#when that person was one of the ones to act like your friend only to chase you out of the fandom

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?�� & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[wonsroyalty]

forbidden, 박성훈

pairing/warnings: 6.4k,, sunghoon x f!reader, brothers best friend, smut, jake and his sister are lowkey spoilt children!!

a/n: my og bias!!! i love sunghoon so so much omg, literally the prettiest boy ever.. hope i did him justice with this trope cause school is kicking my butt😓

masterlist

It wasn’t a secret to say that you wanted your brothers best friend.

You remember the day that Jake brought him over to your house. He was skinny and awkward looking but Jake, the ever-giving saviour, took him under his wing.

Sunghoon truly was innocent before he met Jake. Your brother corrupted him, turning him into a carbon copy of himself.

One time you asked him if he ever missed his old self and he responded harshly asking if you were crazy. Who knew that adopting a fuck boy persona could change a person so drastically..

Sunghoon was over at your house constantly, after school every day, every weekend, every holiday. You were convinced he didn’t ever spend a dinner at his own house.

At first it annoyed you because having two Jake’s at home wasn’t very appealing, but you knew that there was still a part of the old Sunghoon, deep, inside his now cold heart.

Your senior year was an absolute whirlwind, no annoying Jake to pester you and complain about your outfits, no claims that you were slutting yourself out to get the attention of his friends, no Sunghoon.

You didn’t really miss Jake’s presence while he was at university but you truly did miss Sunghoon.

Maybe that’s why you began to act out, screaming at him when he spilt milk down your top (you’d pushed him), calling him every name under the sun and ultimately teasing him relentlessly.

Jake pretended to be oblivious, ignoring your shouting as he focused on the video game in front of him.

He wanted to enjoy his summer, not deal with your new excessive stress reliever.

When he heard Sunghoon start screaming back at you, he got up with a loud groan.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you away from the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he glared.

“He spilt milk onto-”

Jake was seething.

“Shut it.” he threatened. “Stop messing with Hoon and go clean up your mess. Dinner will be ready in 40.”

You grumbled under your breath as you stormed up the stairs.

Your parents were on yet another trip, claiming that they needed another break.

They had terrible timing as the day after they left, the shower in your en-suite broke.

You stomped your way over to the main bathroom on Jake’s floor, still jealous at the fact that they built the whole third floor for him and him only and that he had the shower with the best pressure.

Sulking, you peeled your clothes off and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water pierce your skin. Annoyed thoughts slowly trickled out as you scrubbed the milky scent away.

Not keeping track of time, you grabbed a fresh towel off Jake’s stack and wrapped your body.

As you opened the door, Sunghoon seemed to be reaching for the handle, about to open it.

“Sorry.” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were in there.”

He waited expectantly for you to move out of the doorway but instead watched as you followed his every attempt to walk past you.

“I need to fucking pee, can you get out the way.” he groaned.

“Oh come onnnn, Sunghoon.” you shook your head. “Can’t I have a little fun?”

You dropped your towel at the last word, feigning shock at your actions.

Sunghoon immediately covered his eyes taking steps back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” he screamed blushing heavily.

“It was an accident!” you screamed back wrapping your body.

“Yn!” Jake shouts from downstairs.

You ran down the stairs, narrowly missing Jake as you launched yourself into your room and locked the door.

With a laugh you got dressed, calling your best friend as you dried your hair at the messy vanity in your room.

“So.. you’re telling me that you purposely let go of your towel to get a reaction out of him.” Sunoo laughed.

You hummed confidently.

“You’re such a freak, yn.”

“You say that like you don’t already know.” you joked.

“No trust me, I know.” he rolled his eyes.

Yes, you had slept with your best friend a few times, but he had a dick and you wanted experience, so who better to trust than him?

“Well I gotta go, Jakey said dinner would be ready agessss ago.” you laughed. “Bye Noo, love you.”

“Love you more.” he blew you a kiss before ending the call.

You calmly made your way to the dinning room and sat in the seat that Jake had set up for you.

“Ramen, again?” you groaned. “How did it take you so long to make this…?”

Jake shot a deadly glare your way.

“If you want to complain about my specialty why don’t you make dinner tomorrow.”

“Gladly.” you accepted.

Sunghoon was silent the whole time you all ate.

Jake waffled on to him but he kept his head down, feeling the pressure of your stare.

You raised a leg onto his, testing the waters before you raised your foot slowly, letting it make its way further up.

