyes of your team. 

You lock eyes with Emily and Penelope, once again regretting your choices immediately. They’re staring daggers at you, playful ones, but daggers all the same. Daggers that say ‘oh my God, tell us everything ASAP’. You shyly tuck your hair behind your ears as you get comfortable in your seat. 

“Dinner tonight is provided by La Città. Please give them a round of applause for their gratitude,” Mr. Carter continues, and a scattered applause responds to him. 

His voice drags you from your addled mind, so induced in the mere idea of Spencer that you hadn’t realized he was still speaking. You flinch ever so slightly, the dose of reality splashing you like cold water. Cream colored plates fill the table, the steaming smell of various entrees filling the air, beef, chicken, fish. 

The clinking of silverware fills the room shortly after, and it’s not long before plates are empty, with multiple glasses of wine consumed. You’re the perfect amount of tipsy, now waiting at the bar in hopes of prolonging that feeling. Your face heats when you feel a large hand on your back, a familiar warmth enveloping you from behind. 

“I think you owe me at least one more dance,” Spencer whispers, his lips pressed against your temple.

It’s flirty, makes your brows raise. You squeeze his hand before nodding. “Let me get a drink first?” You’re not asking permission, more so making him aware of your plans. He nods, of course he does, moving to wait for you at the team’s table. You fiddle with your hands as you wander towards the bar, wringing them together in anticipation. 

Nerves bubble in your gut like a witch’s brew, popping and simmering until your insides are singed. The mere thought of Spencer, waiting there, to dance with you, it makes your heart skip a beat. You rest your chin in your palm, gold nails tapping lightly on the bar as you order another glass of the delicious wine you consumed at dinner. 

You wait for a moment, caught off guard when you feel another figure in your close proximity. It’s foreign, that much you know. Definitely not Spencer. You sneak the smallest peek through your peripheral to find a man with blonde shaggy hair. His suit is tailored to perfection, you can tell that much even from the limited view you have. He’s way too close for your liking, so you inch away ever so slightly, desperate for him to get the hint. 

He just slides closer. Whether he didn’t pick up on the boundary or he just didn’t care, you’re not sure. You straighten your spine all the same, undeterred by the strange presence. You know how to handle yourself. 

“What’re you drinking tonight?” he asks, a pathetic attempt to appear nonchalant as he trains his gaze on the bar menu. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he doesn’t have the audacity to look you in the eye. 

“Is that the only line men have?” you scoff, rolling your eyes before moving away from the bar completely. 

You're completely shell shocked when this man’s arm wraps around your waist, spinning you back to face him. You waste no time ducking out of his arms, appalled at the sheer gall of this man. 

“Leave me alone.” You’re firm, not an ounce of playfulness in your tone or gaze. You leave no wiggle room for interpretation. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you can smell the whiskey on his breath. It’s potent, musky in a way that has you turning away from him on instinct. 

“Look, I don’t know why you’re being such a bitch-”

He doesn’t get much further than that before you’re shoving him off completely. If he wants to get physical, you can too. 

“Back up,”calls  a voice from behind you, one you know immediately to be Spencer’s. He wedges his way between the two of you, your brows knitting in confusion at the scene unfolding in front of you. “Back up before I have my entire team here with me. I’d rather not ruin this entire night, though. So, if we’re in agreement, you’re going to turn around, leave, and not bother her for the rest of the night.” 

Your stomach sinks at the sheer brutishness on display before you, eyes going wide at a side of Spencer you’d never seen before. Your insides twist when a sickly smile forms on the blonde man’s face. 

“Aren’t you the one who just got out of jail? Spencer Reid, right? The ‘genius’?” Air quotes surround that last word, and your heart sinks even further, your temples resting between your forefinger and thumb. “I’ve heard some things, so I guess I’ll try my luck elsewhere.”

He finally saunters off, not before shooting you a long, slimy glance before fully turning away. Spencer doesn’t even look at you before he gears toward the exit. You’re hot on his heels, thankful the spat didn’t draw too many eyes. The ones from your team follow you out, staring in shock at the altercation. Your face burns as you catch up to him in the ballroom lobby, a cool draft coming in from outside. 

You shiver, whether from the breeze or from the sheer anger radiating through your veins, you’re not sure. 

“Spencer!” You exclaim, turning him to face you. “What was that? Are you a caveman?” Your voice is hushed, though your tone is sharp as a blade. “I can handle myself!”

Your blood is boiling, your nostrils flared as you breathe heavily through them. Your chest heaves up and down, and you have half a mind to slap him right across the face when his eyes flit down to your cleavage. 

“You clearly couldn’t. He was huge, and continuously overstepped your boundaries,” he spit, his voice a harsh whisper, fire in his eyes. 

“Do you think that’s the first man who’s ever flirted with me?” you throw a hand out in frustration, your other hand resting on your popped hip. 

He flinches at that, and you roll your eyes. 

“Spencer, you’ve been shoving me back and forth all night. You dance with me, then you avoid me. You take me out on dates, yet you can’t seem to ever open up to me. And now this,” your lip wobbles ever so slightly, your teeth sinking in so hard you’re afraid you’ll draw blood. 

Spencer runs a hand down his face, an exasperated look dancing across it. He shakes his head, and the bitter look in his eye makes your stomach sink. 

“I just-” he starts, “Admit that part of you thinks this is a mistake. You and me.”

The statement tilts your world on its axis. Your vision goes fuzzy for a moment, and your eyes drop to the floor. Bile creeps up in the back of your throat. The fear that you’ve so desperately tried to repress springing to the surface, exploding like a pipe bomb. 

“Yes,” you murmur, “part of me does.”

His face falls even more, the confirmation of your fears the final nail in the coffin. A single tear rolls down your cheek. You’re unable to stop it. You swipe it away with a manicured finger, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Then, let’s call it,” his voice is high, almost like he doesn’t mean it. You can’t get your hopes up when it comes to Spencer, though. You’re learning that the hard way. “Y’know, we had a few nights. Maybe that’s all it should be.”

“Great, that feels great. Do you feel great about that?” your voice is shaky, almost sarcastic. He nods, and it’s firm, matter of fact. 

“Great,” you whisper, turning to make your way back to the ballroom. You brush a tear from your cheek as you walk away.

That sickly feeling boils in the pit of your gut. You surrender to the funny, familiar chord you’ve been fighting all night. You know it all too well from boyfriends past. He is jealous. Jealous of the attention you’re getting, of the stares, the whispers, and just like everyone else before, he's punishing you.

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 2)

summary: after your next training session, you join hugh for lunch at his place. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), sensual and initmate smut (unprotected p in v sex - creampie oops, missionary, cowgirl, marking and biting, light dirty talk) no use of y/n. word count: 8.9k (i got carried away lol) a/n: this is part two to training partners. i needed more lol and i told myself that it would only be a two-parter, but i may or may not continue this with more... (let me know if i should write more parts to this story bc i'm having so much fun writing this!) again, i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman and this is purely fictional (all in my delulu mind). prev part. - next part.

It’s been a week since meeting Hugh and it’s still so surreal that you’re frequently talking to him. Or rather, he’s frequently reaching out to you whether it’s through a text message, a phone call, or FaceTime. You realize just how comfortable you are with him, how you can completely be yourself and not worry about what he thinks, because he just makes you feel like who you are as a person is enough. It’s something you haven’t felt before and there’s a part of you that tries to tell yourself that this isn’t going to be serious. You’re just going to have fun. Hugh isn’t going to want something serious, so don’t set yourself up for disappointment. 

But the more you talk to him, the more you find yourself imagining and daydreaming what it would be like to be in a fully committed relationship with him. You know it’s never going to happen, but a girl can dream, right? 

On today’s workout, you decide to wear a faded black oversized t-shirt and black spandex shorts. You put your hair into two braids and slip your shoes on. Within a few minutes, you hear a knock on your door and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You’re excited, yet nervous, to see Hugh again. Despite the plenty of FaceTime calls over the last week, it’s just a different feeling seeing him in person. Right in front of you. Within arms reach. 

You swing your door open and look up at Hugh who’s smiling in your direction. He’s dressed in black shorts and a black fitted t-shirt that looks like it’s about to tear at the seams around his biceps. It causes you to bite your lower lip, yearning to reach out to just squeeze and–

“Good morning, love,” Hugh says with a chuckle, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Hi, good morning, sorry,” you apologize, looking down at your feet. “You wanna come on in? I’m just grabbing the rest of my things.”

“I’d love to,” Hugh responds. “But can I get a proper greeting?” 

“Oh, so me checking you out isn’t proper?”

Hugh grins. “I’d say it’s far from proper, love.” 

Your eyes narrow and then you step up to him, your arms wrapping around his frame as his long arms wrap around your waist. “Is this proper enough?” you whisper against him.

“Very proper,” he whispers, tightening his hold on you before he pulls away. “We still on for lunch after our workout?” 

You nod, leading him inside of your apartment. “Yeah, but I just realized I’m gonna be all sweaty and in your home and–”

“Pack a change of clothes. You can shower at my place.” 

You shut the door behind him and then walk into your living room with him trailing behind you, trying to bite back the excitement that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not imposing at all. I want to spend time with you…” Hugh begins. “In a setting that’s just you and me.” 

“Okay, Hugh.” You say, turning around once he takes your wrist to spin you to face him. He brings you to his chest and uses his free hand to rest onto your hip. He looks so incredibly large in your small apartment and you can’t help but feel the butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach. Even though he looks so out of place in your apartment, it feels right having him here. With you. 

“But only if you’re okay with it,” he says, releasing his hold on your wrist to rest it on the other side of your hip. 

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer to him until your front is flush against his own. “I’m more than okay with it. I just don’t want you to think that I’m… You know…”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head. “What?” 

“That I only want you because you’re famous and you’re rich.”

“Oh, I thought those were the only two reasons.” He teases. “And because I’m old and you like older men.”

You let out a quiet laugh, gently punching his chest and his hands fall from your hips to wrap his arms instead around your waist. He holds you tightly against him and slowly dips down until his lips are mere inches from yours. “Seriously, Hugh.” 

“I know, love. Listen, I like your company. You make me laugh and it’s a while since I’ve felt this way.” Then, he brings a hand up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, careful not to mess with your braids. “Whatever way you’ll have me, I’m fine with it.” 

“But I’m just me…” you whisper. 

“And you being you is a breath of fresh air. I like it. I like you.” 

You feel the corners of your lips turn upwards, the heat in your cheeks rising once more and you feel like you can lean in to kiss him. But you don’t. Not yet. You still have a workout to get to. 

“The Hugh Jackman likes me?” You feign a shocking expression, looking up into his eyes. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and leans into bury his face against your neck, his stubble brushing against you and causing you to let out an uncontrollable giggle. “Oh, you’re ticklish, are ya?” He smirks against you, lips brushing against your neck as his stubble continues to tickle your skin.

You squirm against him, trying to pull away from him, but he just tightens his grip on you as your laughter fills your entire apartment. “Hugh!” you exclaim in between giggles, pushing against his hard chest. It’s no use though, he’s just so much stronger, so much bigger, and it isn’t until you lose your footing that he falls on his back on your couch with you on top of him that the laughter begins to die down. You pull back enough to look down at him, his hands gripping your hips as you realize that your legs had subconsciously placed themselves on either side of him. 

You’re literally straddling him and he’s staring at you with lust-filled eyes. Your core is pressed firmly against his lower half and you feel his length stir against you, hardening with each passing second. 

“Hugh…”

Your eyes deviate to his lips, watching him bite his lower lip as his fingertips dig into your hips. “Ya think we’d get in trouble if we miss our workout?” he whispers huskily. “Because I think I really like this view and I don’t wanna get up.”

Your cheeks are hot. You’re sure that he can feel the heat between your legs and you’re afraid to move because you’re sure that if you do, you’d lost all ounce of resolve and want to just pounce him because while he likes the view of you being on top of him, you absolutely love the view of him underneath you. 

“We should get up,” you mumble, though you don’t make any movements to stand up. Instead, Hugh wraps his arms around your waist as he sits up and adjusts himself on your couch until he’s sitting back against it. With each of his movements, your hips move against his, letting out a quiet whimper at the friction. 

“You really want to?” he says, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “Maybe we can…”

“Do our own version of cardio?” you tease, obviously breaking the tension as you both erupt into a fit of laughter. You wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely. “What do you say?” 

“As much as I’d love that,” Hugh chuckles. “I’d wanna take my time with you, love.” 

“Hm, then I guess we’ll have to wait.” 

“Guess so,” he says, though begins to lean in closer to you. “But can I…” Hugh begins to ask, eyes dropping to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Kiss you?”

“Such a gentleman, Hugh Jackman,” you tease. “I thought old men like to be in control and–”

“You’re a little brat,” he growls, leaning in to finally press his lips against yours. You gasp immediately, feeling one of his hands move up to cup your cheek. He wastes no time in moving his lips against your own. It’s like your breath is being taken from you with how aggressive Hugh is, nipping and biting at your lower lip. You can’t control the way you’re feeling, the way your legs want to close shut and your core yearning to squeeze around something. You let out a quiet moan and slowly roll your hips against his own, feeling his entire length press against you once more. 

When Hugh groans against your lips, it lights a fire in you. In a fleeting moment, you want to just devour him and drop to your knees in front of him so that you can hear more of his groans and grunts. You lean further into him, gasping as you feel his fingertips touch your skin. His hands move underneath your shirt and with your gasp, he uses this moment to slide his tongue past your lips. 

Suddenly, you pull away, breathing heavily with his hands still underneath your shirt and your hands gripping his. 

“We’re getting carried away,” you whisper, breathlessly. 

“Hm,” he grins, licking his lower lip. “You’re distracting,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes and slowly climb off his lap, missing the feeling of him between your legs. Your eyes dip lower and notice the slight tent in his shorts, watching as he reaches down to readjust himself. 

“I’m gonna–” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna grab my things and then we should go. Or else we’ll never leave.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Hugh grins. “But okay. We should be at the gym soon.” 

As you’re walking away, Hugh stands up and takes your hand once more. He pulls you flush against him, arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he dips down to press gentle and soft kisses along the side of your neck. “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs against you. 

Your eyes flutter shut, hands moving to rest over his as you lean back against him. “Hugh, now you’re the one who’s distracting.” 

“Fine, okay,” he chuckles, pulling away from you. “I’m going to wait outside because you’re a bit dangerous right now.”

“Me?!” 

“Yes, you,” Hugh laughs. “Because if I stay in your apartment another minute, I’m gonna end up taking you where you stand, love.” 

You let out a shaky breath and then nod your head, waiting for him to turn on his heel to leave your apartment. Once he does and you hear the door shut, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You bite your lower lip, bringing your fingertips to graze your lips as you think back to the very heated kiss on your couch. Oh, you won’t be looking at that couch the same way again. 

After you grab a change of clothes and put it in your duffle bag, you drape it over your shoulder and grab your phone and keys and leave your apartment. You see Hugh leaning against his car, opening the passenger door for you as he takes the bag from you. 

“Such a gentleman,” you point out. 

Hugh catches you by surprise and leans in to peck your lips. “D’ya like it?” 

“What? You being a gentleman?” 

Hugh nods. 

“I do, but I also like…” you bite your lower lip as you climb into the passenger seat. “I also like it rough.” Without allowing him to respond, you shut the door and smirk to yourself. Hugh is awakening something inside of you, something that you had suppressed for so long and it feels good to finally let loose and be yourself. It’s easy with him. 

You see him then set your bag in the trunk before he shuts it closed and then walks to the driver’s side. He climbs in and looks at you, eyes narrowed as he starts the car and buckles his seatbelt. When Hugh pulls out of your parking lot, he reaches over and rests his hand on your upper thigh, his fingers resting on the inside of your thigh. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, resting a hand over his own.

“Showing dominance,” Hugh winks. 

“Showing dominance?” you laugh quietly. “By putting your hand on my thigh?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel as he keeps eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He moves his hand slightly higher. His pinky moves just slightly and you feel it brush against your core, causing a quiet gasp to escape your lips. 

“Hugh!” 

“See? Dominance.” 

“You’re a tease, that’s what you are.”

Hugh then lets out a loud laugh. “Me? The tease? May I remind you what you were doing to me back at your apartment, baby?” 

Love. Baby. All of these terms of endearment are slowly breaking down your resolve. 

“Okay, okay,” you say quietly, biting your lower lip as you feel his pinky move up and down along your core. It causes your eyes to flutter shut, the light touch against you making you yearn for more. You need more. You need him. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get through today’s workout,” Hugh begins, stopping at a red light as he turns to look at you. He’s glad his windows are tinted, no one able to tell who he is or what he’s doing right now. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he turns his hand to press firmly against your clothed sex, gently using his middle finger to rub circles against your clit. “Because all I’m gonna be thinking about, baby, are the sounds you’re making and how you’re gonna feel wrapped around me.” 

You let out quiet moans as you grip his wrist, trying to push him away but he remains persistent. His touch against you becomes stronger and he pulls away only because the light turns green. Your eyes narrow in his direction and you realize that you’re almost close to the gym. When he pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park, you reach over the console and move your hand to rest above his crotch. You hear his breath hitch in his throat as Hugh looks in your direction, biting his lower lip.

“What are you doin’?” 

“What you were doing to me,” you whisper, feeling the length of him underneath the palm of your hand. You then bring your fingertip to run across his length, feeling it begin to harden underneath your touch. “I think it’s only fair.”

His hand darts out to grab your wrist and pull it away from him, eyes narrowing as Hugh leans in. His lips are dangerously close to yours and you stare at him with a mischievous look on your face, biting your lower lip. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growls. 

“You promise?” 

Hugh chuckles and leans in to peck your lips. “Oh, it’s a promise.” 

—

After another grueling workout session, you’re already drenched in sweat and making your way to Hugh’s car. While you still pushed yourself past your limits during the session, you couldn’t help but be distracted by him. Every chance he could get, he’d make sure to touch you – whether it’s a soft touch on your lower back, a gentle hand on your shoulder. Hugh wanted more of you and he could tell throughout the session that your eyes lingered on him. It excited him to know just what might happen once you both leave to go to his place. 

“You ready?” Hugh asks, motioning towards the door. You nod and walk in front of him, giving him a good view of your backside and legs and he bites his lower lip, his thoughts going back to the moment you shared on your couch. Once outside in the parking lot, Hugh gently takes your bag from you and sets it in his truck. 

“So,” he hears you say once he climbs into the driver’s side. “What will you be making me?” 

“Something healthy,” Hugh grins. “I am on a strict diet for Wolverine.”

“Okay, I can do healthy. What do you have in mind?” 

“You’re so eager,” he chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to make his way to his home. “Can’t you just be a good girl and wait and see?”

Good girl. Your eyes narrow at him and bite your lower lip. All of the nicknames he’s been given you this last week: Love. Baby. Brat. Good girl. It shoots straight to your core and you look over at him, moving your hand to rest over his forearm that’s resting against the middle console. Two can play that game, you tell yourself. 

“What if…” you whisper, running your fingertips lightly across his forearm. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?”

That causes Hugh’s head to turn. He stops the car at a red light, knowing that you’re both only about twenty minutes away from his house. His hand grips the steering wheel as he looks down at you, noticing the look in your eyes. “Oh, you know what you’re doing, don’t you, baby?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re gonna feed me.”

“Oh, I’ll feed you something, alright,” he smirks, turning his attention back on the road once the light turns green. Hugh moves his hand back to your leg, but he keeps it resting on your thigh. He knows that if he pushes this further, he’d end up pulling over on the side of the road and taking you in this car. 

After twenty minutes, he pulls into his parking garage and notices the look on your face. He can tell that you’re in shock and in awe over his house, and he knows just what you’re about to say so he reaches over to take your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “Don’t say what you’re about to say, love.” 

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say, Hugh.” 

Hugh chuckles and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “I know you’re gonna make a comment about me being so–”

“Rich,” you finish for him. “You’re rich. I mean, look at your place and–”

Hugh shakes his head and interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was meant to quiet you, but instead, you take the initiative to climb over the console and straddle his lap while he’s seated in the driver’s seat. His hands move to your hips as he moves his lips slowly against your own. 

“Mmm,” you whimper against his lips, rolling your hips slowly. Your hands move to tangle in his hair as you nip and bite at his lower lip. 

Hugh growls against your lips, moving his hands to run up along your thighs and underneath your shirt. God, you make him feel like a teenager all over again because he’s throbbing almost painfully at the way your hips roll against his own. He needs to adjust himself or get some relief because he’s so hard underneath you that he has to pull away from you. 

“Here you are again,” he whispers. “Distracting me,” Hugh continues, pulling his hands away from you to rest gently on your upper thighs. 

“Okay, okay,” you giggle. “Can I shower while you make lunch?” 

“Yeah, let me show you around.” He opens the driver’s side of the door and watches you climb off his lap. Hugh adjusts himself in his shorts and then climbs out after you, walking to the trunk of his car and grabbing both of your bags. 

With his free hand, he takes yours and you can’t help but smile. You turn your hand to lace your fingers with his as he leads you into his home. You look around in awe, the white walls, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows make you feel incredibly small, but despite the large space that Hugh has brought you in, it feels very homey. Very comfortable. You can’t help but look around, surrounded by the amazing view of the city and the natural light coming into his home. You then quickly release his hand only to remove your shoes and he smiles at you, leaning against the wall near the stairs

“You didn’t have to take your shoes off.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at this floor! I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

Hugh laughs and then motions towards the stairs to his left. “I can set your things in the guest bedroom and you can shower there. Or…” he says, biting his lower lip as he takes in your frame, making it very obvious that he’s checking you out. You know where his mind wanders and you stand up to rest your hands on his chest, leaning up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re not gonna show me where the magic happens,” you tease with a quiet giggle. 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he replies. 

“I’m comfortable,” you answer honestly. “With you, it’s easy. I can be myself and that’s saying something.” You don’t want to get too much into detail. This is supposed to just be casual. You don’t need to tell Hugh your life story and how you came to be the way that you are. 

“Oh,” Hugh smiles. His eyes sparkle as he looks into your own and it makes your heart melt. “The feeling is mutual, actually.” He finally says. “Come on. Let’s head up.” 

You follow him up the stairs, but you’re distracted by the amount of pictures and paintings that are hung up along the wall. You want to stop and admire each one, but instead, you keep following him. Once at the top of the stairs, Hugh leads you down the hallway and opens the door. You widen your eyes at the amount of space. It looks so much bigger than your apartment and this is only a bedroom! 

“Jesus,” you whisper under your breath. 

Hugh sets both of your bags down near the bed and watches you with a small smile. You’re walking around his bedroom and he finds that he likes seeing you here. In his home. With him. He watches you walk towards the windows, arms crossing over your chest as he hears you let out a sigh. 

Slowly, Hugh walks towards you and gently wraps his arms around you from behind. He rests his head against you and places a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“What’s got you sighing, love?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s just an amazing view. I always loved seeing the city and it’s just–” you sigh. “It’s beautiful. You can see everything.”

“You should see the view of the sunset,” Hugh smiles against you. “If you want to stay, I can also make us dinner.” 

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him. You feel his hands move to rest on your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. You still can’t believe you’re here with him, with Hugh Jackman. The way he’s made you feel in just a short amount of time of knowing him does scare you, but you can’t help the pull you feel towards him. 

“What’s next, Hugh? Spend the night?” you tease, bringing your hands up his arms to his shoulders, taking your time to feel the muscles underneath your fingertips. 

“Would that be a bad thing?” he says, dipping his head lower to press a light kiss on your lips. 

“I didn’t pack an overnight bag,” you smile. 

“Who says you’re gonna need the clothes?” Hugh winks, moving his hand down to grasp your backside with a firm grip. It causes you to gasp and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his neck. 

“You’re a tease.” 

Hugh chuckles and pulls away to look down at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love it if you’d stay. At least for dinner.”

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You try to remind yourself that you deserve this, that you deserve something good, that you deserve him. “As long as you’re not tired of me yet, I’d love to stay.” 

“I could never,” he says with a big grin. “Okay, I’ll let you shower. I’m gonna shower in the other bathroom. Come downstairs whenever you’re done.” 

“Thank you, Hugh.” You say seriously, bringing your hand up to his cheek. You feel the stubble against your fingertips as your eyes scan his features. He leans into your touch and slowly turns his head to press a kiss into your palm. 

“It’s my pleasure, baby. I’ll see you in a bit.” Hugh places a kiss on your forehead, pulling away slowly as he looks at you with a broad smile. Then, he walks into his closet and leaves you in the bedroom as you walk over to grab your bag. You then walk inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you. If his bedroom surprised you, his bathroom was a different story. 

This doesn’t feel real. How can someone like you be here with someone like him? You wonder if this is his way of just having fun. Your trainer mentioned he was single and you assumed he was married. You would be lying if you said you never searched him on Google, but the last time you checked, he was a married man for over twenty years. Maybe this was just his way of getting back out there and that this wasn’t going to be anything serious. 

You try to tell yourself to enjoy the ride, even if it may not last long. 

“I deserve this,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m enough.” You continue to say this over and over again, trying to revert the negative thoughts that begin to creep in your mind with the negative self-talk. 

—

After thirty minutes, you step out of his bathroom dressed in casual loungewear. You didn’t know what to bring, so you opted for comfortability. You’re wearing black knit pants with a black crop top. It’s a matching lounge set and when you begin to make your way downstairs, you can hear quiet music playing in the kitchen. You’re walking barefoot, the cold tile of the floor causing your feet to wiggle at the coolness. 

When you round the corner, you see Hugh setting the table in the corner. His windows capture your attention because everywhere you look, it’s a clear view of the city. His hair is slightly damp and he’s also barefoot, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and gray joggers. He looks so normal like this, so domesticated and unlike the persona he presents to the media. You feel lucky to get even a glimpse of this side of him. 

“Hey,” you call out, seeing him turn around to face you. He grins in your direction, his eyes taking in your frame. 

“Hey,” he replies. “You look comfy.” 

