#we should sit him in the corner until he learns to play nice

[listenupcupcakes]

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT MY FAE ARSEHOLE!?

LET ME TELL YOU THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH MY FACE!!!

THE PAPER BAG I'M WEARING RIGHT NOW KEEPS MY SKIN SOFT AT NIGHT, YOU BLOODY TWIT!!!!!!

-🚬

I THOUGHT PAPER BAGS WERE THE BRITISH MILITARY’S UNIFORM.

I SAID NOTHING ABOUT YOUR FACE I JUST POINTED OUT THAT YOU WERE BRITISH

AND YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE BRITISH.

[lvrhughes]

This Love | L. Hughes

1989 tv masterlist

pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none?

summary: You and Luke fall in love, but fate doesn't have it set yet, you fall back together.

not my gif!

High tide. It was always your favorite, the way the water would rise, everything would reset. It was refreshing. 

High tide is what would bring him in, what would bring Luke in. 

“Luke, get in! It’s high tide!” The yelling of his brother calling him back from the distance, moving quickly to rejoin his brother. 

“Can we watch the tide rise?” Luke’s question seemed less like a question when he reached Jack, sitting on the towel with no intent to move. Simply watching the tide rise. 

Just like you, where you sat, a few feet over doing the same. Peeking at the brothers from the corner of your eye, seeing the shorter one roll his eyes before sitting down beside the tallest. The shortest brother returning from the small shop that lined the beach, sliding to sit against the brunette, leaving the one with the curls in his own world. 

His eyes followed the tide, watching the sand castles fall with each wave, his eyes following the same path yours did. To the other brothers, it seemed clear that the two of you should be together, the way you both shared the same reaction to the tide, the way you both sat the same, the way you kept stealing glances of the other. 

“We have to do something, right?” The middle brother whispered, staring at his older accomplice. 

“Definitely.”  

So the plan was set, while Luke watched the tide, his brother’s made their move. Quinn moving over to the girl, sitting beside her in the sand. 

“Hi, I’m Quinn.” He spoke, introducing himself when she looked over, missing her view of the ocean for the minute. 

You spoke quick, introducing yourself back to return to your view, seeing more of the children’s playing get washed away. 

“I think you and my brother would get along really well,” He started, grabbing your attention, “And we’ve seen you staring at him.” He finished, making a blush cover your face. 

“Is that so?” You challenged back, turning to Quinn as the tide began to settle. 

“The tall one with the curls, that’s Luke.” Quinn’s voice was soft, telling you simple things about the tallest boy, your heart growing at the love he shared. 

“He sounds perfect.” You whispered, watching Luke shove the other brother, who you’d yet to learn the name of. 

“Luke! Come here!” Quinn called his youngest brother over, encouraging the tall boy to sit beside you. Quinn began introducing you, sharing what little he’d learned about you, before leaving. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke.” Smiling at the boy, watching the pink dust his cheeks as you spoke. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, pretty girl.” He grinned back, watching you flush in return. 

“Luke!” The middle brother yelled, grabbing both yours attention. “We’re going back to the suite, have fun.” He played, running off towards the towering hotels that strayed near the beach. 

“I’m so sorry.” Luke quickly replied, turning back towards you while you laughed. “Jack’s insane I swear!” 

“So his name’s Jack?” You inquired, making Luke nod before returning to explain how insane his brother had to be. 

The two stayed on the beach, listening and talking until dark, until the cold snuck up on them. A shiver running through your body, Luke’s eyes catching yours quickly as he discarded the hoodie that covered his body, helping to slide it over yours. 

“Thank you, Lu.” Your head fell against his shoulder, his arms wrapping around your shoulder. 

It was as if the current had swept him away, his hoodie still covered your body as you stared at the tide, watching it disappear into the night. His love was sweet, sharing it with you in the short period, before he’d disappeared. His name a discarded search in your phone, ignoring the message from the unknown number (that would be known as Luke promising to return to you soon), ignoring the world in favor of the ocean. 

It was like no bed was ever comfortable anymore, the tossing and turning of the night harboring your sleep. 

Then there had been James. Struggling through the night with him, fighting not to simply leave, to go to the ocean instead. He was lovely, he was kind, but he wasn’t Luke. 

It was five am when you’d left, the lantern that hung from your doorway flicking, only for Luke. But he’s still gone. 

Returning to the ocean, the sunset rising slowly, capturing the world in a warm glow. Sitting in the sand, your feet at the edge of the water, the tide falling back. 

This can’t be it, but it’s so bleak. It felt as if the world was playing a cruel joke, the same cruel day repeating. Never giving him back. The only thing holding you to the earth being the tide, the tide that brought him to you, the tide that had taken him away. 

In losing grip, on sinking ships, you showed up just in time. 

“I told you I’d come back.” Luke’s voice stealing your attention, pulling your sight away from the rising sun in front. 

“Luke!” Your body moved fast, barreling towards him, wrapping yourself in his arms. 

“Missed me, pretty girl?” He smiled, kissing your cheek before setting you down, following your lead to sit in the sand. 

“How long do I get you this time?” The question fueling the sad Luke to cover Luke’s face, looking down before answering. 

“Just today.” 

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

“Promise I’ll always come back to you.” 

The press of the kiss against his cheek at the end of the night left you alone again, watching him leave. The feeling of your knees hitting the sand, his smile leaving your sight. You knew he’d be back, you come back to what you need.

“I promised I’d come back didn’t I?” His voice grabbing your attention, turning to see his body walking towards yours, claiming his spot in the sand next to you. 

“Lu.” His name coming out as a soft sigh, your arms wrapping around his body, pulling him to lay in the sand. “Missed you, pretty boy.” You grinned, facing him in the sand, his arms wrapped around your waist as you laid. 

“Missed you more, baby.” He answered, pressing chaste kisses all over your face, filling the empty beach with the sound of your laughter. 

You laid, lying in eachothers arms for hours, basking in the warm glow of the soft rays. His arms wrapped your body, lying on him with your head on his chest, his fingers drawing soft shapes on your hip. 

“Are you going to leave again?” The words were quiet, loud enough he could hear, not loud enough the seagals two feet away could hear. 

“I’ve got to soon, but I was hoping you’d come with me this time?” His voice quieted with the question, peering down at you, where you laid looking up at him. 

“And where would I be going?” Your hands laid atop each other, resting on his chest with your chin perched on top.

“Come to New Jersey with me, just for a bit even, I don’t want to leave you again.” 

It was a stubble nod, but it was enough, his body moving quick. Jumping up with you in his hold, spinning circles while cheering, laughter emitting from the two of you. 

“When do you leave?” The question held no real feeling, it didn’t matter when truly, you’d follow him anytime.

“Next week. We’ve got a week of watching the tides, then I’ll show you all of Jersey. Maybe one day we’ll have our own places together, one here and one in Newark.” He grinned, a gleam in his eye thinking of his future with the girl. 

“I’d like that.”

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh, oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me, oh, oh, oh

This love left a permanent mark, this love is glowing in the dark, oh, oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and this love came back to me, oh, oh, oh

[haikyu-mp4]

Beach, please

word count; 634 – f!ChubbyReader, this is for @ennoshitas-princess for @cottonlemonade's summer event, fluffy beach day with husband Ennoshita

Going to the beach could be a tiring ordeal, but you haven’t known the trials of a beach day since back when you and your husband were just boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s because Ennoshita always came prepared.

You looked around in your cute bikini, one hand holding the brim of your sunhat while the other held the beach bag off the sand.

Meanwhile, Ennoshita efficiently put up the dedicated parasol and then rolled out the blanket, pinning each corner down. Not a trace of sand spilling on top of it. He got up for a second to admire his work before coming over, kissing your cheek and taking the bag, moving on to taking out the snacks and little cooling bag. “There you go, love.”

It was all so perfect, nothing could ruin a beach day with your husband.

Except maybe his high school friends.

You both sat down, double-checking your sunscreen layers before laying back, your head resting in his lap while he leaned on his elbows and observed passer-byers.

“What a great spot!”

“Ennoshita always gets the best spot.”

“What snacks did you get?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you lifted your head, looking to the side where Nishinoya, Tanaka, Narita and Kinoshita had put another blanket overlapping yours, dragging some sand over in the process. “Why are you guys here?” Ennoshita yelled, making them all turn to him in surprise.

“You said today was beach day,” Nishinoya said as if it was obvious from there.

“Yes, with my wife.” His words were just sharp enough for you to sit up, sighing and handing him a water bottle to cool off.

“That’s okay, we can all have a relaxing day at the beach together!” you said positively. However, there was no mistaking the look in Ennoshita’s eyes. He did not agree.

And he was right.

Ennoshita tried to focus on you, he really did. At first, he was relieved someone could watch your stuff while the two of you took a long dip in the ocean, and Ennoshita couldn’t have been happier than watching you enjoy the beach even though you were wearing little to nothing. He had been there with you through learning to love yourself and loved you every step of the way.

“You’re so gorgeous, your husband is very lucky,” he cooed, sneaking his hands around you so you’d come close enough for a kiss.

“I’m the lucky one, he’s just a hopeless romantic.”

It almost made him forget about his friends until you returned to your spot and saw they had eaten up all your snacks.

Later, there was the terrifying exclamation Hey, I brought a volleyball! Even though playing got them to move away, Nishinoya had dived into the sand so much that when he came back asking for a water bottle, he carelessly dripped sand all over the two of you. Ennoshita wouldn’t have minded it so much if he didn’t know you hated having sand stuck everywhere if you could avoid it.

Finally, he had enough when the lot of them begged him to join their rally, even though they should have been perfectly fine with a two on two. You watched with pursed lips as it finally boiled over.

“Can you guys leave us alone?!” The ball dropped onto the sand with a soft sound and they were all blinking at him like sheep. “I am trying to enjoy the day with my beautiful wife before our joint vacation ends, and you guys were not part of that plan!”

One by one they pouted, kicking the sand like little boys and murmuring apologies under their breaths. “Sorry, Chikara. Sorry, Mrs. Ennoshita.”

“Don’t worry,” you assured them, laying a chubby hand on your husband’s shoulder and tilting your head cutely. “I’m having a very nice day.”

masterlist

[ramp-it-up]

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for  #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.” 

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes. 

“I am in love.”

You gasped. 

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.” 

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…” 

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed. 

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts. 

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.” 

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.” 

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning. 

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt.  He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then  adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to, 

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand. 

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him. 

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

If you liked it, please reblog!

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 19: ~

No One to Dance With?:

Originally, I was going to have Trots reveal he didn't have any living relatives, so no one would come to see him. But, then we learned about Simon's deleted existence. Hopefully, I do him justice.

TW: One mention of Anti-LGBT and underage drinking.

Chapter 20:

5 years ago.

The Golden Eagle Pub was lively. Filled with its final patrons before Christmas. Singles and couples left it at standing room only. Music blared in the background of the smoke-filled building. Some couples danced in an open space. Teenagers, who were clearly underage, purchased their first beer. The Barmen didn't care. As long as they were getting money in the till. And nestled in the corner was Trots.

His tired eyes watched the couples, and he felt a sense of loneliness. Gibbo didn't come this evening because Jack was sick, and O'Connor went home with Mary last week. He looked away when his eyes locked with a woman and accepted that this was going to be another empty Christmas. Now, he stared at the half-empty glass of beer, unable to find the energy to drink it.

Yep. Another empty Christmas.

'Maybe I should have stayed on the rig?'

No one gave Trots any thought, but he felt unwelcome. Everyone in high spirits, he was the ominous cloud. The Ebenezer Scrooge. With a small sigh, he got up to leave. Then he heard a glass of beer being placed on the table.

'Thinkin' too much?' Trots didn't reply. He was too surprised by the stranger's handsome appearance, his eye widening and his jaw going slack. The man raised a brow. They both knew. 'Mind if I sit here?'

'Oh!' Trots said a little too loud for comfort. He recoiled, forcing his eyes to look away. Thankfully, the music and noise from the other patrons drowned out his voice. He coughed as a way to compose himself. 'Not at all.' The man didn't hesitate to sit down, but he kept a small distance. You had to. Unless you wanted the world to know your 'sinful secret.'

'So, you didn't answer my question.'

'Well, I guess I am,' Trots said with a shrug, his finger absent-mindedly tapping the glass. 'Christmas isn't the best time of year for me.'

'That's a shame.' The man took a swig of his beer. 'Christmas should be the best time of year for everyone.'

'Well, if I'm not here, I'm in the middle of the North Sea.'

'And, why would you go there?'

'For my job. Oil rigs need someone to keep them from tipping over.'

'And that's where you come in? Sounds like Hell on Earth.'

'Aye, and you're not wrong there.' This was a nice change of pace. 'What about you?'

'I drive a bus, so not nearly as exciting as you.'

'At least you stay on land.' The pair shared a chuckle. Trots still couldn't bring himself to finish his now flat beer. He was too enamoured by the man, but his eyes lingered back to the dance floor when another song began to play, making the locals dance and cheer again.

'No one to dance with?'

'No one to dance with.'

'Same. I mean. If we could, we should.' Trots was taken aback by the stranger's forwardness, despite himself being so quick to mention his work. He was stunned. Good thing they were huddled in the corner. It was especially good for him because Trots felt his face go completely red. He ran a hand over his face and mouth, but he couldn't stop himself from looking at the man, who was clearly finding it amusing. 'What's your name, handsome?'

'J-Johnathan.' Trots hadn't noticed the man had moved closer to him until he touched and played with his ear. Why did that make him feel good?