“I can’t do this!” he shouted grasping his head.

“Huh?” Jake was confused, scrambling after Sunghoon as he put his shoes on, your own legs following after him.

“Hoon! You said you were staying over!” he complained.

“Yeah, Hoon!” you mockingly whined.

Sunghoon shoved past you.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He snatched his car keys from the living room table and slammed the door behind himself.

“Wonder why he’s in a fucking mood.” Jake grumbled.

“Let’s just go eat..” you pushed him back to the table, hearing Sunghoon speed away.

~

Sunghoon kept his promise, returning the next day bright and early but camped out in Jake’s room the whole day.

Ear on the door, you heard him say “So, is Yn gonna stay away…”

“You know,” Jake trailed off. “Heeseung was over the other day and she didn’t act like that so I just think she hates you.”

“There’s a big difference between hate and lust.” Sunghoon shook his head.

“Ew! That’s my sister.” Jake gagged. “I truly don’t think she wants to fuck you.”

You sighed at how wrong he was, mentally giving him points for the protective act.

“Right.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “Not like i’d want to hit anyways.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s still off limits, don’t try it.” Jake firmly said.

You heard them both shift around and out of the fear of getting caught you knocked on the door.

Sunghoon opened it, glaring down at you.

“What do you want?”

Your palms pushed his chest away from your intended path. Taking note of the fact that he was a lot more muscular than the previous summer.

“I’m not here for you,” you grumbled.

Jake tilted his head as if to ask you what Sunghoon had already said.

“I’m going shopping, gonna take your car because I’m outta fuel.”

“You can’t just take my car, let’s take yours and fill it up.”

“Let’s..?” Sunghoon grumbled.

“I have no money.” you lied.

“How’d you already finish your allowance?” Jake shook his head. “What was the plan when paying for the shopping?”

“Dad’s card.”

Jake hesitated before agreeing. “We’re all going, in my car.”

“I’m driving!” you ran out of the room, Jake following behind you as you raced to get the keys.

Sunghoon was in agony, sulking in the back seat as you and Jake argued over what songs should be played next in the cue.

“Siri, play Stay by Rihanna please.” Jake grinned in satisfaction as the song blasted through his car.

“Fuck you, I want Sticky! Siri play Sticky by Tyler the Creator.” you grumbled as his assistant didn’t listen to your voice and instead chose to snatch his phone and type it in.

The anger in his gut was slowly building up.

“Fuck! Yn keep your eyes on the fucking road, it’s a green light!” He shouted.

Both you and Jake jumped in fear.

Fingers shifting gears and feet pushing down on the pedals, you whipped into shape at the awareness of your surroundings.

“Jeez, Hoon.” Jake checked his ears for blood.

The rest of the ride was absolute silent, bar the music playing, you and Jake didn’t dare to speak up.

Sunghoon jumped out at the first opportunity, storming away with the shopping list leaving the two of you to trail after him like kicked puppies.

“I’ll go get the steak, it’s best from the butchers market down the road.” Jake pulled you in before he left. “Don’t do anything i wouldn’t..”

You nodded, giving him the sweetest smile.

He shook his head, pulling you in for a hug. You felt his lips place a peck on the top of your head.

“No funny business.” he threatened Sunghoon who grumbled in response.

“Sooo…” you dragged on. “Now that Jake’s gone- Hey! Don’t walk away while I’m speaking to you!”

The rest of the shopping trip was quite annoying.

All of your attempts to have Sunghoon squirming failed, he was blatantly ignoring your presence.

“Uh.. what’s Foie Gras?”

You giggled at his butchered attempt of pronouncing the item.

“Fattened duck liver.”

He physically recoiled. “Why would anyone wanna eat that.. ew.”

“It’s good, you’ll like it.” you persisted, leading him towards the correct aisle. “Sunoo??”

Your best friend stopped looking for salmon and embraced your hug.

His hands gripped your waist as you snuggled into his neck.

“Here with your new boy toy?” he laughed, pulling away from the heat of your body.

“I’m Sunghoon, nice to meet you.” the older boy leaned over you, holding a hand out for Sunoo to shake.

Sunoo gripped it firmly, greeting him with a smug grin.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Good things I hope..”

“Well…” Sunoo laughed.

You pulled their hands apart, choosing to get all up in Sunoo’s personal space.

“Noo, are you coming to Heeseung’s party?” you poked his toned chest.

“Of course,” he grabbed your finger, the end of his sentence coming out as a whisper. “Kazhua told me that Yujin’s gonna be there as his plus one.”