“I am comfy,” you smile, walking towards him. “It smells good.”

“Ah,” Hugh chuckles. “It’s just eggs, toast, and avocado. Strict diet,” he points out again. 

“Well, good thing I like all of those things. Thank you for making me lunch.” You’re about to sit down before Hugh pulls you into his arms. He cups your cheek with one hand while his other wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Thank you for having lunch with me.” Hugh says softly. “I really…” he sighs quietly. “I’m really enjoying the time we’re spending with each other.” 

“Me too, Hugh,” you smile, leaning against his touch. “Come on, let’s eat.” 

Hugh nods and pecks your lips and pulls away slowly. He rests his forehead against yours as he exhales a quiet breath. There’s an unspoken feeling that lingers in the air between the both of you and Hugh can’t deny it. He knows there’s an age gap, knows that his lifestyle might be completely different than what you’re used to, but he knows that he wants more of this. He wants more moments with you. 

“What?” you ask quietly. 

“Nothing, baby. Let’s eat.” Hugh then pulls away to pull out your chair. He watches you take a seat and then he moves to sit next to you, arm draping over the back of your chair. He sees you look up to stare at the view and he smiles to himself, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

Throughout lunch, you feel more and more comfortable. Your legs are curled underneath the chair as you lean against his side, resting your head against his shoulder. You can’t help but notice how much you laugh when you’re with him and how much you love seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. 

He pays close attention to you and it makes you feel seen and heard and unlike anything you’ve felt before. Even though you aren’t in a relationship with Hugh, it makes you daydream and imagine just exactly what it would be like. You know that you can get used to this, spending more and more time with him like this. In his home. In yours. You realize that you want him more permanently in your life, in whatever way that may be. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking up at him after you both finish eating. “What was your first impression of me?” 

Hugh arches a brow. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah, honestly.” 

Hugh turns to face you and tilts his head to the side. “Well, for one, you were on all fours so I couldn’t help but take a peek.” 

You feign a gasp and gently push against his chest. “Naughty, Hugh!” 

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head. “But I liked your honesty. I liked that you were just… You. Genuinely you. You don’t see that very often, especially not around me.”

“Oh, right. Big celebrity and all,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully. 

Hugh smiles. “Seriously. Some people just get close to you because they want something out of it. It’s hard to tell if someone is being genuine or not, but with you…” he says, beginning to trail off with a shake of his head. “I know we joke around a lot, calling me the Hugh Jackman, how famous I am, but I just feel like you see me for me. Not as the Hugh Jackman,” he chuckles. “Your honesty was refreshing. It’s like I mentioned before. You’re a breath of fresh air, baby.” 

You bite your lower lip as you listen to him talk. You feel your stomach do flips and you lean in to press a soft kiss on his lips. His hand drops to your hip as he rubs circles against you, feeling your skin against the pad of his thumb as your shirt rides up when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“I feel comfortable around you,” you reply. “Like I can truly be myself and I haven’t had that in a very long time. I feel like I’m becoming myself again.” 

Hugh smiles, slowly pulling you onto his lap. You lean back against the table as your arms remain loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips. 

“Did something–” Hugh begins. “Happen? I remember our trainer mentioning something about negative self-talk last week…” 

You bite your lower lip. You weren’t planning on ever telling him your past relationship because you didn’t feel like you needed to. This wasn’t going to be serious… Right? 

“I just got out of a three year relationship a few months ago. I gave a lot of myself into that relationship and never got anything in return. I just–” you sigh, looking away from him. “It’s embarrassing. I just let myself go.”

Hugh sighs and hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look at him. His eyes search yours, staring deeply into you. “It’s not embarrassing. It just shows that you have a lot of love to give and he took that for granted.” 

Your eyes soften as you look at him. You never did think of it that way and you didn’t realize just how much you needed to hear that. There’s a silence that engulfs the both of you and you feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, pent up emotions threatening to spill out. 

“Oh,” he whispers, his own eyes widening slightly. “I didn’t– Baby, are you okay?” Hugh says softly, gently cupping your cheek. 

You don’t respond. Instead, you just lean in to press your lips firmly against his warm and soft lips. You feel the warmth bloom in your chest, butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and for once in a very long time, you feel whole. Not because of Hugh, but because of the words he said. 

He was right.

You did have a lot of love to give. 

“Mm, wait, wait,” Hugh says, pulling away to look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes,” you say, almost breathlessly. “Take me to your room?” 

His eyes slightly widen, brows raising. “Oh.” Hugh says. “Oh. Yeah, come on.” He stands from his chair and takes your hand in his, helping you to stand from your own seat. You take his hand eagerly, using your free hand to hold onto his forearm as well as you allow him to lead you back up the stairs and into his room. 

You can feel the thrumming in your chest, the anticipation looming in the pit of your stomach, and you’re certainly aware of the throbbing you feel in between your legs. Hugh brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he leads you down the hall and into his room. Once inside, he shuts the door behind him and turns around to face you. 

You can see the look in his eyes. It’s filled with lust and desire, turning to a darker shade. The backs of your legs touch his mattress and he walks towards you, arms reaching out to rest on your hips as he leans down to capture your lips softly. 

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he whispers against your lips. “I don’t normally do this,” Hugh begins, pulling away to look into your eyes. 

“Do what? Have casual sex?” you tease, moving your hands up his arms and giving his biceps a gentle squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t call this casual,” Hugh points out. “At least I don’t want it to be,” he admits. “Is that okay?” 

“You know, this is a conversation people usually have after having sex.” You smile, hands moving further up his biceps to his shoulders and to the nape of his neck where you tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “But I also don’t want this to be casual either…” you whisper quietly. “And I also don’t normally do this too.” 

Hugh smiles. You can see his eyes sparkle with excitement as he snakes his arms around your frame. “We’re just stepping out of our comfort zones, aren’t we?” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you reply, slowly sitting on the bed and pulling him on top of you. He uses one hand to rest above your head while the other remains around your waist and gently moves the both of you in the middle of the bed. It’s so large and you’re sure that it has to be an extra large king sized bed or something, because even he looks small on it. 

Slowly, Hugh moves to settle himself between your legs and smiles to himself when he looks down to see you wrap your legs around his waist. He places both of hands at either side of your head to keep himself propped up as he looks down at you, hair splayed against his white sheets, staring up at him with doe-like eyes, twinkling against the natural light that comes through his large windows. 

He says your name quietly, leaning down slowly as his lips hover against yours. “I fear if we do this, there’s no going back.” 

You nod in agreement and move your hands from the nape of his neck to cup his cheeks. “I’m okay with it. Are you?” 

Hugh nods, turning his head to kiss the inside of your palm again. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m okay with it,” he repeats. 

“Good because I’ve been wanting you since this morning and I think I’ve been a real good girl waiting so patiently for this,” you tease with a grin. 

“A good girl, huh?” Hugh grins, his eyes darkening once more. “I wonder what good girls get.” 

“A reward. Good girls get a reward.”

“Yeah, they do,” Hugh then leans in to press his lips against yours. He wastes no time in moving his lips, hands dropping to your hips. Hugh can’t help the feeling that weighs on his chest and the flutters in the pit of his stomach. He was open to dating and getting back out there after his divorce, but he didn’t think that it would happen anytime soon. He enjoys your company, enjoys the fact that you make him laugh, enjoys the way you look at him and the way you make him feel. 

You move your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks as he deepens the kiss even further. You part your lips, letting out a quiet gasp when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth. You buck your hips against him, feeling him press himself firmly against your core. He grunts against your lips and it reverberates in his chest, causing it to come out as a quiet growl.

Hugh moves his hands underneath your shirt, letting his hands move upwards along your sides until he realizes that you weren’t wearing a bra. He feels the center of his sweatpants get increasingly tighter and uncomfortable the more he kisses you paired with the movements of your hips. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” he mumbles, pulling back slightly to nip at your lower lip and move his lips along your jawline. “That the entire time we were eating and laughing downstairs that you weren’t wearing a bra?” Hugh’s large hands come up to cover both of your breasts underneath your shirt as he pushes his hips into you. He drags his tongue along the side of your neck, your moans and whimpers directly in his ear. 

“I told you I was comfy,” you moan, feeling the pads of his thumbs brush against your nipples. “Hugh…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations of his hands, his lips, and his hardened length pressing against you becomes too much. It’s everything all at once and you try to tell yourself to take your time, to let him set the pace, but you just want to roll him over on his back and ride him like your entire life depended on it. 

“I know, baby,” he whispers, gently biting down the side of your neck and sucking on it afterwards. Hugh pulls back to look at the mark slowly appearing and he grins to himself. He isn’t usually the type of person to leave any marks, but for some reason, it excites him to know that you’ll be walking around the next few days with a reminder of today. And it’s all because of him. 

Hugh leans back on his knees and grabs the ends of your shirt to lift over your head. You raise your arms above to allow him to remove your shirt and once he does, he tosses it carelessly over his shoulder as he sees your chest fully exposed for him. 

“Fuck,” he groans. Like a man possessed, Hugh leans down and grasps your breasts in both hands. He growls to himself and leans down to wrap his lips around one nipple, feeling it harden between his lips as he sucks. He uses his other hand to caress your unattended breast and you immediately arch your back in the air, pushing your breasts further into his face. 

“Hugh,” you moan, biting your lower lip as you feel the wetness begin to build between your legs. You need some friction, you need some pressure because you’re throbbing and squeezing around nothing yet you can feel his hardened manhood right where you need him. “I need to feel you, please…” 

Hugh looks up at you and then turns his attention to the other breast, gently nipping so that he can pay equal attention to them. A few moments pass before he pulls back to lift his own shirt over his head. 

You let out a quiet gasp, looking up at him. You’ve seen pictures of him and you know that his physique isn’t something that he hides, but seeing it up close, within arms reach, it does something to you. You reach out and run your fingertips along his abdomen to his chest and back down. A blush appears along your neck and up to your cheeks as you gently tug on the waistband of his sweatpants.

“God, you are beautiful,” you blurt out. You stare into his eyes and you both let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Me?” he says, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles before he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants. Slowly, Hugh pulls your pants and your panties off your body, once more tossing the clothing across the room. You’re lying back, completely naked and exposed for him. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he finally says. Normally, you’d be very self-conscious about how you look, especially naked in front of Hugh Jackman, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel comfortable and confident. He’s truly looking at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen before. 

Then, Hugh drags his hand down the front of your chest, down to your abdomen, until it hovers between your legs. He gently parts your legs even further, giving him a clear view of your folds that glisten against the natural light. Hugh then lets his index finger run across your slit, groaning to himself when he feels your wetness coat him. He looks up at you briefly, seeing your eyes fall shut as your hands reach out to grasp the sheets. 

He smirks proudly to himself and leans over you, peppering kisses along your neck and chest and back up as he slowly slides his finger past your folds and into your hole. Hugh groans against you, feeling just how tight you feel around one finger and it excites him to know just how good it’d feel when he finally pushes his cock into you. To relieve some pressure, he uses his free hand to push down his pants and boxers, letting out a groan of relief as his cock finally springs free from its confines. 

You don’t open your eyes though, still too focused on the way his finger slowly moves in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, so warm, so tight that Hugh tries to take it slow. He then adds another finger, watching as your eyes slightly open at the second intrusion. You feel your walls stretch at his second finger and you finally look down, eyes widening even further at the sight of his length. He’s red at the tip, leaking, and throbbing. It makes your mouth water at the sight because all you want to do is drop down onto your knees and take him into your mouth. Maybe next time, you tell yourself. 

His fingers begin to move at a faster pace, the sounds of squelching echoing throughout his large bedroom. Hugh rests his forehead against yours, turning his hand so that he can rub your clit with the pad of his thumb. He knows you’re close, knows that your body is going to give way to him. He can feel you begin to tremble and he smiles. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers against your lips. “I can feel you’re close, baby. Don’t hold back. Let go for me.” His voice is much deeper and you can’t help but nod in his direction, your arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your back arches in the air. 

“Hugh!” His name escapes your lips with a loud moan, feeling your body shake as you try to ride out your climax. He doesn’t let up though, still continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace. He watches you, watches as you shut your eyes tight, mouth slightly agape, back arched as you tighten around his fingers – it’s something that Hugh will forever remember. He can feel your walls throbbing and he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking down at your slickness and slowly bringing it to his lips. Then, he sucks. 

Your eyes open to watch him. He’s staring at you as he licks his fingers clean of your release and it’s so dirty, so hot, that you grab his shoulders and push him onto his back. He kicks off his pants and boxers as his cock rests against his lower abdomen, throbbing painfully and impatiently. 

“You taste fuckin’ good, baby.” Hugh smirks. “Can’t wait to eat you up later.” 

You bite your lower lip and slowly straddle his lap as your eyes move across his face and down to the rest of his body. He’s so chiseled, so muscular. Your eyes deviate further down, seeing the patch of hair between his legs and then his cock. You bring your hand to your mouth and quietly spit into the pit of your palm before reaching down to slowly wrap your hand around his base, feeling the weight and warmth of it in your hand. Then, you tighten your grip and begin to pump your hand up and down. His eyes flutter at the sensation, continuous groans escaping his lips. 

He says your name in a quiet moan as you continue to move your hand along his base. Your movements begin to speed up before Hugh’s hand darts out to grab your wrist, making you cease movements altogether. 

“You keep that up and I’m not gonna last long,” Hugh admits. 

You narrow your eyes and use your thumb to run across the tip of his cock, his precum spreading over it as you hear him let out another moan. You smile to yourself and bring your thumb to your mouth, seeing it slick with his precum before you lean in and suck, your tongue darting out to wipe it from your thumb.

“Mm, you taste good too. I also can’t wait to get down on my knees and just devour you, Hugh.” That earns you a growl as he gently lifts you so that he can grab his cock in his hand to line his tip between your folds. 

“You’re naughty,” he smirks. “I like it.” Hugh moves his free hand to your hip and slowly lowers you down onto him. The tip of his cock enters you and he tries so hard not to just ram up into you because he wants more, needs more. He feels your hands rest on his chest and he flexes subconsciously as you slowly begin to lower yourself further onto his cock. Inch by inch, you feel an almost painful stretch of his cock because you know that you’re tight and you know for sure that you haven’t had anyone as big as Hugh. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, moving his hands onto your hips as you continue to lower yourself onto him until he fills you to the hilt. You’re so tight and warm and wet around him that Hugh just knows he isn’t going to last long. 

You take a moment to get used to his girth and his length. In this position, you feel him so deep within your depths. You’re so full of him and you find that you can just stay here for the rest of your days. Hugh’s eyes begin to flutter shut as you roll your hips forwards and backwards, your hands still resting on his chest. The hair at his base provides the perfect friction against your clit and you feel the tightness in the pit of your stomach begin to grow more and more prominent. 

“Hugh, oh god,” you moan aloud, continuing your movements before you begin to bounce along his length. 

Hugh growls, hands gripping your hips as his fingertips dig into your skin. He knows that’s going to leave a mark later, but he can’t help the sensation. Your walls are gripping him in a tight vice as you move along him, your walls sliding along his cock. 

“You feel amazing,” he begins, lifting his hips slowly to meet yours. Hugh groans, holding you up just slightly to give himself room to begin to thrust upwards into you. Hugh’s thrusts quicken as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement. You toss your head back as you reach back to rest your hands on his thighs and Hugh’s gaze drops down as he watches himself move in and out of your depths. He can see his cock is slick with your wetness, allowing for him to move easily within your folds. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you moan, beginning to lose your resolve. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your chest flushed against his, face buried against the side of his neck as Hugh’s thrusts become more erratic, more rough and the sound of skin slapping against one another echoes loudly through his room. 

“Come for me, love,” he whispers into your ear. “I know you can gimme another.” 

It was all you needed to slam yourself down onto him, shaking against him as your walls tighten even further around him. Hugh has to stop himself from thrusting because he knows that if he were to continue, he’d lose it too and he wants to be on top when he does. 

You’re both breathing heavily when Hugh slowly rolls you onto your back. He leans down to peck your lips lightly, hands moving to brush your hair away from your face. Then, Hugh moves his hips against you. He pulls back to his tip before he slams himself back into you. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he whispers, seeing as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You’re already so sensitive and you don’t know if you can last any longer, but staring deeply into Hugh’s eyes as his thrusts continue forces you to hold out. You know that if you reach another orgasm that you’d be spent for the rest of the day and you’re sure Hugh knows it too. 

“Hugh,” you moan, legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he continues to thrust into you. “You feel…” your arms wrap around his shoulders as nails dig into his skin. “You feel so good.”

Hugh smirks at that and gently kisses the tip of your nose as hands drop to your hips to hold you steady against the bed. “You feel so good too, baby.” Then, Hugh feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach and he knows he’s close. His thrusts become more sloppy and his mouth is slightly agape as both of your moans mix in with one another. 

“I’m close,” he mumbles. “Where–” 

“Inside,” you reassure him. “On the pill.” 

“Are you– Fuck,” Hugh growls. “Are you sure?” 

“Come in me, Hugh.” You answer, letting out a loud moan as his thrusts continue to get more rough. He reaches down and rubs his thumb against your clit. Suddenly, you’re so very aware that you’re about to reach yet another orgasm and Hugh’s eyes stare into yours. This is your first time having sex with him and yet, it seems like he already knows so much about what gets you there. 

“Oh, Hugh… Hugh!” you exclaim, back arching as your eyes shut and your walls tighten once more around his length. 

Hugh groans and thrusts once more before he releases himself inside of you. He buries his face against the side of your neck, lazily nipping at your skin as you throb around him. Hugh then looks up at you and smiles, seeing you return one of your own. 

“I’m spent,” you chuckle. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and pecks your lips lightly. “Three times, huh?” 

“Three times. That’s a first.” 

Hugh grins proudly. “That was amazing, love.” Slowly, he pulls out of you and you both let out a quiet whimper. When he pulls out of you completely, you suddenly feel less whole, less filled. He lies back next to you and pulls you into his arms, noticing the mark along your neck and the marks of his fingertips on your hips. 

“I think I made a few marks and bruises,” Hugh says. 

You arch a brow and then slowly begin to smile. You point to his shoulders and his back as you lean up to peck his lips. “I think I did too.” 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and shuts his eyes, feeling you snuggle further into his side. He can get used to this. He feels like you belong here with him. 

“So,” he begins. “Stay the night?” 

You look up at him and smile, leaning up on your elbow to kiss his chin. You see his eyes open to look down at you, staring at you with soft eyes. “Oh, after that? I’m definitely staying the night.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk

[moonlitsmile]

praying for a oneshot or 2/3 parter of in-ho being super protective over reader in the games 🙏🙏🙏 and at the end she finds out who he is and doesn’t want him anymore but in-ho wants her so bad…. do u see the vision

burning desire

hwang in-ho x f!reader

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | part 1/ 3 , readers team (gi-hun, in-ho, jung-bae, and dae-ho) participates In the six legged pentathlon. After the game, in-ho and reader talk a little, reader starting to fall for him more and more. Having no idea what he was behind, and how he’d do whatever to keep her safe.

Number 231 was the number assigned to her. The darkish green tracksuit with white trim clung to her as a constant reminder of where she was. She was stuck in this hellhole, haunted by her own thoughts, wondering how she had let herself end up here. If she had known what this would be like, she would have never come. Children’s games... yes, children’s games, but with a horrifying twist—killing. The concept was simple, yet the reality was grotesque..

-

The soft crunch of the sand beneath their white shoes filled the air, mingling with scattered chatter and glances of confusion. The bright room was illuminated by pale light, its walls painted in soft, cheerful colors. Some sections featured light blue clouds drifting lazily across the walls and vibrant rainbows arching gracefully above. But the most striking detail in the room was the two large rainbow-colored circular paths that seemed to dominate the space. They stood out like bold symbols, though their purpose was unclear. The familiar voice of the woman rang out over the loudspeakers once more, light yet detached, echoing through the unsettling stillness.

“Players, welcome to your second game. This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five within the next ten minutes.”

The announcement was met with a ripple of unease as players exchanged nervous glances. reader walked alongside Gi-hun, with Dae-ho on her other side. Her voice broke the tense silence as she asked softly, “What is this?” Her question was directed at Gi-hun, assuming he must know something. After all, he had claimed to have been through these games before. But when she glanced up at him, she saw his eyes filled with fear and confusion. Her stomach sank. Was it not the dalgona game like he had said it would be?

“Is dalgona a team game?” Jung Bae asked, his voice tinged with both worry and doubt as his gaze shifted to Gi-hun. The question hung in the air for a moment, unanswered. Around them, people murmured anxiously, glancing at the unusual symbols and paths painted on the floor. Player 100 approached from behind, his raspy and slightly grating voice cutting through the murmur. “Aren’t we playing the dalgona game?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation. “No… it doesn’t look like it,” Gi-hun replied, his eyes darting around the room, scanning for any clue that might explain this new twist. His confusion was almost palpable, and it only heightened the tension in the group. Something wasn’t right. Reader could feel it in her chest, a heavy, gnawing sensation that told her they were walking into something entirely unexpected. “What’s the game then?” Player 100 pressed again, his impatience growing as he glared at Gi-hun. Gi-hun shook his head slightly, his voice quiet but strained. “I’m not sure.”

“What?” Player 100 snapped, his irritation boiling over. “You said you’d done this before! You said triangle was the easiest. Was that all bullshit?” Gi-hun’s face twisted into an expression of guilt and worry. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his tone almost pleading. “Sorry won’t cut it!” Player 100 barked, his voice rising and drawing the attention of others nearby. He began hurling insults and rude comments at Gi-hun, his frustration spilling over into anger. The tension in the room thickened as others started to join in, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus of blame and doubt.

reader felt a pang of sympathy for Gi-hun. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of the accusations. She believed him. They must have changed the game—altered it to keep the players guessing, to maintain the psychological pressure. Before she could speak up in his defense, a commanding voice cut through the commotion. “That’s enough,” In-ho’s deep, authoritative tone rang out, silencing Player 100. The man immediately took a step back, his aggression deflating under In-ho’s stern gaze. He huffed lightly but didn’t push further. readers eyes shifted to In-ho, taking in his composed demeanor. His brown hair framed his sharp features, and his dark eyes seemed to hold a quiet intensity. For a moment, she found herself distracted, drawn in by his presence. But the loudspeaker crackled again, jolting her back to reality.

“Please divide into teams now,” the woman’s voice instructed once more, her tone leaving no room for delay.

-

After everyone else had gone, it was finally time for her team to step forward. The anticipation was palpable as they stood up, walking steadily toward the rainbow-colored road that stretched ominously before them. The colors shimmered under the dim lights, a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air. They aligned themselves carefully: Gi-hun at one end, In-ho beside him, Dae-ho next in line, then Jung-bae, and finally reader on the other end. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The guards moved efficiently, tying one of their legs to the person beside them, leaving each team member with only one movable leg. The sensation of the binding was foreign and restrictive, forcing them to adjust their balance quickly. Her eyes shifted to the Rainbow Road, its surface stained with both fresh and dried blood from those who had failed to complete the challenge in time. The haunting image sent a chill down her spine, and as if on cue, she could still hear the phantom echoes of gunfire that had signaled the end for others. The rules were clear: finish within the time limit or meet the same fate. The clock was merciless, ticking down from five minutes.

They had to play five games to survive: Ddakji, Flying Stone, Gong-gi, Spinning Top, and Five Jegi. The assignments had already been decided. Y/N was taking the first challenge, Ddakji. Jung-bae would handle Flying Stone, Dae-ho had Gong-gi, In-ho was tasked with Spinning Top, and finally, Gi-hun would take on Five Jegi. The team stood at the starting line, their breaths shallow but determined, preparing themselves for the trials ahead. “It’s a little sad that we have no audience, isn’t it?” Jung-bae remarked, his voice cutting through the silence with an almost forced nonchalance. “It’s quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching,” Dae-ho replied, his tone calm but firm, as if trying to reassure both himself and the team.

“Guys! We’ll see you again at the finish line. Victory at all costs!” Jung-bae suddenly yelled to the other team, his voice filled with defiant energy. The opposing team cheered back in response, their voices a mix of determination and desperation. Then, the focus shifted back to their own positions. The team interlocked their arms briefly, a gesture of solidarity and strength. She sighed shakily, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. In-ho, ever observant, must have sensed her anxiety. His head tilted slightly to glance at her from his position. His dark but gentle eyes met hers as she stared down at her feet, almost as if silently praying for their success. As if drawing strength from his quiet assurance, she picked her head back up, her gaze shifting to the road ahead of them. The faint tremble in her hands steadied as she glanced at her teammates, each of them bracing themselves for what was to come. In-ho turned his attention back to the front, his expression unreadable but resolute. He knew they would win. He was certain of it. And though she couldn’t entirely shake her fears. The guard then raising the gun, indicating it was about it begin. Then boom, the loud shot of the gun filled the echoing room. It started.

-

The loud buzz of the door suddenly echoed through the warehouse-like room, interrupting the low chatter that filled the air. It was a cold, unwelcoming space, lined with rows of bunk beds stacked haphazardly against the walls. The team—Gi-hun, Jung Bae, In-ho, Dae Ho, and reader—entered, their steps heavy with the weight of what they had just endured. They were the last ones to make it back from the grueling six-legged pentathlon, barely crossing the finish line with just five seconds to spare. The tension in the room was palpable, with the remaining survivors from the previous game casting cold, resentful stares in their direction. She kept her head low, her gaze fixed on her shoes. The dark red blood smeared across the plain white, van-style sneakers made her stomach churn. She sighed shakily, trying to steady herself, though her hands trembled slightly at her sides. Her mind replayed the events of the game, the chaos, the loud noises, and the adrenaline, over and over again.