'Well, Johnny. How about we go and find somewhere we can dance?'

'Okay,' Trots replied, his voice breathless. The edges of his mouth formed a tiny smile. 'But what's your name?'

'...Simon...'

After what felt like an eternity, the pair broke eye contact. Simon's eyes lingered down to where The Shape had taken Trots. The look of shock turned to one of sadness. Maybe guilt. Guilt for not being there. His eyes were transfixed on the veins that pulsated through the discoloured flesh and small bubbled pockets of fat that appeared between the creases. He didn't know what to think. Trots began to understand how Muir felt last night.

'I know how this looks.' Trots stuttered through his words. In his panic, he thought he saw Simon take a step back, causing him to let go of the shovel and fall into the snow. In reality, Simon only shifted his weight because he wasn't correctly dressed for the snow. 'Fuck,' he muttered. What a sad state. He quickly reached for the shovel and pulled himself up whilst he adjusted his glasses. He could use his tendrils, but he didn't want to scare Simon off. The man didn't like surprises, and he certainly got one already. 'Look. I-I know I'm disgusting to look at, but-'

Simon approached and pulled Trots up by wrapping his arm under Trots' armpit. It certainly silenced the Health and Safety manager. He didn't think Simon would touch him, but he was so relieved he did. Simon wrapped his other arm around his chest, touching his exposed ribs. He didn't recoil though, just moved his hand further up when he noticed Trots shiver. 'Did you lose weight?' That broke the tension. Trots' look of surprise slowly vanished to relief. A smile graced his lips. He held back a laugh.

'No. Simon. I'm serious.' His smile didn't weaver though, and Simon picked up on that, who leaned his head against him before sneaking in a kiss on the cheek. Trots felt his heart melt.

Together, they made their way back to the porch. Trots sat in the rocking chair whilst Simon leaned against a beam. Seeing Trots struggle to do something as simple as getting into a chair stung. A knife to the heart.

'What the fuck did you get yourself into this time?'

'Well, it's not like I did this on purpose.'

'Then what happened?'

'I needed a new way to get the Union going.' A terrible joke with a forced smile. But Simon didn't smile back. Nor did he laugh. He kept his arms crossed and waited. The time for jokes was currently on pause. Trots' smile dropped, and he shuffled in his chair. 'I...I don't really know.' Simon listened to Trots tell his story from his perspective. From how the drill had hit something, to him hiding in the crew lounge, then finally his infection. How The Shape took his wrist when he went to see what was wrong at the window, moving up his arm as parts of it dug under his fingernails. The rest entered his mouth, turning him into a puppet before everything went black for several minutes. He had no idea why The Shape gave him a slug-like body and not something akin to Rennick or Addair. The only thing Trots could be thankful for, was that it gave him his upper body back.

Throughout it all, Simon's face turned into horror. How? How could something like that happen? And, why Trots? What did he do to deserve this?

'Eventually, Caz found me and then I saw myself. What I'd become. I want to be sick. The smell was awful. P-Probably still is.' It wasn't. 'I was just angry at everything. My mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.' A whimper escaped his mouth and Trots' hands began to shake as he recounted his memories. It was an eerie blur. Moments of clarity quickly came as they went, and it scared him. The Shape knew he was frustrated with the working condition and how messy the crew were, but Trots knew looking back that wasn't him. Somehow, it had twisted him into something he couldn't recognise. 'I wanted to hurt people, Simon.'

Simon quickly moved and knelt besides his lover, who by now, was fighting tears. The look of horror became a mix of pain and sympathy. Like telling a child their parent had passed away. Trots' glasses began to fog. Simon removed them, only to now get a good look at the glossed and grey hues that replaced the deep blue. 'I called out for you, but you didn't answer.' Now, the tears began to flow. 'You weren't there.'

'But, I'm here now, Johnny.'

Simon pulled him in for a hug. Trots clung to his coat. He didn't want to let go. If he did, would he vanish? They stayed like that for at least thirty seconds before Simon broke the hug, moving his hands to rest on Trots' shoulders. His soft smile returned. He reached and played with Trots' ear to help the man calm down. It worked, and that feeling of Trots' heart melting, whilst his face went red, returned. Trots held Simon's wrist. His head leaned into his hand, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

'I'll never go back. I promise.'

'Good. I missed you.'

'No one to dance with?'

'No one to dance with.'

A sense of calm wrapped the pair up like a warm blanket. All their worries disappeared. Neither of the men thought of what might happen in the future. Trots will never live a normal life again. They both knew that. But, right now, who cares? The warmth brought them close and in for a kiss.

Trots cupped Simon's face in his hands. Simon wrapped his arms around Trots' chest, and just for a minute, reality vanished around them.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 1 - Firsts

Summary: The boys' first official practice together has a bit of a bumpy start.

Word Count: 669 (nice)

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, angst, mentions of FOI, Freak #3 is named Dave in my universe.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you don’t start on Day 1, you can still join! <3 Thanks @thisapplepielife for organizing, this event is going to be so fun!

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

There was tension in the air.

Tension and maybe a little bit of BO. It was the last stretch of summer, after all, and they were four teenage boys standing in a garage.

The setup wasn't bad though, and Mrs. Emerson had set up a card table full of snacks and drinks in the corner.

"Alright," Gareth cleared his throat awkwardly. "So do we want to eat first or should we just get right to it?"

Jeff's head turned to Eddie, immediately deferring to the leader of the band for the final say, and the other two were quick to follow suit.

And in that moment, Eddie faltered.

No matter how excited they'd all been discussing this in the cafeteria the other day, it still felt wrong. Like something was missing.

There was no Ronnie.

No Dougie.

And no more second chances when it came to his friends.

Eddie looked down at his feet and let his sneakers shuffle against the smooth concrete floor as feelings of self-doubt crashed into him.

What if he fumbled it all again? What if he let them down? What if their sound really wasn't as good as Corroded Coffin's had been the first time around? At least they had something then; this was new, this was fresh, this was different.

Even worse, what if he tried to push them to be better and they just thought he was chasing after the fame game again? Even though he'd sworn to himself that if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.

He hadn't exactly done much to earn anyone's trust back yet; a summer wasn't gonna undo all of the bullshit he'd put his friends through.

Eddies thoughts--his fears--grew and grew until they were just a buzzing drone in his head and there was a tight, anxious grip on his heart that made him feel like he was about to pass out.

"You know," Jeff spoke up after a few short, painfully quiet moments, "the first time I picked up a guitar to play with you and Dougie and Ronnie, you told me I sucked."

Eddie's head snapped up and he watched acrooked smile grow on Jeff's face.

He remembered those early day, before Jeff was officially part of the band. He said that he wanted to learn guitar he would give anything to sit in on their practices. Showed up the next day with an old out-of-tune fender and no idea what a chord was.

"I didn't have callouses yet so I kept having to stop for a break," Jeff massaged his fingers, remembering the phantom pains. "Then I got frustrated when I wasn't getting any of the things you showed me. I almost gave up, actually. I wasn't gonna show up for the next practice, but you stopped me before I got in my mom's car. Told me that I wasn't gonna get better if I just quit."

There was a heavy emphasis on the word quit, and Eddie closed his eyes, as if his friend would stop seeing directly into his soul if he did.

"I don't know how you knew man," Jeff continued, voice laden with intention. "But you did. And look at us now."

"Still a garage band in Indiana," Eddie snorted in self-deprecation.

"Uh, we're only gonna be the best garage band Indiana has ever seen," Dave interjected. "We just...have to play some music."

Gareth let out a whoop of agreement and Eddie opened his eyes to find the three younger boys staring at him expectantly once again.

"What do you say man?" Jeff asked. "First official song of the first practice of the new Corroded Coffin. What should we play?"

And Eddie stood there for a moment, contemplating, weighing and judging his options like this was the most important decision he would make in his life.

Maybe it was.

Finally, with one last glance down to his feet, he took a breath, pulled his shoulders back, and asked,

"How well do you guys know Flight of Icarus?"

[ohtobeleah]

yes we want cuckold Jake 🙌🙌🙌

Cuckold Hangman huh? You dirty bitches. You read Cuckold Rooster and thought damn that was good but what about if it was Jake?

Well. This is what it would be like to cuckold Jake Seresin.

You’d ask Bob to participate. You know that out of everyone, Jake would get the most riled up listening to you moan on and on about just how good Robert Floyd could actually fuck if given the opportunity. He didn’t disappoint—and you were most certainly correct in your presumption.

“Ohhh god oh fuck, yes! Bob!!” It was torture to hear you screaming for another man. But the way Jake's cock throbbed against his lower abdomen was otherworldly. He’d never felt a pain so pleasurable. "So good baby, I bet you wish you were fucking me huh?" Your eyes never left Jakes as you teased him. "Too bad you can't, haven't been good enough, needed to find someone who could fuck me just right."

“You like it when I fuck you in front of your boyfriend huh?” Bob taunted as his hand came down roughly against your ass. Causing you to jolt forward on your hands before he was slamming you back against him. “Uh uh, no running—isn’t that right Hangman? We don’t run from a single inch.”

Jake couldn’t respond, his mouth had been stuffed with a pair of your panties before you’d tied one of his nice dress ties around his mouth. Gaging him. Of course he mumbled something in response. A needy, whiny mess as he strained against the cuffs that kept him bolted down in the chair in the corner. Forgotten about like an old toy you no longer wanted to play with.

“What was that?” You asked between Bob's harsh but oh-so-incredible thrusts. “He said he wants you to fuck me harder Bob.” Jake's eyes lit up with animosity, moaning incoherently around your panties as Bob fucked into you a little harder. His hands gripping at your hips, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Oh fuck—yes fuck me, Bob!”

“You feel so good Y/n, the way you’re clenching around my dick is gonna get you in trouble.” Bob groaned from behind you as he let his head fall back. Lazily thrusting in and out of you until he was close. Edging himself. “Wanna switch positions?” You didn’t response, you simply crawled up the bed a little while Bob fell to his back against the mattress. Jerking himself off while you sauntered over to where Jake sat. Fisting his cock in your hands as you whispered in his mouth.

“You love seeing me stuffed full, don’t you baby?” Nodding, Jake moaned around your panties as you straddled his waist. Grinding down against him. “Should I uncuff you and take you both? Or should I leave you here to sit in your own mess?” Again, Jake couldn’t speak, but you knew what he wanted you to do. Sinking down on him slowly for a few moments as Bob worked himself over on your bed.

“Mmmm, mmmm!” Jake couldn’t resist, the feeling of your slicked pussy clenching around his shaft was too much after being deprived for so long—he was a goner. Hot spurts of cum filling you up with only a few strokes. “Mmmm—!”

“I’m gonna go fuck Bob now baby, you stay here and take notes.” With Jakes cum dripping down your thighs, you sauntered back over to where Bob was laying. Patiently waiting. Straddling his waists as your hands took a hold of his shoulders for stability.

“Yeah Bagman—watch and learn.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

#Stricklyscandalous // Jake Seresin

[astra-ella]

𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life

⌦ note: you are free to insert yourself into Chiyo, just keep in mind she has her own character/backstory. i know some people don't like that, so just a heads-up.

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The fourth time he confessed was about three months later — on a hot summer day during their break.

After the incident with Hotaru, Nishinoya became a regular visitor at the Amari residence. However, it wasn’t exactly Chiyo's choice. Every morning when she dropped Hotaru and Kaito off at school, they’d pester her about bringing “that super cool big bro” over to come to play. And as someone with a soft spot for her younger siblings, she couldn’t help but oblige.

Nishinoya was always more than happy to come over. Sometimes he’d be too busy with practice. But there were times when he’d drop at eight o’clock in the evening to join the Amari siblings for dinner. If it was Chiyo’s home cooking, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

There were a few things Chiyo learned about Nishinoya since he started going over to their place. Firstly, he lived alone with his grandpa, who ran a local bike shop. Apparently, he has three older sisters, but they were all much older than him and going about their business elsewhere in Japan. Secondly, they liked the same manga and regularly bought the newest edition of Shonen Jump magazines. Thirdly, he loved over-the-top action movies. He gets so excited that he often starts yelling in the middle of it. Fourthly, he took his role as a libero very seriously. Chiyo realized that fact after poking her head into a few of his volleyball matches lately.

Last but not least, he was a terrible student. 

As a class rep, Chiyo already vaguely knew about that fact. It was hard to miss all the 40s and 50s marked in red in the top corner of his tests every time she was tasked with handing them back. But she didn’t realize exactly how bad it was until she started helping him with his schoolwork during his occasional visits.

On top of all that, he was an awful procrastinator.

Which was why they were sitting in the local library, on a hot summer afternoon, doing their summer homework.

Chiyo knew if they stayed at her place, Hotaru and Kaito would pester them to the point of distraction. And if they went to his place, Nishinoya would get carried away talking about the latest manga. So the only alternative was to work in the public library, free from interruptions.

Or so Chiyo thought, because judging by the big grin on his face, even she was considered a distraction to him.

“Nishinoya, I need you to focus,” she said.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just staring at me.”

“I’m thinking.”

Chiyo’s eyes flickered up and she raised an eyebrow.

“If you keep doing this, I’m just gonna move to a different table.”

“Wait, no!” That seemed to pull him out of his trance. He sat up straighter, jotting down a few more answers before groaning. “It’s just, this is so boring,” he slammed his forehead on the table. “Summer’s almost over and it’s a nice day out. We should go out and swim or something.”