It had been 3 weeks since you stopped talking to your friend Yujin after finding out that she’d slept with Sunghoon despite knowing that you had dibs on him.

Your expression immediately turned sour, very close to acting on the urge to drop kick Sunghoon then and there.

He’d always claimed that you were too young for him, despite there only being a years difference between the two of you, but then went behind your back and slept with a friend of the same age.

“You should see the look on his face right now.” Sunoo leant in closer, “He’s seething watching me get close to you. What a freak.”

Mood dissipating as an idea popped into your head, you took Sunoo’s hands and placed them on your ass. Letting him shamelessly grope you in public.

“Don’t be mean, I like that he’s kinda desperate sometimes.” you laughed.

Sunghoon fought to rip his vision away from you and your friend, slowly gaining the courage to grab the Foie Gras before storming over to you and yanking you away from Sunoo.

“Hey! I didn’t even say bye.” you turned your body to wave at your friend in response to the wink he sent you.

You watched in bewilderment as Sunghoon slammed the basket items onto the conveyor belt, scaring the cashier.

He whipped his wallet out of his pocket and took a card out to pay.

“You don’t have to do that..” you looked away in embarrassment.

You knew that Sunghoon wasn’t as well off as people like you and Jake. Taking up a summer job just to keep up with the lifestyle.

“Well Jake took your dad’s card, so unless you want to return all this, i’ll pay.” he pressed his lips together tightly.

The lack of refusal on your part led him to tap his card onto the scanner.

Watching him wince at the high transaction go through had you clenching your thighs together. You couldn’t tell if the hormones rose from Sunoo or Sunghoon but you didn’t really care.

He bagged the shopping and walked off to the car, not even bothering to look back at you.

Once the bags were in the boot you stood outside waiting for Jake.

“Jake wouldn’t have liked that.”

“Jake or you?” you rolled your eyes. “Sunoo’s my best friend.”

“So you just let your best friends fondle your ass in public?” he scoffed in disbelief. “Hee was right, you really are a slut.”

“Excuse me!”

You both turned to see an elderly lady coming over.

“Please could you help me load my shopping into the taxi?” she pleaded.

“Of course!” you beamed pushing down your anger with a gentle laugh.

Your parents had raised you right in some ways.

Sunghoon followed after you, keeping himself surprisingly close to your moving figure.

You both helped the lady transfer her bags from the trolley to the car, nodding with respect at her praise.

“What a cute couple, thank you for helping me.” she beamed, waving as she got into the passenger seat.

One look at Sunghoon’s face and you could tell he was torn between annoyance and embarrassment.

“Where the fuck is Jake?”

As if on cue Jake showed up.

You wiped your thumb at the lip stain on his cheek.

“You’re so nasty.”

He held a finger up to his lips before wrapping one arm around Sunghoon and the other around you.

“Sooo what did I miss?”

~

“PartyNextDoor? Really?” Sunghoon muttered walking into the dimly lit kitchen. It was clear that you were trying to set the mood.

Jake had sent him to help you out of fear that you’d burn something while he stepped out to meet some girl.

“He makes good music.” you shrugged seemingly unaffected by the lewd lyrics. “Aren’t you here to help?”

He nodded.

“Load the pasta into the oven dish, please.” you instructed. “Then put cheese on top.”

Sunghoon picked up the cheese block.

“Where’s the cheese grater?”

You told him that you’d get it, purposely bending over in your miniskirt so that he’d get an eyeful of the way your panties clung to your puffy folds.

“Oh… got it.”

Turning around you saw that Sunghoon was clearly distressed, pinching the top of his nose bridge.

You passed the grater over, internally laughing at the way his body jolted when your hand brushed against his.

“Aww Hoonie..” you pouted. “Do you want my help?”

Not even waiting for a response, you squeezed his crotch.

A low groan left his throat watching you drop to your knees with his trousers and boxers.

You impatiently began to suck him off, revelling in the fact that his cock was just as pretty as him.

Sunghoon’s head fell back, knuckles paling at the pressure of him gripping the counter.

“That feels so good.” he praised.

Sunghoon was big, too big even.

You swirled your fist at the parts you couldn’t reach and suckled on his tip, the praise doing something to you. Spurring you on to make him feel good.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” he moaned.

“But you like it.” you sat back onto your knees.

Something about the look in your eyes had him whimpering.