A light touch on her back startled her from her spiraling thoughts. She hesitated before glancing sideways, her eyes landing on a matching pair of white, blood-stained shoes standing beside her. Slowly, she looked up to see In-ho. His calm presence was both surprising and oddly comforting. Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he met her gaze, his dark eyes soft yet filled with an unspoken reassurance. Without a word, his expression seemed to say, "It’s okay." To not want her to worry about the games. He knew he’d keep her safe, not let anything bad happen to her. She managed a small, tentative smile, and he returned it with a faint curve of his lips. His hand, larger and warm, rested gently on the small of her back, offering a moment of solace in a sea of chaos. He rubbed her back lightly, a brief but caring gesture, before letting his hand drop. He stepped away to rejoin the others, his quiet demeanor contrasting with the tension that hung heavily in the room.

As the group retreated to their corner, they could feel the weight of the remaining players’ eyes on them—sharp, hateful, and filled with contempt. Some whispered among themselves, the low murmurs laced with bitterness, while others argued openly about the money, the prize that had turned them all into desperate, ruthless competitors. The air was thick with mistrust and anger, making her shoulders tense once more. Even in their moment of survival, peace was nowhere to be found.

The group sat back in the corner where they normally slept, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. She sighed deeply, lowering herself onto the worn mattress that lay on the floor, the very one they had pulled off the bunk the night before. Around her, the group murmured, their voices hushed but tense as they discussed what had just unfolded. She sat quietly on the mattress, her body aching but her mind slightly at ease, relieved that they had made it in time. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, though the knot of anxiety in her chest reminded her that another game, more dangerous and unpredictable, would soon come next. Her eyes drifted downward to her shoes, the once-pristine white cloth now stained with dried blood, a stark reminder of how close they had come to disaster. She swallowed hard, the sight stirring a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. Suddenly, she felt the mattress dip slightly beside her, accompanied by the quiet creak of someone sitting down. Glancing over cautiously, she met a familiar face— In-ho. His presence was steadying in a way she hadn’t expected. Her soft, uncertain gaze met his intense dark eyes, which softened as they lingered on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and deep like always, but now carrying a hint of gentleness and warmth. She nodded slightly, managing a small smile despite the tension still lingering in her body. “Yeah,” she replied softly, her tone tinged with exhaustion, “I guess the adrenaline still hasn’t really worn off.” Her lips curved into a faint smile, a fragile attempt at humor. He chuckled quietly, the sound low and comforting, as if trying to ease the weight of the moment. His knee brushed lightly against hers, and she felt a sudden warmth creep into her cheeks, a pink flush that made her glance away shyly. She couldn’t help but look back, though, her gaze flickering up to him. Her soft eyes met his once more, and for a second, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. His dark eyes held hers with an intensity that made her heart race, yet there was a softness in them that made her feel unexpectedly safe.

Clearing her throat quietly, she broke the gaze and looked back down at her lap, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “You did good,” his voice came again, steady and sincere. “at ddakji.” The words hung in the air between them, simple yet heavy with meaning. He was still watching her, his dark eyes but gentle, and she could feel his attention like a quiet anchor in the chaos of her thoughts.

She smiled gently at his words, her expression softening. “thank you,” she said sweetly, her voice warm with gratitude. “You did great too.” She glanced up at him briefly, her smile widening just a little before she looked away again, her nerves getting the better of her. Around them, the others continued their low conversation, their voices a distant hum in the background. But for now, in this small corner of the room, it felt as though time had slowed, just for a moment. There was silence between them. He was about to speak before the gentle lullaby music from the speakers lightly played. Indicating it was bedtime soon. “Lights out in ten minutes.” The familiar robot sounding woman on the speaker spoke again.

She was looking down at her shoes, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She was trying to distract herself from the fact that she could feel his light gaze on her, steady and unwavering. It wasn’t that it bothered her—it didn’t. It just made her slightly nervous, a feeling she wasn’t entirely used to. Over the span of time they had been here, he had been making her feel certain ways she couldn’t quite put into words. He was so mysterious, dark, but at the same time, polite, respectful, and sweet in a way that caught her off guard. And that smile—he had the nicest smile, one that seemed to linger in her mind longer than it should. She was quickly snapped out of her thoughts as she heard his low, quiet, but gentle voice speak again. “Hey,” he mumbled softly, the sound almost making her jump. “Look at me.” His tone was low, somewhat firm, but still sweet, as if urging her without commanding. She froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. A rush of heat spread to her cheeks and the back of her neck. Clearing her throat gently, she glanced back up at him, her gaze soft and hesitant. He was still sitting beside her on the mattress, his dark eyes filled with a softness that made her chest tighten slightly. But his gaze didn’t stay on her face. Instead, it shifted upward, focusing on her hair. One of his hands reached out, moving slowly, almost cautiously. For a moment, she thought he was touching her hair deliberately, and her heart beat a little faster. But then she realized he was just getting something out of her hair—a small piece of grass, probably from the last game. His gentle fingertips lightly removed it, the brief contact sending a shiver down her spine. “There,” he said softly, his voice carrying a certain warmth.

Her soft eyes lingered on his for a second longer than she intended, and when he glanced back at her, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t even realized she had been walking around with a strand of grass in her hair. Shyly, she smiled, her lips curving upward faintly. “Thanks,” she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. He nodded in acknowledgment, his expression calm but tired. He sighed—a quiet, almost weary sound that made her wonder what he was thinking. Probably tired from the day, she thought to herself. They hadn’t done much today, but being stuck in here with everyone else seemed to drain their energy over time. She watched as he slightly sat up, his posture shifting as if he were about to leave. Maybe he was planning to get up and go sit with the others, to join in their chatter and laughter. But the thought made her chest feel heavy. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to keep talking to him, to keep him here beside her on the mattress, even if it was just for a little while longer.

“What do you think the next game will be?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence. She was trying to keep the conversation going, hoping to hold his attention for a bit longer. His head was slightly turned, and she couldn’t see the faint smile that tugged at his lips as she spoke. “Hmm,” he hummed lightly in response, the sound almost thoughtful. Then, much to her surprise, he sat back down on the mattress beside her, his presence steady and reassuring.

“I’m not sure” he mumbled. “Another children’s game I’m sure of that.”

she nodded thoughtfully, her fingers still fidgeting slightly with the hem of her shirt. “Do you think it’ll be harder than the last one?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with concern. Her gaze flickered downward again, as though unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. There was a moment of silence before he responded, his deep voice gentle but firm. “Probably,” he admitted, his tone honest yet reassuring. “They’ll keep pushing us. That’s the point of all this, isn’t it?” He gestured vaguely toward the room around them. “They want us scared. That’s how they break people.” His words sent a chill down her spine, but his next words softened the blow. “But you’ll be okay, we’re all in here together..”

His statement carried a quiet confidence that made her pause, her chest tightening for a moment. There was something about the way he said it, the certainty in his voice, that made her want to believe him. She glanced up at him, her soft eyes meeting his intense gaze. “Together?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he said simply, his tone unwavering.

She felt her cheeks flush with warmth, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re really sure about that, huh?” she asked, the faintest hint of teasing in her voice. It was her way of trying to lighten the mood, though her heart still pounded in her chest. He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and she found herself holding onto it, as though it were an anchor in the storm of chaos they were trapped in, his gaze steady. “If we don’t have that… what else do we have?” His words lingered between them, heavy with meaning. She hadn’t thought of it that way before, but he was right. In this place, where trust was a fragile thread, and survival was a battle fought every second, the only thing keeping them grounded was the connections they managed to form. And somehow, in the midst of it all, she had found herself drawn to him—to his calm, steady presence, to the quiet warmth that he brought to even the darkest moments.

The two of them were the only ones awake out of their group, their shadows stretching faintly in the dim light of the room. They sat together on one of the mattresses that layed on the floor, that they had took off one of the bunks. The arrangement was far from comfortable, but it was what they had. Two people from their group were always assigned to stay up at night, taking turns to keep watch while the others slept. It was a precaution, a necessary one, to make sure no one tried attacking them in the vulnerable hours of the night. Tonight, it was Y/N and In-Ho’s turn to stay awake until it was Jung-bae and gin-ho’s turn.

She sighed softly, her gaze drifting back to her lap. “I don’t know how you stay so calm,” she admitted, her voice tinged with equal parts admiration and disbelief. “I feel like I’m falling apart in here.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a thoughtful expression for a moment before replying. The pause hung in the air, making her wonder what was going through his mind. “Hm,” he finally hummed, the sound low and contemplative, a faint smile ghosting across his lips as if he was amused by some invisible thought. She glanced at him, her curiosity piqued, noticing the subtle shift in his demeanor. Smiling softly, she couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

She laughed gently, the sound barely audible in the stillness of the night, and tilted her head in question. “What is it?” she asked, her voice tender, laced with genuine curiosity. Why was he smiling like that? Not that it bothered her—it didn’t. In fact, his calm, quiet demeanor was oddly reassuring in the tense circumstances they found themselves in. “It’s nothing” he said, another light chuckle leaving his lips. Her cheeks were lightly pink, but difficult to tell in due to the now dim light in the large room. Her soft eyes looking at him, almost in a admiring type of way. He was just so nice. What could he not do? The reason behind his smiling, was her smile. Oh how it was so adorable to him, so pretty..

Before she could press him further, the faint sound of a creak from the bed echoed gently around them, signaling they woke up now, and it was the end of y/n and in-ho’s watch, and it was now Jung-bae and Gi-hun’s turn to keep guard. She let out a quiet sigh, feeling a mix of relief and reluctance as the weight of exhaustion began to settle over her. The hours they had spent awake felt longer than they truly were, the tension of the environment amplifying every second. Yet, at the same time, she wasn’t entirely ready to go to sleep. She still wanted to talk to him. In-ho stood first, He turned to her and extended a hand, his dark eyes meeting hers with a quiet yet unspoken understanding. “Come on,” he said softly, his voice low but gentle. She hesitated for a brief moment, her gaze flicking from his face to his hand, before finally placing her smaller hand in his. His grip was firm yet careful, as if he was conscious of not overwhelming her, and for a fleeting second, she felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest.

As he helped her to her feet, she found herself standing closer to him than she had anticipated, their shoulders brushing lightly. She looked up at him, her soft eyes catching his steady gaze for just a moment longer than necessary. There was something in his expression—something calm, reassuring, and yet entirely unreadable. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say, Her heart raced in her chest, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the lingering adrenaline from the day’s events, or perhaps it was simply the effect he seemed to have on her.

The others were still fast asleep, besides Jung-bae, and gi-hun who were sat on the mattress in-ho and y/n just were. In-ho released her hand, clearing his throat. his touch leaving behind a strange emptiness that she couldn’t ignore. She glanced at him briefly, noticing the way his gaze lingered on the group as if silently assessing their safety before he went to bed and let the other two watch over now. There was a quiet protectiveness about him, a sense of responsibility that seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. It was both admirable and heartbreaking.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Looking at one another, not in a awkward way.. it was comforting for her. It was late.. she thought. She needed rest for whatever game they were gonna do tomorrow. She sighed gently. “Well.. mm. Goodnight.” She said softly, smiling sweetly. He faintly smiled. Giving a slight nod , as in a quiet goodnight aswell. She walked to the other bunk not far from his. She lowered herself onto the ground and crawled under the black bed frame where her mattress was.. she sighed quietly. Sleep, finally. In-ho remained standing for a moment longer, his dark eyes watching as she crawled under the frame to her mattress. a light faint smile playing on his lips as he walked over to the other bunk next to her. Deciding it was time for him to go to sleep too. He needed to make sure she’d stay safe tomorrow.

[mvst4far]

── .✦ CHERRY COKE

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─ A dingy bar filled with intimidating gang members, only one stood out to you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ curse words, catcalling, use of cigarettes and alcohol, men with potty mouths, slight suggestive language, pet names, one use of y/n, and i think that's it!

𝑨/𝑵 ─ first small fic for Benny! could potentially make this a two parter if wanted. also sorry for being so inactive, i'm trying to post a lot more and clear out my drafts. this fic is set in the 1960s just how it is in the movie.

── .✦ Lively bars with bold colors, quirky decor to contribute to the unique character, and scent of cigarettes wasn't really your thing. You'd much rather stay at home, tease your hair with a comb or read a book. But with the neglect of hanging out with your friend, Betty, you gave in and visited a bar that another one of her friends had suggested.

So there you were, entering the dingy bar with your arm in hers. There were a lot of motorbikes parked out front, which could only mean one thing.

Gang members.

The musky scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat mixed with cologne filled your nostrils immediately. God, this place was disgusting.

Betty led you to a small booth in the back, leather seats ripped and torn, but at least it was somewhat isolated from everybody else.

"Pretty groovy, huh?" Betty slides into the seats across from you, taking a moment to look over the place.

You flash a weak smile and nod, trying not to make it obvious you were uncomfortable. "Yeah.. it's somethin' alright."

She giggles, waving at some older biker before returning her gaze back to you. "Lot of hunks here, am I right?"

Typical Betty. She was always throwing herself at a man, especially the good-looking ones.

"Yeah, if you're into older guys who look like they could be your father." You tease, scoffing and playfully rolling your eyes.

"Whatevs," Betty rolls her eyes, "I'll get us some drinks. Be back in a sec." Before you could even say anything, she slipped out of the booth and approached the bar.

Great. Just great.

Not only did she leave you alone with nothing to do, but she left you surrounded by thirsty older men.

"Hey, foxy." Some older guy called out to you, catching your attention. "How about comin' home with me, yeah?" He takes a deep inhale from his cigarette.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, letting your eyes drag along the lively bar. And that's when you saw BENNY CROSS for the first time.

Standing by the pool table, biceps flexed and tattoos on full display.

God, he was beautiful. You didn't know what, but there was definitely something different about him. A whole lot different from all the other men h─

"I wouldn't try it, sweetheart." Some other guy approaches your table, snapping you out of your thoughts.

He seemed a lot more calmer than the other older men, and maybe a little bit younger as well. "That's Benny. Benny Cross. He's cold-hearted, doesn't have time for little girls like yourself ogling over him."

"I'm not ogling," You defend.

The man nods, shrugging. "Sure. Whatever works for you." He gives you one last look before turning around and walking away.

Your eyes followed that man for a moment before gazing around the bar once again. All you could notice was Betty flirting with some guy with a leather jacket and a cigarette between his lips, and that was your sign to leave.

You stood up from the booth, grabbing your purse and dashing out through the crowd. Once you were met with the calming outside air, streetlights flickering, you let out a sigh in relief.

But that was soon disturbed when the door opened with a chime.

You turned your body around to see who it was, and it was that same guy standing at the pool table. Otherwise known as, Benny Cross.

He had a denim jacket on now with some logo on the back, a cigarette held between his chapped lips, and you couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him.

Of course with your non-subtle ogling, he immediately noticed. "Eat your heart out," He murmured, boots thudding quietly against the concrete as he slowly approached you.

This made you blink back into reality. "O-oh.. sorry. I didn't know that I was staring." You mumbled awkwardly, breath getting caught in your throat as he towered over you.

He nods in response, taking a drag of the cigarette before exhaling the smoke out. "It's pretty dangerous to be out here by yourself, don't you think? Maybe come back inside. I'll get you a beer, or a cherry coke."

"No thanks," You politely decline, shaking your head.

Benny clicks his tongue against his teeth, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with his boot. "Outside works too, I guess." He shrugs.

The next few moments were seeped with pure silence. But Benny's baby blue eyes never left yours.

"So," He starts, "You have a name?"

You nod, smiling faintly. "Yeah, I'm Y/n."

A small smile curves at his lips, but he suppressed it. "Benny." He introduces himself shortly after.

Though you already knew his name, you just nodded and smiled.

The two of you were soon abruptly interrupted by a bunch of men who hurried out the door, that same logo on their denim jackets.

And that's when you realized.

They were all in the same motorcycle gang.

Benny looked over at them all, eyes locked on one. "What the fuck did you do, Johnny?" He spat out, noticing the cuts on his fist.

Johnny shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "Fought some pricks."

Benny just shook his head, watching as they all hopped on their motorbikes before returning his eyes back to you. You saw how his irises softened, but you weren't going to comment about it.

"Go home, yeah?" He says, taking a few steps backwards.

You nod, smiling reassuringly as you watch him and his group of friends roar their engines to life and speed off onto the road in the dead of night.

There was only one thing your mind.

Would you ever see Benny Cross again?

sigh this wasn't proofread so ignore any mistakes.

taglist: @alealuvshayden @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @estranged-girl @fredswrite @aritcfsr @amiratheangel @ysrjune @madsluvsdilfs @dollfilmz @sythethecarrot @holyfujjj @blckberrie @anon-188

[alchemistc]

Y'all were so insistent that I keep going with the Eddie Fixes It By Making It Worse post breakup fic.

This is officially a three-parter. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

You can read part one here

We have to make out in front of Tommy.

Buck's in the ice cream aisle, reminding himself that he has given himself three more days of moping and ignoring his diet before he gets his ass in gear and starts to live a life again. The Halo Top is mocking him, jeering and heckling as he goes for the Blue Ribbon. Mint chocolate, because Buck always loved it and he can almost forget the mock fight he'd had with Tommy three months in when he told Buck he refused to allow toothpaste flavored treats into his home, and how they'd barely gotten back to his place without a public indecency citation.

He stares at the text until his eyes cross.

What, he sends back, and slowly, cautiously, returns the pint of ice cream to its spot in the cooler. Maybe he should lay off the sugar. He's had enough.

Trust me

It comes in almost immediately and Buck tries to rewind, tries to figure out what any of this means, what the context is, why he's getting an actual Trust Me Bro from his best friend.

You've already met your last and it's not me comes crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He's had a full 36 hours to forget it, and he had been nearly there, nearly ready to chalk it up to Tommy trying to make him angry. Which he's been doing a really fucking excellent job of, lately. Almost like he knows all the buttons to push. Like Buck had given him the owners manual.

Tommy had meant Eddie? How could Eddie have possibly come to that conclusion? What the hell was he doing sending Buck half across town to the market for snacks when -

Buck judges the distance from this market to Eddie's. Then to Tommy's.

"Oh you mother -."

A woman squeaks by with her kid in the cart seat and glares.

---

Are you at Tommy's right now

No question marks. This is an accusation. Buck's thankful there are no perishables in his cart as he abandons it in the lane and hikes it towards the door. It's a dick move, and Buck feels, a little spitefully, like if anyone remembers him they'll remember him from the times he and Tommy giggled and play-fought down the aisles, so they'll think of Tommy when they think of the cart left behind. Resent him for it, maybe.

Not like Tommy isn't particularly good at just leaving things behind.

Yeah. Join me.

Buck breaks through the doors and feels a little woozy. This might be a panic attack. His chest fucking hurts.

🖕just get my stuff and meet me at yours. tell Tommy we burned all his shit

Eddie is an asshole. I'm not gonna LIE to the man. Also he definitely doesn't have an Evan box ready to go, so take what you will from that

Buck's still in that vicious cycle where he goes from angry to upset to sad in record time, no barriers in between, where every bruise feels like it's healing too fast so he keeps pressing in just to watch the color muddle. He hates this.

It'd be a Buck box, Buck texts back, just to release some of the pressure behind his temples, and he pulls in a few deep breaths before he jogs for the Jeep. He's gonna go home. Throw on the DVD copy of Sleepless In Seattle Tommy left behind and then maybe once that's done he'll throw the damn thing in a blender.

Are you coming or not?

Buck turns the ignition and peels out in a direction that won't lead to his own home, or the things Buck has been too much of a mopey bastard to pack up and return to their owner. At a red light two miles down the road, he shares his location.

Eddie sends back an ominous Hope you brushed your teeth today.

---

Eddie gets the door and it sucks just as much as if Tommy had. They barely ever spent time at Tommy's, and Buck can see it now for the boundary it was. When they had, though, their time had been split pretty evenly between Buck picking him up for a date, and Eddie wanting to leave the quiet echo of his own house to hang with them - a car on a lift and beers shared between them, Buck watching the pull of muscle beneath Tommy's shorts as he took Eddie down to the mat, Tommy's fingers drifting through the short curls at the back of Bucks head while Eddie yelled about triple-doubles and chatted with Tommy about how impossible coverage was for some guy named Joker.

Buck has never actually figured out who that guy was. Eddie hated the Mavericks and he hated the Lakers but Eddie also complained about the guy so much he definitely wasn't a Clipper.

Eddie gets him by the forearm when Buck shows clear signs of regretting this. Drags him through the front door before Buck can fully execute his spin and stomp back to the Jeep.

Tommy's next door neighbor had waved at him from her yard where she was doing something new with her display of bird sculptures, and Buck hadn't had the heart to do anything but raise his hand back.

It's less than ten seconds before Eddie is steering him down the hall, into the living room. It's cozy in here. Lived in. Mismatched furniture that somehow fits, a blanket thrown over the side of the couch, dark wood tables and light wood flooring and lamps that look like they came from an estate sale up in the Hills. A huge ass TV set above the mantle of a gas fireplace that Buck never even had the opportunity to see working before... Before.

Tommy is a shadow coming out of the kitchen, and Buck can't help but be a little pleased that he looks as crappy as Buck feels.

---

Eddie claps his hands together before either of them can get a word in. "Okay. Here's the thing. You're both dumbasses and there's a lot of shit that you guys gotta figure out on your own. But apparently you," he points at Tommy with the lip of a beer bottle. Corona. Tommy hates the stuff, and Buck is reminded once again how dearly Eddie loves him, "need empirical evidence that there's no deeply repressed sexual tension between Buck and I. So."

"You're insane," Tommy says, and Buck feels like snapping at him. He's probably right. This is an insane thing to do. Eddie ambushed his ex and then ambushed Buck in the frozen treats aisle and now he wants to kiss Buck to prove a point? What??

Eddie ignores it. Turns to Buck. "How do you wanna do this?"

And now would be the time, actually. Now would be the time to cut the thread, make it clean, break it for good. Only despite his protest, Tommy is staring between them and his expression looks almost... hungry. Frightened, at the same time. Oh. Oh.

He really had thought...?

Eddie's a fucking idiot. Buck doesn't want to kiss him. He's squared with the fact that he definitely had a crush when they first met and he's definitely been attracted to Eddie and just not realized it but he doesn't want Eddie. He doesn't want a life with Eddie, not like that. He doesn't- He isn't -

He loves Eddie more than almost every other person on the planet, but he's not in love with him.

Buck squares his shoulders. Nods. "Yeah, okay," and then he's taking three strides to meet Eddie at the coffee table.

---

"Oh come on, are you serious?"

Buck ignores the exclamation from the peanut gallery. Tries to figure out where to put his hands. He's never really noticed the height difference before. It's barely anything - a couple inches at most - but it feels like he's looming, this close. Which is stupid. He's been this close to Eddie a million times.

Eddie bends his knees to set the beer down. Darts his gaze back up to Buck.

Buck's seen him pull this move before, and has to bite down the urge to cackle because those big brown cow eyes have charmed women up and down California and probably plenty of Texas too but the only time Buck's ever seen them look genuine was when he was looking at Shannon.

He's got a good face. Angular in all the right places, expressive in a way a lot of men try to hide. Good eyelashes, clear skin.

Eddie gets a thumb in one of Buck's belt loops and tugs.

It's a good move. It's a move that has inspired Buck to sink to his knees on more than one occasion with the right men. Man. Just the one man.

He desperately bites back a giggle when the front of their thighs brush and Buck feels nothing more than the heat coming off Eddie.

Eddie's flushed, just a little, like he's well aware how ridiculous this all is, but he's got his I'm So Fucking Serious face on and there is a part of Buck, something fucked up and broken and wrong, that wonders how Tommy would feel to see it. To know that Buck is out there in the world kissing people who aren't Tommy. It's not like he'd ended things because he didn't care for Buck, because he wasn't attracted to him. It's gotta sting, right?

Buck gets a hand on Eddie's waist, just above his hip bone. He's never actually paid attention to how much more slim Eddie is, before, how big Buck's hands feel against him.

The night Tommy had first kissed him, Buck had spent an indeterminate length of time replaying every second of the interaction. The lead up, the frank honesty, the way Buck's entire body had followed the flow of Tommy's. Heart racing, body thrumming: when Tommy had ducked his head, when he'd laughed, when he'd opened up his body language and dropped a tiny morsel of his heart, Buck had felt himself drawn in.

The lips that had caught his had set him alight.

Eddie shifts his weight and blinks up at him and for half a second Buck wants this to be a good kiss - earth shattering, life changing. He wants to feel it. Wants it to be better than every kiss he and Tommy ever shared.

The pointer and middle finger he uses to tilt Eddie's chin up are petty as hell.

[wholoveseggs]

HIYA GORGEOUS!! I absolutely adore all that you write and here I am once again to request something (tbh I’ll always be here to request things 🤭). So I’d like to request…

y/n (aka me) is Elijah's best friend but she's never met Klaus, only heard about him. one day she surprises Eli for his birthday so she walks in the compound, not knowing that Klaus is there too. she and Elijah exchange hellos then talk for a bit and before they can leave (Elijah is subtly trying to rush her out), Klaus hears her voice and comes downstairs. I'll leave the details to you but she and Klaus instantly hit it off so much so that it makes Elijah jealous (he's always had a thing for y/n but never said anything be he's afraid of losing their friendship). again, leaving the details to you. can we make it a 2-parter? 1 is jealousy/angst w/ implied smut between y/n and Klaus & 2 is Elijah confessing to y/n his feelings which lead to their first time sex and possible future relationship.

Sorry love if this is too much, it's okay if you're not up for it though! Thanks for even indulging me! 🤍

Mine

THIS SCENE MAKES ME GO FERAL

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

A drunken hookup with Klaus complicates your friendship with Elijah, leading to an awkward morning after.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet Aurora!! This one was a blast to write. But implied smut with Klaus??? Nahhh. No half-measures here. This is for all my Klaus girlies. You can't fix him, but you sure can fuck him. ♡♡

5k words - Warnings: smutttt {with Klaus}, rough sex, mild choking, Klaus being the drama, Elijah hiding his feelings & Rebekah judging you.