“Then you’ll never gonna get this done on time,” Chiyo tapped the edge of his English workbook. “Besides, you had training camp all summer. Haven’t you had your fun?”

“Training camp isn’t for playing, Amari,” Nishinoya gave her a serious look and Chiyo cocked her head to the side. 

“But don’t you get to have sleepovers with your teammates and stuff?”

“You do, but you spend most of the time training, hence the name,” Nishinoya leaned back in his chair and spun his pencil. “By bedtime, most of us are way too tired to stay up and chat like we do on school trips. So it’s not as exciting as you think it is.”

“I see.” She hadn’t realized. From what she’s heard from her friends in the softball club, training camps were more like school-organized sleepovers where they spent goofing off rather than training. She didn’t realize the volleyball club actually took things seriously.

From what she’s heard, they were supposed to be a powerhouse school.

After finishing the last question on her page, Chiyo glanced up at Nishinoya who seemed to be actually working. She hummed. 

He must’ve heard her or felt her eyes on him because he soon looked up. 

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she readjusted her reading glasses – a result of developing farsightedness earlier that year. “Let’s take a look at what you’ve got so far.”

“Sure!” His reply was assured as he slid his workbook across the table. 

Chiyo caught it with a wry smile and began skimming through his answers.

Her smile quickly faded.

“Nishinoya.”

He perked up. “Yes?”

“Here,” she slammed the workbook onto the table and pointed to one of the questions. “‘Please translate the words below into Japanese.’ ‘Shine’ isn’t ‘go die!’ That’s just Japanese!”

“Dang, so that was a trick question!” He clenched his teeth in frustration. 

“No, it’s not!” She then pointed to the next section. “Here! Multiple choice! Circling all the answers and writing ‘one of these’ does not work!”

“But I’m not wrong! It is one of them!” 

“And circling all of them is not answering!” Chiyo narrowed her eyes. She then flipped the page over. “‘Yuuto needs help identifying all the animals in this zoo,’ and you wrote ‘They’re all just animals, Yuuto!’ in Japanese. Seriously?!”

“What am I supposed to do? Actually know the English for those animals?” 

“Yes!” Chiyo slammed his workbook shut before letting out a long sigh in frustration. “Seriously, what have you been doing during English class?”

“Staring at Nakano-sensei,” Nishinoya gave her a huge thumbs up. “She’s super hot, isn’t she?”

“Uh-huh,” she returned his confidence with an exasperated look. “And for math class it was Sato-sensei, and for history it’s… Wait, why weren’t you paying attention in history? Takahashi-sensei is a guy.”

Nishinoya pulled out his history workbook and pointed to the cute girl mascot on the front page.

“Cause of Aya-chan, of course!”

“Start paying attention in class, you idiot!” Chiyo flicked him on the forehead, causing him to recoil in pain.

That was another thing she learned about him in the past few months. Nishinoya had a huge appreciation for pretty or hot women. 

Not that she cared.

“Seriously,” crossing her arms over her chest, Chiyo sighed. “High school entrance exams are coming up soon. What are you gonna do? You know schools are allowed to reject you, no matter how good you are at volleyball, right?

“Hm? What are you talking about?” Nishinoya looked a little confused.

“I mean, even if you get scouted by a powerhouse school, they can still say ‘no’ if your grades are not up to their standards.”

“Oh, I don’t really care about that,” Nishinoya said, taking his workbook back and flipping to the page he was previously working on. “I’m not gonna go to some powerhouse school.”

“What? There’s no way!” Chiyo’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You won an award for the best libero. There’s no way there isn’t at least one powerhouse school trying to recruit you!”

“Oh yeah, there are,” his response was relatively nonchalant. “I think there are about four already? But I’ve already decided where I want to go.”

“And where is that?” 

“I wanna go to Karasuno,” he grinned. “You know the one not far from your place.”

Chiyo thought about it a little. “Why?”

As far as she knew, Karasuno wasn’t really known for their volleyball. She did remember briefly seeing them on TV at some national tournament many years back, but they haven’t really come up since.

“Because,” Nishinoya’s expression turned oddly serious. “I like the girl’s uniform there. A lot.”

Chiyo blinked.

“I mean hear me out,” he continued. “Don’t you think our uniforms are kinda lame? Brown and in blazers? Way too bland. Karasuno’s uniforms, on the other hand, are those cool, black military uniforms.”

“Are you serious?” Chiyo rolled her eyes. “All that talent and you’re picking a school based on their uniform?”

“You gotta understand, Amari. Black uniforms are what youth is all about! That’s how it’s like in all the shonen manga! Plus the school is pretty close to where I live, so it’s pretty much a no-brainer.” 

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” At this point, she just started tuning him out. “You better pray you end up with a team that’s good enough to actually follow up on your receives.”

Nishinoya looked a little surprised at her comment. “Hey, Amari?”

“Hm?”

“Have you been going to my games lately?”

Chiyo’s pencil snapped from the sudden added pressure. “Wha-?!” She glanced up. “What kind of question is that?!”

“Well, you just seem like you know more about volleyball now,” he pointed out. “Don’t you remember the time Kaito and I were playing outside? And you thought volleyball was a sport where you had to throw the ball into the opponent’s net? But now you actually know about follow-ups and receives,” a big smile slowly began to spread across his cheeks. “You’ve been going to my games, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been to a few,” Chiyo looked away, feeling her cheeks heat up under Nishinoya’s prying gaze. “But it’s only because Kaito keeps asking me how you are during big games! S-So I had to go!”

That was a lie.

“Still, that means you went,” Nishinoya looked like this was the best day of his life. “What did you think? I’m pretty cool, aren’t I?”

He was. When he played volleyball, he was almost like a completely different person. Calm, collected, and focused. There were some saves he made during games that had Chiyo’s heart hanging in her throat, and the way he roared in victory each time their team scored a point gave her butterflies.

Not that she would ever admit it.

“You were fine, I guess,” her reply was curt and Nishinoya pouted.

“What? Only fine? You didn’t think I was awesome, or handsome? Or oh my god, I want that guy to be my boyfriend?” He batted his eyelashes at her. “Because I want you to be my girlfriend, Amari.”

Chiyo glared at him as Nishinoya grinned. She then abruptly gestured to his workbook before going back to her own.

“Still, I can’t believe we’ll be graduating soon,” Nishinoya murmured as he took an eraser and began scrubbing out his nonsense answers. “By the way, which high school are you aiming for?”

“Karasuno High School,” she replied off-handedly.

“Really? Then we’ll be together even after graduation,” Nishinoya’s face lit up at first before falling. “But that’s surprising. With your grades, you could definitely get into some top high school here in Miyagi.”

“I’m going for the same reason as you.”

“The girl’s uniforms?”

“No,” Chiyo shot him a dirty look. “Because it’s close to home. And close to Hotaru and Kaito’s elementary school.”

There was a moment of silence before Nishinoya spoke again. “You know, I can always help you pick them up. Why don’t you aim for a better school?”

“It’s fine,” Chiyo shook her head. “I need to find a part-time job once I turn fifteen. Being at a better school will probably mean they have policies against it.”

“A part-time job?”

“Money’s been tight recently,” Chiyo shrugged. “Whatever highschool I end up at, I’ll just work hard to get into a good university on a scholarship. Then I’ll graduate and get a good job in the city that’ll make enough money to be happy and successful.”

Resting his chin in his hands, Nishinoya hummed. “That sounds so boring.”

Chiyo’s brows furrowed. “Well, I’m not like you. I don’t have the choice of becoming a professional volleyball player just because I’m good at it.”

“What do you mean?” Nishinoya looked her dead in the eyes. “I never said anything about wanting to be a pro volleyball player.”

“What?”

“I mean, I like playing volleyball and all. But even if I were to become good enough to go pro, I don’t think that’s what I wanna do in the future,” Nishinoya peered out the window, watching the fluffy clouds drift over their heads. “I wanna pack up all of my stuff and go somewhere far, far away. Go experience things I would never be able to here in Miyagi. A backpacking around the world, type thing. You know?”

“You’ll need a lot of money for that,” Chiyo frowned.

“Who says?” Nishinoya retorted her statement with a smile. “I’ll just save up a little, then go from there. If I’m short on money in some town, I’ll work at a local diner or something to rack up enough cash for my next adventures.”

He turned his attention back towards the sky and Chiyo followed his gaze, just in time to see a  sparrow take off into the sun.

“Grandpa always told me that limits are whatever you put on yourself,” he said. “And I choose to make the sky my limit, so I can go as far as I want. I’m gonna do whatever I want and be the freest person in the world.”

At that moment, Chiyo felt entranced by him. Nishinoya looked so excited and unburdened, she was a little jealous. She wished she could think like that – that the world was her oyster and she could do anything she set her mind to.

But she was too afraid.

“Hey, look!” Suddenly, as if snapping out of a trance, Nishinoya jumped out of his seat with sparkling eyes. “The firework festival!” He pointed at a telephone pole out the window. Chiyo followed his finger and saw a brightly coloured poster, obnoxiously advertising the festival coming to Miyagi in a week’s time.

“Do you wanna go together? You know, just the two of us?”

Chiyo felt all the admiration she had for Nishinoya drain out of her body and her face returned to a disgruntled expression. She knew the implications of going to the festival alone together. And her answer was simple.

“In your dreams.”

“Ouch!” He laughed. “Shot down again.”

“Now focus on your work,” she tapped the top of his workbook as Nishinoya sat back down.

Shaking her head, Chiyo quickly tucked a few strands of her hair out of her face before turning her attention back to her workbook. She was about to move onto the next section when she felt Nishinoya’s gaze still lingering on her.

“What?” She asked, feeling herself grow a little self-conscious.

"I like you a lot, Amari." He said, a lovestruck grin dancing across his lips.

"I said focus!"

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

[tobythewise]

Hello, happy DADWC! May I prompt, for Anders/Dorian or Inquisitor/Dorian: “Hey, so about—” “I suddenly have memory loss and don’t remember who you are.”

Thank you so much for this prompt!! <3 Written for @dadrunkwriting

Content: Elf Mage Inquisitor named Silas (Listen I know it's close to Solas but I named him BEFORE I knew there was a Solas don't judge me LOL) Inky/Dorian, getting together, Shipper Iron Bull

Silas stands outside the tavern, shaking his hands and doing his best to give himself a pep talk. He can do this. He can totally do this! 

Yesterday he arrived back at Skyhold with Dorian. It felt like a dark cloud followed them back after confronting Dorian’s father. Silas has learned so much and even just thinking about that man and what he wanted to do to Dorian leaves his fist clenching until his knuckles turn white. 

Dorian is capable in his own right and doesn’t need Silas’ protection but there’s still a part of him that wants to do just that. 

Since the moment they met, there was a static energy between them. Their banter was easy and flirtatious. Talking with Dorian has always been fun, but Silas never had any expectations. Sure, Dorian flirted with everyone but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d interested in men. 

Except he is. Exclusively. 

They haven’t talked since getting back. Dorian doesn’t really like being vulnerable, Silas has picked up on that so he didn’t want to push. But now? Now he wants to shoot his shot. 

Maybe now isn’t the best time. Maybe he should give Dorian time. 

No, if he doesn’t at least tell Dorian he’s interested he’ll regret it. The end of the world is waiting for them around every fucking corner and if he doesn’t put his heart on the line now, he know he’ll always find an excuse not to. He doesn’t want to put his entire life on hold to be some holy symbol he doesn’t even believe in. Silas is an elf for Creator’s sake!

Rubbing at his eyes, he straightens his shoulders and steps into the tavern. There’s a chance that nothing even comes from this but Silas refuses to live in regret. He’s going to put his heart on the line so there’s nothing unspoken between them. 

It’s not hard to find Dorian. He’s sitting at the bar, swirling a glass of wine in his hand. The Iron Bull is sat beside him and for a moment, Silas is overcome with jealousy. It swirls in his belly, leaving a bitter taste against his tongue. 

That feeling drifts away quickly as The Iron Bull meets his eyes, nodding to him and standing up. “Nice to see ya, boss,” he says, patting Silas’ shoulder as he walks away. 

Dorian looks up, his face softening ever so slightly when he meets Silas’ eyes. Just as quickly as the look was there, his face closes off, putting up a wall between them. 

That’s the last thing Silas wants. 

He orders himself an ale before turning towards Dorian fully. “Hey,” he starts to say, “so about--”

Dorian cuts him off. “I suddenly have memory loss! I have no idea who you are!”

“Shall I sound the alarm that a blood mage is running loose in Skyhold? Stealing incredibly specific memories?”

Dorian deflates but Silas still catches the slight twitch of his lips. “I supposed that would only cause a scene and as much as I enjoy being the center of attention, that type of attention would most likely get me into trouble.”

Silas nods. “And not the fun kind.” They each take a drink from their glasses. Silas’ heart is in his throat but he pushes words out anyway, needing to get them out. “I know we joke and play, but I’d like to say something? If that’s alright?”

“You’re the Herald of Andraste,” Dorian says, turning to look at me. “You don’t need my permission to simply speak.”

“I supposed not, but if you told me you didn’t want to talk about this, I’d respect your wishes.”

“I appreciate that,” he says softly. Leaning his elbow on the bar, Dorian turns fully towards Silas. “Go ahead, I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

“I have feelings,” Silas blurts out. It feels so good to finally say the words, like a blockage that’s finally loose and the water can flow freely. 

“Okay,” Dorian says slowly. “Feelings about?”

“You. Obviously.”