“I knew the old you was in there somewhere!” your smile widened as you took him into your mouth again.

“Why are you still on that?” he seethed.

His long fingers scratched at your scalp, guiding your head off and on him. The vibrations of your gags had his knees buckling.

Sunghoon experimentally pushed your head fully onto his length. Your nose begged for air, buried in his abdomen and your throat constricted, feeling his dick push past your uvula.

“Come on, yn.” he coaxed. “Take it all.”

Tears streamed down your face, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth.

“I’m so close, keep your throat open.” he groaned.

“Yn!” Jake shouted from the front door.

You slid off Sunghoon with a cough, scrambling to grab a tissue, wiping your tears and drool away as he pulled up his pants before running to the downstairs bathroom.

“Is dinner ready?” Jake asked poking his head into the kitchen.

“Just need to put it in the oven.” you croaked out.

“Cool, gonna play a game! Send Hoon my way when he comes back..”

Dinner was just like the day before except this time you and Sunghoon both couldn’t make eye contact yet Jake still waffled on.

The air felt thick even for you, trying your hardest to give Jake enthusiastic answers so he wouldn’t suspect anything.

You jumped up and down in happiness when he told you that he would clean the dishes so you could relax, dashing up to your room to get rid of your own problem.

The next few hours passed by rapidly as you tried time and time again to get yourself off, still throbbing from having Sunghoon in your mouth, but nothing was working.

“Ugh!” a quiet groan left your throat.

Your hands reached for the phone on your bedside table immediately clicking on Sunoo’s contact.

You: fuck i’m so horny

You: tried getting off but it won’t work

Sunoo: u want me to come over ??

You contemplated taking up his offer.

You: that’d take too long

Sunoo: is park over ??

You: yh.. i uh kinda sucked him off earlier

Sunoo: yeah I am NOT contracting an std

You: fuck you 😭😭😭

Sunoo: js send him a nude?? or smth 🫡

You: UGH ILY THANKS

You slipped on a thin nightgown, purposely pushing your chest upwards letting your hardened nipples peek through, taking a picture then taking another of your dripping pussy.

Fingers swiftly moving onto his contact, you pressed on the chat.

[1,000 from yn💋]

Sunghoon: so you had money the whole time..

Yn: [2 pictures attached] can you help me…?

seen

Sunghoon wasted no time in stumbling over to your room. Sending explicit pictures to him while he was staying in your brothers room was very insane.

He didn’t even knock on the door, storming in them locking it quietly after he got in.

“You can’t keep doing this.” he shook his head.

You gave him the best innocent look you could muster.

“Do what? What did I do, Hoonie?”

He ran a hand down his face, immediately losing all composure.

“Stand up.” he demanded.

You complied immediately. Yes, Sunghoon had shown his anger through badly timed outbursts but in that moment he seemed furious.

“You can’t keep trying to make me jealous.” he continued. “You don’t understand!”

“But-”

“You’re all I can think about anymore. I wake up and you’re there, I go to sleep and you’re in my dreams!” he whisper shouted, clearly being tormented by his own thoughts. “Sometimes I just can’t stand you but being away from you was absolute hell for me. Trust me, I am also trying to understand how this shit happened.”

“Hoon-”

“Please.” he begged. “Please just let me finish.”

He took a step forward, cradling your head in his hands.

“For years, I have been infatuated with you. Forced to watch from a distance so that I wouldn’t lose you and Jake.” he shook his head. “There really isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you. I..”

You placed your hands on top of his significantly larger ones.

“Hoon, what are you trying to say?” you pushed.

He closed his eyes in pain.

“Don’t make me say it.” he frowned. “If I say it, we can’t go back to how we were.”

“I think I love you.” you teared up.

His head whipped up. “What?”

“Sunghoon, I love you.” you repeated firmly.

You’d always wanted Sunghoon since the day you laid eyes on him, but his words put a new perspective into your head. Is this why you were jealous of anyone that got close to him? Is it why you very harshly cut off Yujin? Is it why you felt butterflies every time he was around?

You had let your lust cloud your original feelings for Sunghoon, letting him believe that you only wanted him for sex because you knew that you could never have him romantically.

Sunghoon truly was out of your league. He was genuinely kind and a respcted person. He was everything that you couldn’t be. But none of that mattered when he pressed his lips against yours.

Pent up emotions of the past 10 years released as you kissed back just as passionately. Kissing Sunghoon with as much angst and love as he gave.