{Part Two}

You came rushing through the gates of the compound, carrying so many shopping bags that you could barely see. Your arms felt on fire, but a little strain was worth it all when you remembered who you were doing this for.

Tonight was Elijah's big birthday bash, put together by you and Rebekah, and you wanted everything to be perfect. Elijah had become one of your closest friends, and this celebration was your chance to show him how much he meant to you.

"Eli, I have so much stuff for the party. Where should I put it all?" you ask once you got far enough into the house.

Elijah emerged from the grand living room and came into the foyer to help you. He had an odd look on his face, but you couldn't really pinpoint it exactly. He took the bags from your arms and carried them himself.

"Don't look in them! I want it to be a surprise!" You said, putting your hands over his eyes and guiding him towards the table.

Elijah chuckled, "Fine, Fine. Are you sure all of this is necessary?"

"Absolutely." you said, uncovering his eyes. "You only turn 1040 once," you joked, causing the pair of you to laugh.

It was over-the-top as shit, but a girl had to take any opportunity to give a Mikaelson a birthday they would remember, and then some.

Elijah's smile faltered a bit as he looked around the courtyard nervously. "Will you be returning home to get ready for tonight?" He asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

"I'm actually getting ready here with Bekah, why? Have a hot date you are hiding from me?" You teased, unaware of the way Elijah's body stilled at your words.

"Oh no darling, no date, just a brother he wants to hide," said an accented voice from the second level balcony.

Elijah let out a rough sigh as you turned to see Klaus stepping down the stairs towards you both.

You had heard of the legendary hybrid of course, but since you met Elijah you had yet to run into him. In fact, this was the first time you had seen Klaus in person and were unaware of the true look of him. Which made you almost go weak in the knees.

He was hot, like 'fuck me right now hot' and it took everything in you not to drool. It didn't surprise you, all the other Mikaelsons were extremely attractive, so it only stood to reason their infamous hybrid brother would be also.

You could tell by the look on his face he found you just as attractive, and with a devilish smirk, he seemed to say ‘I will fuck you right now if that's what you wish’

"Hello love, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he drawled before bringing your hand up and kissing it softly.

You wanted to hate him. Klaus had been notorious for so long for his tantrums and viciousness. But one look and just a touch from his lips and you knew you were doomed.

"T-Thanks," you said, pulling your hand back.

Klaus tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and ran a thumb across your cheek.

"Are you blushing for me? Can't say I blame you, love," he said cockily.

Elijah rolled his eyes at his younger brother's antics, but as Klaus lingered on your skin he felt a stir of possessiveness settle in his bones. He cleared his throat, shooting his brother a glare,

"I would love some help setting up the party for your brother," you asked Klaus, hoping to spend more time with him, his charm quite intriguing.

"It's alright, I can help you," Elijah insisted, not wanting Klaus to interact with you for a multitude of reasons.

"It's supposed to be a surprise for you Eli,” you pouted, which caused Elijah to soften at your cuteness.

"I've got it handled, Eli," Klaus teased, emphasizing the nickname you used for him.

Elijah looked between the two of you, clearly wanting to decline your request and keep you both apart. But alas, for some reason, he couldn't come up with a legitimate reason.

Klaus grabbed your bags and walked off, you began to follow, turning back to give Elijah a wide smile. "See you tonight, birthday boy," you exclaimed happily before hurrying off after the younger Mikaelson.

You spent all afternoon decorating with Klaus, who insisted you call him Nik. He was somewhat sweet but full of himself. Yet, you enjoyed his company, he had a good eye for décor and matched your vision effortlessly.

"Have I accomplished my mission?" he asked. He brought a champagne bottle up, pouring two glasses and giving you one.

You leaned against the pillar with him and clinked your drinks together. "I'd say so, yes. Thank you so much for helping me."

"It was no trouble at all," Klaus said, then smirked at you over his glass. "You are quite stunning, love."

You grinned at his comment, "you should see me after I get all dressed up for tonight," you flirted, even though it sounded more like a challenge to him.

Klaus downed his drink then placed it on the table. Without warning, he pinned you to the pillar and trapped you against him. "Oh I plan on doing more than looking tonight," he said as his hungry eyes traveled over your body.

"I see you two have finally met, how wonderful," Rebekah commented, disrupting the moment.

You laughed nervously, glad for the interruption, gently pushing Klaus off of you. As much as you wanted to jump Klaus then and there, something held you back. And you knew what, or rather, who was keeping you from acting on your desires...

"We were just having some champagne," you tell her, taking another drink.

"I see that, the decorations look amazing by the way," she complimented as she poured herself a glass as well. "Catering has arrived, they are setting everything up downstairs," she informed you, letting you know you should probably get ready.

"I'll go get dressed then. Thank you again, Nik." You smiled at him again, and he grinned in response.

"I think I'm owed a dance for my hard work," he told you as you walked away with Rebekah.

You looked over your shoulder at him and gave him a wink, excited for the party to begin.

Once you were upstairs and away from Klaus, Rebekah spoke quietly to you. "Be careful with him, he's not like Elijah," she warned you.

"No one is like Elijah," you chuckled a bit, ignoring the pang of sadness you felt at the realization you would probably never be with the older Mikaelson.

The two of you spent your time getting ready, sipping on champagne and discussing the numerous guests who would be arriving. You got a little too buzzed, but you were excited and also needed some courage to face an unknown quantity of vampires.

Rebekah always had impeccable taste, helping you pick out a skin tight dress that came a few inches above your knees and accentuated every curve on your body. Adding even more with the tall black heels you slipped on, showing off your legs.

"I'm afraid I might have gone too far," Rebekah chuckled as she applied your makeup, making you look smolderingly hot.

"You think?" You asked sarcastically.

"You look like vampire bait and I'm sure it's going to drive him mad," she snorted, taking another drink.

"Who?" You looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed a smudge of lipstick.

Rebekah gave you a knowing look, but stayed quiet and you just smiled back at her innocently.

When everything was ready and all the guests started arriving, you and Rebekah made a grand entrance into the main parlor. Elijah was talking with someone when his eyes caught you across the room, you wandered over to him and gave him a big hug.

"Happy birthday," you whispered in his ear, as his arms pulled you tighter to him.

"Thank you so much," he said, pulling back just enough to smile at you, his face growing even brighter when he really looked at you.

You noticed the way his eyes traced your figure, taking you all in. The way they darkened a bit with pure desire, making you instantly become hot all over. But it was probably just your imagination, brought on by all the champagne you've been drinking.

You almost made a move right then, but the person he was conversing with interrupted and you found yourself drawn away by Bekah and her friends. Leaving Elijah to watch you from afar as you conversed with them, laughing and drinking.

Hours later, you were still in the middle of the large group of people, even dancing to the music that was blaring through the place. You saw Elijah dancing with a beautiful woman and you wanted to be happy for him, but then the woman whispered in his ear and touched his chest, and your mood immediately soured.

You went to the bar to get a drink, deciding more alcohol might be what you needed to wash away all your confused feelings.

"Thirsty, love?" Asked a familiar voice in your ear as your body was pulled back to collide with a strong chest. You could smell the scent of Klaus's cologne and instantly felt turned on.

"Very," you said, downing your entire shot.

He spun you around to look into your eyes, both of his hands on your waist, drinking in your appearance.

"You didn't have to do all this for me," Klaus teased, his eyes on your chest as he licked his lips. "I'm a sure thing, darling, you know that,"

You couldn't help but laugh. He may have been a lot of things, but he was definitely entertaining. You shook your head, but smiled all the same.

"I only ever dress up for myself, Nik," you sassed back to him, looking up through your lashes.

A slow smirk came to Klaus's face as he leaned in and captured your lips in his. He hummed into the kiss and his grip tightened on you. He pulled away, your lipstick was still on his lips.

You giggled and wiped it off, as he ordered you another drink. Not that you really wanted one but damn, he was good at persuading people.

"I recall that you owe me a dance," he reminded you, taking a sip of his own beverage.

"Oh?" You said innocently, fiddling with the many necklaces he was wearing. "I don't remember agreeing to anything," you flirted.

"Well, perhaps a private dance then," he teased, giving you a mischievous smile.

"Maybe I'll surprise you later," you whispered, leaning in and sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and playfully biting it, loving the look of surprise and arousal on his face.

Then you turned and sauntered away, leaving him standing there at the bar to watch you. You were definitely going to end up in his bed tonight, but you wanted to make him squirm a little. Or rather, a lot.

You moved through the crowd to see Elijah and the woman dancing close, whispering things to each other. Well, actually, only she was talking. He seemed like he wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation she was having with him.

You gave him a wave and a smile, pointing at the woman and giving him an encouraging thumbs up. You don't know why you did it. Your chest did funny things seeing him with someone else though.

He returned your smile but didn't do much else before she spoke in his ear again and he allowed her to lead him out of the crowd.

You guessed Elijah was tired of his own party and went off to have some fun, and you were determined to have the same.

Klaus found you sitting on the couch, a cocktail and a plate of various snacks in front of you. You were thoroughly bored as you couldn't find him again.

He came from behind and crashed beside you, taking the glass out of your hand and finishing it, then set it aside.

"Hey! That was mine," you scolded playfully.

Klaus put his arm around you and kissed your neck. "How about you stop pretending you're enjoying yourself and come upstairs with me?" He suggested.

You laughed, and then he abruptly pulled you up and practically carried you through the door leading upstairs, pinning you to the wall at the top of the steps.

"Nik," you tried to say while laughing. "You can't just haul me off and have your way with me," you protested as his lips got closer to yours.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he taunted, bringing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, everything moving so fast. Klaus didn't even give you a chance to respond, lifting you so your legs wrapped around him.

He walked into a room and shut the door, setting you down on his desk. You realized that you were in his infamous art studio, looking around as Klaus hovered over you. You felt his lips on your neck, kissing every inch until you moaned.

Then he found the tiny zipper of your dress and slid it down, exposing your breasts. He smirked, reaching to tweak your nipple as he took you in. "Well then, love. Now I truly see why my brother has hidden you from me," he said huskily.

You giggled at his compliment but then you couldn't form words as he yanked the rest of your dress off you. You sat on the desk naked, save for your heels and nothing else.

"Dear lord, you are gorgeous," Klaus muttered, touching you everywhere.

You pulled him close by his shirt collar and locked lips. You bit his bottom lip harshly and he growled, his eyes flashing gold. The way his eyes changed on you was the hottest thing you've seen.

You pulled his shirt off him, tossing it to the floor before unbuckling his belt, wanting him as naked as you were. Once you had him bare, you raked your nails down his chest and he chuckled.

"You want to play rough, don’t you love?" He whispered as he nipped at your neck.

"Maybe," you teased, "what are you going to do about it?" You questioned, leaning back on the desk a little and spreading your legs for him, getting wet at the promise of a wild night.

Klaus's breath hitched when you touched yourself for him, his eyes completely transfixed on you. He was definitely intrigued by how confident you were.

"Well then," he growled before he roughly pinned your legs open, his hands squeezing your thighs harshly. He brought your body to the edge of the desk, kneeling in front of you as he ran a thumb over your dripping wet center.

He hummed at your scent as he pulled you forward a bit more to devour you, making you yelp in surprise, your hands tugging on his curls.

He was good, really good, and your toes curled at the pleasure you were receiving. It only got better when you saw his golden eyes as he gazed at you with a possessive glint, the vibrations from his own groans of enjoyment hitting you just right.

But before you could climax he pulled back and stood up, making you whimper and sit up on the desk, wanting him to continue.

Klaus chuckled at your impatience, pulling you into another searing kiss as you moaned. He broke it and gave you a smug smile, before wrapping his hand around your throat.

You were panting with need, your hand moving down to his cock and he hissed at your touch. He moved forward so he was resting between your thighs again as you stroked him slowly.

You both stayed this way for a moment, staring at each other. Until finally Klaus couldn't stand it any longer and roughly turned you around to face the desk. He pushed on your back until you were bent over on the wood, making you giggle with anticipation.

He smacked your ass hard, turning your giggle into a gasp as you looked back at him. He did it again and again until it was stinging. You wanted him so badly, it was unbearable.

You reached back for him and he lined up his cock to your entrance, sliding it up and down a few times until you were nearly shaking. He finally gave in and pushed into you, his hand tugging your hair until you arched into him, and he sank into the hilt.

He hissed at the sensation and you were about to tell him to move but he started fucking you without you needing to, hard and rough and perfect. He had you moaning with each thrust as you grabbed onto the desk, holding on tight as his body collided with yours, skin slapping as you got closer to climaxing.

It was hot and a little dirty, just what you had needed. Your moans only spurred him on as his hands explored your body while he took you from behind. The force of his thrusts causing items on his desk to clatter to the floor, but you both were far too gone to care.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back into him, making you stand so his other hand could roam your front. He moved up to massage your breast while pinching and tugging on your nipple until you moaned. He was clearly determined to make you come first and was going to enjoy doing it.

"Nik!" you whined his name when he pinched you a bit too harshly. You felt his lips on your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he left hickeys.

You tilted your head for him and he smirked, licking your pulse point and gently nibbling. His thrusting becoming erratic as his hand slipped to your clit to rub fast circles until your legs started trembling and you let out a scream as your orgasm crashed into you.

He hummed in approval and thrust into you a few more times before you felt him filling you up with his cum, and you giggled from the sensation. He released you from his grasp and you leaned back down on the desk, turning around to face him.

You both were sweaty and exhausted but extremely satisfied. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, placing soft kisses all over your face as you giggled again, trying to move away from him.

He grabbed your dress and handed it to you before slipping on his pants, leaving his shirt off. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and then turned away, starting to pick up the fallen objects from his desk and placing them in their correct places.

You watched him in a daze, your body tingling as you pulled your dress back on.

"So, love, my room is right next door, if you care to continue our celebration?" He said with a smug smirk, giving you a wink.

You giggled again and nodded, knowing it was probably the alcohol giving you your confidence, but you were going to ride the wave (and him) until the end. 

Klaus woke to find you peacefully asleep in his bed. He leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead as you stirred slightly.

It was quite a night.

He took his time to admire your body and then your beautiful face. The way your eyelashes brushed your cheekbones as you slept, and your lips were parted slightly.

He got out of bed and got dressed, heading downstairs to find some blood and coffee. Elijah was in the kitchen reading his morning paper and looking every bit as dignified as always.

Klaus poured himself some coffee and started drinking it. He glanced around and saw there was no one else there but his brother, and he was smirking before he even opened his mouth.

"How was your night, Elijah?" He asked teasingly.

Elijah took his time to respond. He folded his paper up, placing it beside him as he eyed his younger brother suspiciously, he always had an innate sense to when Klaus was up to something.

"Quite fine. Why do you ask?"

Klaus's smirk grew bigger. He didn't say anything else and went about making himself something to eat. He felt Elijah's eyes boring into him the whole time, knowing that he wanted an answer but Klaus wouldn't give it to him just yet. He just loved torturing his big brother, even after a thousand years it was still highly entertaining.

"Your friend is an excellent host," Klaus started off with, his back turned as he chopped some fruit to put into a smoothie. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Elijah's mind as he tried to figure out where Klaus was going with this. "You really should have introduced me to her sooner."

Elijah sighed heavily. Klaus glanced behind him, and he had an annoyed expression on his face. He wasn't getting anything from Elijah so he turned to face him, his smirk returning.

"I showed her how much I appreciated her hard work last night. Several times actually, in my studio, a few times in my bed and then in the shower," he added as his smirk got wider and his tone became suggestive. "I dare say I've never been ridden so spectacularly before in all my years,"

Elijah abruptly stood, opening his mouth to say something, but that's when Klaus turned on the blender. Looking at Elijah apologetically and holding a finger to his ear and shrugging his shoulders.

"What's the matter brother?" he shouted over the blender. "You look a bit upset. You know it's not very healthy to bottle up all of your feelings,"

He stopped the blender and poured himself a glass, then another for Elijah as he handed it to him. Elijah just glared at him and poured the smoothie down the drain, setting the glass in the sink.

"That's rather rude, Elijah," he scolded teasingly. "I made that just for you,"

"Have you no shame, Niklaus?" He asked harshly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Noooo, shame is for boring people," he taunted. "Why are you so upset? Aren't you happy for your friend? I can assure you that she enjoyed herself immensely,”

Elijah snapped. He couldn't take anymore. He walked over and grabbed Klaus by the shirt collar, and shoved him against the wall roughly, holding him in place.

"You know how I feel about her and yet you slept with her anyway," Elijah seethed.

Klaus raised his eyebrow. "If you want her, then you should of taken her yourself," he snapped, his eyes flashing gold in challenge. "It's your loss anyway," he added, shoving him back and adjusting his collar, then smoothing out his shirt.

Elijah was livid. He knew it was just Klaus's way of being obnoxious, but that didn't make it any easier to handle.

"I can't get the vision of her tits bouncing in my face out of my mind, Elijah," Klaus taunted him again. "Perhaps if you're lucky, you'll get to experience it for yourself," he said, brushing past his brother and walking away with a laugh.

You woke in Klaus' bed with a terrible hangover and an empty spot beside you. You sat up, your head spinning a bit as the memories of the night before came flooding back.

Oh God, you slept with Elijah's brother.

You covered your face in embarrassment. You got drunk, got laid and it was with the worst person you possibly could of picked.

Elijah was going to kill you. He's been protecting you from his brother and here you go, having sex with him in his bed. You could imagine how disappointed he was in you right now.

You quickly got dressed and made your way downstairs, needing some coffee and possibly a few pain pills to try and take the edge off your headache.

Klaus was walking away from the kitchen, a devious smirk on his face. When he saw you, his grin got even bigger, but he said nothing, just gave you a wink.

You turned red in embarrassment and dashed into the kitchen, finding Elijah sipping his morning coffee while reading his paper. He looked up when he saw you enter and then he folded the paper and placed it on the island.

"Morning," he started off in a professional tone. You hated how he sounded.

You grabbed a mug and poured the liquid into it. Elijah was silent as he waited for you to face him, and once you had taken a few sips, he was standing in front of you.

He pushed your hair off your neck and a flash of Klaus' mouth sucking and nibbling on you last night, appeared in your mind. You were definitely covered in marks and hickeys.

"I see you had fun," Elijah muttered, and you saw him look over your appearance, the slight smudged make-up, messy hair and rumpled dress from last night.

He wasn't usually one to judge someone else's life choices, but this was his brother and you. It seemed more personal.

You blushed and pushed your hair back over your shoulder, so his eyes would stop staring at your neck. You needed a cold shower or something, the entire night was still feeling extremely vivid.

"Look Elijah, I'm so sorry, he just caught me at the right moment and I got a little drunk and..." you trailed off, taking a drink of coffee to calm your nerves. You really didn't have any good excuse to give him.

"It's alright, you can be with whoever you choose," Elijah stated in a collected tone.

You frowned and saw him adjusting his cuff-links. A sure sign he was upset. He always did that when he was angry or hiding what he was truly feeling.

"It was just a one time thing," you added, but you felt like he wasn't listening to you anymore.

Elijah was acting strange. Sure he could be an enigma sometimes, but this was different. He looked determined but a little annoyed, and you weren't quite sure how to read the situation. You decided to steer the conversation away from Klaus and what had happened between you two.

"How was your night?" You finally thought to ask. "I saw you leave with a woman, you looked like you were having fun," you said it teasingly, hoping it would lighten up the mood.

But now it was his turn to blush.

"Fine, really. It was fine," he muttered, fixing the already perfect knot in his tie. Now that was definitely something. Elijah rarely ever got tongue tied. "We kissed and I walked her home," he added, his lips pressing together in a firm line.

"That's all? You didn't...well, you know?" You questioned hesitantly.

"One night stands aren't my forte," he replied, giving you a soft smile. "When I take a woman to bed, I make her mine," his words were possessive and he hadn't taken his eyes off you.

The two of you weren't the kind of friends who discussed your sex life with each other. So when he said this, your cheeks turned hot and your imagination went wild. The idea of him holding you down and having his wicked way with you was something you were definitely interested in.

You both were staring at each other, the tension growing by the second. Then you looked away, you couldn't possibly fuck another Mikaelson in the same twelve hour period. Besides, Elijah meant far more to you than Klaus ever could. Sex with him would probably lead you somewhere complicated, and you didn't want to ruin what you had right now.

The situation was way too weird.

"Do you want to hang out tomorrow?" You decided to ask, breaking the silence and steering the conversation away from sex. You just wanted to spend some time with him. "Maybe come up to my place? I don't work the next two days," you added, hopeful he would agree to spend time with you, even though he always did, but this time you felt more nervous about it.

It would help things get back to normal, as normal as they could be after what happened with Klaus.

"Sure, Klaus and Rebekah won't be home tomorrow if you would like to come over here instead?" He suggested, your eyes meeting his again.

He had such an intense way of staring into your eyes, that it almost felt like he was looking into your soul.

"Well, it's your birthday so whatever you would like to do," you stated, giving him a sweet smile.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the moment. You grabbed it from your purse and opened the new text from Klaus: 

- I'm available if you ever need something to ride again.

You quickly put down your phone, forgetting you had given him your number. You decided you were going to ignore it. There was no way you were going there again.

Elijah looked curious but didn't press.

"I better go home," you said, finishing your coffee and putting it in the sink.

"See you tomorrow," he replied, stepping closer and giving you gentle kiss on the cheek.

You said bye to him and walked out of the kitchen to the courtyard where Rebekah and Klaus were arguing. They both looked over at you, their argument stopping when they noticed you.

"Hello darling," Klaus greeted, his eyes raking over you. Flashes of your evening together running through your mind, and you quickly looked away from him.

Rebekah looked between the two of you and you could see her trying to figure it out, her eyes widening as she stared at you. You quickly hurried out of the compound before either of them could say another word.

{Part Two}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[ninjatrashpanda]

Why I think Buck and Tommy will reconcile

So I just wrote this up as a response over on r/AO3 on Reddit, and I said "Fuck it, it's Tevanniversary today, let's spread it!"

So, below to cut is a little essay about my very positive stance on Buck and Tommy getting back together. I've seen a lot of doom and gloom around, and if you wants something positive, please, go ahead and read!

Warning though, I go into leaks and spoilers here!

8x11 is the reason I think they will get back together, mainly because of tropes, the question of "What would the point be?" and general BTS. Instant sorry for the essay 😬

So, point 1, Tropes and Writing Choices:

Let's start before 8x11, though. Buck and Tommy are broken up for four episodes before they hook up. Three of those episodes feature direct, hard Tommy mentions, all in the context of Buck yearning for him and starting to bake specifically to distract himself from thinking about him. The only one that doesn't is 8x09, but that episode still heavily digs into Buck's abandonment issues, which Tommy's departure amplified. Additionally, 8x10 has Buck straight up say that Tommy breaking up with him is when he feels his life started falling apart. 8x10 also has Buck give Eddie some cookies for on the way. He was baking again.

Now, onto 8x11. The episode starts with Buck being unable to properly unpack because, in his own words, if he does, it makes it real that Eddie and Chris are gone for good. Keep that in mind. Because of this, he shows up at Madney's house, with arms full of, you guessed it, baked goods.

Buck then tries to hang out with Ravi, who's annoyed af and throws Tommy at him. Tommy opens up and tells Buck that he was yearning just as much as he did. And that's when Buck shifts from awkward to initiating their hookup. The next day, Tommy makes it clear he wants to try again, and we already know Buck wants too, but before he can agree, Tommy puts his foot in his mouth by calling Eddie competition, and Buck puts his foot into his mouth by implying he doesn't have feelings for Tommy anymore, which we know is not true, but Tommy doesn't, because Buck has never actually said anything to that regard. So Tommy leaves.

When Buck goes to talk to Maddie about Tommy's insecurities, Buck gathers ingredients and utensils to bake. Again. During this conversation, he makes it clear that he wants to call Tommy. Not Eddie.

The episode then ends with Buck unpacking and making the house his. Which means that he made his peace with Eddie's departure. Something he still has not done with Tommy's. This episode has firmly put Buck and Tommy into Will They Won't They territory, and I don't know how familiar with sitcoms and rom-coms you are, but they usually Will.

Point 2: What would the Point be?

Tommy's role in 8x11 did not have to be filled by Tommy. It could've been any random guy (or gal, for that matter) Buck hooked up with to bring up Eddie and the Buddie situation. Going into leaks and spoilers for the rest of the season there is no need for Tommy to pilot the helicopter in the two-parter. In fact, there's no need for a helicopter in the two-parter at all. Tim could've just not written one in. Those things are expensive, he would've been better off choosing something else. Additionally, the funeral in presumably 8x16 for presumably Bobby features Tommy standing in line with the 118. Why? He doesn't work there anymore. Hasn't in almost ten years.

They also very distinctly tried to keep Lou's return a secret.

All of this to say: What is the point of bringing Tommy back for these things instead of just using extras, day players, etcetera, who would be once again, much cheaper? Why would they keep it a surprise instead of advertising it if it was only for a few one offs? To me, there's three potential answers, here in order of how likely I think they are:

BuckTommy reconciliation, either this season or next.

Tommy is built up to potentially get booted up to main next season. With Peter and Ryan potentially leaving/stepping down, and Gavin all but confirmed to, there's slots available, and Tommy has proven to be lucrative. No matter if it's love or hate, Tommy brings numbers.

Tommy is built up to potentially move to Nashville. Same reasoning as above, he's a character with a sizable number of fans and has proven to bring in numbers. While not as big as one of the mains, he could bring over some fans.

Point 3: General BTS/Leaks and Spoilers.

We know Tommy is in at least two more episodes (8x15 and whichever episode the funeral takes place in, presumably 8x16. He could also appear in 8x14, but that depends on how the plot goes.), potentially more. Again, none of these appearances are necessary in any way. Tommy's role in the two-parter could be given to a character of the week, his presence in the funeral when he doesn't work at the 118 is out of the ordinary anyway. All of this while Tommy and Buck's relationship is not at all resolved in either direction. The fact that he's here at all is sign enough that a reconciliation is at least on the table.