“Obviously, he says.” Dorian smiles, shaking his head in amusement. “Nothing about you is obvious. I suppose I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He looks at his wine, swirling it in his glass before taking another sip. 

Silas wants to say more, to express how thankful he is that Dorian joined him on this wild ride to save the world. He wants Dorian to know the extent of his feelings. He wants him to know this isn’t a phase or a way to pass the time. But he can tell that Dorian is working up the nerve to say something and he doesn’t want to take that away from him, so he patiently waits. 

“Back home,” Dorian says softly without looking up, “I never dreamed of love, not truly. I was prepared to be in a loveless marriage with trysts on the side to keep myself sated. Men couldn’t love other men, not the way I desired. But with you--” Dorian clears his throat. “You make me want things.”

“That’s okay. I want things too, Dorian. And I want them with you.”

Dorian’s ringed fingers find his face and Silas leans into the touch. Soft lips touch his own and Silas closes his eyes, savoring the sensation. Everything going on in the tavern slowly falls away, leaving just the two of them, sharing a first kiss. This is everything Silas had hoped it would be while being so much more. 

This is the reason he fights. This is the reason he continues to be a symbol despite feeling like just a person. This is the reason he’ll do whatever it takes to save the world because not only do the two of them deserve this feeling, but so does everyone else. 

“Dorian,” he breathes out, his lips just barely brushing against Dorian. 

A big hand slaps his shoulder and by the noise of surprise from Dorian, the same just happened to him. They pull apart with wide eyes, finding The Iron Bull between them. 

“It’s about damn time,” he bellows out with a hearty laugh. “Drinks are on me to celebrate!”

The tips of Silas’ ears are bright red but it’s worth it to see the smile on Dorian’s face.

[griefabyss69]

Back again! 💜😊

How about some of that: leatherworking for gay sex

Yesss!!! This was from a conversation with a friend - MONTHS AGO, back when I knew like two people in this fandom! (Which means the writing is fairly old and I haven't picked thru and edited it in months also) This is also a fic that created a new backstory in both of my usual versions of Steve and Eddie - Eddie knows basic sewing/mending and Steve is curious about it but never had the chance to learn. (If you read my NNN fic - Constrained, the library scene alludes to this) Steve's helping Eddie with things around the house while he recovers from the vecna hell dimension injuries and that kind of starts something new for him. First as a surprise for Eddie, but he finds out he really likes doing it! This one is plotted out to the end (it's very simple), so hopefully one day soon I pick it back up and finish it! It's over halfway done anyway Excerpt!!!: ( Contains: The tail end of a long healing process, Steve Likes To Be Useful, honestly this one is just sweet so far, rated G??)

It starts like this:

Eddie's hands are fucked, at least for now.

And Steve's hands are working just fine, so he sits at Eddie's kitchen table in the Munson's new double-wide trailer, fixing the ripped stitches in Eddie's oldest battle vest. Jacket. Whatever.

There's no music playing because Eddie's writing something that has his forehead crinkling with concentration, his hand shaking with the thickest pen he could find wrapped in his aching fingers, but the quiet is nice. He likes to listen to Eddie breathe even if sometimes it still has a bit of a rough edge to it, his breath catching on the way in. He's here, you know?

Steve finishes with the patch pretty quickly - Eddie's hand hasn't even given out on him yet.

He only recently learned how to sew, with Eddie handing him a battered book from like the 40's and showing him which pages to follow in order to learn the simple stitch he needed. Given how Eddie's been well enough to not need help with literally everything, he's been enjoying finding things to do that he probably wouldn't have gotten around to even if he had made it out of the Upside Down unscathed.

There's a warmth that cradles Steve's heart when he gets to do shit like this, like right now as he looks over the vest to find another patch that could use some TLC, working slowly and carefully as he secures it.

He's got the vest folded and set on the table, starting to put supplies away, when Eddie sighs, tossing his pen onto the table.

"Alright, I'm calling it," he says, shutting his notebook with a heavy thud.

"Cool, you want to go for a drive?"

Another way Steve gets to take care of Eddie. He gets him out of the house and onto the roads, even if it's not the same as racing his van around the dusty streets.

--

Steve's back at Eddie's kitchen table, sitting across from him while he tries to resist the urge to kick out and nudge his legs just to be annoying.

The peace and quiet is nice here, but Eddie's frowning at his page and has been slowly gripping the pen tighter and tighter the deeper the furrow between his eyebrows gets. Steve's not necessarily worried but he thinks Eddie's hand is going to hurt a lot sooner if he doesn't loosen up his grip.

"Want to take a break with me?" He asks, setting down the book of crossword puzzles he'd brought in from the break room at work.

Eddie blinks up at him, slowly leaking tension like a wool sweater unraveling, eyebrows unpinching and his hand ungripping until he lets the pen fall to the table. Like he forgot Steve was here, instead lost in a miasma of whatever misery that had been dredged up from the sewers of his mind.

"I…" Eddie looks down at his notebook, shuts it slowly as he takes a breath. "Yeah, we should."

Steve gets up and stretches, letting out a hearty groan as he reaches for the ceiling, peeking out of the corner of the eye to watch Eddie watch the hemline of his shirt. It makes his stomach swoop and he tries to stretch a little further, see if he can bare another inch of skin.

"Let's sit outside," he says, heading for the door.

--

A quiet fifteen minutes on the porch, soaking in the warmth from the pre-summer sun, and Eddie seems to be back to normal, poking at Steve and teasing him for something or other - it kind of slips through his ears as he watches his mouth.

"So, what's got you stressed? Like, right now in particular," Steve asks, picking up his crossword book again as they settle in. He's not having much luck with it today, the answers just not coming to mind, but he's doing it in pen because he's decided not to care.

"It's stupid," Eddie sighs, leaning back in his seat to give him a bland look. Like he's too done with his own shit to even roll his eyes. "I broke my bracelet."

He lifts his hand to show off his naked wrist, wiggling it for emphasis that yeah, it really is a nude wrist, no bracelet to be found.

Steve tries to think about the bracelet instead of about nudity.

"How'd it break? Can I take a look at it?"

He finds himself with a new kind of puzzle, one that might be a lot easier than the mess he's created trying to find answers to facts in such unforgiving constraints.

Eddie's leather bracelet - the one that catches Steve's eye because it's also got a metal chain attached, and chains and Eddie are a combination that does something nice to his blood whenever he thinks about them for too long - is sitting injured in front of him on the table, with the Munson's toolbox on the chair beside him, open and picked through for something that could be useful.

"It's okay if you can't get it, I can probably find a new one or take it to a shop or something," Eddie's saying, like he's not fucking miserable without the weight of the thing.

Steve knows something about routines and pressure, thinks about how he always buys the same kind of jeans in the same size so he has consistency, and if he weren't sober he'd probably reach out and circle his fingers around Eddie's wrist to see if that helps.

"Yeah, just lemme try," he says, examining where one the snap had come out of the leather. Eddie had worn this through hell and then through literal hell, but otherwise it seemed like it was in good condition. The snap just was a point of failure that had gone through too much.

[seospicybin]

ON TOUR PREVIEW.

HIDDEN TRACK.

PART IV OF ON TOUR SERIES.

Hyunjin x reader x Felix. (s,f,a)

Synopsis: Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band’s photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who’s not very welcoming of you.

Preview under the cut!

...

The entire arena is filled with ice hockey enthusiasts and fans of both teams playing today's match. Felix's so little knowledge of ice hockey holds him back from enjoying it.

You sense that he's not thrilled to be here, you lightly nudge his shoulder, "Is it boring?"

"No," he answers a little too fast.

You laugh because you know he lied to be nice, "we cheer when everyone cheers," you tell.

And one of the players just sent the hockey puck into the goalpost.

Everyone shot up from their seats, loudly cheering and whistling, shouting encouraging words and whatnot.

You follow suit and pull Felix to stand, cheering for whoever made the goal. Once the cheers died down, the two of you sit back down.

"See? It's not that boring," you tell him.

That's what he likes about you, you always know how to make him feel comfortable around you. Lou returns carrying drinks and snacks in his hands.

You take it from him and share it around, handing it to Felix while putting some on your lap.

"The score?" Lou asks.

You don't answer and simply point to the jumbotron. Felix silently chuckles at how you nonchalantly responded to Lou.

Felix takes a sip of his drink and he's sure as hell there's alcohol in it, he feels it burning his throat.

"What is it?"

"Cola," Lou replies.

He glares at him, "And?"

"Whisky."

Everyone knows he's bad with alcohol and getting drunk at a sports match wouldn't make a good look on him. So far, no one recognized him, thanks to the hat he pulls so low to hide his face but who knows?

"Oh, come on! I'm sure Lou only put a few drops in it," you assure him with a gentle bump to Lou's shoulder.

"Right, Lou?"

"Yeah, sure," Lou confirms but his half-hearted answer is not quite convincing.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, "We're here to have fun, right?"

Well, yeah, that's why he's here, to have fun with you and if that's what it takes then a little alcohol wouldn't be a problem. The three of you clinked your plastic cups together to finally take a sip.

Felix can feel that he begins to loosen up with every sip of drink he took, he's having fun, he laughs and cheers even though he has no idea which team he should be rooting for.

The first period has ended and to fill the fifteen minutes of break before the second period starts, the jumbotron searches for couples in the crowd for kiss cam.

"Here!" You feed him fries dipped in ketchup while also shoving some into your mouth.

Lou is also snacking on a hotdog that he hasn't had the chance to eat as he was so invested in watching the match. He is the only one having a ball watching it.

"Stay still," you order him and Felix complies without a word.

He sees as you take a napkin and dab the corner of his mouth, "you have ketchup," you inform.

The crowd cheers as the couple on the jumbotron kisses and the camera pans to find a new couple. He can't believe it at first but then he sees himself and you in a heart-shaped frame on the jumbotron.

You get horrified to see yourself on the big screen as well, nonplussed.

As it takes the two of you long enough to kiss, the crowd starts to endlessly chanting "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" 

It seems that they won't stop until the two of you kiss, Felix turns to see you, covering your face with your hand, shyly laughing.

And you know that the camera won't move on unless they get what everyone wants.

"Should we do it?" You shyly ask him.

Felix doesn't know what to answer, sure he wants to get it over with but at the same time, he doesn't want to pressure you to do something.

You laugh again before speaking, "Well, I either have to kiss you or Lou."

You leer at Lou for a second then immediately change your mind, "but there's no way I kiss Lou."

Felix glances at Lou, who grins with a dollop of mustard on his upper lip.

"But you're welcomed to kiss Lou," you jokingly say.

It seems like the only logical thing to do, kissing you and getting it over with. Felix doesn't like showing affection in public but he would take this as another first he did with you.

Wait, it's his first kiss with you.

Now that it crosses his mind, he feels burdened by it.

You put your hand on his neck and make him face it, "Let's show them how to do it!"

It's not the first time for him to kiss someone but he doesn't remember the part where his heart pounding so hard. He's only going to kiss you, a friend but why does it feel like his heart is about to jump out of his chest?

Felix doesn't know who leans in first, you or him, the next thing he knows is that heavenly feeling he gets as both of your lips collide in a kiss.

He feels your sweet, alcohol-tinted breath as you slightly part your lips open to take a low breath to continue kissing him.

Out of the blue, Felix gets curious about what happens if he allows himself to go for it so he opens his mouth and kisses you back.

Goodness! It feels wrong yet feels right and everything in between, mixes into one, a kiss that evokes something in him that he needs to figure out what is.

Then everything becomes background noise, it's nice and safe, and he wants to stay in this moment forever.

Unfortunately, Felix can't always get what he wants as you slowly pull away from the kiss with a smile.

As if someone has unplugged his ears, he can hear the deafening cheers, the response to the kiss he did with you, and finally, the camera moves on to the new couple.

"I think we did great, huh?" You calmly comment while picking up your drink from the floor.

"Y-yeah," he stutters.

Truthfully, Felix doesn't want to taste anything else, he wants the taste of your lips to linger until he figures out what it is he felt a moment ago.

But you raise your cup, asking for a toast with him and Felix reluctantly does the same, clashing it with yours to take a celebratory sip together, washing the taste of you away and swallowing it down.

Lou is definitely not putting just 'a few drops of alcohol' in his drink because why he feels so lightheaded as he walks back to the parking lot? And why would Lou call for a driver?

You take his hand, putting his arm around you to walk back together to the car, "are you okay, Felix?"

Okay? He feels more than okay. He feels good, he feels like a stupid teenager who doesn't have any responsibilities or chips on his shoulders. He feels easy, he feels incredibly happy that he believe he could fly.

"I'm grand," he finally answers.

On the car ride home, he sits with you in the backseat, heads resting against each other. You roll the window down, letting the summer night air into the car, making your hair fly in the air.

Lou plays something on the car stereo, a song that fits just right with what he feels.

"One smile... When can you give me, when can you give me."

Felix likes it when you smile.

"Touch me... Can you give me, oh can you give me."

he likes when you touch him because your touch gives him comfort.

"Love me... Come and give me, oh can you give me some."

He likes what you make him feel.

For him, you're a gift that carries on.

...

Full fic will be posted tomorrow!

[jeslo]

I Hope She Never Learns How to Sew

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Content: mostly flirting, banter, and fluff with some implied sex (not explicit)

Word Count: 5.6k

Author's note: Based on a post by @aethes-bookshelf about Astarion, sewing, and Jean Little's poem 'Oranges'

Posted on AO3

***

Astarion sews neatly.

The needle and thread are fluid in his hands.

When Tav tries to sew, she tears holes in the fabric.