You never ever opened your eyes while kissing someone else, but you peeked an eye open to see what he looked like up close.

The perfect mole on his nose, his thick furrowed brows and perfect hair.

He kept his eyes closed for a few moments after you pulled away, taking in the feeling.

“Hoonie.” you called out. “I want you.”

Sunghoon complied, throwing you onto your bed and getting comfortable between your legs.

You attached your lips onto his as he rutted his hips against your warm heat.

From when you sucked him off earlier you already knew he was big, but feeling his so close had you gasping.

“Shhh.” he whispered. “Keep it quiet baby, we can’t let Jake hear.”

Shit. Jake. You hoped that he just wouldn’t wake up or else you’d both be out the house till your parents came back.

Your head bobbled in response.

“Sunghoon,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Hearing you moan his name had his pushing a particularly harsh thrust into you.

“Fuck. Where do you keep the condoms?”

He got off you briefly, taking the time to strip himself as you bent to reach into your desk drawer.

You jolted forwards as his palm made contact with your ass, impatiently begging you to hurry up.

Letting him roll the plastic on while you stripped down had you feeling a little scared. Being naked under his watchful eye was nothing like sending him a nude because you had to witness his reaction firsthand.

“You’re so beautiful.” he repeated, kissing up and down your body.

“Sunghoon please.” you whined.

Pushing your legs into your body, he lined himself up.

“Tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, okay.” he nodded.

You wrapped a leg around his waist, pushing him into you, drooling at the delicious stretch he gave you.

“Fuck, I can’t.” he groaned into your neck, lapping at your skin, flicking his tongue onto the bruises he formed. “Your legs are shaking so much.”

He wasn’t wrong, this was the fastest you’d ever come close to orgasming instantly and he hadn’t even moved yet.

Two thrusts in and you were clamping down on his dick, mouth covered to muffle the string of moans leaving your throat.

“Oh my, I’m cumming. Fuck.” Sunghoon twitched as he groaned lowly in your ear. “Pussy so good, tight, fuck! I’ve never come this fast.”

You didn’t know if he was talking out of his ass but the fact that he wasn’t ashamed did things to you.

Once you’d both recovered, you realised he was still fully hard and that turned you on even more.

“I want more.” you begged. “Please give me more.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot.” he groped at your chest. “Where do you want me?”

You guided him to lie down near your pillows, discarding the condom before hovering your dripping core over his length.

“I want you raw.” you whined. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes again.

“Please.” he begged. “Shit. Never thought i’d hear you say that.”

Your legs burned as you sat down feeling the burn ten times more in the new position.

“You’re so big, so big Hoonie.” you babbled.

He could see that you were struggling to bounce yourself so he sat up and guided your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Do you feel me here, baby?” he pressed the spot where his tip poked into your your lower abdomen, both moaning at the feeling.

“Fuck, Sunghoon, I can’t.” you cried.

This time around it felt so much more intense, the intimacy was off the charts as he forced you to look into his eyes. Tears were fully streaming down your face at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Don’t you wanna make me proud?” he frowned. “Doesn’t my little slut want me to fill her up? Give her my baby?”

His words had you moaning louder and louder causing him to kiss away the noise.

He smacked your ass harshly.

“Quiet pretty, you don’t want Jake to hear? Do you?” he growled.

You shook your head, falling into his embrace.

The squelch of your juices and the repeated slam of the bed against the wall made you realise that Jake probably already knew what was going on.

Your teeth dug into Sunghoon’s shoulder determined to keep quiet.

“I’m so close..” you sobbed. “Please can I cum?”

He lifted your head, forcing you to look at him.

“Of course, baby.” he groaned. “Let go for me.”

Your eyes rolled back, body going limp as the orgasm ran through you.

Sunghoon came after a few thrusts, filling you up to the brim.

He rubbed your back, waiting for you to come back to him.

But you just couldn’t stop crying, tears rolling down his collarbone.

“Yn?” he inspected your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, palms digging into your eyes. “Sorry that I was so mean to you just because I couldn’t control my feelings.”

He clicked his tongue, fingers tracing up and down your arms to soothe you.

“It’s not like I was an angel either.” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”

His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple, bringing you into his embrace.

“I love you, Yn.” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

You gripped onto him a little tighter at his words, checking to see if the moment was real.

“Can you stay here?” you looked up at him with glassy eyes. “Please. I know that Jake-”

“Yeah, of course.” he relaxed. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

~

Over the next few days, you and Sunghoon had fucked like rabbits. Nowhere was safe, not your dad’s office, the living room, dining room, Jake’s bathroom, the outdoor AND indoor pool, even Sunghoon’s own room had been attacked.