Also, and this one doesn't prove anything lol, but I thought it was interesting either way: In a recent interview, Tim Minear quite literally referred to Tommy as Buck's boyfriend. He also used 'ex' and 'bed buddy' in the same interview, so that he slipped into boyfriend is interesting. This one is absolutely tinfoil hat territory though, and I wouldn't read into it if it wasn't for everything else here lol.

So, uh, that's it. Keep in mind, the tropes used alone would have me convinced that they're getting back together, but the BTS and leaks are amplifying it. I currently stand 95-5 on whether it happens or not.

But also, even if they don't get back together, I won't care that much. I have fanfic. Tevan fandom thrived after the breakup, and we'll continue to thrive no matter what happens. I'm just observing the tropes I'm familiar with and drawing a conclusion based on it. And that conclusion is reconciliation.

[classica-meretrix]

i love your writing!!!! could i perhaps request a mortal friends to lovers leo valdez x reader au?? like they're both at college, leo takes mec eng(obviously lol) and reader takes psychology and it's just painful fluff with mutual pining losers with smut when they end up sleeping together after a super romcom dramatic like confession from leo?? lol sorry for the big ass text i'm just way into romcoms rn😅 (also subby leo lmao)

thank you so much for the request, love! leo is so fun to write for, and I ended up making this a two parter, so stay tuned for next week!

Are You Mad?

pt1, pt2

pairing: mortal leo valdez x fem!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: couldn't help but add some greek references lol, readers in denial, hoo friend group, dramatic love confession of course summary: you and leo end up as best friends after a chance collision, but soon it looks like it might be more a/n: I'm so excited to write the part 2 for this. should probably be out next thursday!

I tossed my empty cup into a trash can as I passed, trying to shuffle through the mass of papers and folders stacked in my arms one-handed. At this point I was only half convinced I'd finished that paper, and if I didn't find it before I got Mr. Whitman's class, I was as good as dead.

Just as I thought I saw the header of the essay I had been searching for, I collided with something hard, and all my papers flew out of my arms, littering the sidewalk.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," the guy hurried out, immediately ducking down to collect my mess. All I could see of him from this angle was a mess of black curls, and the back of a beat up Carhartt jacket.

"No, no, that was on me. I wasn't looking where I was going." I grabbed as many of the papers as I could, attempting to put them back in a neat stack. "I was trying to find an essay."

"This one?" he asked, looking up. I was met with warm chocolate brown eyes, leaving me stunned for a moment. He had picked up a thin stack that had been stapled together at the corner, holding it at an awkward angle to read the title. "The Self: Human Nature or All in Our Heads?"

"Yep. That's the one." I had gathered myself enough to answer with a shy smile.

"Psychology?" he continued with a mischievous looking grin, handing over the last few rogue papers.

"Second year."

"Me too!" he said enthusiastically. "I mean—second year, not psych. I'm mechanical engineering."

"That's my roommates major! She loves it, but I've never been able to follow it much."

"It's not too hard once you get the hang of it. I'm Leo, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you! I'd shake your hand, but I'd probably drop all this again."

"We wouldn't want that," he laughed.

Just as I was about to make another comment, I caught a glance of his watch. "Shit. I'm gonna be late. It was lovely to talk to you, hope to see you around," I called over my shoulder as I hurried off to my class.

"That's the second time today!" Percy yelled, hopping up from his seat, the front of his shirt and pants soaked. "Why can't this shit be waterproof or something?"

"Sorry, man," Leo apologized, though his teasing tone and proud smile suggested otherwise.

As soon as Percy was out of the dorm room, hurrying off to change, Jason turned to his friend. "You've got to stop doing that," he laughed. "I think he's almost at the breaking point."

Leo shrugged, turning his attention back to me. I was laid in his bed on my stomach as he sat on the floor, resting his chin on the edge of the mattress.

"What was I saying?" he asked, his nose scrunching adorably.

"Those... Sphere thingies."

"Right!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "Archimedes' spheres. We were talking about them in class today. I mean, he had some crazy ideas, but these things were just wild. They're way too complicated. Those things would never work. They don't even know what half of them are supposed to do."

"He sounds rather ambitious. Like someone else I know," I responded, gently tapping the end of his nose. He scrunched it again at my actions, making me what to repeat my actions a thousand times over.

What the hell are you doing? Snap out of it.

I pulled my hand back to my side as he went on, rambling about the impossibility of the inventions. We were only a few inches away from each other, his chin on the edge of the bed and mine resting on the back of my palm, but neither of us seemed to notice the proximity.

How the hell I ended up in this position, I couldn't really tell you. It was probably Percy's stupid idea to come to this stupid party.

Leo was across the room, talking to some girl, and for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, I was pissed about it. Part of myself was saying he's just talking to some girl, what's the big deal? But another—much louder—part of me wanted to scream at how close they were, talking maybe a few inches apart at most, and neither had looked up for six minutes and fifty-two seconds. Not that I was counting. What has gotten into me?

I eventually tore my eyes away from them, afraid I'd make myself sick if I stared at them any longer. Set on searching out Annabeth, I took off into the crowd, eventually finding her in the kitchen, tucked under Percy's arm.

"I'm gonna head out."

Her expression immediately turned to worry as she saw my own. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I answered, though my words came out sharp and uncomfortable, clearly not convincing either of us.

"I'll go with you."

"No, really. Percy's way too drunk to be left with the boys." My excuse was true, he was slurring aggressively, telling an overly exaggerated story.

"Jason isn't drinking, he'll be fine."

"Really," I tried again, practically pleading. I was more eager than ever now to get out of there, my skin heating to an unbearable temperature in the time I'd been standing there.

She hesitated, studying me. "Fine. But text me as soon as your back in the dorm. Kay?"

"Mhm," I nodded, immediately ducking towards the door. I was eager for the fresh air, but as soon as I pushed my way outside I was pelted with thick, cold rain drops. Great.

I tried to ignore my shivering, tugging off my heels to avoid slipping. I was halfway home when my phone started ringing, playing the custom ringtone Leo had insisted I used for his contact. I hurriedly ignored it, fumbling with my heels and the slippery screen, but just as soon as I had put my phone away, it was blaring again.

"For fuck's sake!" I yelled, scrambling to clear it again.

'Where are you?' his text read. 'Are you okay?' 'Answer me please.'

"Give it up," I muttered angrily, shoving my phone into my bag. I had just made it to my building when an all too familiar voice came from somewhere behind me through the heavy patter of rain.

"Thank God! Are you okay?"

"Would everyone stop asking that?" I snapped, spinning around to face him. Leo was climbing out of his cherry red Cadillac he'd fixed up, hurrying over to me.

"I thought something had happened to you? Why didn't you answer my calls or texts?" His eyes quickly scanned over me, taking in the thin dress sticking to my skin, heels in one hands, and arms wrapped tightly around myself as I shivered violently. "You're shaking. Take my jacket," he started, shrugging off his coat.

I brushed him off, ignoring his attempts. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What? I'm making sure you're okay. You shouldn't be walking home by yourself at two in the morning. Please, take the jacket."

"No."

"Are you mad at me or something?"

"Yes! No... I–I don't know! Can you just leave me alone?" I angrily pleaded. His expression was somewhere between confused and hurt, the arm holding his jacket now hanging by his side. "Shouldn't you be off with some little blonde?"

That comment struck a chord, only deepening his confusion. "No?" he said, almost as more of a question. "Are you mad about me talking to a girl?"

"I don't want to talk about this!" I yelled back, desperately wanting to get out of the heavy rain. I could practically feel the cold in my bones, and my clothes were clinging to me uncomfortably.

"I do," he pouted, looking like a kicked puppy. His curls were matted down on his forehead, his grease-stained t-shirt sticking to his skin, and his jacket hanging limping at his side, not bothering to put it back on.

"What is there to talk about? I'm soaking wet, cold, and tired, I don't want to talk about some skank at a frat party!"

"Are you jealous or something?" He had begun to raise his voice, from a mix of the loud rain and aggravation.

"Maybe I am!" I yelled in response. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes," he answered, not skipping a beat.

I was too stunned to answer him, the anger suddenly leaving me. The image of us yelling at each other in the rain about something so simple suddenly seemed absurd, and I was frantically trying to figure out how we had ended up here. I was just beginning to realize I may feel something different for my best friend, and here he was saying he might feel the same.

He stared at me for what felt like forever, until I managed to croak out a barely audible, "What?"

"I like you. Hell, if we're being honest, I think I'm in love with you."

His big brown eyes watched me with no expectation, just observing. I realized he wasn't waiting for me to say it back, or even acknowledge it, he was just... watching me process.

Before I knew what I was doing I had thrown my heels to the ground, launching myself at him. I pressed my lips against his as I threaded my fingers through his soaked curls. Leo's hands instinctively found my waist, tugging me closer.

His teeth tugged my bottom lip, nipping me before his tongue darted out to lick across the area in a soothing manner. I tugged his hair at the action, silently praising him.

I pulled away breathlessly, trying to get even closer to him. "You're so warm," I muttered against his lips. My shivering had decreased significantly since he'd wrapped his arms around me.

"Let's get you inside." My only option for a response was a mindless nod, before returning to his lips.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 2)

***IMPORTANT! PLEASE NOTE: This is Part 2 to Part 6 (it makes sense, I promise) of my Beauty and the Bard series! Find Part 1 of this chapter here. If you'd rather read it all in one go, it's also posted to AO3.

Summary: “Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.”  He slid the ring onto your pinky gently.  It was a perfect fit.  The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air. “Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger.  “Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. OR You and Astarion have a room to yourselves at the Last Light Inn. What happens next?

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 21.3k (This particular part is 10.6k) CW: smut, reader is new to sex,piv sex, oral (male receiving), hand job, vaginal fingering, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, protective Astarion, soft Astarion, whimpering Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), lots of party banter, AND JAHEIRA!! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 and 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 Last chance to go back to Part 1 of this chapter!

a/n: So sorry to be posting another tumblr two parter. Once I started writing, I simply couldn't stop. Thank you if you made it this far! Your reward is once again smut! I hope you all enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!)

The room was fairly cozy; a full sized bed was made neatly in the back left corner by a door that led out into the wrap-around porch that surrounded the inn, while an upholstered couch sat in front of a large window, and a storage chest was hidden behind an ornate screen, full of alchemical materials and a few gold pieces. 

You set your backpack down and removed your armor, taking note of the contents of the room and pausing when you saw Astarion on his hands and knees by the bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, shutting the curtains on the window and raising your eyebrows at him as he held his ear to the ground. 

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet darling,” he said softly and knocked on the board below his ear. His eyes lit up when the wood made a hollow sound. “Just as I thought!” He sat up on his knees and pried at the edge of the board until it lifted to reveal a small hiding cubby for valuables underneath. He flashed you a winning grin before reaching his arm down into the hole blindly.

You sat on the bed to get a better angle as you watched and leaned forward to brush your hands through his hair. 

“Aha! Found something!” he said assuredly before retracting his arm to share his findings with you. He opened his hand to reveal a crumpled letter and a tarnished ring. 

You snorted. “A thrilling yield,” you said, patting his shoulder, “well done.”

Astarion let out a frustrated exhale. “Maybe the ring is worth something?” he tossed the letter aside, which you picked up and scanned quickly. 

“This Ketheric Thorm guy seems to be no joke,” you said absently, reflecting on the contents of the letter. The author wrote of feeling stuck at the inn on their way to Baldur’s Gate, and of how the people from the nearby village were on edge whenever they were asked about Ketheric. It had clearly been written long ago.

Astarion had one eye closed and inspected the ring closely. “Yes, yes, he’s a brute and a hellion, blah blah blah, we can worry about that tomorrow.” He opened his eye again and turned to you. “Tell me, dear, what does this say?”

He handed you the ring, which was ice cold when you held it in your palm. You sensed that it was full of ice magic, and took a closer look at the inside of the band. A series of names had been scratched out, one after the other. The last word, however, was untouched, and not a name.

“‘Mine,’” you read aloud. 

Astarion was already up and looking for more items hidden within the room. “You don’t need to lay claim to it,” he said, inspecting an emerald ring that he found on the dresser, “it’s worthless. You can have it.”

You laughed. “No,” you said, getting up and walking over to him. You held the ring between your thumb and index finger, angling it in front of his face to where the inscription could be read in the candle light. “Mine,” you repeated. 

“Oh,” he said smoothly, his features settling into a seductive smirk. “Giving me a ring so soon, my sweet? I’m flattered.” He plucked the ring from your hand and attempted to slide it onto his fingers. “Alas,” he sighed dramatically, “it’s too small - something I've never had trouble with in the past.” You made a face and smacked him lightly on his bicep, causing him to laugh. He caught your hand in his and examined your fingers. “I suppose you’ll have to wear it instead.” 

He slid the ring onto your pinky gently. 

It was a perfect fit. 

The two of you stared down at it for a moment, a quiet tension hanging in the air.

“Mine,” he breathed, turning the ring over and over around your finger. 

“Yours,” you confirmed, bringing a hand to his cheek and looking him in the eyes. 

His hand came up to meet yours and his eyes were half lidded when you closed the distance and kissed him fiercely. Your tongue flicked out to prod at his bottom lip and he gladly opened for you with a rumble low in his chest. He pulled you closer by the hips and shuffled you backwards toward the bed.

“Mine,” he repeated between breaths. “You’re mine,” he growled and pushed you backwards with enough force to make you fall onto the bed. You yelped gleefully and repositioned yourself to be more comfortable as he climbed on top of you. He continued to kiss you eagerly; all over your face, jaw, and throat.

“Aren’t you…” your breathing was heavy and your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, “aren’t you scared of hurting me?”

Astarion paused his kisses and pulled back to look at you. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you exhaled, pulling him back down by the collar of his shirt and kissing him clumsily as you threw your arms around his neck. 

He moaned weakly against your mouth. “I’ve missed you,” he said, moving down to drag his fangs along your throat. 

“Bite me,” you sighed, angling your head to give him better access to feed. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cooed and clicked his tongue. “If this night continues how I think it’s going to, then I’d rather taste you-” he moved his mouth to your ear and said lowly, “-while I’m inside of you.”

You shivered and threw your hands over your face, whining pathetically. “From anyone else, that would have been terrible.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as he nuzzled his nose along your jawline. “But you can’t leave now. I’ve given you a ring, which you’ve foolishly accepted.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly, “trapped by societal expectations. Curses!” You held your fist up to the sky, cursing no one in particular. “Though, that means you’re trapped with me, too.”

Astarion continued kissing you, making a noise of affirmation against your mouth. “A shame, considering I can’t stand you,” he rolled his hips, causing you to inhale sharply when you felt how hard he already was. “Ignore that, that has nothing to do with my hatred for you.”

“I can tell,” you teased, palming at his shirt. 

He took the hint and sat up to pull the fabric over his head.

You watched him, your eyes roaming all over his unfairly beautiful body, until they landed on his left thigh and you gasped. 

“You’re bleeding!” 

“I’m what?” Astarion looked himself over, but fell backwards when you sprang off the bed to run towards your backpack.

“You’re bleeding,” you said again, shuffling back over to him with your bag in hand and rummaging through your belongings to find the salve and bandages you’d been using on your own wound. 

Astarion now saw the crimson stain on the front of his leg, complete with a slash through the fabric of his pants. “And I just mended these,” he sighed.

“Take them off,” you instructed, tapping his right thigh.

He smirked. “Are you sure, darling? You might like what you see.”

You gave him a look that said “I’m being serious,” and he groaned.

“Fine.” He stood and undid the clasps of his trousers before shimmying out of them and dropping them ungracefully onto the floor next to him. He sat back down on the bed and you did your best not to stare at his erection. He rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to bite you,” he said. “Though I certainly intend to.” He raised his eyebrows seductively.

You nodded absently at his comment, to which he muttered, “Oh, you’re no fun,” and began to assess his wound. It looked as though it had stopped bleeding hours ago, but the fact remained that he had gotten injured in the first place. You got up again and walked over to the wash basin in the corner of the room to retrieve water to clean the blood. 

“When did you get this?” You knelt in front of him with the wet cloth and began to gently dab at the injury. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He shrugged, watching your hands. “I suppose I got it from one of those cultists we battled earlier. But my armor was too dark to see the blood.”

“You didn’t feel it?” you asked.

Astarion laughed humorlessly. “I’ve felt more pain in my life than anyone should ever have to.” Your hands froze at that. He sighed. “I may have felt something slash me, but obviously it wasn’t enough to take me down.”

“Obviously,” you smiled up at him sadly. 

He looked back at you fondly and brushed his fingers across your cheekbone. Then he furrowed his brow. “If I’m not mistaken, you know a healing spell or two that could make quick work of this scratch.”

It was hardly a scratch. An injury like this would have downed a weaker man. Or at least made it harder for him to walk. It wasn’t a very deep wound, but you had no doubt that it had been painful.

You felt your cheeks go red. “I do have some healing spells…”

“But…?”

“But… you took such good care of me while I was healing, I feel like I should return the favor.” You looked back up at him shyly. 

He was watching you smugly and sitting back on his hands. “Go on then,” he nodded his head towards the salve you were about to spread over the wound. 

You pressed your lips into a line and focused on covering the entire injured area tenderly, but effectively. “I can still cast a healing spell if you’d prefer.”

“Oh no, dear,” his laugh was real this time, “I’d much rather experience your soft touches and longing glances than one quick blip from the weave.”

“I always knew you only wanted me for my soft touches and longing glances,” you teased. 

“Call me old fashioned,” he shrugged with a smirk. 

“Astarion!” you gasped, reaching for the salve and spreading a generous amount on his thigh. “You shouldn’t call yourself old. You don’t look a day over two hundred and fifty!”

“Very funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you. “But I’m not two hundred and fifty!”

You tilted your head, concealing a smile. “You’re not? My apologies.” 

“And to think I was going to allow you to have sex with me tonight.” He sat up and crossed his arms. “Pity. Your loss.”

As an act of rebellion, you reached forward and squeezed his cock through his underwear. Astarion let out a pathetic whine and his entire body tensed. 

He looked at you and furrowed his brow. “Warn a man, would you?”

“Sorry,” you said genuinely, hiding behind an awkward smile. 

He bounced his left leg, bringing your attention back to the wound. “Now hurry up and wrap my damn leg.” 

You nodded and began to wind the bandages you’d collected around his thigh. “Is this tight enough?” you asked after a few wraps. 

Astarion nodded, once again watching your hands. “Yes, darling. You make a marvelous nursemaid.”

Your eyes wandered as you continued to wrap the wound. His thighs were more muscular than you’d ever noticed. Being this up close and personal with them made you appreciate just how powerful he was. You’d never admit that to him, lest it go to his head, but in these past weeks since you’d met him, all the running, and fighting, and crouching in preparation to strike enemies, had really paid off. 

Hesitantly, you leaned forward and kissed the tender skin on the inside of his thigh. 

He inhaled shakily in response. “Easy,” he said on an equally shaky exhale. 

Slowly, you placed another kiss inside his thigh, higher this time, all the while still wrapping his wound. You watched his face intently.

He was focused completely on you, his pupils blown wide.

You kissed him again, even higher. “Does that feel nice?” you asked.

“Don’t be si-illy,” he rolled his eyes but his voice caught when you kissed him again. “Of course it feels nice.”

“Good,” you smiled and licked a stripe from the middle of his thigh, up to the top, bringing your face dangerously close to his bulge. You were pretty sure you saw it twitch.

Astarion shuddered. “Gods above…”

You tucked the bandage into itself and tugged it a little to make sure it was sturdy. When you were satisfied, you stood up fully and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s neck.

“There,” you said quietly, stepping between his legs. You watched his mouth before finding his eyes again. “All better.”

Astarion nodded wordlessly, watching your mouth in turn.

“Tell me next time you’re hurt,” you leaned your forehead against his.

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he purred. “I may willingly step in front of an arrow if it means I get to have your attention all to myself.” He went to kiss you but you pulled back with a laugh.

“As if you don’t always have my attention.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Sometimes you speak to the others.” He pouted, adding, “It’s awful.” 

You mirrored his pout. “Poor thing.”

He pulled you closer by the hips and kissed your clothed stomach. “Enough stalling,” he reached for the hem of your shirt. “I’ve waited long enough to have you again.”

When he went to pull your shirt up, you halted his wrists. He looked up at you curiously.

“What’s the matter, my sweet?”

You took a step back and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. “Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

You exhaled through your nose. “It’s just that… well… I know you’ve seen every part of me-”

“Yes.”

“-and that you liked what you saw.”

“Oh, yes.”

“But now…” you waved your hands through the air, trying to say what you wanted to say without sounding stupid. “Now I’ve got this scar.” You held a hand to the wound on your right side. 

It had been a few days now that you’d gone without wrapping the injury. The skin had healed and no longer bled, now it was just a matter of stretching and continuing to let your body heal itself. But it also meant that you saw the remnants of your near death experience every time you looked down. Not to mention the twin wound on your back. You didn’t like seeing the scar, which honestly could have been much more gruesome, but it only served as a reminder of how badly you’d messed up that day. You hated remembering the terrified look on Astarion’s face when he cradled you on the battlefield, or the way he held you close as he ran for help. The whole thing was just… ugly.

And yet, Astarion laughed. 

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to, darling.”

You scrunched your nose at him. “Your scars are a horrible reminder of everything you’ve gone through at the hands of that horrible man. Mine are from a mistake I made that scared the hells out of the person I l- care for the most. You’re a survivor, I’m just… a problem.” 

“Dearest, you’re someone who also survived.” Astarion stood from the bed. 

You avoided his gaze. “But it’s my fault it happened in the first place. You didn’t sign up for this.” You gestured to your torso and rested a hand over where the scar was hidden under your shirt. 

“No,” he said softly, bending to kiss your neck. “But you’re someone who I’ll choose again and again, regardless of some trivial blemish.”

You froze and watched him pull away, noting that soft look in his eye that you loved so much. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the hem of your shirt again. “May I?”

You twisted the ring on your pinky to distract yourself. “Okay.”

Astarion bent to kiss your lips softly, then carefully pulled the shirt over your head. 

The scar cut diagonally across your appendix region, pink and shining ever so slightly in the candle light.

“Do you know why I love this scar?” Astarion sank to his knees before you, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Instead of making some sort of snarky remark about what he’d just said as a means of deflection, you merely shook your head. 

“I love this scar-” he leaned forward to kiss the tender skin, “-because, like your heartbeat, it means you're still here.” He kissed across your stomach. “With me.” He took your hand and fiddled with the ring on your finger. “Mine.” He looked up at you smugly.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You’re going to be insufferable about that, aren’t you?” 

“Absolutely,” he said, narrowing his eyes seductively and standing up to kiss your mouth again. 

You whimpered lamely when he slid his tongue into your mouth and turned to push you gently onto the bed. Once you were comfortably lying among the pillows, he climbed on top of you again and continued kissing you slowly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked against your lips.

“Uh huh,” you exhaled, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Good,” he whispered, and rolled his hips against your pelvis, reminding you of his desire.

You tangled your leg around his. “Astarion…” you sighed.

He was kissing across your jaw, rolling his hips slowly. “Yes, sweet girl?”

“I want to try something,” you placed a hand on his chest to gently signal for him to stop his kisses.

“Oh?” he smirked. “Feeling experimental, are we?”

You nodded shyly, then pushed lightly on his shoulder to get him to pull away from you. “Take my spot,” you said, sitting up and gesturing for him to lie down where you had just been. 

“What are you planning?” he asked with a smile and obediently took your place at the head of the bed. “Riding me again? Bondage of some kind? Or perhaps something you read in one of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks?”

You sat back on your knees between his legs. “I told you that you took such good care of me when I was hurt,” you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs, careful to avoid his wrapped cut, “now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Is it, now? And I’m assuming this doesn’t involve wrapping some other wound I haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head. “Do you trust me?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “Of course I do.” Then he added, “But don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned at him and marveled at the way he watched you, so open and unafraid. It made your heart soar. You cleared your throat. 

“I’ll need your help,” you dipped your head bashfully. 

“Anything,” he said, not taking his eyes off your face. 

You leaned forward and kissed his clothed cock.

“Ohhh,” he sighed blissfully. “You’re very sweet, darling, but you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you said, kissing him again.

Astarion closed his eyes and arched his back a little, chasing the warmth your lips left behind. When he opened his eyes, he looked almost embarrassed by the neediness his hips had given away.

“Please,” you said softly. “I want nothing more than to take care of you, my love.”

He remained silent as he considered your offer.

“Show me how,” you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his underwear and felt him shiver beneath you.

Then you watched the mask go up with a seductive arch of his eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we can give it a try,” Astarion said, his voice airy and detached. 

You immediately crawled up the bed to hover over his face. He looked back at you with a alluring smirk. “Hey,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It’s me.” You brushed his cheek with the back of your knuckles. “You’re safe.”

Astarion stared at you before shaking his head mildly and smiling. “I know,” he said. “I want this.”

You bent and kissed him deeply, reaching a hand up to massage the tip of his left ear. 

He moaned quietly and you felt his hips bump yours, seeking friction. “Please,” he whispered.

You gave him a sideways smile before shimmying back down his body and hooking your fingers under his waistband again. 

“Wait,” he interrupted. 

You paused. “What’s wrong?”

He pouted - something you realized he did quite a lot, now that you thought about it. “I miss your breasts.”

You snorted and crawled up to him once more. “Would you care to do the honors?” You hovered above him, low enough that he could reach behind your back and undo the clasps of your bra. 

“More than anything,” he murmured. Almost as soon as he answered was the clothing off your body and on the floor next to the bed. He sat up a little and took one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Hey!” you laughed and pushed him away. “Bad.” You pointed a scolding finger at him. “I’m supposed to be pleasuring you.”

Astarion smiled, half lidded. “Apologies, darling. You’re too delicious, and I’ve missed your taste.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you deflected and tried once more to travel down his hips. “Is this okay?” you asked, once more hooking your fingers under his waistband.