The thread frays and knots.

“Astarion,” she says, “I don’t know how you do it!”

Tav is Astarion’s first friend.

He hopes she never learns how to sew.

***

Tav first asks Astarion to teach her how to sew in their early adventure days. She was playing with Scratch when a stray claw or tooth nicked the fabric in her camp pants. It was a small hole at first, easily ignored, but within just a few days, it continued to grow until the rip on the side of her calf needed to be addressed.

She approaches Astarion’s tent, hyper-fixated on the annoyingly faint tickle of stray thread on her skin. “Astarion?” Tav hesitantly pulls back the tent flap and peers inside to see Astarion lounging on his bedroll with one of the books they’ve picked up on their travels. 

“Yes, darling?” His eyes flit up to meet hers before returning to the page, unbothered by her presence. “Come in.”

Tav obeys and ducks inside. “You sew, right?”

“Yes. Are you finally going to ask me to fix that rip in your trousers?”

“Not quite. I was going to ask if you had a needle and thread I could borrow.”

Astarion lowers his book. “I wasn’t aware that you knew how to sew.”

“I don’t. No time like the present to learn though,” she says with a shrug.

His lips purse and he props himself onto an elbow. “These aren’t easy supplies to find, you know. I’m not keen on your unpracticed hands wasting something valuable.”

Tav rolls her eyes and lowers herself to the ground, sitting on her calves. “Okay, so teach me.”

“As you can see,” Astarion drawls, gesturing to his book, “I’m quite busy.”

“Yes, you look it,” she responds with obvious sarcasm, peering forward to get a better look at what he’s reading: A Pleasurable Deal, the well-known erotic play. Tav suppresses a laugh and simply looks at him with raised brows.

A smirk spreads across Astarion’s lips. “Not too long ago, a devil appeared out of thin air and proposed a solution for our tadpoles. I’m simply doing research on the subject.” 

“Of course you are,” Tav says. “Will you help me or not?”

His smirk widens. “That depends. Will you ask nicely?”

Tav tips her head back and groans. She should have known Astarion would toy with her before granting her the slightest favor. “Astarion, please help me fix the hole in my pants.”

“If you’re going to ask so nicely, I suppose I can assist,” he says coyly. “Now undress and allow me to take care of it.”

Her cheeks heat at the command but she wills her face to remain calm. Astarion has such a way with words where even an innocent favor eventually morphs into something lewd. “Or I could leave my pants on and you could teach me how to do it myself.”

“Where’s the fun in that, darling?” Astarion regards her with amusement and his eyes rake over Tav’s form. “Sweet as it is that you want to learn, you’ll only end up pricking your finger and bleeding on the fabric. I can’t have you wasting perfectly good blood like that.”

She rolls her eyes but obliges. With a sigh, Tav stands up, unlaces her trousers, slides them off, and wads them up in a ball before throwing them at Astarion’s beautifully smug face.

He makes no effort to dodge. The corners of his lips curl up into a mischievous grin and he sits up fully. “I didn’t expect you to bare yourself so eagerly for me.”

Tav crosses her arms with a grimace. She refuses to appear shy or embarrassed by the fact that she is standing in Astarion’s tent in her underwear. “You are impossible. Please just fix my pants.”

“Very well, if you insist we skip the fun part.” Astarion exaggerates a sigh of disappointment. He sets his book aside and reaches for a nearby small wooden box, presumably containing his sewing supplies. “It should only take a few minutes, darling. You can stay here and watch my skilled fingers work or I can bring them by your tent when I’m done.”

She’d rather walk through the camp half naked than subject herself to more of Astarion’s teasing. It’s far too effective and he takes too much enjoyment in it. “You can bring them to me when you’re finished,” Tav tells him before adding quickly, "the pants, not your fingers." She turns and walks out his tent with her head held high, but not before catching the satisfied grin on Astarion’s lips.

***

It doesn’t take long for Tav to need Astarion’s skill with a needle and thread again. The group wanders through the Putrid Bog, searching for Auntie Ethel’s home, when Tav’s pack gets caught on a wild barbed bullrush. She hears the tear of fabric before she feels the resistance. She takes one step too far and her belongings spill onto the mud and moss. 

“Shit,” Tav mutters.

While Gale and Karlach crouch down to start picking up and brushing off Tav’s things, Astarion appears beside her and tuts. “So careless. Keep this up and we won’t let you hold onto the valuables anymore.”

“You think we’d let you carry them, Fangs?” Karlach retorts with a bright, teasing smile.

“I don’t see why not,” Astarion answers with a shrug and a grin. “Tav destroys them, you would burn them, and Gale would eat them.”

“I don’t eat magical items, Astarion,” Gale scowls while he brushes off one of Tav’s books. Despite the frown on his lips, Gale’s eyes are bright with humor. He’s a good sport when it comes to the camp joking about eating boots.

“And I don’t destroy things,” Tav starts, suppressing a chuckle. “I just…” she trails off in search of the appropriate word, but none come. She is responsible for a lot of broken and ruined supplies. “Ugh, whatever,” Tav huffs and turns to untangle her ripped pack from the barbed plant. Before she’s able to free her pack, she makes the rip worse. 

“Honestly, darling,” Astarion sighs, swatting her hands away. His clever fingers untangle the rapidly fraying fabric from the barbs and he slides the empty pack off of Tav’s shoulders.

Tav watches her companions place her belongings into their own packs, determined to treat her things with care and kindness. No one complains that their packs are heavier as a result of Tav’s blunder. Nor do they complain that their exploration was sidetracked and slowed because of Tav’s carelessness. Even Astarion, who never hides his irritation, says nothing more on the matter until they return to camp.

The entire trek back, Tav mentally prepares to plead with Astarion to help her stitch the tear. She was prepared to boost his ego, beg, or give him the next magic trinket she finds. When they arrive back at camp, though, Astarion pulls Tav’s ripped canvas pack from his own and wordlessly makes his way to his tent.

“Astarion!” Tav calls after him. He looks over his shoulder as she jogs to his side. “I didn’t ask you to fix it.”

“No,” Astarion responds, turning his body to face her, “but you were going to.”

“Yes, but I would also settle for borrowing your needle and thread.”

“It’s a large tear and if it’s not sewn properly, it’s going to rip again as soon as you place anything inside.” He says matter-of-factly as he places one hand on his hip. “No offense, darling. This is not a project for an amateur.”

Astarion’s right, of course. She doesn’t care what the stitching looks like, but her pack gets fairly heavy. A poor job done would likely result in more muddy belongings and more delays. While she understands and agrees with his logic, she was expecting more resistance from Astarion. He rarely offers to do kind things without pressure or the promise of a reward. 

“Oh, well…” Tav starts, surprised by Astarion’s voluntary assistance. “Thank you. I owe you one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Astarion says with a wink before turning to retreat into his tent.

***

The next incident is several tendays later. Tav is relieved that the damage isn’t her fault and Astarion himself can attest to her innocence - at least in regards to the rip in her tent.

It’s a particularly windy, eerie night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands when Astarion joins Tav for one of their regular feedings. She lays on her bedroll with Astarion over her. As he drinks, he cradles the base of her skull with one hand while the other snakes down Tav’s waist to her lower back, which he lifts until their bodies are flush. Astarion alternates between drinking from the fresh puncture wound, lapping at the pooling blood, and placing open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Tav’s hand tangles in Astarion’s hair and the other fists his shirt. She arches up, eager for more contact and desperately wishing there were less clothes between them.

Just as Astarion hooks a finger between Tav’s skin and the waist of her pants, a loud crack from outside startles them both and they jerk apart.

Astarion, still looming over Tav, turns his head to the side and listens intently. 

“What was that?” Tav asks in a breathy whisper.

A drop of blood trails from Astarion’s lips, down his chin, and drips onto Tav’s cheek. She winces and turns her head slightly, not wanting to get blood in her eye. Tav removes her hand from his hair to wipe her blood from Astarion’s chin with her thumb. The action pulls his attention away from the noise and he cups her hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Just the wind.” Astarion looks down at her with a mischievous smirk before wrapping his lips around Tav’s thumb and licking the blood clean. “Now, where were we?” He asks, tone low and seductive.

Her breath hitches when Astarion adjusts, lowering himself and pressing their bodies together once more. Tav’s hands, on instinct, return to his side and hair when Astarion places a gentle kiss on her cheek where the blood drop fell.

Before they can resume fully, there is another loud crack outside, followed immediately by the rustling of leaves and branches, before something falls onto Tav’s tent and collapses the structure. They both yelp and scramble away, dodging the fallen object but unable to make it out of the tent.

After a few moments of surprised confusion, Tav and Astarion crawl out of the flattened heap, panting and frazzled, to find a giant tree branch crushing Tav’s tent. Discounting the fresh bite mark on Tav’s neck, neither Tav nor Astarion are injured. 

Their companions stir around them and emerge into the camp, woken by the commotion. They only need one look to fully understand the situation. It’s quite obvious between the collapsed tent, the intense blush on Tav’s face, their disheveled hair, half-removed clothes, and Astarion’s too-tight trousers.

As soon as she comes within view, Karlach snorts a laugh at nature’s interruption. 

“Hells,” Wyll says, intentionally avoiding eye contact with the pair, choosing instead to focus on the crushed tent. “Looks like we’ll need to be more careful with where we set up camp.”

“You’re both alright?” Shadowheart asks, though she looks uninterested in the answer and eager to return to sleep.

Tav turns to take in the damage to her tent and notices a large tear in the canvas from the split wood of the branch. “Yes, but I can’t say the same thing for my tent. I’m sure it can wait until morning though.”

“I’ll have it patched up at first light,” Astarion says as he takes Tav’s hand and leads her towards his tent.

Their companions hum and nod in agreement. They groggily return to their bed rolls, visibly relieved their continued consciousness is not needed.

Astarion turns to Tav with a mischievous grin and a sultry whisper. “Now we have all night together to finish what we started.” He pulls the canvas flap of his tent open and gestures for Tav to enter. She crawls inside, suppressing a grin of her own. 

***

Tav is able to avoid damaging her things for a time, so the next time she asks for Astarion’s help, it isn’t out of necessity. 

Upon reaching Baldur’s Gate, the group spends significant coin on refreshing and replenishing their supplies. Surprisingly, new clothes are a priority for everyone. It turns out that no amount of laundering can completely remove the months of grime and blood or the decaying stench of the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

The perks of civilization don’t end in fresh clothes. For the first time in months, they can all rest in real beds. They get fresh food. They no longer need to set up and take down camp. Cooking and cleaning are far more efficient with society’s conveniences. Now that they live a slightlyless transient life, the group has a bit more free time and Tav figures she can use the rare opportunity to learn something new.

Sewing and embroidering both seem like useful life skills and Tav can barely sew on a loose button. Astarion, however, is extraordinarily gifted with a needle and thread. Despite the extreme care and precision that goes into his stitching, Astarion works quite quickly. He even makes it look fun. In another life, he might have been a tailor. If anyone can teach her competence in the craft, it would be Astarion. 

She approaches him in their communal room at the Elfsong tavern. Astarion sits on his bed and embellishes his newly purchased doublet with pristine white embroidery floss. “Too plain for your liking?” Tav asks as she sits beside him.

Astarion doesn’t look up from his stitching but acknowledges Tav with a smile. “Now that we’re back in the Gate, I can’t run around looking like a vagrant or a peasant, can I?”

“Gods forbid!” Tav brings her hand to her chest in an exaggerated display of scandal. “Could you imagine?”

“No,” he laughs, “and I won’t have to.” Astarion’s focus still remains on his needle, but he gently nudges Tav’s knee with his own.  

Tav peers over his shoulder to see what he’s working on. A muted gasp passes her lips when she takes in the beautifully intricate pattern of curling flora with all the color complexity of sunlight gleaming off of polished silver. The design vines up the front of the doublet on both sides of the fastening clasps, perfectly symmetrical. She realizes then, that Astarion isn’t using white floss alone; the entire pattern is embroidered with a variety of whites, grays, and even some pastel tones. The effect is absolutely stunning. If Tav didn’t know better, she would think Astarion was painting with melted silver.

“Astarion…” she mutters in awe.

Astarion looks up at her for the first time to gauge her reaction. “What do you think? I thought it would compliment my hair,” he says with a grin and a gesture to his perfect silver curls.

Tav holds her hand out and traces the curls and flowers with a hovering finger, careful not to touch the fabric, lest she somehow ruin his hard work. “That might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Astarion leans toward Tav with a brow raised. “Not as beautiful as the man who will wear it, I hope.”

She huffs a laugh in response. “My apologies, it’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Now imagine how I’ll look in it.” He sits back and holds the doublet out. 

“I can’t,” Tav sighs wistfully, “I’m not sure my heart can handle that much beauty.”

Feigning annoyance and obviously pleased with the flattery, Astarion rolls his eyes and suppresses the smirk on his lips. “Your heart better get accustomed to it by the time I’m done because I can’t look into a mirror. I’m counting on you to describe my elegance in great detail.” He gently folds the garment and sets it on his lap before turning his full attention to Tav. “Now, is there something you need, darling?”

“I was actually hoping you might finally teach me how to sew,” Tav says, lifting her chin towards the doublet.

Astarion winces at the request. After a moment of pain, he schools his face into a polite, but fake, smile. “Darling. My love. Dearest Tav.” Astarion takes her hands in his. “You are capable of so many things…”

“Thank you…?” Tav raises her brows. “But?”

“But I have been doing this for a very long time. This is a bit beyond the skill level of a beginner.”

“Obviously!” She smiles before squeezing his hands. “I would settle for learning how to hem my own pants.”

He gives her another polite smile, too sweet to be anything other than pitying. “Don’t you think your efforts are better used elsewhere?” Tav narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to say something snarky, but Astarion continues. “After all, we have to kill an Elderbrain, a vampire lord,” he starts, holding up his fingers as he lists their known enemies, “a politician, the leader of a murder cult, the leader of a different cult…”

“Okay, I get it.” Tav agrees reluctantly before Astarion can continue his list to the next hand. “Now isn’t the best time.”

Astarion wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side before placing a peck on Tav’s temple. “I could probably teach you the basics at some point. Assuming we don’t die, of course.”

Tav leans into his embrace and closes her eyes, letting his signature scent of herbs and brandy envelope her. “I suppose I could prioritize staying alive instead.” 

Astarion presses another kiss to her temple in silent appreciation.

***

Even with the Elderbrain defeated and Baldur’s Gate mostly saved, it isn’t easy to settle down after their adventure. They were wandering the Sword Coast as a group for so long, it’s almost jarring to spend their time on banal tasks with no threat of death hanging over their heads. Jarring or not, it’s a welcome change. Astarion and Tav work toward their own, unique version of domestic bliss and are able to find a cute little townhouse in the lower city to share. The first thing they do in their new home is hang up thick curtains to shield Astarion from the sun. 

Tav steps back from the newly installed curtain and curtain rod to stand next to Astarion who is evaluating Tav’s work. His lips are pursed and he holds his chin in his hand, the other arm braced across his chest. When Tav gets a good look at the curtain, she understands why he looks so unimpressed.

She exhales a defeated sigh. “Go on. Say it.”

Astarion furrows his brow and blinks, the epitome of mock innocence. “Say what, my dear?” His confused pout starts to curl up into a cocky smirk when he catches Tav looking at him through the corner of her vision.

“I should have listened to you.”

“About what?” Astarion asks, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Tav frowns. “They’re too long.”

“Hm…” A victorious smile spreads fully across his lips and Astarion looks toward the window to consider the curtains. “You don’t say...”

“You were right, Astarion,” Tav says, enunciating each word and rolling her eyes. 

Astarion sighs dreamily. ��I do love hearing that.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks around the sparse room for a clock before remembering they haven’t purchased one yet. “It’s getting late. I might not be able to return them until tomorrow.”

“Fret not, my love,” Astarion says sweetly, still high off his victory. He pats Tav on the shoulder before leaving her side to rummage through a nearby box, yet to be unpacked. “Better too long than too short. I can hem them.”

“At least let me help!” Tav suggests before beginning to search for his sewing supplies in a different box. “It’s my fault after all and you did say you would teach me.” The sound of Astarion shaking the small wooden box of supplies pulls Tav’s attention from the box of unpacked belongings. It figures he would find it first.

“It’s really no trouble.” Astarion begins to poke through his collection of needles, threads, and floss for a color close to their new curtains. “While I am certain you would make an enthusiastic student, teaching takes time.” He holds a spool of thread up to compare it with the curtain fabric before nodding to himself and shutting the box. “I work faster alone. I can have it done before sunrise.”

She knows Astarion is right, but a lump of guilt still forms in her chest. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tav,” he responds. There’s a faint, satisfied smile on his lips while he begins to thread the needle.

“I feel bad,” she says, crossing her arms and pressing her mouth into a fine line.

Astarion wraps the non-threaded end of the string around the needle several times before pulling and sliding the knot down to the thread’s end. He looks at Tav with a fond expression and a soft smile. “Really, darling. There’s no need.” When she returns his gaze, her face is unconvinced and pleading. Astarion continues, “If you truly insist on helping, you can dig through these boxes for a bottle of wine and an opener.”

With a smirk, Tav relents and accepts defeat for the second time in one night, but not before placing a chaste peck on Astarion’s cheek. “Consider it done.”

***

The subject comes up again shortly after unpacking and settling in when Astarion and Tav enjoy a quiet, peaceful night in their new home. Astarion is lying on the chaise lounge with Tav nestled in between his legs, her back against his chest. The newest addition to their little family, Myshka the cat, is curled up on Tav’s chest. The couple is bundled under a blanket, reading their respective books in companionable silence. The only sounds are Myshka’s purring, the crackle of the fireplace, and the occasional turn of pages. Astarion holds out his book with one arm while the other wraps around Tav’s shoulders, resting just below her collarbone. Tav holds her book above her head while gently scratching the chin of their “son.”

She’s so comfortable and relaxed, Tav struggles to comprehend what she’s reading. After the fifth or so time of rereading the same paragraph, Tav’s eyes droop closed and she loses her grip on her book. It falls unceremoniously onto her face and Tav jolts up with a squeak of surprise.

Her surprise is contagious: Astarion sits up slightly and slaps his book closed while Myshka puffs up and bolts off Tav’s chest.

“Ah! Myshka!” Tav sputters as the cat uses his claws to escape and jump away, clearing the full length of the chaise with ease.

Astarion releases an uncharacteristic and undignified snort in an attempt to suppress his laughter. “You’ve frightened him away,” he scolds sarcastically and picks up the book, thankfully a paperback, from Tav’s face.

“I’m sorry, Myshka!” Tav calls to the cat, who appears to have recovered emotionally from the startle and stretches out his legs nearby. She sits up fully, inspects the blanket, and notices a small tear where Myshka was laying. When she lifts the blanket to show Astarion, Tav sees that her blouse was damaged as well: there is a small rip in the fabric, near her sternum and between her breasts. “Damn, he got my shirt too.”

Astarion sets their books aside and sits up, bringing his chest flush with Tav’s back again. He rests his chin on her shoulder and wraps one arm around her front, draping it under her navel. Astarion’s free hand gently traces along her ribcage, skimming the underside of her breasts with his thumb before toying with the fresh tear in an intentionally suggestive way. 

“Hm…” Astarion hums into her ear. “You were planning on wearing this Withers’s reunion, weren’t you?” He says as he rolls the frayed thread between his fingers. The touch is barely there, but the cool graze of Astarion’s finger against the warmth of Tav’s skin is enough to wake up every nerve in her body.

“I was.” Tav responds with a smile, leaning her head back and arching into Astarion’s body.

His lips ghost the side of her neck and a shiver runs from the base of Tav’s skull down her tailbone. “I could fix it for you,” Astarion whispers, tone low and husky, “but you’ll have to take it off.”

“Astarion!” Tav gasps quietly and brings the blanket to her chin in a display of mock modesty. “In front of our son?!”

They both still and look at Myshka, who is on the other side of the room, facing away from them. His hind leg is outstretched and he’s cleaning his paw, totally unbothered by whatever else is happening in the room.

Tav feels Astarion smirk against her neck as his nimble fingers unlace and loosen the back corset ties before pulling her shirt up and over her head. When the offending garment is removed and tossed to the side, she twists in Astarion’s embrace to face him and settles into his lap before he trails kisses on her shoulder, up her neck, and along her jawline.

“You could fix it,” Tav starts as she weaves her fingers through Astarion’s curls, “or you could finally teach me.”

“It’s a delicate fabric, darling,” he says before placing a gentle nip at her ear. “Let me take care of it. Let me take care of you.”

It didn’t seem too delicate when he threw it on the floor.

Tav hums in contemplation as Astarion guides her hips up slightly and begins sliding her pants down her thighs. “I'm starting to think you're trying to distract me so I don’t hold you to your promise,” she muses, adjusting in Astarion's lap to help him peel off her clothes.

“And?” Astarion drawls, “is it working?” When his hand glides up her inner thigh, Astarion raises his brows and gives Tav a cheeky grin. 

Tav returns his smile. “Yes.”

Tav lays in bed, nestled into the crook of Astarion’s arm with her cheek pressed against his shoulder, unable to rest. While he trances, she mindlessly traces shapes on his bare chest with her finger. Her thoughts keep returning to Astarion’s reluctance to teach her how to sew.

It’s not as if it’s a big deal. She’s an adult and if she wants to learn something new, she is more than capable of teaching herself. There is nothing stopping Tav from buying scrap fabric and her own needle and thread to practice. If she truly wants to learn, she doesn’t need to wait for Astarion’s approval.

But he did say he would teach her the basics if they survived their adventure.

Though Tav was only interested in learning because it seemed useful and she was bored. Sewing and embroidering aren’t exactly hobbies she sees herself taking on. If Tav is realistic with herself, she would utilize the skill only when necessary. And how necessary could it ever be with Astarion around, insisting he fix things himself?

So Tav doesn’t need to sew. She may not even genuinely want to learn, but the thought of Astarion teaching Tav is so charming. The two of them could spend quiet evenings working together on something small and unimportant. It’s obvious that he cares deeply about the craft and has been practicing for who knows how long. Tav just wants to share his passion.

It’s a sweet thought, but that doesn’t mean he actually wants to spend the time to teach her. Anyone who has ever interacted with Astarion can tell he has limited patience. Yes, he has significantly more for Tav, but even still, his patience isn’t endless. He is an expert and she is a total novice. Teaching Tav to sew would probably be a frustrating experience for Astarion, no matter how much he loves her.

If Astarion didn’t want to teach her though, he shouldn’t have promised. He could have said no.

Tav regrets the thought as soon as it enters her mind; it isn’t fair to him. Astarion has had a long, complicated relationship with the word “no.” Even now, with the Elderbrain defeated and Cazador dead, he still struggles to express what he wants. He had no autonomy for 200 years. Tav can’t hold Astarion to something he agreed to if he didn’t think he could decline.

She sighs softly against Astarion’s cool skin. She should just drop the subject. 

For whatever reason, Astarion isn’t interested in teaching Tav to sew or embroider. And that’s fine. No explanation needed. Should Astarion ever offer a lesson, she will agree to learn enthusiastically. Until that time though, Tav will allow him to handle their tailoring and sewing needs without pestering.

Tav places a gentle kiss on Astarion’s chest and her hand stills and splays across his abdominals. Her eyes flutter shut as a yawn forces its way from her mouth. With her head now clear, it doesn’t take long for Tav to drift off.

A tenday passes and the reunion Withers organized is approaching. Tav sits at the table with a cup of coffee, lost in thought. With everything their adventuring party has gone through together, it’s silly to be so focused on what to wear. They all tried to maintain appearances and hygiene but Gods know they were not always successful. Tav’s old companions wouldn’t bat an eye if she showed up in something ugly, so long as it was clean and free of blood. Actually, given her vampiric partner, blood-free might well be above the bar for acceptable dress.

As if summoned from her reverie, Astarion enters the kitchen looking suspiciously pleased with himself. “Do you remember my doublet from when we first arrived in the city?”

“I do.” Tav blinks several times to clear her thoughts before adding, “what ever happened to it?”

Astarion scoffs and throws his hand up dismissively. “I was wearing it when my dear siblings came to visit us that night in Elfsong. It was positively drenched in blood. There was no saving it, unfortunately.”

“That’s too bad,” she says with a frown. “It really was beautiful.”

“Yes. Indeed.” Astarion holds out his hand. “Come with me, darling.”

Tav doesn’t bother to hide the wariness in her expression as she takes his hand and stands. Astarion’s grin seems to grow with each step as he leads them into the study. When they pass the threshold of the room, he releases Tav’s hand and walks behind the desk to open its drawer. She watches him with narrow eyes, growing increasingly suspicious.

From the drawer, Astarion pulls out the silken blouse Tav was planning to wear to the reunion. Tav’s eyes widen and her hands cover her mouth to stifle a gasp. Astarion didn’t just fix the rip. He practically created a new garment. 

Astarion took what was originally a perfectly nice but admittedly simple top, and transformed it into an elegant piece of art, almost too beautiful to wear. A series of fine stitches coil and curl up the bodice in vines, branches and flowers to create a striking design. Whether a trick of the light, the subtle sheen of the silk peeking through the stitching, or the thread he used, Astarion’s embroidered design seems to shimmer.

Tav can’t pull her eyes from the blouse as she walks closer in a daze. Much like his embroidered doublet, before it was soiled in blood, Astarion used a multitude of colors and shades to create an effect that should be impossible to achieve with thread alone. His old doublet looked as if it was painted with melted silver, but this new garment is pearlescent, like the inside of an oyster shell.

She traces the pad of her finger delicately over the embroidered flowers, realizing just how small the stitches are and how careful he must have been to create such a detailed pattern on the fine weave of silk. The more Tav looks at it, the more she notices. Hidden among the flora are little birds. On the bottom hem, she finds a small rabbit. The details become difficult to make out as Tav’s vision blurs with tears.

Astarion tips her chin up with a finger and Tav pulls her gaze away from the embroidery for the first time. The expression on his face only makes it harder for Tav to keep back her tears. Astarion looks down at her with warmth and pure adoration, like she’s the sunlight that he’s been longing to bask in again. He cups her cheek and brushes away a stray tear with his thumb.

“So…” Astarion starts in a soft, careful whisper, “what do you think?”

Tav is at a loss for words, unsure that her vocabulary can adequately voice its beauty and her gratitude. All she can say is “Astarion” as she closes her eyes and leans into his touch.

Having presumably set down the blouse, Astarion wraps his arm around Tav’s waist, pulls her closer, and places a light kiss on her forehead. She can feel his lips curl up into a smirk. “No rush, my love. You can sing my praises after you’ve collected yourself.”