“Yes, my sweet.” His voice was soft and genuine, with the slightest twinge of eagerness. 

You nodded and pulled at his undergarments, working them down his hips and onto the floor next to you. When his cock emerged, it was red and swollen, leaking precum at the tip. You tried not to look intimidated by this new, somewhat daunting task that laid before you, but Astarion saw your expression and laughed. 

“Is it as pretty as you remembered?” he asked, barely containing his mirth. 

“Gorgeous,” you teased. “Now tell me what to do.”

He laughed again. “Well, when I was pleasuring another man, I’d start with my hands. They usually enjoyed that.”

You tilted your head to the side. “But is that what you like to start with?”

“I-” he paused. “A good question. I was rarely on this end of things. But… Yes, I do enjoy your hands on me. You’re warm. And you moisturize.”

Now you laughed. “Glad you noticed.”

“You’re wonderfully soft, my dear,” he confirmed. “Now… do you remember what I’ve shown you before?”

“Yes,” you said and reached forward, taking his shaft into your hand and squeezing slightly. 

“Ah,” Astarion shut his eyes and smiled. “Good.”

You moved your hand upwards towards the head and twisted, gathering some of his precum and spreading it down his length as you brought your hand back down. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “The tip is particularly sensitive.”

You nodded, not that he could see you, and raised your hand up again to swipe your thumb over his slit.

“Oh, yes, that feels amazing,” he opened his eyes to watch you with a lopsided grin. “May I show you something?”

“Please,” you said, pulling your hand away. 

“No no,” he shook his head and lifted himself up with one arm. “Give me your hand,” he held his out and you allowed him to guide you back towards his cock. “Right here,” he said, leading your hand to the underside of the head where it connected with his shaft, “feels marvelous when you stroke it gently. Like this.” He took your thumb and ran it over the skin lightly, back and forth. He exhaled, blowing cool air into your face before lying back down. “Just like that,” he sighed, his voice gravelly. 

Feeling brave, you kept lightly stroking the area and spat into your free hand before wrapping it around his length and pumping up and down. 

Astarion inhaled sharply at the sensation. “I see you’re not completely in the- ah- the dark.”

You smiled. “I may have been reading some of Shadowheart’s cheap paperbacks, yes.”

He laughed airly. “You’re adorable.” 

“Am I?” you asked mischievously before repositioning yourself between his legs so that you were now lying on your stomach, your hands never stopping their motions. You leaned forward and replaced the hand at his tip with your tongue, swiping back and forth repeatedly. He tasted of salt and sweat and something that you’d describe as distinctly Astarion.

His body jerked involuntarily. “Why you…” He leaned up to look at you and noted the glee in your eyes. “Cheeky,” he chuckled. 

You kissed the tip of his cock and licked at his slit, which was still weeping precum. 

“Unf,” Astarion whined. 

You hummed lightly. “Does that feel good?” Your left hand was still pumping up and down, and you bent to kiss the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” he sighed, reaching forward to twist a hand into your hair. “But darling,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “I may need more.”

“Would you like my mouth?” you asked bluntly.

He eyed you curiously. “Do you really want to?”

You rolled your eyes and licked his slit again. “No, clearly not.” 

Astarion laughed shakily. “Then, if you’re offering, there’s nothing I’d like more than your mouth.”

“Good,” you smiled. “You’ll have to help me. There’s only so much a paperback can teach you.”

“I don’t know, what you were doing felt pretty good,” he smiled.

“I’m being serious,” you said. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“How sweet,” he twisted his hand more tightly into your hair. “Of course I’ll help, sweet girl.”

You turned your head towards his hand in your hair and kissed his wrist. “What first?”

“First,” he said, “you need to relax. Let go of the tension in your shoulders.”

“Okay,” you nodded and focused on relaxing your muscles. “I just want to get this right.”

“And you will, pet, but I can promise you that this will be much more enjoyable for both of us if you’re out of your own head.”

You scoffed. “Me? Thinking too much? How dare you.”

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed teasingly. “My mistake.” He took in your eager expression and chuckled again. “Rather than trying to fit me in your mouth all in one go, I find that it’s quite useful to tease first. Like what you were just doing with your kissing and licking. That feels remarkable.”

“Kissing and licking,” you repeated. “Got it.”

“And then,” he continued, “when you think you’re ready, you can slowly start taking me into your mouth. But be wary of your teeth and choking.” He thought for a moment before adding “And pay attention to me.”

“Is that not what this is?”

He gave you a mildly annoyed, but unsurprised look. “Yes, clearly. I mean, listen to your partner. Their voice and body will usually give away if they’re feeling good and what they like best.”

“Kiss, lick, mouth, careful of choking, listen to you. I think I can do that.”

“Teeth, darling,” he said, flashing his fangs, “don’t forget to mind the teeth.”

“You never do,” you teased.

He smiled, but you observed some hesitation in his face. “Really, darling, you don’t have to-”

“Shush,” you said, sitting up on your knees and leaning forward to kiss his mouth. “I want to do this. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

His eyes were nothing but fond when he bent upwards to kiss you. “Alright,” he murmured.

“Tell me if anything feels bad,” you said, repositioning yourself between his legs. “So help me gods, I’m going to make you come tonight.”

Astarion laughed. “I believe in you, darling.”

You kissed his tip again and returned your hand to pumping his shaft once again. 

“Yes,” Astarion breathed, “hands are good too.”

Boldly, you started licking long, languid strokes with the flat of your tongue up and down the head of his cock. 

Astarion’s hips jerked involuntarily. “Very good,” he groaned.

You planted a kiss where your tongue had just been, then removed your hand to lick a stripe from the base of his length up to the top. You blew softly on the saliva left behind and smiled when his thighs tensed and heard his breath catch in his throat. He sighed out your name, a blissful look on his face. You alternated between kissing and licking and paid close attention to areas that had Astarion bucking his hips, or biting his lip, or moaning softly.

His hands tightened in your hair when you licked a particularly sensitive spot. “Gods,” he focused his eyes on you, “you’re wonderful.”

You kissed him once more before saying, “I’m going to try taking you now.”

Astarion’s breath caught again, this time with anticipation. “Go slow, darling. There’s no rush.”

“Don’t you have dinner plans?” you deflected with a joke, trying not to get too in your head before taking him into your mouth.

Astarion groaned. “You are my dinner plans, you rotten woman.”

“We should stop talking now.”

“Agreed.”

You took a deep breath to slow your heart rate, which had Astarion chuckling again.

“Honestly darling, if this is too much-”

Before he could finish, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock and swirled your tongue in a circular motion, causing him to gasp loudly and arch his back in surprise. You giggled at his reaction, the vibration of your voice further causing him to clutch at the sheets beneath him. 

“Oh…” he breathed. “More of that, please.”

You did as instructed and added your hand to pump up and down his length. He let out a small cry of pleasure in response. You gave an experimental suck and were delighted to be met with an even louder cry of pleasure.

“Darling,” he moaned, “you’re a natural.”

You hummed a “thank you” and lowered your head, attempting to take more of him into your mouth.

“Ah,” Astarion squeaked. “So warm.”

Your hand continued to work the base of his cock while you took even more of him, experimenting with your limit. When he bumped against the back of your throat, you felt yourself gag, and pulled back.

“No,” Astarion whined, “come back…”

“Sorry,” you wiped your eyes to rid yourself of the tears that had involuntarily gathered at the corners.

He watched your hand, still pumping up and down. “Don’t apologize, dear, just come back to me.”

You studied his face, which was relaxed, save for the mild distress caused by your mouth leaving him. “You’re enjoying it?”

“Can’t you tell?” He took your chin in his hand and smiled fondly. “I think you know me well enough by now to know if I was faking it.”

You nuzzled his hand. “I would hope so.”

“Please darling,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well. Give it another go.”

You smiled, thrilled that you were able to do this for him and that he was actually enjoying himself. “Any tips for gagging?”

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. “Well if you’re nervous that I don’t like it, throw that thought away. The sensation of your throat constricting is heavenly.”

“Good to know,” you nodded.

“But if you don’t like the sensation, I’ve read that squeezing your left thumb can help reduce your gag reflex. And it’s worked for me when I’ve tried it.” He held up his left hand and demonstrated wrapping his other four fingers around his thumb. You swapped your left hand, which was still slowly stroking him, with your right hand, and mirrored the motion. He nodded. “That’s it.”

“Okay,” you said with a newfound confidence. You dipped your head back down and kissed the head of his cock again before taking him back into your mouth gradually.

Astarion threw his head back, a fangy smile gracing his features. “Ahh…” he exhaled.

You felt him twitch in your mouth and giggled. The vibration of that once again had Astarion humming pleasantly. Rather than seeing how far you could take him this time, you took a decent amount before lifting back up and bobbing back down. You repeated this a few times, trying to take more of him with each bob of your head. 

Astarion twisted a hand into your hair again and whined out your name. “So good… so good for me.”

When his tip bumped the back of your throat this time, you squeezed your thumb and found yourself not as rattled this time. Emboldened, you started taking even more of him, despite the tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Oh gods,” he whimpered when you let your right hand move downwards to start fondling his balls lightly. 

You hummed again before popping off of him to catch your breath. Astarion’s chest was rising and falling heavily, and the smile on his face was nothing short of euphoric.

“You better not stop,” he said through a laugh.

“Those of us still living actually need to breathe, sorry,” you licked along his shaft again before returning to bobbing up and down, with him down your throat. You swallowed involuntarily, which had him whimpering again and bucking his hips deeper. 

“Ah,” he moaned quietly. “You feel perfect. I could have you like this forever.” 

You hummed an affirmation, making his hips twitch again. 

“Don’t you…” his breathing was still labored, despite his lack of breath, “Don’t you dare make a… snide remark about being together… forever.”

“Mmm,” you said, sounding an awful lot like “Aww.” You pulled back up and swirled your tongue around the head again.

“Oh…” he moaned again. “You’ll have to… show me… the paperbacks you’ve been reading.”

You gave him a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t currently fondling his balls and brought it back down to slide it up and down his thigh softly. Goosebumps emerged on his skin and he inhaled sharply. 

“I’m close, darling girl,” he brushed his hand through your hair encouragingly before fisting it tightly again. “Keep going.”

You could feel with your tongue as you bobbed back down that he was more rigid now than when you’d begun. He was also twitching more frequently and bucking his hips to chase after your mouth. 

He ran his free hand through his hair. “Where shall I-?”

You gave him a brutal suck before popping off with a filthy sound. “Not sure I’m ready to swallow yet,” you admitted shyly, despite a string of drool connecting you to him. Your right hand was back to twisting around his length.

He loosed a breathy laugh. “Understandable.”

“I suppose on my chest?”

He laughed again. “You- ah- suppose?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed. “Is that sexy? I’ve never been cum on before.”

He smiled fondly and thumbed over your lip again. “You’re always sexy, pet.”

“Liar,” you laughed, “you’ve seen me drool in my sleep.”

“And what a sexy drooler you are,” he teased.

You scowled. “Ew, don’t say that.”

He groaned, but not at your remark. “Really darling, I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Right,” you said, “chest it is.” You returned your mouth to his cock, kissing it sloppily before taking him back into your mouth as much as you could. 

You decided to start humming “Bard Song” while moving up and down, a callback to the night of the tiefling party, when he’d hummed an offkey version for you. 

“Ohh, please,” he whimpered pathetically at the humming sensation mixed with your hands on his shaft and thigh, “please.”

You took that as encouragement to hum a bit louder.

“More,” Astarion whined, “faster.”

You squeezed your hand around his length a bit harder and started increasing your speed. He, in turn, was letting out louder, less censored moans.

“Good,” he breathed, “such a good girl.” His hips began bucking wildly and you did your best to remain where you were. “I’m going to- ah- darling,” his eyes rolled back before he shut them and reached to tap your shoulder, signaling for you to stop.

You pulled back to hover over him and watched as he began stroking himself furiously. Wanting to spur him on even more, you began massaging the tips of his ears, which had him calling out your name before spilling all over your chest and his abdomen. 

The sensation was sticky and warm, and you were surprised by just how much of it there was. Normally you’d try to avoid a mess like this, but seeing the intense focus turned to pure bliss on Astarion’s face made it worthwhile in your eyes.

He opened his eyes and gave you the most radiant smile you’d ever seen. “Oh, darling,” he sat up and kissed your mouth fiercely, “that was incredible.” 

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you smiled against his lips and kissed him again. He pulled you closer, making your chest press against his. “Oh!” you yelped, pulling back and observing how his cum on your chest had transferred onto his chest.

Astarion brought a hand up to his face and swiped it down his features as he laughed. “Not the worst thing I’ve been covered in.”

“I will not be asking you to elaborate,” you said.

“Nor would I want you to.” He sat up a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

“No, no, no,” you held a gentle hand to his chest and made him lie back down. “Allow me.” You rolled off of him and walked over to the wash basin in the corner.

Astarion sat back up to watch you. “Well,” he said airily, “one could get used to this sort of service.”

You found a clean cloth and wet it thoroughly. “Get used to it, pretty boy,” you walked back over to him, “you’re not in this alone anymore.”

“I suppose I’m not,” he chuckled. 

You began to wipe Astarion down, ridding his chest of any unwanted substance before moving down to his stomach. You gasped when you felt him lean forward and lick your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Just helping to expedite the process.” He smirked at you. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“How kind,” you said, pushing him back. “Um… did you want me to do that to you?”

Astarion blinked a few times. “Oh, no, certainly not. I mean, unless you want to!” He searched your eyes, but you scrunched your nose a little at the thought. “Yes,” he chuckled, “I find the process to be rather… I don’t know… It’s not my favorite thing. Much too salty.”

“Then… why are you doing it now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, watching your hands clean off his stomach with the cloth, “other men liked it when I put on a bit of a show when it came to cum.”

“Well, I’m not other men.” you said, dramatically gripping your breasts firmly in both hands, then regretting it when they came away sticky.

He laughed. “Let me help you, dear.”

You allowed him to take the cloth from you and observed him thoughtfully. “Just so you know, you never have to put on a show for me.”

He met your eye, looking at a loss for words. 

“I mean,” you said quickly, “you can if you want to, but you never have to. I like you, and it’s not because of how great you are at sex.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “so you finally admit it.”

“Shut up,” you slapped his bicep gently. “You know what I mean.”

He sighed and looked at you fondly. “What ever did I do to deserve a sweetheart like you?”

“You’ve always deserved this kind of care,” you said, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m just sorry it took so long for me to find you.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and spoke softly. “You really took your time, didn’t you? Selfish.”

You snorted and pushed him away, a devilish grin on his face. “That’s a new one, by the way,” you smiled. “‘Sweetheart.’”

He began to wipe your stomach clean, paying extra delicate attention to the area around your scar. “Like that one? There’s plenty more in the arsenal. Let’s see…” He bent and kissed your neck. “Sweetheart… sweetie… sweetness…”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re delicious,” he murmured next to your ear before biting it gently. 

“Oh, you haven’t eaten!” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering that you’d asked him to bite you earlier. 

Astarion nuzzled your neck with his nose before pulling back. “Relax, darling. I haven’t forgotten. But you have, it would seem.”

“What do you mean?”

Satisfied with how clean the both of you were now, Astarion threw the cloth back towards the washbasin. “I mean,” he brought his face close to yours, “don’t you remember when I said I wanted to taste you?”

I’d rather taste you while I’m inside of you.

Right.

“Still?” you asked.

He nodded. 

“But…” you furrowed your brow. “If this is about feeling like you owe me, cut it out. That’s not how it works anymore.”

Astarion whined. “Darling, this is the first night I’ve been in a proper bed in months. This isn’t about payment, this is about allowing my to finally fuck you properly.”

You were taken aback by that. “So… what were all those other times?”

Astarion quirked his mouth to the side. “Well, those were still me fucking you but… in the woods.”

You snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

He crashed his lips into yours desperately. “Please,” he moaned. “I need to feel you again.”

“Are you,” you smirked, “begging?”

“Darling, if I was begging, you’d know.”

“And if I say no?”

“I won’t beg,” he said, looking down his nose at you. “But don’t say no.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Okay, tough guy. If you’re still up for it, then so am I.”

“Excellent,” Astarion placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you fiercely before flipping you onto your back. He hovered above you, still kissing you deeply, and you felt his hands reach for the waistband of your pants. He hummed into your mouth by way of asking permission, and you hummed back an affirmation. He pulled away and undid the ties on the front before pulling both your pants and underwear down at the same time. 

“You are fast,” you remarked. 

“Practice, darling,” he said before crawling on top of you and kissing you again.

“Are you even,” you said between kisses, “ready for another round?” You looked down and saw that he was already getting hard again.

“I’ve missed you,” he shrugged and kissed your throat. “It’s impossible for me to not want you right now.”

“Oh,” you said, genuinely flattered. “I’ve missed you too, my love.”

He moaned against your throat and rolled his hips against yours. “Say that again.”

“‘I’ve missed you?’”

He clicked his tongue. “Well, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “No, the other thing.”

“‘My love?’” The phrase was met with another roll of Astarion’s hips. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m yours,” he reached for your hand, which still had the ring on, and twisted it. “And you’re mine.”

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, wrapping your leg around his hip to pull him closer, “I’m yours.”

“My beautiful girl,” he bumped his nose against yours affectionately. 

You gasped in surprise when you felt him slide his fingers through your folds.

“You did miss me,” he teased. “Shall I help you feel good, darling?”

“Please,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He continued to slide his fingers between your legs, spreading your slick and preparing you to take him. “No funny business tonight,” he said. “No new positions or experimental moves. I just want to feel you around me.”

“I can agree to those- ah- terms.” You stuttered when his thumb began circling your clit. “Whatever you want.”

He looked at you with an overwhelming fondness before kissing you sweetly. “Thank you, darling.”

It was then that he stuck a finger into your core slowly and you gasped, tightening your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, “I’m preparing you to take me, my sweet. You’re going to do so well.” He began to pump the finger in and out of you slowly, curling it just so. When your body relaxed, he picked up the pace. “There now,” he said, “you’re doing so well already.”

You nodded and watched his hand move between your legs. “You can go faster.” 

Astarion smiled and picked up the pace on his pumping and circling your clit. You tensed in pleasure. 

“I’m going to add another,” he said, looking you in the eye. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you nodded and tightened your grip on him once again when he inserted the second finger slowly.

“Okay?” he asked, making sure you were alright. 

“Careful,” you said, causing him to halt his motions, “you’re being awfully nice to me.”

“Don’t ruin this,” he said flatly, and pumped his fingers into your core harshly.

“Ah!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry!”

He leaned forward and kissed your mouth again. “You’re forgiven.” When he pulled back, he scowled. “For now.” 

You laughed. “How generous.”

His fingers suddenly brushed against the spongy spot inside of you and you keened.

“There,” you moaned. “That felt amazing.”

“Good,” Astarion smirked and focused his attention on hitting that spot over and over with some force, all the while circling your clit.

That familiar tightening in your stomach started to make itself known, and you moved one of your hands to grip Astarion’s curls. “I’m close,” you said.

“Very good,” he purred and increased the pace of his hand once more. His other hand came up to tangle into your hair and he started kissing you deeply.

Your hips rolled against his hand, chasing even more friction. “Astarion,” you whined.

“Come for me, darling,” he murmured next to your ear. “You can do it. You made me feel so divine earlier, I know you can come for me too.” 

“Keep talking,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your climax to overtake you.

He chuckled lowly. “It’s been so hard keeping my hands off you while you were healing this last tenday, sweet girl. All I wanted to do was rip your clothes off, and get my mouth on you, and touch you everywhere.” You whined and bucked your hips. “I adore you, precious thing. I promise I’ll protect you from now on. So that I’ll never have to hold back again.”

The words, combined with the brutal pace of his fingers and thumb hurdled you over the edge and into your climax, which had you calling out for Astarion and gripping onto his back.

“I’m here,” he cooed. “You’re so beautiful when you let go.”

As you came back down and caught your breath, you smiled at him. “I missed that.”

Astarion scoffed lightheartedly. “And here I thought you liked me for more than how fantastic I am at sex.”

“I lied,” you teased.

“Oof,” Astarion held a hand to his heart. “If my heart were beating, surely it would break.”

You sat up and kissed him swiftly. “I adore you too, dummy.”

“I know,” he said pompously and you reached behind you and whacked him in the side of the head with a pillow. “Ow!” he exclaimed, and you laughed at the way his hair became disheveled. “Come here, you,” he growled, pinning you back on the bed and kissing you deeply once more. He ground his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he had become. 

He pulled back and looked into your eyes with unrestrained desire. You looked down and saw him aligning himself at your entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked sincerely. 

“Please,” you rested your forehead against his. 

He pressed into you slowly, making you inhale sharply before you relaxed into the sensation. Astarion, meanwhile, appeared to be struggling. He’d paused, and his eyes were shut tight.

“Are you alright?” you asked, caressing his hair and brushing against the back of his ear.

“Huh?” He opened his eyes with a start, then smiled down at you seductively. “Oh, yes darling, why wouldn’t I be?”

You pursed your lips. “We can stop if something is wrong.”

“No!” Astarion’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m just… overwhelmed, I think.”

“By…?”

He rolled his hips slowly and closed his eyes again. “You feel so good. It’s been too long. And I’m still not used to… this.” He opened his eyes and used his chin to gesture towards you. 

“What, my excellent breasts?” you deflected, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“While, yes, they are excellent,” he reached forward and squeezed your left breast for good measure, “you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you said quietly. “But what exactly… did you mean?”

He sighed. “I’m still figuring that out. It’s never felt this way before and I… forgot.” He rolled his hips again and your eyes fluttered closed.

“F-forgot?” 

“How good this can feel. How good you feel.” He reached for your hands and tangled your fingers together with his on either side of your head. “We’re going to go extra slow tonight. I want to savor this.” He kissed you, his tongue sliding into your mouth before he started thrusting his hips at a leisurely pace.

You moaned into his mouth. “Take your time.”

“I plan to,” he said, caressing one of your thumbs with his own. 

The two of you remained like that for a few quiet moments, the only sounds being your hitched breaths and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, a pleased smile on your face. “This is nice.”

“This is nice,” Astarion agreed, biting your ear gently.

You sighed dreamily. “What would you usually talk to your… um… previous partners about? During sex?”

He pulled away from your ear and furrowed his brow. “Must we talk about others at a time like this?” He wet his thumb in his mouth sensually, and brought it down to your clit. 

You gasped and arched your back. “Of- of course not. I just like hearing your thoughts.”

Astarion smirked and leaned forward again to kiss your jaw. “Couldn’t you use the tadpole for that?”

You wrapped a leg around his waist. “I- ah- I guess. But it feels wrong to do that without your permission.” 

He growled against your throat and thrust into you harshly. “You always know just what to say.”

You laughed. “Liar.”

He thrust into you again. “Normally I was just trying to make the other person reach the finish line, so to speak. I’d say or do whatever was necessary to get them there.” 

“And you?”

“Oh, perish the thought. My needs were never at the forefront.” 

“My love…” you whined.

“People are much more willing to follow you around after you’ve brought them to the peak of pleasure.” He laughed a little. “Kind of like how you won’t stop following me around.”

You scoffed with a smile. “Do not compare me to someone you had to sleep with. And you’re the one who begged to be inside of me earlier. Not to mention when I had you in my mouth.”

Astarion thrust into you again forcibly. “I did not beg.” He thrust once more, changing the direction of his circles on your clit with his thumb. “Although I’m fairly certain I could get you to beg.” He flashed his fangs at you.

“Oh, please,” you said on an eyeroll.

“And there we have it,” he smirked. “I win.” 

“That was not me begging.”

“I heard a ‘please,’ didn’t I?”

“I loathe you,” you said, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. 

“I’m a magnificent bastard, aren’t I?” he took your other thigh and hiked it around his waist, making you lock your feet together. “Oh,” he moaned loudly, “I never want to leave this room.”

“We-”

He pressed a finger to your lips. “Do not list our many incomplete tasks right now, I beg of you, my darling.”

“You what?”

“I beg- oh shut up.” He withdrew himself from your cunt and slammed himself back in, coaxing a gleeful moan out of your throat. “Can’t you say anything sexy?”

“Hmm…” you thought aloud, closing your eyes when he began kissing your jaw again. “Sometimes, when I see how beautiful you are, I’m just dumbfounded.”

He chuckled. “Me too.”

“But I love talking to you, more than anything.”

“This isn’t really the kind of ‘sexy’ I had in mind, but do go on.”

“Even now, as you’re finally fucking me on a bed, I’m just as thrilled to hear your voice.”

Astarion gave you a questioning look. “High praise from a bard.” 

You kissed his bare shoulder. “You’re not trying to impress me, you're just… here with me. As Astarion.”

That made him pause for a moment. “Oh, believe me, dear, Astarion is trying very hard to impress you right now.” He rolled his hips at a slightly different angle, hiking you up closer to him. 

“Well- ah- it’s working. Great job.” You leaned up to kiss him and he chased your lips as you laid back in the pillows. He continued kissing all over your face and down your neck. He paused when his nose bumped the base of your throat.

“Darling?” 

An unspoken question.

“Hungry?”

He nodded against your skin, searching for a good spot to strike.

“Take what you need,” you whispered. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you.” You heard him inhale before the piercing coldness of his bite entered your veins. Your entire body tensed before you were overcome with the familiar pleasant numbness. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you groaned, raking your fingers through his hair. 

You could feel how slowly he was drinking from you, almost in time with how slowly he was still thrusting into you. He kept letting out tiny whimpers of delight, excited to finally taste you again. 

“You’re heavenly,” he said, pulling back momentarily as if to catch his breath. “I almost forgot how much I love your flavor. So sophisticated and sweet.” He dove in again, first licking the wound before biting down and continuing to drink. 

“Take as much as you like,” you sighed, bucking your hips when his thrusts started to pick up some speed. “Just don’t kill me.”

He chuckled against your throat but didn’t let up. He resumed letting out little noises of pleasure, and brought one of his hands up to paw at your breast. The other was cradling the back of your head affectionately. 

You could feel his cock growing steadily more rigid within you, the more Astarion drank. His speed was also steadily increasing, with thrusts becoming much more frequent than the slow passionate movements they’d been at the start of the encounter. 

“Astarion,” you whined, feeling yourself become more lightheaded than his usual feedings. 

“Mmf,” he said articulately before pulling back from your throat and licking the wounds to soothe the mild pain and clean excess drops of blood. When you could see his face once more, the tips of his ears were dusted a light shade of pink, and you swore there was more color in his face. His radiant smile was back, and he looked at you as if you were the sun itself. 

“As good as you remember?” you asked, laughing lightly at his expression.

“Better,” he said, surging forward to kiss you. You welcomed the coppery tang of your blood on his tongue happily. “Now, if you don’t mind, a reward.”

“Hey-” you warned.

“I want to,” he insisted. “Besides, it’s not just for you.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? How selfish are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s see it then.”

He smirked and moved over to your ear, murmuring, “I’m going to make you come again, sweetheart.” He pulled away, looking proud of himself. “That name works in a few ways actually. Because your blood is sweet, and it comes from your heart. And because it’s quite an endearing nickname.”

You nodded. “We’ll work on your tight five and get you a slot in the Laff Riot at the Elfsong once we’re back in Baldur’s Gate.”

“Oh, hush you,” he said, quieting you with a kiss. “I feel great,” he smiled down at you, returning his hand to your clit as he continued thrusting into your core. “Don’t ever almost die again.”

“I-” you gasped at a particularly pleasant thrust, “I’ll try.”

“Good girl,” he purred, bringing his forehead to yours. “Tell me, darling, how can I help you?”

“My boobs are feeling pretty neglected, if I’m being honest.” You gave him a sideways smile. 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Boobs,’” he mocked. “I suppose I can do that.” He smirked before lowering down to your left breast and teasing your nipple lightly with his teeth. His left hand came up to massage your right breast as his right hand continued to circle your clit. He sucked at the bud of your nipple rather harshly, causing it to pebble in his mouth and his tongue swirled around it greedily. 

You arched your back in pleasure and tried pulling him closer with your legs still locked around his middle. He hummed against your skin and turned his attention to your right breast with his mouth. 

“You’re so good,” you said wistfully, your eyes closed. “I love this.”

“Ah luff thish too,” he said, licking around your right nipple and making you laugh. 

“Keep going,” you said, tapping your foot against Astarion’s bare ass, encouraging him to thrust faster. 

He let out an amused breath through his nose before picking up the pace as requested. His thumb on your clit sped up as well.

“Oh gods…” you moaned, digging your nails into his scalp. You could feel yourself getting close again, just a little more and you’d be tumbling over the edge into your climax. “Talk to me,” you said desperately.

Astarion lifted his face from your nipple. “About what?” 

“Anything,” you looked at him pleadingly. “Say something sappy.” When he gave you a stupidly seductive look, you amended “And mean it!”

His face immediately fell, but his pace didn’t falter. “I need to think about this for a second.” 

You laughed. “You don’t have to, just keep going. I’m close.”

“Is this like when I made you come by telling a joke?”

“I didn’t-” you rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s exactly like that.”

Astarion nodded dutifully and thought for a moment. “I could say something about how in these accursed shadow lands, you are my light?”

You were squeezing your eyes tight, trying to reach your peak. “That could work. Ah!” Astarion bit your nipple again lightly. 

“Hmm… no, feels too sappy. Oh.” It looked like something dawned on him. He bent forward again to kiss your neck and whined when you pulled lightly at his hair. “Earlier,” he said, sounding out of breath, “when Jaheira likened you to my mate,” he almost spat the word, “I didn’t… entirely hate it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “What?” 

He nodded against you. “I like… having you around. And if some old druid likens that to procreating bears or whatever, then so be it.”

You smiled. “That might be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“So come, gods damn you! I want to come too!”

You laughed. “Kiss me, dummy.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face to yours. He moaned into your mouth when your tongue slipped past his lips. “Yours,” you murmured. 

Astarion growled, kissing you deeper. “Mine.”

With a few more circles of your clit and another brutal thrust from his hips, you fell into your climax, feeling him coming not far behind. Your cunt pulsed and fluttered around him, sending bursts of pleasure throughout your body. He moaned your name before collapsing on top of you, thoroughly spent. 

He smiled at you lazily. “Well darling?”

You blinked at him. 

“Performance review? From a humble bard such as yourself.”

You laughed. “The critics at the Baldur’s Gate Gazette will sing your praises for years to come.”

“Outstanding.” He kissed your chest before carefully pulling out of you and getting off the bed. 

You watched him walk to the washbasin and wet a fresh cloth before coming back and wiping down the space between your legs. 

“Here,” he said, handing you his discarded shirt from earlier.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking the shirt and watching him wipe himself down with the cloth. 

“It smells like you when you sleep in it,” he said earnestly. “But would it kill you to move less in your sleep? You might ruin the neckline.”

“I’m going to purposely stretch it out now,” you joked. 

“Menace,” he said, sounding scandalized, before tossing the cloth towards the washbasin and pulling on a pair of loose cotton pants from his backpack. 

“Those are new,” you remarked.

He crawled onto the bed and tucked himself into your side. “Now that I’m sleeping on a bed, the protection from the leather against dirt is no longer necessary.”

“How practical,” you said, turning to face him as he pulled the blanket over the both of you. “And where did you find them?”

“I may have stumbled upon them in Gale’s belongings.”

You snorted. “You’re the menace.”

“And you like me so much,” he teased, scrunching his nose at you.

“I do,” you smiled and poked his nose before yawning.

Astarion chuckled. “Did I tire you out, darling?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you said, “we killed a pretty big spider earlier.”

He snorted. “I believe they’re called driders.”

“Tomayto tomahto,” you closed your eyes and scooted forward to snuggle into his chest.

Astarion hummed a vague agreement and wrapped his arms around you. “Goodnight, my sweet.” 

“Sleep well, my love. I hope you had fun tonight.” You didn’t open your eyes and instead bent forward to kiss his bare chest.

He exhaled through his nose. “That I did. Thank you.”