Tav huffs out a laugh, still too overcome to form complex sentences. “It’s stunning, Astarion. Perfect.” She embraces him fully, sliding her arms behind his back and resting her head on Astarion’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, darling. Truly,” he says softly into Tav’s hair.

As they stand together in a quiet, affectionate embrace, it slowly dawns on Tav that this is Astarion’s gift to her, not just the beautiful embroidered blouse, but the act itself. Hemming their curtains, patching her tent, fixing her pack: all little acts of appreciation. She hugs him harder. If this is an expression of Astarion’s love, Tav is content to never sew a thing.

[goldberrg]

your face

summery : When you tell your best friend Eddie that you haven't been kissed since seventh grade, he offers to kiss you. There's only one catch : you don't know when he'll do it.

1, part two, 3, 4

The room became quiet, the movie hummed in the distance. You gave him a kind look. — Will you do that for me?

He chuckled softly. — Well, don't act like it's a chore. I'd like to kiss you once. — he winked, hitting you with his foot.

You've hidden your blush, the butterflies in your stomach are going terribly crazy. Eddie grinned, and mischief crept into his brain.

— But! I have one condition!

Your eyebrows went up and you looked a little nervous. Like you were worried he'd changed his mind.

— I choose when it happens, okay? I won't tell you when. It should be a surprise… So you'll never know.

You grinned. — But not in front of everyone we know.

— Of course not. — he grinned, blowing you a kiss. — I'll make it nice and intimate.

Just you and me, baby. It suddenly became very difficult to focus on the "Stooges".

It wasn't until the first time it happened that you realized his plan was to torture you.

You were in Gareth's garage, lying on a cigarette-smoke-soaked sofa in the corner, watching the band rehearse. You were idly flipping through a magazine, sucking on a lollipop that you found in Eddie's jacket pocket. His taste for sweets was terrible, and he almost always had some sweets with him. You didn't even notice the breakup of the group. Jeff and Gareth ran inside to get drinks from the fridge, leaving you alone.

He put his guitar on the stand, came up to you and straddled your hips while you were lying on the couch. Your eyes widened when he took the magazine from you and tossed it aside, tilting your chin to look at it. He was there, and you practically stopped breathing. Here comes. Fuck. Here it is. Eddie was going to kiss you.

Slowly he pulled the lollipop out of your lips and put it in his mouth. He grinned, winking. — You took my last one.

With these words, he casually kissed you on the forehead and got up from the sofa, leaving your face red, frozen and slightly excited while the other boys returned to the garage. ***

The next time it happened was at one of the band's half-week concerts. You were at a bar.. the same bar where the boys played every Friday night. Wayne knew the owners, so they were allowed to play there even though they weren't old enough to drink.

You got to the little green room backstage just in time to hear your best friend colorfully swear. — Eddie?

Eddie, pouting, came out of the bathroom, throwing eyeliner on the counter. — I can't do that.

— What to do?

He sighed and sat down on the counter, playing with the edge of his shirt. — My eyeliner.

Only then did you get a good look at it. His eyes were completely smeared with dirty black, and his skin was reddened from irritation in several places where he tried to wipe it off.

— Well, Eds… — you grinned when you came over to assess the damage, poking a finger at one of the marks. — Why didn't you wait for me? I could do it for you.

— I want to learn how to do it myself. I just.. — he groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands. — I messed up and tried to erase everything, and it appeared everywhere.

Your lips stretched into a sympathetic smile. — Good. Give me a minute and I'll fix it.

He fidgeted a little when you washed off old makeup with a washcloth, but he managed to sit still for you while you worked, except for the occasional flutter of his thick eyelashes. Your brow furrowed as you carefully drew a pencil below his lower eyelid. His big brown eyes were even more stunning, like now… in a dark ring of smoke. His gaze darted to your lips as you squeezed his jaw, and you couldn't help but stare back. His big hands were around your waist to hold you down, and you could almost taste him when he licked his lips. The air was tense and thick.

— Much better. — you closed the pencil and playfully tapped it on the nose. His voice caught you when you were about to leave.

— Y\N?

Your attention has returned to those dark eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling you to him by the belt loops. Your brain stopped at his thumb tracing little circles on your thigh.

He grinned. — Do you think I look sexy? — you snorted and rolled your eyes, but he didn't give up. — I'm serious! I want to know.

You studied him as if you needed to think things through. His curls were fluffy and big. You thought he'd just washed his hair. His shampoo smelled like green apples.

You nodded slowly.

He beamed when his warm eyes found your lips again, and you thought that this time he was really going to kiss you when Gareth came in. — Five minutes, Eds.

You groaned and Eddie gave you a cheery smile with a shrug before quickly jumping off the counter to grab his guitar.

God, he was going to kill you with this torture.

[mashas-rotting]

Queen of hearts

This is a slow burn with Mira and the reader, timeline is sometime before arisu and usagi get to the beach. There will be heavy smut later. Possible threesome. Also if you want a list of the books Mira recommended lmk

Warnings: f/f, drinking, mentions of blood and choking cannon typical death.

Sitting in the back corner of the library reading was how you ended most nights. You didn't like being around people for long periods of time unless you were drunk, and even drunk the men were annoying. This was especially true since you were required to wear a bathing suit at all times and your body filled out a two piece in ways that made most people suspect you were a porn star in the real world. They were wrong though. Most of the inhabitants of the beach were uninteresting. Which is why you were here, sitting on a black leather chair with your legs curled up beside you.

"I wasn't expecting anyone to be here." You look up to see Mira brightly smiling at you. "Why aren't you drinking with everyone else?" She questions, tilting her head to the side. "I do sometimes, but they're all so boring. Predictable. Books are far more interesting." You reply setting your book down. "Exactly! The best way to learn about the human heart is to study all the different ones in books. I find that most authors write what they want to be and not who they are, but the best books are the honest ones. Filthy thoughts and actions decorating page after page." Mira shifts slightly as she says this as if it excites her. "I'd love some recommendations." You say smiling, taking note of her delicate body. Mira always wore a cover over her bathing suits but that did little to stop you from imagining what was under all of it when you saw her at the executive meetings. "Oh? That's right youre a hearts player too. How fun!" She claps her hands. "I'll bring some by your room later. I'll let you finish your book now. Sorry for interrupting." She waves and leaves.

Strange woman, that one. You couldn't deny your interest though. Mira is beautiful and twisted. And she would look beautiful twisted in your sheets. Sex and relationships were pointless in the borderlands though and you figured she wouldn't bother with those things when she played games almost every night. Not that you would risk something like that anyways.

Although, Mira seemed to be the only person besides you who actually enjoyed the games. Sure niragi had fun, but he had fun killing. That had nothing to do with the games themselves. Last boss enjoyed the freedom the borderlands offered, but still the games themselves offered him little joy.

The library was big, not huge, but you and a few others regularly went on trips to gather new books to add to the collection. Normally you liked having the room to yourself, but as you went back to reading to thought it would be nice to have Mira reading beside you. You decided to invite her next time you saw her.

When you went back to your room there was a white gift bag with one glittery red heart on the center of it sitting in front of your door.

The next day you woke up later than usual. Mira must have been busy because you couldn't seem to run into her. Which is why you found yourself at the bar drinking tequila shots by midnight and shutting down everyone who tried to join you. That is until Kuina came up to you.

"Those aren't water you know." She said with a hand on her hip. "They're not? Then why am I not drunk yet?" You reply with exaggerated frustration. "If you're trying to get drunk we should try a drinking game." She said raising an eyebrow in a challenge. "What did you have in mind?" You reply not minding the intrusion. You'd hung out with kuina before and, while she wasn't a hearts player, she wasn't the worst company. On the rare occasion you did go drinking she was normally you drinking buddy.

"Never have I ever?" She suggests. You burst out laughing. "Yaah that'll do it." You say grabbing a bottle of tequila and walking with her over to a couple couches where the music wasn't as loud. "Never have I ever spit." You start. "Does it count if it came out your nose?" Kuina says and you both giggle. "It's a drinking game so yes it counts." Kuina pores her shot and quickly downs it with a shiver. "Never have I ever had sex in public." She says. You take a shot then say "Who decided all the questions have to be about sex?" "God probably." Kuina replies as she takes another shot. "You didn't have to take that one ya know." You tell her. "Never have I ever kissed a girl." Someone says sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the coffee table.

"Oh I've done a lot more than kiss a girl," you say taking a shot and smiling at Mira who is holding her own bottle and sporting her usual unsettling smile. You find it appealing. Raw. Unhinged. "Never have I ever wanted to fuck an executive." Kuina says giving the two of you a knowing look. Both you and Mira smile at her, then Mira takes a shot straight from her bottle and then hands it to you. You keep eye contact as you take yours. "I didn't think you liked to drink?" kuina say to Mira. "I don't mind it, although I prefer wine. I just don't have much time to with all the games and such." She says moving her hands as she talks. "Never have I ever been in a fist fight pre-borderlands." You say. Both Kuina and Mira drink. "I don't think I can take much more of this. I'm going to dance." Kuina says as she clumsily stands and disappears into the crowded dance floor.

"Should we join her?" Mira asks but the way she says it sounds like shes asking something else. "Only if you're afraid to be alone with me." You challenge. Mira swings her legs over the coffee table and settles on the edge of it, her legs between your knees. "Not at all. Should I be?" her eyes flicker from yours to your lips. "might be more fun if you were." You breathe leaning forward slightly. "Then i think you should do something that frightens me" Mira says softly. A thousand images go through your mind. Your hand around her throat, blood running down her breast, welts on her bare ass, and that fucking smile on her face the whole time.

Before you could decide how exactly you wanted to defile her, kuina stumbled over. "I might need help back to my room." She slurred as she swayed, mira jumps at the intrusion and turned her eyes to the side without turning her head. "I guess we have other plans." Mira said cheerfully, which somehow sounded like anger on her. You chuckle and lean forward to Mira's ear. "I'd love to continue another time." You whisper then move to wrap kuinas arm over your shoulder and start towards her room.

After you get her to bed, you walk with Mira to her room in a comfortable silence. The warmth of her presence is peaceful. You wonder what she was like pre-borderlands. Apparently someone who used to fight you think smiling. "What are you thinking?" Mira asks breaking the silence. "How often did you fight back in the normal world?" She looks surprised, it's the first time you've seen this expression on her. "Oh, just once in grade school. I was never a big fighter. I've always used ones heart to get what I want rather than physical violence." She answers looking lost in thought.

"Do you plan to use my heart to get what you want?" You say amused. Mira stops walking and turns towards you, brushing her fingers along your hand. "What if your heart is what I want?" She asks after a moment. You step closer and lean in slowly. "Have you really never kissed a woman before?" You softly ask, running your thumb over her bottom lip. She shakes her head and opens her mouth slightly. "Would you like to?" You ask realizing you have her backed against a wall with one hand on the wall behind her, the other now tilting her chin up to look at you. "Yes." Mira whispers and you lean down pressing your lips against hers. She grabs your hips and pulls you into her. You melt into each other slowly. The throbbing between your legs has you grinding your thigh between hers. The friction making Mira moan into your mouth. You pull back and shes breathing heavier than normal, her cheeks rosey. Cute, you think to yourself. You'd like to see how undone you can make her.

"Something wrong?" She asks. "I'd like to make a mess of you." You take her delicate hand and kiss the top of it. "But it's 4 in the morning and you deserve all night. I'm afraid we'll have to take a raincheck." You hold her hand against your cheek. Mira huffs a bit but doesn't object and you almost laugh at her annoyance but think better of it.

Once you reach Mira's room she stands at her door looking conflicted. You cup her face with one hand and say "would you come to library tomorrow night?"

"that's not what I thought you were going to say."

"aand what did you think I was going to say?" Mira blushes at this. It was getting easier to make her blush. You were going to have fun teasing her. As much as you liked her unhinged smile, these new reactions were exciting. "I should go to bed." She says pulling away, but before she can you pull her back to you and kiss her cheek. "Yes, you should." You leave her there touching her cheek and smiling as she watching you go.

[kon-konk]

Any headcanons for how Servamp characters are when drunk?

I'm going to start with the detail that I thought Mikuni had to have been at least slightly tipsy when we meet him and was surprised to learn that's just what he's like. So when he's drunk I think he's just like that, but louder and brattier.

Jeje, on the other hand... If he drinks, he never shows it. And he somehow gets even more silent unless you ask him to do something and he just says "Can't. Drunk." Probably sits in a corner watching everyone else.

I think Lawless would be the crying drunk. He probably likes to watch movie versions of plays/musicals. He really likes watching Hamlet and cries so fucking hard over every single death in it.

Licht just plays piano the whole time. To be fair, it does kinda drown out the sound of Lawless crying in the other room over a movie he's seen at least once a week since it was released.

The Melancholies all drink together (and so they're all getting put together, too). I hc Tsubaki and Berukia are both giggly/happy drunks and very much feed off each other until they're plotting absolute chaos. I think Higan would be a storyteller. Otogiri just wants to have a nice, calm time but is also the one cooking a huge batch of soba for everyone (they're her taste-testers for new recipes) and every single time they drunkenly tell her that's the best soba they've ever had (it's not a lie, she does always make the best soba). My man Sham seems like the type to not really know what to do with himself when he's drunk, so he just goes with the flow unless there's a danger to Tsubaki (he's the voice of reason when Tsubaki and Berukia's ideas get a little too out of hand). He's also so, so blushy. Meanwhile, Sakuya has yet to make it through a night of drinking with them where he doesn't wake up to an almost-sent drunk confession to Mahiru.