You smiled against his skin before your features relaxed and you drifted off to sleep. 

~~~~~

Above your sleeping form, Astarion stared at the wall, unblinking. 

A million thoughts were running through his mind, all of them revolving around you. 

He’d forgotten how good sex could be. He’d convinced himself that he was okay without it, that you were okay without it, while you were recovering, and for the most part, he was. He was happy, even! Staying by your side all day and simply enjoying your company and silly commentary had been more than enough. And it seemed that you were happy, too.

But in that time, he’d forgotten.

He’d forgotten how his feelings for you might interfere and make things… better. 

Could it always be like this?

He looked down at you, breathing steadily in his arms, and took your hand in his. He observed the ring on your pinky and twisted it a few times. He took it off of you and slipped it back on a few more times. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly.

He was in big trouble. 

You’d said and done things tonight that made him feel… loved. And he’d basked in it like the sun was still high in the sky.

He’d been mulling over his feelings recently, but not really. Why should he when things were good the way they were?

The problem was that he no longer wanted things to just be good the way they were.

He wanted more. 

And he wanted you to feel as loved as he did.

Wait.

Oh no.

He was in love with you.

Fuck!

[adams-angels]

I've been thinking about something Adam x Reader is an angel of death/a reaper can you do that please

(Sorry for mistakes English is not my native language)

Got a bit obsessed with this ask and made an oc for it 🤭 Went a totally different direction to my original idea but I kinda like it! Sorry for it being so short!

I definitely plan on making this a two parter!Reaper!reader needs to meet dickhead Adam.

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Grim

The first time you saw Adam was the first time someone died. Only made sense for it to be the first man.

He was lying on the ground. His deathbed. "Hello, Adam."

He looked around, he couldn't see you yet. His eyes blurred with tears. "W-who are you?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I have no name." You replied softly. A voice of a serenity. "I'm here to collect you."

"collect me? What are you talking about?" The man asked, scared, desperately looking for the source of the voice. "You need not be afraid." You reassurance calmed his nerve. "What's happening to me?" He asked. A crack in his voice and tears spilled from him eyes. "You're dying, Adam."

Dying. No one told the first man about death. He was supposed to live in paradise. He would be if Lilith didn't leave him. If Eve didn't- he sobbed. "Is that bad? Why does it hurt?"

"I'm sorry, Adam. Truly." Your form appeared in front of him. You were beautiful. At least he thought so. "Why couldn't I of married you." He chuckled through a sob. You cocked your brow in confusion. "It's... A joke.. have you heard of jokes?" "I can't say I have." "I made them up." He sniffed, smiling at you. Boasting his creation. "You're supposed to laugh." He hissed in pain, gripping at his side.

"I don't want to die..." He sobbed. "Not yet." "It will stop the pain." You told him, stepping towards his body. He flinched. "What will happen?" You thought for a moment. You didn't truly know. This was the first soul you will have reaped. You weren't told much at your creation. Just reap souls. "You will be happy. No longer alone. Loved." You told him. You're not sure why you said it. There was no way he'd believe you. And that might not even happen. "Loved?" He sniffed, wiping his cheek. You replied with a nod. "That would be nice." He smiled, it was soft.

He was ready.

You kneel down and take his hand. As you stand back up his soul came with you. Still holding on to your hand. "Once I let go. You will be sent to the heavens." He nodded. "Will I see you again?" He asked with a smile. You weren't sure. "That would be nice." You smile, gently squeeze his hand. "Goodbye, Adam." "Goodbye."

You released his hand and watch as his soul returns to whence it came. Maybe you'll see him again.

Maybe.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 9) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ❤️‍🔥| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ❤️‍🔥

ship: davos blackwood x fem!oc

warnings: 18+ explicit smut

summary: they fuck

word count: 5333

a/n: this chapter is long asf and I was almost going to publish it as a two parter and leave you all with blue balls once again but I decided to just wait it out until I finished it! So sorry about the extra long wait. Next chapter is the END (I hope) not counting the epilogue okay bye

When Cersha returned to her chamber, she was not surprised to see Davos perched on the bay windowsill, his fingers laced around his bent knee while his injured leg stretched out beside him. She had expected him to be blistering mad at her abrupt dismissal earlier that afternoon, but he was a vision of weary resignation as his forehead rested on the glass. The watery light filtered through the fresh linen shirt he had dressed in, showing the curve of his torso and the sinewy length of his arms. He lifted his head and smiled as the door creaked shut, she saw that he was rid of the patchy beard that had grown in the twelve days since the battle. Had it really been such a short time?

“My, I’ve never seen you so clean.” She teased.

“All in service of you, my lady.” He got shakily to his feet and bowed mockingly.

“Davos, please.” She sighed, the elation of her epiphany at the sept already waning.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side and offered a slanted smirk. “I’m your sworn protector, aren’t I? Chastely sworn… we both know how that turned out, now don’t we?”

She reddened at the memory of his lips stamping wet marks across her skin. She said nothing, only rolling her eyes. He sat back heavily on the sill and clucked his tongue.

“Were you sitting on that lie for long?”

“Only since…” She drifted off, feeling a wave of residual panic at the memory of the night before. Davos’ face softened and she shied away from the earnestness of it. “Look, I’m sorry. I am. I just, I wasn’t sure how Oscar would take it if he knew who you were or that a Blackwood had killed a Night’s Watchman on his land, I thought he might…”

“Execute me on the spot?”

“No! No, he’d never kill unless he had to. I was afraid he may send you back to your family to be punished for desertion, or that he might have just thrown you in the dungeon or something for starting this whole mess.”

“’Starting this whole mess,’ is that what you think? Is that why you still don’t trust me after all we’ve been through?”

“No! You were defending your family’s honour, I cannot fault you that, but the battle began with the swing of your sword. That is the truth. I feared Oscar’s retribution, but his ire is for the lord regent who instructed the default on the assize.”

“Always trying to protect me, aren’t you? What ire could that boy have? He looks as if-”

“As much ire as I’ll have if you speak ill of him.” He just scoffed and shook his head. “Asides, it matters not. Oscar recognised you.”

“I could have told you that,” He said. “If you’d only told me of your plans.”

“I see that now.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I surmised you would not take kindly to concealing your identity from the regent high lord. I did not want to fight you.”

“Why?” His expression darkened as he pushed to his feet and limped a step closer to her. “Are you afraid of me?” A step closer. “Think I might kill you?”

Another step closed the gap between them, his hand coming to rest feather-light on her neck. Her eyelids drooped as the tickles of his callouses fizzed through her brain.

“We’ve come this far crow boy.” She looked up through her lashes, seeing him obscured behind soft focus and beige streaks. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.” She pressed forward until there was a slight pressure on her throat. “I’ve seen the fire in you, but I’m not scared. It burns for me, does it not?”

“Aye.” He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his pupils blew out into glossy black discs in the confines of his dark eyes. “All for you, my lady.”

That was enough to make her melt into his touch, savouring the warm, full feeling that radiated from his rough hand as it formed the perfect collar around her swan-curved neck. That feeling, not of possession but of belonging, as people sometimes belong to each other. Her hands found his neck in some attempt to mirror the experience back to him, thumbs stroking the smooth skin from his ears to his collarbones as his eyes drifted closed. His breaths grew ragged as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.

“I think…” His nose brushed hers, lips so close that every breath was a heady exchange of essence, hearts racing in syncopated time. “...I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

“Is that so surprising?” Her fingers stroking his jaw pulsed a rhythm in his veins.

“I don’t kiss.” He growled weakly, stomach fluttering like a virgin maid.

“Why?” Her breath on his lips was the ghost of a kiss.

“Brings all sorts of… feelings.” Her hands were in his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp and savouring the rabbity softness of his freshly washed locks until blissful tremors weakened his knees.

“Is that such a bad thing?” He let go of a whimper as she rubbed her nose against his.

“If I kiss you, I’ll never stand to be parted from you. I’ll have to marry you.”

She pulled back, all the silvery feeling rushing through the channel of their meeting eyes.

“Kiss me.”

In that soft afternoon light, safe at last behind the stony battlements with the dull roar of the rushing moat shielding them from silence, in a room lovingly furnished with the colours of their liege, with the perfumed steam from the bath behind the fish mural divider wreathing around them, they shook off their houses like two bucks losing their antlers in spring. It was as if there had been a levee between them, weeping water from long spiderweb cracks, and now the stones came bursting out and there it was. The torrent of feeling, the lips parting, the passion, the crush, the smelting together of two beings in this primeval ritual.

At last they broke apart, her gasping for air and him kissing down her neck, whining against her perfect skin.

“Davos.” She panted. He nipped her. She took a handful of black hair and tugged it firmly. “Davos!”

“Mm…” He tilted his head back and she saw his eyes clouded by lust.

“Behave.” She pecked his swollen lips. “I must bathe first. I stink.”

A mischievous grin spread across his face and he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell-” Sniff. “-fantastic.”

As she lifted her arm to push him away he stuck his face right into the pit and drew in a long breath.

“Like a woman.” He sighed dreamily and began peppering kisses across her chest.

“Get away!” She laughed, lifting her arms and throwing back her head to give him more access to the skin exposed by her dress. “You foul beast.”

He just chuckled and kissed all over her collarbones, bending double as she backed away until they bumped into the tub. He whined when he realised where they had ended up.

“Sweetling.” He pouted, trying to coax her back toward the bed.

“Davos, anyone would think you’re starving.” She rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile. “Come on. Won’t you wash my hair for me?”

“You know slavery is outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Just get in the bath.” She pursed her lips derisively, letting her hands wander up under his shirt to explore the dips and curves of his back. “Just… soak with me for a while. Please?”

He scoffed and she could see him fighting against a blissful smile as her nails raked up his spine.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” She murmured. “Was that so hard?”

He smiled in that exasperated way, peeled off his shirt and dropped his breeches and underclothes in a swift, practical motion. For an instant she was stunned by the beauty of him; the subtle dips and rises of muscle on his thin limbs and torso, the grazes, bruises and old faded scars that each served as a reminder of passionate fury roused when something he loved was at risk, and the supple pink skin of his dick that hung half-hard by his thigh.

“What?” He grinned. “Like what you see?”

“Your wound.” She pointed to the bandage on his thigh, trying to save face.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me in the bath or not?”

She bit her lip.

“You can dress it again later.” He had pulled it off and clambered awkwardly into the milky water before she had the chance to protest, gripping both sides of the tub as he gingerly lowered himself down. “Gods, that’s lovely.”

“You’re always putting yourself in harm’s way for me.”

“You love it.” She did love it. “Though I hardly think a bath can be considered ‘harm’s way.’ Besides, this is far nicer than the bath they drew for me. Just hot water, a rag and a bar of soap. No…” He picked out a floating rose petal and inspected it before letting it float away like a grumpkin’s sailboat. “...luxury.”

She noticed then that she had indeed been showered in what little frills Riverrun could afford with an encroaching war. Roses from the gardens floating on water white from goat’s milk; she suspected from the lactonic, pastoral scent that it was not the cow’s milk favoured by most highborn ladies for bathing. The water was silky through her fingers, from salt and honey she assumed, and lavender oil turned the steam heavy and narcotic.

“The boy favours you still.” Davos remarked as he reached for a brown-skinned pear from the tray on the side table, cut in half and loaded high with soft cheese and a crust of walnuts, and popped the whole thing in his mouth, wiping the juice with the back of his hand.

“Enough about Oscar.” She flicked a scoop of water at him, making him sputter. “And don’t eat all those, I’m starving. Did they not feed you earlier?”

“They did, but I’m never satisfied, my lady.” He smiled sweetly. “Minnows and cress on toast, though the ones you catch are far sweeter.”

“Thank you.” She preened, though his flattery was obvious, and took a pear for herself, a little moan escaping her at the flavour. “I must confess, I have missed real food. I hope they give us lamb tonight, or veal. Something that’s fed on grass and hasn’t had to fight for every morsel-”

“Are you getting in or not?”

She huffed at his blunt tone and expectant face, and finished her pear in two irritated bites. The amusement on his face was almost enough to make her storm off, but stronger than the annoyance that was only heightened by the bubbling fear of removing her clothes in front of him was her desire to be close to him. She turned her back to him and unlaced her dusty riding gown, letting it fall in a heap at her feet. In just her smallclothes, she hesitated. His eyes burned her from behind as the air burned her from inside. She heard the water slosh and Davos’s hand found hers, dripping water on her gown.

“Hey.” He said softly, squeezing her hand gently until she turned and met his eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna laugh at you. Whatever you’re afraid of-” He tapped his temple. “It’s in here. I think you’re beautiful.”

She closed her eyes, letting the words settle inside her, then lifted his hand to the lacing on her top. In a few deft movements he had pulled it loose, letting her free herself from it along with the bottoms. Instinct told her to cover herself, but she balled her fists and held them at her sides, letting his gaze roam across her form. She had always thought of herself as ungainly, all sharp angles and no curves, but under his eyes she felt her jutting hip and shoulder bones held the beauty of an ancient gnarled willow, and her long sinewy arms still covered in dirt were like the wings of a falcon rising from a bath of dust. She was a dryad and she glowed.

“You are…” He kissed her hand. “…so…” Again. “...fucking…” Once more. “...gorgeous. Gods, I don’t know what you’ve done to me, woman. You’re all I ever think about.”

The haze of steam caught the candlelight and danced in wisps around him. His hair turned black as pitch in the damp, the blood rose to his cheeks, and beneath that deep grey, his eyes were so green. Green like moss and agate and beetle wings. He was made of frown lines and scars, taut muscle, crooked teeth and passion like fire.

“Davos.” Her hand found his face. “I meant to say before, but… I suppose I was frightened. But, you’re- you’re… a vision. I am so glad to have met you.”

She kissed him, and for a moment it was all lips and fig sweetness until he smiled against her.

“Get in the bath.”

“Fine.”

She tried to glower as she clambered in beside him, but the warm embrace of the water was far too enticing. The surface sloshed as he spread his knees, making room for her to sit between his legs, and the level rose so high it nearly ran over the edge when they were both settled.

“Was that so hard?” He mumbled as he kissed her shoulder.

“Shut up.”

They sat that way for a while, cloistered in hot silky water. She ate her pears and washed the dirt from her skin, and he hummed a ballad so sweet that she could have cried. When she was done he freed her filthy hair from the braid, lathered it with soap and washed it with deft fingers massaging her scalp. She could not help the little groans of satisfaction that escaped her at the gentle tickling touch. She could feel him pressing into her back as he fisted her wet hair tightly and let his lips rest flush against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending tingles to her toes.

“I’m warning you, my lady, if you keep making those filthy noises I might take right here in the bath.”

“Maybe you ought to.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Would you like that?” His lips parted to kiss her ear and she felt her eyes slip out of focus at the sensitivity there.

“Please.”

His free hand found her nipple, already a hard, pink marble beneath the hot water, and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips lifted and her hand fell between her spreading legs in an involuntary response.

“Please, please,” Came his rough whisper. “Please what, my lady?”

“Please…” She gasped. “Please touch me.”

“Where? Where can I touch to please you, my sweet-” Kiss. “-virtuous-” Kiss. “-Bracken-”

A slosh of water hit the ground as she whipped around and took hold of his cock, feeling it hard, yet supple under her grasp like a lance wrapped in silk. He whimpered as she pulled her hand in slow, deliberate motions around the head.

“If you don’t stop teasing me I’ll rip it off, I swear.”

“There she is.” He relinquished his grip on her hair as he rocked his hips, letting his length slide through her hand as he gripped her thighs. “There’s the fire.”

He pulled her legs apart without another thought and ran his fingers along her slit. She was slick where the water had not washed it away, and he could feel the folds of her were swollen blooms beneath the wiry swathe of hair. She jolted when he found that little button at the top, a high keening coming from her throat at that sweet agony.

“It’s okay now, my love.” He assured her.

“It’s…” She whined. “It’s so…”

“It’s so good, sweetling, I know. I know.”

He spread her open with one hand, pulling back the hood of skin that covered that nub and rubbed his fingers in steady circles, drawing moans from her like music from a harp. Her hips pushed up against him and she lost hold of his cock, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was that beautiful rhythm of her reaching for him, reaching for that incomprehensible height. His fingers slowed, he needed her lucid for a moment.

“Cersha.” He spoke against her ear. “Are you listening darling?”

“Mm.” She nodded, desperately pushing up against the minute rotations of his digits.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

She nodded again.

“On the inside?”

“No.” She shook her head, her voice strained. “Never inside.”

A puff of breath escaped him.

“Do you…” She panted. “Like that about me?”

“Does it make me… perverse if I do?” He growled. “If I want to claim you before anyone, before even you?”

“I want it to be you.” She admitted freely.

“Then it will be me.” He kissed her cheek reassuringly, his fingers circling her bud a faster now.

He worked on her for a while, bringing her back to the peak, and as pleasure rolled through her like white-capped waves, a finger plunged inside her. It slid in so easily that she scarcely registered the change until she grew aware of a strange tightening, and a thickness that she clenched against. She gasped, earning a chuckle from her lover.

“Is that good?”

She nodded, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to slowly, incrementally pump it in and out. Just as she was growing used to the rhythm, he curled his finger inwards and seemed to hit some strange point that sent a jolt of pleasure through her. She shrieked and covered her face.

“That’s good, isn’t it, sweetling?”

He nuzzled the side of her face as his fingers rapidly fluttered against her sweet spot, his palm bumping her bud, radiating syrupy, heady sensation. She gave a little yelp and buried her face in his neck, making him grin.

“More…” She managed to say. “...please.”

“As you wish.”

She felt empty for a moment as he drew back his finger, but soon enough she was gasping against the overflowing fullness of two thick, calloused digits drawing over that sponge of mystifying bliss.

“Gods, you’re tight.” He muttered darkly, thrusting them as deeply as he could.

“Davos, I think- I think I’m...”

“Let go, my love.” He whispered, his hand moving at an impossible pace. “Cum for me.”

It was those rough-spun words that were her undoing. She seized and gripped the bathtub, rolling over the wave of boiling pleasure. It was a brief thing, a blink of bliss wherein her thoughts were entirely drowned out, clenching rhythmically around his digits until she relaxed, flopping back against his silken torso. His arms found their way around her stomach and he squeezed her tight against him.

“You did so well, sweetling.” He rocked her gently for a while, until she felt strong enough to speak.

“That thing you did for me at the inn,” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “That thing you did with your mouth...”

“I ate out your cunny, sweetling, that’s what I did.” His eyes stirred with lust and mischief. “You want more?”

“No- yes, but no. I want to do it for you. I want to- to…”

“You want to suck my cock?” He put a hand to her cheek, his expression a mix of want and concern. “You don’t have to, Cersha. It’s gruelling work, I should know.”

“What do you mean?”

His cheeks tinted and a strange flash of agony passed over his face before he shook it away.

“Well, I’m no stranger to buggery, but I always preferred the fairer sex. Let’s leave it at that.” She felt a rush of curiosity at his words, and he must have noticed as he sighed moodily. “One day, I’ll tell you about the boy. I promise.” She swallowed her questions and nodded. “Shall we move to the bed?”

She got up eagerly, splattering more water onto the floor as she went, but was slightly alarmed to find her legs were already trembling. She offered Davos her hands, and he eyed them speculatively for a moment. She thought he might try to drag himself up on his own, but he took her help and soon they stood, holding one another as the water rolled off them in rivers. He giggled impishly, kissing her all over and before either of them knew it they were flopping down on the bed, still sopping wet like two otters in heat.

“We’re getting the sheets wet.” She protested weakly.

“We’ll sleep in my chambers.” He muttered, shuffling around until his injured leg had room to stretch out. “The bed is just as soft, if not so lovingly furnished.”

“Are you comfortable?” She fussed, hating the sight of his wound without a bandage. The messy sutures she had administered had been replaced by neat little stitches since they had arrived at Riverrun; the work of a Maester, Cersha supposed.

He put his hand to her cheek, a half-mocking look of amusement on his face.

“I am not made of glass. Now, are you sure you want to do this?” She nodded eagerly, and he guided her face gently downward. “Alright, I’ll show you how.”

She settled herself by his waist and watched, almost in awe, as he spit in his hand and gently tugged his length. The fold of skin pulled back and slipped easily up and down the moist, pink tip. He groaned lightly as he worked on himself, and in a few smooth strokes he had grown stiff and engorged. Cersha felt her mouth water, and was surprised to find that she felt no shame. She knew he would be big- in the pitch dark of that night in the inn, she had felt his impossible length slide through her hand- but nothing could have prepared her to actually see a man’s naked form, and it excited her more than she cared to admit.

“Put your mouth around the tip.” He instructed, using his free hand to gather her hair and hold it at the base of her neck. “Use your lips to block your teeth, that’s it, darling.”

She had to stretch her mouth wide to take him in, but it was worth it for the salty sweetness that spread across her tongue.

“Good girl.” He growled. “Good girl. Now feel around with your tongue. Do you feel that?That ridge, just there, right- right there.”

On the tip of her tongue rested a firm seam of skin, just at the base of the head. She flickered her tongue across it in a rapid flurry, and he whimpered. His hips lifting and an inch more of his length entered her mouth triggering a gulp of surprise.

“Oh, yes. Yes, sweetling that’s it, that’s it, just focus on the head.” With his hand in her hair he tenderly guided her head up and down, up and down, never forcing himself any deeper than she could comfortably take. “Bob your head like that, just take it in and out. You don’t-” He interrupted himself with a weak grimace. “-you don’t have to take it deep. It’s lovely if you do, but… but just do what you can, darling. Keep working with your tongue, you’re doing beautifully my love.”

He relinquished his grip on her hair, trusting her to keep up the rhythm, and wrapped his hand around his shaft, jerking himself into her mouth, while his other hand found his plump stones, rolling them in his palm. Cersha gripped his thighs, growing light-headed as she moaned and slurped around the size of him. It seemed he had given up on words, and instead fell into a frenzy of… moans? No, growls. He was like an animal, half-way between deep rumbles and high keening whines, his hips rolling and thrusting upward, seeming to forget his earlier gentleness. She took him deeper, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. Before she knew it, his hands were on her forehead and he was pushing her off of him.

“Did- did I bite you?” She gasped.

“No! Darling, no, I made you gag.” He struggled to sit up and held her face in his hands, stroking her hair, his face a mask of concern. “I cannot believe I did that, I’m so sorry, Cersha.”

“You didn’t mean to!” She eagerly reached for him again, but he caught her hand and kissed them all over.

“Still.” He implored. “I’m sorry. Besides, we had to stop. I would have finished in your mouth, I’m sure you wouldn’t like that.”

She considered for a moment.

“I… I suppose not.”

His face softened sympathetically.

“I want you to… to, um, to cum, though. It’s only fair.”

He chuckled at her choice of words and kissed her forehead.

“I can use my hand, if only you kiss me while I do it.” He gauged her disappointment with an impish smirk. “Or… I could fuck you, I suppose. If you want me to, that is.”

“Oh, please!”

He tossed his head back and laughed, pulling her into his embrace.

“Oh, my girl…” He pushed her wet hair away from her eyes. “I would work for hours like a draft horse if it would please you.”

He struggled to heave himself up, but she pushed him back by the shoulders. He made a little oof sound and his puggish nose crinkled in annoyance.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I’d rather it this way.”

A grin dimpled his cheeks and his eyes glittered.

“Oh, really?” She just smiled knowingly and set about piling up pillows behind him to prop him up. He sighed dreamily. “I feel like a princess.”

“Prince of Crows,” She murmured, straddling him. “On a weirwood throne… with…” Her fingertips found his forehead. “…a red eye.”

He noticed her eyes had crossed out of focus, half closed. He took her by the arms and gave her a gentle shake that seemed to rouse her.

“You’re a witch, Bracken.” He laughed, though his heart thundered in his chest.

“I get it from my mother.” She shook her head, giggling nervously. “Anyway…”

Her hand reached between her legs to find his cock, stroking it gently. He laughed airily, happy to forget her strange words. The calloused pads of his fingers found their way to slide along her slit, and he scoffed.

“Gods, you get wet from nothing.” He seemed almost annoyed as he sunk two digits into her with no resistance. “Soaking wet…”

He withdrew and held up his fingers to show the glistening slickness that coated them, then slid them into his mouth. She gasped as he wantonly swirled his tongue around them, and pulled them out with a pop.

“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.” He told her. “The only one I ever wish to taste again. I suppose mine could not have been such a joy to sample.”

“It was beautiful.” She kissed him, catching the ghost of herself on his lips. “You are beautiful.”

“Ah, I’m a busted old thing.” He flushed, lining himself up with her entrance. “But, thank you all the same, my lady.”

She felt the very tip of him sliding into her, and she hesitated.

“Davos, I… I do not wish to have a child.”

He palmed her cheek, as he loved to do.

“Then no child you shall have. I will spill myself upon your stomach every night until we are married, and every night thereafter until you feel the time is right.”

“And if I do not wish to marry?”

“Then unmarried we shall be.”

“And if I never want a child?” She thought of her mother then, the screams, the smell of blood like iron…

A pained expression crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it was there.

“Then no child you shall have.”

“Do you promise?”

“On mine honour.” She searched his eyes for a sign of dishonesty, but found none, so she nodded.

She sunk down onto him, feeling her inner muscles clench and tent out as they adjusted to the thickness prising them apart. It hurt, it could not be avoided, his girth was simply too great. At the alert of her pained whimpers, he gripped her hips, holding her up until he was sure she had taken enough time to grow used to the feeling. He held her steady as she incrementally shimmied down, down, down until he bottomed out with an inch or two to spare. She cried out as she felt him pressing his bruising tip into her roof, but by then it had become a good pain, a cleansing pain.

“My girl.” He murmured. “My sweet girl.”

She lifted up from her knees, focusing on that exquisite feeling of his veins and ridges sliding against her walls, then lowered back down. Up and down, up and down, she repeated the action until she noticed he was holding his breath.

“Is that alright?”

“Yes,” He managed to utter, panting. “Gods, you’re just so tight. I can’t… I can’t see myself lasting long at this rate.”

She giggled as he whined, his hands finding her buttocks and bouncing her up and down on his rigid length, deeper and harder until she collapsed against him, grasping him like a tree in a windstorm. She grunted as he adjusted her on his lap and hit that sweet place inside her.

“Oh, fuck!” She hissed.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” His hot breath passed across her ear. “That’s the spot.”

“Oh, gods, Davos…”

He pumped upwards as he bounced her, and she felt his tip rubbing across her sweet spot before it punched against her roof, every single time. It was brutal, yet tender, and she could feel his restraint. She knew then that this man could fuck like an animal if she set him loose.

“You’re my girl.” He insisted. “Say you’re my fucking girl.”

“I’m y-your…” She spluttered. “I’m…”

Suddenly it stopped. He held her up, nothing but the tip left in her. She wriggled in his grasp, desperate for that overwhelming in-out-in-out-in-out.

“Say it, sweetling.” He cooed.

“I-I’m your girl.”

“Fuckin’ aye, you are.”

He plunged her back down, filling her in one thrust. Wave after wave of pleasure built up inside her, pump after pump, after pump until she had to bite into his shoulder to contain the half shrieking moans that had taken over her speech. It was this that broke his restraint, and as his thrusts grew sloppy, he slammed into her, fingers digging into her bony frame so harshly that they would have drawn blood were his nails longer.

“I’m c-”

The climax struck her dumb and she let out a guttural snarl as it seized all sense and reason from her. She clenched on his cock, still incessantly moving inside her, again, again, again, her eyes rolling, white fishes shimmering across her vision, until finally-

“Fuck!”

He pulled out, furiously rubbing his cock as he reached his own peak, his body stiffening and writhing as he spilled his hot seed onto her stomach. When he was done, he paused for a moment, eyes glazed and staring at nothing, until he noticed her and a flash of feeling passed across them. He did not hesitate to pull her to him, the strength of his arms evident as he crushed her against his torso, caring nothing for the stickiness there. It was then that she realised she was weeping. For what, she did not know. Perhaps, just the beauty of it all.

“Shh, shh.” His voice was flute soft again. “My beautiful girl.”

When she had regained some composure, she cleared her throat, forehead resting against his.

“I fear we need another bath.”

Thanks to my lovelies @aemondslove @disillusioned-phantasma @anaviieiraaa @deepestlovert @flordiakilos @kitty2984 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22 @spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @nixtape-foryou @giggles-andkicks @benijbol @darlingcharling-blog @writervaul-t @kayrakhan @unicorntrooper @frogoerson @aphroditeanadyomene @councilofcastamere @ellxpsismm @teapomp @fuckalrighty for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monster stories

December 10.) Werewolf neighbor

Ok sorry about this one, it might technically be December 11 by the time I post it but it's still the 10th day. This one is actually going to be a two parter as I wrote so damn much for this one, it was actually meant to be far more longer than this but the rest will be for later. Walter is definitely going to have more stories writen about him.

Warnings: bodys pressing together, neck sniffing with no promotion, meantion of divorce, seasonal depression

Minors Don't Interact!!!

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Sitting on your couch you looked down at the pathetic box of christmas decorations. It was your first time spending Christmas completely alone. No family to come over, all your friends were too far away and spending the holidays with their own families. You didn’t even bother with getting a tree this year, you didn’t see the point of doing one all by yourself. 

Looking at your empty living room, void of any Christmas decorations it only served to make you sadder. “Maybe it couldn’t hurt to get a little tree?” You mumbled to yourself. Perhaps that’s what you needed to help cheer up your seasonal depression even for a little bit.

Throwing on a jacket and some winter boots you headed out to find a store for your impulse christmas tree purchase. You definitely weren’t planning on getting a real tree. It would be too much of a hassle getting it home alone plus you really weren’t looking forward to cleaning up pine sap and needles once it started to die. 

Making your way to the store you noticed a very familiar fuzzy shape walking on the path alone. Slowing your car down to a crawl you rolled down your window getting a much clearer view of your next door neighbor Walter the recently divorced werewolf. He was walking on the snowy sidewalk with a big flannel jacket and black jeans. The sound of your car slowing down caused his ears to perk up on high alert. Without even looking at you he sniffed the air, his tail wagged when he recognized the scent he was smelling. “Well isn’t it (Y/n)!” He said, turning his head to look at you. “Heya Walter, you need a lift? It’s pretty cold to be walking around.” You told him offering a ride, you didn’t mind pushing off shopping a little longer if it meant making sure Walter was out of the snow, nothing else at all totally not because you wanted to spend more time with your recently divorced neighbor, none at all nope. Seeing the smile he flashed you at your offer made your heart skip a beat, you blamed it on seeing his sharp teeth and not because of his smile so bright it could melt frozen butter. 

Not refusing the offer to get out of the snow Walter walked to your passenger door and got in. It was only then did you notice he was wearing booties on his paws. You wouldn’t want to be walking in the snow barefoot either. Though the sight was rather funny to see, a big bad werewolf in booties with a fur trim. 

“So where were you headed? I don’t want to take you away from where you were going too much.” Walter said not bothering to buckle up, he couldn’t buckle up in your car even if he tried. He was a little too big to sit comfortably in the passenger seat but he made it work. “Oh I was just heading to the store to see if I could find any Christmas trees for my place.” You answered honestly. In the corner of your eye you could see something moving after you spoke. Glancing his way you realized it was his tail wagging. “What a coincidence! I'm on my way to get a tree too!” He said smiling, his eyes not leaving you. As if he could pull them away, how could he when you looked so cute bundled up in that jacket. “That makes things easier then.” A chuckle left your lips as you talked causing his tail to wag again. 

Pulling into the store's parking lot you tried to find a spot closer to the front, you didn’t want to walk far in the snow. You were glad the plow trucks already came or else you would have turned around and gone home. “Want to do our shopping together? I find shopping more fun when you have someone with you.” Walter offered looking down at your shorter frame, he was just so damn tall it made you feel so small. “I don’t see why not, it makes leaving easier sense we rode here together.” Your agreement made his tail wag again, you assumed it was because he was glad he didn’t have to shop alone. 

Going in you were about to grab a cart when Walter beat you to it, stepping in front of you. “I got it, you drove me here, buying your things is the least I can do.” He said pulling out a cart, as you began to protest he held up a paw stopping you. “I insist, please.” That managed to get you to quiet down. “Alright fine, I was only going to get the tree though.” That wasn't fully true, you were looking forward to getting a shit ton of junk food and eat your feelings but you didn’t want him spending a bunch of money so you would just have to get them for your next shopping trip. Walking next to Walter you soon learned you should be walking a few steps ahead of him after you consistently got hit on the mid back by his wagging tail. It seemed almost every thing made his tail wag. A good deal on something? Tail wagging. Something he wanted was back in stock? Tail wagging again. A song he liked started playing on the store's radio? You guessed it, tail wagging. It would have been very entertaining if you weren’t in the line of fire of his wagging tail. The thing hit harder than you thought it would. You weren’t even sure he noticed he kept hitting you with it as he happily rambled on about deals going on. Seeing his cart was getting more and more filled, you started to worry a little about how much he was spending that you yourself hadn’t noticed how he kept asking if you liked certain snacks. The ones that got a positive from you went into the cart, ones you didn’t like very much went back on the shelf. Once the cart was filled to the brim with snacks, the two of you made your way away from the food area. Walter was making his way to the outdoor section for a real tree and you made a turn to the Christmas decor to get a fake tree. Noticing you weren’t next to him Walter stopped and looked around for you. Spotting you walking in a different direction he turned the cart and followed you catching up quickly thanks to his larger size. “Trees aren’t over here silly.” He said, chuckling softly. “Oh uh I was just going to get a fake one, I don’t feel like getting a real one this year.” You explained shrugging lightly as you looked up at him. “Really? Why not?” He was confused on why someone wouldn’t want a real tree. “Just doesn’t feel right getting a real tree if it’s just me, no point to it.” The effort didn’t seem worth it to you, why bother if no one was going to help with any part of itWalter’s ears flattened as his shoulders visibly dropped hearing what you had to say about getting a real tree. “Oh… there really isn’t a point for me to get a real tree this year either. Just got one every year. I didn't think about not getting one.” His voice held a sad tone as his eyes lowered to the ground, tail long stopped wagging now was tucked between his legs. 

You felt like an asshole when it hit you. This was his first christmas since his divorce, it was most likely his first christmas alone in years if not his first ever one alone. Mentally cursing yourself you raced to think of something to make this all better. “How about I spend Christmas with you? So then you can still get a real tree?” You blurted out with wide panicked eyes. Hearing that his ears perked up as he looked up at you. It was an immediate change in his demeanor, tail wagging much faster as it had been before he stood up taller. “Really? You would spend Christmas with this old fluff ball?” He asked, stepping closer to you. The closeness really putting it in your mind just how much bigger he was than you were. Gulping nervously you nodded your head, mind still reeling from your own actions. Walter swooped you up and spun you around in one fluid motion squeezing you tight. You had only seen him do this with his family before, not once had he ever with you. Stopping he looked down at you with a big smile on his face as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “Um Walter?” You spoke up after an agonizingly long moment like this. He responded with a soft hum as he leaned his snot in closer. The hot air of his breath grazed against your face sending shivers all over your body. “We’re in the middle of the store, remember?” He had seemed to have forgotten this. Lifting his head he looked around seeing there were people giving the two of you strange looks. “Whoops, got a little excited there.” Walter apologized, setting you back down on the ground. His tail hadn’t slowed down one bit. You feared he might form a tornado with how much his tail stirred up the air around him. “Well come on then, let’s go get that tree!” He said, grabbing your hand with his paw. You couldn’t help but stare at your hand intertwined with his paw. When the two of you had first met he had shaken your hand and at the time you noticed in that brief moment how soft his paw pads were. Holding his paw for much longer you really got a good feel of just how soft they were. It wasn’t just soft, no they were squishy too. You wondered if he would let you play with them some time. As your mind wondered about his soft paws your thoughts slowly grew to wonder how they would feel on other parts of your body. Catching yourself before the thoughts grew more impure as they had already gotten you shook your head trying to shoo them away. 

Walter hadn’t noticed this and you were damn glad of it. He just kept pushing the cart around with one paw as he walked much slower than he had before. You were walking slower too, it was the pace you usually had. It took you a moment longer than you would like to admit when it clicked with you that he was walking slower for your sake. Smiling softly to yourself you looked away wanting to put your focus anywhere else than Walter. Making your way into the out door section you shivered feeling an especially harsh gust of wind hit you causing you to brace yourself from the cold. It stung at your eyes making you close them tight. Expecting more wind to hit, you braced yourself again turning a little but stopped when you felt Walters paw leave your hand and wrap around you not a moment later pulling you into his side. “Look at you shivering like a chihuahua. You don’t got no way to keep you warm. Here stay close to me, I'll keep you warm.” Walter said, leaning against you. It was just so warm you couldn’t find the will to fight him on it and just accepted his embrace. Lucky for you, you were able to hide your smile by burying your face in the side of his coat, plus it kept your already freezing nose out of the snow. Walking to the trees with him Walter quietly hummed along to the song currently playing through the store's speakers. You left the tree finding to him. It seemed he knew what he was doing while you were clueless on the matter. It was obvious when he found the right tree as he excitedly moved from one paw to the other. You tried to stifle a laugh at the sight of a werewolf doing tippy tappys.  As much as you didn’t want to pull away from his warmth you knew he wouldn’t be able to drag the tree through the store while pushing the cart and also holding onto you but when you went to move away from him his grip on you tightened pulling you in closer to him. “We can still check out here right?” He called out to the one employee working gardening, they nodded their head yes. “Oh good we’ll check out here and take everything straight to the car.” Walter said, picking the tree up. “Can you come scan this for us?” He asked, holding the tree up. Walter was making things harder for himself, he should let go, why wasn’t he letting go? Looking down at you he smiled softly as he gave you a gentle squeeze. “Step onto the cart I’ll push you around, that way you can still be nice and warm.” Oh… you hadn’t thought about that, could work. Without a word you stepped up onto the cart holding onto the cart's handle bar for support. The moment you felt Walter press his chest against your back you lost every ability to breathe. You didn’t think this through. Being this close to him like this in this position? You're glad it was cold, you could blame your face being so red. 

Standing there on the cart trapped from all sides, oh boy did it make you feel things you shouldn't.

Next few minutes were a blank for you too deep in your ever growing thoughts as Walter checked out all his groceries and paid for it all. You could hear him hum again as he started walking to your car. The parking lot was quite bumpy causing the cart and you in turn to raddle like crazy. That is until Walter pressed his chest against your back stopping your shaking. His muzzle was right next to your ear. You could feel his hot breath on your neck. It sent a flood of dirty thoughts into your mind, a gasp left your lips before you could stop it. You prayed to any god out there that he didn't hear it. If he had he hadn't said anything. 

What he did notice was how your scent had changed, grown more aroused. You realized something was up when he suddenly pressed his nose to your neck and took a deep breath in. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he inhaled your scent. The moment he caught himself doing that he pulled away in a jerking motion. “I um…” He stammered trying to think of an excuse. “I like your body wash. What is it? Daisys?” Walters heart was practically beating out of his chest, you could feel it against your back. “No uh sweat pea actually. Was on sale.” You answered in a quiet voice trying to possess what just happened. “Ah, sales love them.” He mumbled softly.

The rest of the ride home was completely silent. Neither of you baring to speak after that little incident. Pulling into his driveway you put your car in park and quietly gulped. The two of you sat in silence a few minutes more before Walter finally broke the silence. “Want to come in and decorate the tree with me?” He asked, looking at you through the corner of his eye gauging your reaction. Thinking about it you lightly chewed the bottom of your lip. Oh what the hell, what's the worst thing that could happen? “Sure.” Your answer made his tail wagged as he lit up with a bright smile. What could happen? You weren't sure what but you wanted it.

[itsdawnforyou]

I only got three more specials before 13's era is over but honestly?? Its really not as bad as everyone said it is. There are some things here and there, like how they crammed 5 storylines into Flux when it really wasnt necessary to have SO MANY characters and storylines and everything going on at once, but other then that I really liked it!

Her first season was fantastic, I wouldve liked a bit more development for the fam aside from like 2 defininng traits, but it was much more then I expected them to have, tbch. I liked how you knew them but not well enough to predict what they would do. When graham went after tzim shaw, I didnt know if he was going to get revenge and shoot him or not, and I wasnt even sure if I was rooting for him to do it! (Well, I mean, I was rooting for him, but to do it on a roundabout way because I think losing the doctor mightve been a bit of a large toll for revenge).

Season 12 had a banger of an opening two parter, but im kind of unsure about the rest of it. I dislike how they connected small details together for a larger story line through the individual episodes, even tho they werent very big at times.

Flux season was definetly my favorite because while, yes, we dont even get a second to breathe, it gives you the same feeling of what the doctor is going through. There are 100 problems, you need to solve them all and oh right by the way the universe is dying around you, good luck!

I think Flux was designed that way purposefully. After the Timeless children everyone probably didnt know what to do with that information. It was probably a huge well of "not my doctor!" And "retcon this!!", so flux is there to show the audience, and the doctor herself, that she is still The Doctor. Who she was before, the parts she doesnt remember? That wont change who she is now. Who she has become. Infact, it might even make her more determined about that the more she learns!

Over these three seasons two things I ABSOLUTELY adored are: 1- my psychic/telepathic exploration of the doctor. I want to see her being an alien, I want to see her companions just going "i dunno" when someone asks them why she's holding her head and having a convo with herself.

2, and its a big one- THE TARDIS. There were so so SO many scenes inside the TARDIS. And we also got the doctor talking to the TARDIS again! Give me more doctor bonding with their oldest companion! I want more tardis beep boops and the doctor starts talking to the ceiling/console and the companions look at them like they have gone MAD.

You know what? Give us a telepathic companion that joins after a different companion. I want them to walk in and go "oh gosh im so sorry I didnt realise- are you sure its okay if I step- oh okay-" and the older companion looks at them all funny for how they are walking like the floor is lava and talking to the air while the doctor frowns because no one usually notices- ohhhh theyre telepathic that makes more sense, type thing. Having to explain to the human/older companion that the ship is SENTIENT and then watching the companions both wince everytime the doctor uses the rubber mallet to do final adjustments.

Anyways- if anyone got any thoughts about 13's era and why im absolutely horribly wrong and it was completely and utterly bad, please let me know! I always like reading other perspectives. Just.. be nice about it? :D

[dragqueenstarscream]

Thinking about what could have happened if Orion in the season 2 2-parter had just a bit more time with Starscream, like what if he’d chosen to leave with Starscream, and what if they’d grown close while camping out somewhere together? Orion knows that he should probably contact the Autobots, clearly from all the info he’s getting now that he’s away from Megatron it’s pointing to things being very clearly in the favor of them being the good guys here, good guys who need the help of their leader. But Orion isn’t Optimus and there’s a part of him that likes being here with Starscream in the harbinger. A part of him that feels like it's been yearning for something like this, a weight off his shoulders. Orion falls for Starscream and Star, despite all the warning signs going off, falls for Orion too.

Eventually, conflict ramps up and Orion out of the goodness of his spark can’t sit by. Orion becomes Optimus, and just like in the show, he can’t remember any of being Orion. Starscream is devastated when he realizes it and he doesn’t know what to do. He stays in the harbinger, surviving and feeling bitter because of course something good couldn’t stay for him. Of course Optimus’s bleeding spark had remained in Orion and couldn’t help sacraficing everything just to help others.

Optimus though, begins to have dreams of memories he can’t recall. All involving starscream. There’s one of them bantering as they go through the harbingers system, his optics catching a genuine smile on Starscream’s face as he laughs at a terrible joke Orion made. There’s them watching the sunset over the desert. There’s a moment of intimacy, Starscream’s legs wrapped around him, condensation on their plating, both of them puffing out exvents. Its all so real and twists his spark until finally he contacts Starscream himself to talk. Just the two of them, at the Harbinger.

And when they talk, when Starscream forces himself to be honest, it comes back to him. Its in pieces, some bits harder to remember than others but the feelings are there and thats what matters. He takes Starscream gently in his arms and tells him how sorry he is for everything, and that if Starscream would be willing, he would want him to join the autobots and stay by his side, to keep him in check.

(its uh, very awkward for the rest of the team at the start, but they’ve also never seen Optimus quite as happy, so maybe, maybe its wirth giving ol screamer a shot as a team mate.)

anytime i see tfp starop fanfics with this premise (which isn't often, but i'll always seek it out), i go absolutely wild because YES. this is honestly one of my favorite premises for tfp starop besides the whole cave scene.

if i had to write the episode myself, i'd write it so that it takes place after orion becomes optimus again, so we can experience everything that happens as starscream and optimus piece it together. optimus is having these dreams once he returns to the outpost, but he can't tell anyone because of who they're about. how is he gonna explain to ratchet that he's been dreaming of starscream's laughter, him and starscream exploring the desert by sunset? how can he tell someone that he's been dreaming of the two of them interfacing beneath the stars? they'd all think he was crazy.

meanwhile, starscream is remembering the bitter end. he's remembering when orion remembered who he was and eventually leaving. of course he's hung up on the end. maybe he'll have brief flashes of their good times together, but he always thinks of optimus leaving him. of course he can't have anything good. everyone who loved him has always left him. optimus is no different.

except optimus actually comes back to him. optimus actively seeks starscream out and tells him that he's remembering what they had, and that, however brief it was, he actually enjoyed it. starscream doesn't believe him at first, but then optimus starts listing off specific details, and starscream knows he's telling the truth.

since starscream's rogue from megatron at this point, he takes optimus up on his offer. it'll be a long road ahead, but they'd learn how to make it work.