Ildio seems like he'd basically pull a "sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll" but it's more "food" instead of "drugs". He just wants to have some fun in some way or another.

I think a drunk Nicco is a much more confident Nicco. Like that booze gave him all the confidence his looks and position should be giving him (look, he's beautiful, and I will stand by that forever) without 85% of the anxiety he usually has. Charisma stats go through the roof, but so does the recklessness.

Everyone assumes Freya's an angry drunk, but she's actually pretty calm and happy. Also gets a bit more talkative.

Oh my gods if you think they have trouble keeping Lily in his clothes sober, just wait until he's had a few. Now instead of stripping to take control of a situation, he's trying to cool off. Gets very hot and very flushed very quickly.

I feel like Kuro is a sleepy drunk. He'll wake up, sip on his drink, snack on something, and go back to sleep. And I think Mahiru would try alcohol once and not really like it, so he just keeps an eye on Kuro.

I think both Tsurugi and Yumi would both be clingy, touchy drunks, from what we've seen of them. Which is a menace for Jun, who ends up being the most sober-acting out of them and therefore the subject of their clinging most of the time. They're also loud.

Touma seems like the type to hold his liquor really, really well. The only outward signs of him being drunk would be him progressively loosening his tie over the course of the night (or whenever he's drinking) until he just takes it off, and gets a lot more flirtatious with his words.

Shuhei drinks socially. He drinks just enough for a nice buzz, but otherwise doesn't like drinking because he feels he can't make sure he's got a plan for every possible event if he's drunk.

Last but not least, we have a special "good luck" for Youtarou, because I think Gear would be an absolute menace of a gremlin when he's drunk. He's hard to handle, he just wants to "have fun" but doesn't elaborate on what exactly that means but he's trying to get away from any supervision to do it, and if he's drunk enough, he's trying to fight inanimate objects.

[shade-pup-cub]

Okay okay... last "A.D.S" posting for October. Two parts of chapter 22.

Content Warnings: Terminal illness caused by Twili magic, suicide, drinking and fighting to grieve.

Artwork included.

"There is an old overgrown trail in Faron. Not too far down it there is a small clearing with a large stump. Did you know that my Faron is your Lost Woods? I learned that a few years ago."

Dametrius stopped walking, Wild got Epona to halt. The god looked at the dying man. "Twilight."

"What?" Their eyes met and Twi followed where Dametrous was looking, at Time. "Oh, right. I just couldn't convince myself to be anywhere else at the end." He had a kicked puppy look.

Dametrius huffed. 'We can cross that bridge when we get there."

They got to that bridge.

Epona went back down to the ground for the two heroes to dismount. Dametrius's stomach was back in knots as Time saw the golden armor covered in vines. "This isn't your eras armor." Time started as he uncovered the chest piece. "Only my era has royal guards wearing this. How did it last so long?"

No one answered.

Time looked back at the other three and Dametrius didn't have the heart tell tell him. "Who was this?"

No answer.

"This is the bridge you mentioned." Time ran his hands through his hair. "I think I know who it is." He found the left hand of the skeleton and removed the heavy metal. The single wedding band was still there like Time always wore it. "Why here, Pup?"

"This is where I first met you." He limped over to his forever mentor, motioning him to sit back next to the other form of himself. Dametrius helped him sit on the ground too, right between Time's legs.

"This was?" Wild looked around the small, peaceful clearing. He sat between Twi's legs when asked to. Dametrius sat on their right and listened to Twilight talk.

"I was four years old, left in the woods for whatever reason. I was just roaming around looking for anyone to help me. I kept finding fresh fruit on the ground and every once in a while there was some cooked meat next to a burned out fire, still hot. I managed to get to this little clearing during a storm, hoping there was a dry spot. Instead there was a giant gold and white wolf. I wasn't scared when he approached, only curious. He led me around and taught me to survive, not knowing that where he was leading me was Ordon Village. I watched Rusl chase him away night after night until he came out to see why the wolf was always coming to their house." Twilight looked back at Time. "You led him to me."

Time looked like he was punched in the gut. Dametrius couldn't figure out why he seemed stunned. "I had no idea." Time whispered.

"What?!" Twi's loud voice boomed, startling the other three. He looked at Wild, then the god. "Did he not tell us that he asked Rusl? You asked him the last time you saw him."

Time was more confused than Dametrius. "No, Pup, this is my first time hearing this."

Wild doubled over in laughter. "Dude, you got played!"

Holding a hand over his mouth, Dametrius started laughing with his son. Time knew exactly what he was doing when he told Twilight that he knew of his beginnings. Sly move.

Twilight gave a glare when he normally would rough house his cub. His glare broke when the corners of his mouth turned upwards. He really should have known better. It was nice to hear Twilight's laughter fully, but that turned into a coughing fit.

Time rubbed his pup's back before pulling him backwards to rest against him. The deity watched the eldest rub out some of the pain in Twilight's chest. "You said you would explain." Time whispered.

"I did. It was slow at first, little things started happening. Lost some of my stamina, I would sleep later and be tired throughout the day, but that didn't start until after Sky passed. Suddenly I was constantly in pain. Everything hurt, but I just brushed it off. I even told myself that blood coming up if I threw up was normal. When we went to see Wind, I was afraid to take hits. I also wasn't healing properly either. Took double the time or it just wouldn't at all."

"That's when we all started to see the change. We knew something was wrong, but chose not to push your privacy." Wild held his head low, ears dropping. "Wish we would have pushed more."

Twi got Wild to look up. "All that would have done is cause a fight. I didn't want to be treated differently by you guys." Wild looked a bit defeated, but still gently laid down so his head rested in Twi's lap. The other scratched his scalp like he would any other time they were like this.

"When we met Hyrule's mother, her water seemed to take away some of the effects of the dark magic. I had gained black lines between our last meeting and then, her water took them away along with the pain. What I wasn't expecting was the magic to come back with a vengeance. The lines were thicker and everyday they traveled further across my body. The pain was, is, debilitating most days to the point that I don't even have to move for it to be overwhelming. Just breathing hurts.

"It took a month for it to start attacking my insides. I was only able to eat soft food or else I would throw it up, then it was I could only have liquids. I can't even hold that down now, only water. It caused me to lose almost all my muscle and with it, strength. I haven't picked up one of my kids in over a year. They have helped their mother where I couldn't and I hate it."

Twilight calmed himself before continuing, head still resting back on Time's chest. "I can't count the amount of times I have tried to do simple tasks and a bone snapped due to how brittle they are. I'm truly surprised nothing has today. The last thing that started was this cough. The magic hit my lungs and it's shredding them." He huffed out a scoffing laugh, "I even broke a few ribs from coughing."

Dametrius knew it was bad, but this was beyond what he could have imagined. "You could live longer, it doesn't have to be today."

"Could. I could lie in bed for another month if I have that much time left and be helpless, starving, barely alive, suffering and have my wife and kids wipe the blood from my mouth so I don't choke on it in my sleep. I could do that or I could go out the way I want to. Die still as a man, still have some dignity in me and spare my family the burden of taking care of me. Spare my kids the trauma of seeing me suffocate on what should be keeping me alive and die in front of them. Or worse, they come home and find me dead and think they should have been there to do something."

Twilight's eyes filled with tears. "I can't live like that. I can't make them live like that when I could do this instead." He pulled a dagger from inside his boot. He pushed the tip of the blade into the ground, saying, "But it can wait a little while longer. I want to enjoy the sun for a little while."

The four sat quietly together. Time hummed as he held his pup. Twilight still rubbed Wild's scalp as Wild stayed where he was, arms wrapped around Twi's leg. Dametrius held onto Twilight's right hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it.

Twilight's eyes periodically opened and he would look at all that he was with. He too didn't want to end this moment, but things never last forever. He took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. "It's time."

Wild sat up and the father could now see that the whole time Wild had been silently crying. His eyes were red and puffy. "Oh, Cub, come here." Twi whispered. Wild gently fell into his waiting arms. Time wrapped his arms around the two in front of him until they separated.

"I want to give you something." Twilight unclipped his black, fur cloak and managed to get it placed around Wild's shoulders. He chuckled as he flipped the hood up. "You are older than I am, but still look so young. Stay feral, adventurous and never let your soul be tamed. I am proud of you, Link."

Wild seemed to break a bit more and find comfort in the cloak around his shoulders.

"Old Man, here." He pulled the Horse Call necklace from his neck, handing it to Time. "Should come in handy with your Epona." Time ran a thumb over the item with adoration before wearing it around his neck.

Dametrius was surprised what Twilight said his name. "I wrote in a journal every day during out last quest and I want you to have it." He held a red leather bound journal that looked incredibly thick. "There are lots of untold stories in there. Most are good or lighthearted. Some are of this one being reckless or wandered off with Hyrule." Twi flicked Wild's ear.

The deity held the book close to his chest. This was priceless and would be cherished for the rest of his life, passed on to his grandchildren and so on. "Thank you." He barely got the words out. He carded his fingers through the wolf hero's hair as he placed his forehead to Twi's.

The feeling of the knots it Dametrius's gut were back tenfold as Twilight rolled his left sleeve up to his elbow, revealing a nearly blacked out forearm. Before he could wonder why the left handed hero was doing everything right handed, he was told. "I have no feeling in this arm any more. Should make this easier."

Dametrius wanted to close his eye, look away from the scene unfolding. He couldn't though. He couldn't disrespect the young man he saw as another son that way. So he watched. He watched the tip of the knife pierce into the discolored arm and drag down deeply towards his wrist. Crimson fluid flowing freely from the fatal, clean cut. It stained the green tunic and tan trousers he wore as it flooded his open palm that laid in his lap.

The hero took a stuttered breath, relaxing into Time's arms again with a satisfied hum. His skin turned pale, eyes closing and hardly opening again. His breath was slow and calm.

Time laid a hand on Twilight's throat and the other two knew the answer as he laid his head in the crook of his pup's neck, clutching the man's tunic and hair with sobs breaking through his gritted teeth.

Wild was wide eyed, mouth parted and his own hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Twilight…"

"Wild." Dametrius whispered. His son looked over at him and broke. He broke in a way that made the father's heart twist and crack. He tugged him into a tight embrace, securing the cloak tightly around him. Why did it have to be like this?

Bidding his son goodnight, Dametrius couldn’t go home. Not in the state of mind he was in. He instead went to Castle Town, entering the first tavern he came across. He didn't care that everyone knew who he was, he just wanted the pain to go away. Eight young men gone… Bonds severed in sixteen years. Seems like a long time, but the deity’s heart felt it raw as if they all had just died.

He slammed back shot after shot until the bartender cut him off. He just stood, paid and went to the next one. There were three in town and he planned on drinking at all of them. It didn’t take long for a few of the town people to see him stumbling and go warn the King and Queen. He knew they would and he didn’t intend on sticking around to be seen. Wild was already trying to manage his grief in his own way, Zel by his side.

His thoughts spiraled, anger taking over his emotions. He needed to fight something, something that would give him a good fight. He teleported to where he knew a Battle Talus resided. He had no weapons or the mind to summon one. He shouted at the hunk of rock that had bokoblins riding on it. It turned towards him and raised an arm to throw a boulder at him. He took off running towards the monsters, leaping into the air to land on the platforms. He easily did one hit kills with his bare hands or a kick to the face. He found the Talus’s weak point and utterly demolished it.

It wasn’t enough.

He had snuck a bottle from behind one of the bars, of course he paid for it, but they wouldn’t have sold it to him after how many bottles he had already gone through. He took it out and downed it without taking a breath. He was a god, he needed way more than this to be drunk. He just didn’t want to feel anymore. He threw the glass bottle across the field, smashing it against the cliff. It gave him an idea as the drink started to loosen him up. The cliff was a foe that couldn’t be beat and would take everything he had to offer it.

He moved at the speed Wild could, not something he would normally need to use, ramming his left shoulder into the harsh surface. Immediately he balled his right hand, releasing all his strength into the first hit and all the ones that followed. He screamed his agony to the moon, released his anguish upon the rocks. Faces flashed in front of his eyes: Sky, he punched the solid cliff side.

Four and Shadow, another punch.

Time, punch.

Legend, punch.

Wind, punch.

Hyrule, punch. Rocks broke off in masses.

Warriors, punch.

Twilight, punch. Twilight, punch. Twilight punch. Twilightpunch. TwilightpunchTwilightPunchTWILIGHTpunchTWILIGHTholler!

His hollers turned into hoarse sobs. He has put a crater into the rocky cliff, still giving blows, but slowing down.

“D-y” There was a voice. “Da-y pl-se -op.” He couldn't tell what they were saying or who it was until two arms wrapped around his torso from behind. “Daddy stop, please.”

His mind registered that it was Asti. He ceased his assault on the earth, placing shaking hands on his daughter’s arms. He nearly went completely limp, knees meeting the ground with a thud. Asti was then in his vision. Long white hair, white eyes, pink cheeks and facial marking that never disappeared. “Asti, m’sorry. I’m s’sorry.”

“No, no you don’t have to be sorry. You are in pain and have every right to be.” She took his hands in hers. They were bruised and scraped, already swelling from the brutal attacks to stone.

“They’re all gone.”

“I know. I wish I could fix this for you and Link, but all I can do is be here for you.” She returned a comforting gesture by getting his hair out of his face. “Let’s go home Daddy. Mama is waiting for us.”

Home. That’s where the start of his healing would be, at home with his wife at his side every step of the way. He may have lost the boys, but he still had so much to live for.