You’d almost been caught by Jake on a few occasions but he still seemed to be oblivious. He didn’t even notice when Sunghoon fingered you under the table at a very public restaurant.

Maybe he was pretending, you just didn’t care. Sunghoon was way too good to give up, even for your beloved brother.

Now it was the night of Heeseung’s birthday party.

You hadn’t seen Sunghoon since he left your room that morning to go shopping with Jake and you were experiencing withdrawals.

The two of you had spoken about boundaries, with the impending doom of your parents coming back the next day but for now you wanted to have him as much as you could.

“So, you’re telling me that while I was on the phone with you, he was quite literally eating your out?” Kazhua grimaced. “You two are perfect for each other.”

You laughed swatting at her arm in fake offence.

“Uh oh….” Sunoo pursed his lips.

The three of you looked in the direction he was facing, watching as Yujin felt up and down Sunghoon’s buff arms, Jake and Heeseung looking away awkwardly.

“Yn! Wait!” Kazhua called after you but you were already storming over.

You pushed Yujin out of the way causing her to stumble and placed yourself in front of Sunghoon.

“Woah, Yn..” Jake laughed.

“Can we talk?” you asked Sunghoon.

“Well.. I’m with my friends right now..”

You forcefully grabbed his arm, dragging him outside not stopping till you got to his car.

The cold summer breeze nipped your shoulders, sending shivers down your spine.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you seethed. “Letting her touch all up on you when you know how I feel!”

Sunghoon just leant forward and kissed you.

You pushed him away, flustered.

“Hey!” you whisper shouted. “What if Jake just came outside right now?!”

“Shhh..” he laughed. “Come here then.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, and got into the drivers seat, patting his lap.

If you had checked your surroundings before you hesitantly got in then you would’ve noticed Riki, your brothers minion, dashing off to find Jake.

Sunghoon pushed your hips down onto his so you could feel him.

“This is how you make me feel.” he moaned, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Fuck.” you moaned. “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Take it out on me, pretty.”

Your lips attacked his neck, leaving as many marks as possible, you wanted everyone to see that Sunghoon was clearly taken.

He pulled his dick out of his pants, rubbing it along the slick of your panties.

You smacked his hand away, pulled your panties to the side and suck down onto him by guiding yourself.

Tears threatened to spill, body already covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Sunghoon wrapped his arms around your waist, thrusting up into you rapidly.

The whole car shook while the windows fogged up.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hoonie, faster please!” you moaned.

“You think you can run your mouth whenever you feel like it, huh pretty?” he seemed to go even faster.

“I’m sorry!” you cried, nails digging into his biceps for stability.

“Oh you’re sorry? Prove it.” he growled. “Scream my name.”

“Hoon.” you whimpered. “That’s too risky.”

“Hm.. that’s not what I asked.” he rubbed circles on your clit, going even deeper than before. “I know that you can be louder than that.”

Having him hit the spot time and time again was sending you over the edge, you lost all composure the second he started sucking on your sweet spot.

“Sunghoon, fuck. Ah, right there! Fuck Daddy, please go faster!” you screamed out.

“Daddy, huh?” he groaned. “Gonna make you feel so good princess.”

You cried out as he continued to thrust into you at a faster pace, skin slapping erotically.

“I’m gonna-”

He told you it was okay to let go.

“Fuck, look how much you came for me.” he moaned in admiration, feeling true bliss as your essence leaked down to his balls. “So good for me, baby.”

Static filled your ears as he came inside you, waves of fire burining through your limbs.

Sunghoon’s head hit the headrest and you slumped onto his body.

His fingers scratched at your scalp soothing you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked softly.

You nodded, too tired to respond.

“I need you to use your words, princess..”

Your lips pressed light kisses on his neck.

“I’d love to.” you sighed contentedly. “Can we stay like this for a bit?”

You felt him nod, head falling on top of yours.

Sleep almost overtook you but a knock on the window woke you right up.

“Sunghoooon.” Jake sang.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whispered.

You immediately shot up, looking for something to cover your face.

“One second.” Sunghoon shouted back.

He gave you his jacket so that Jake wouldn’t notice your outfit as you slipped on a cap from the car and faced the other way.

“Can we talk through the window?” Sunghoon asked nervously.

“No…” Jake groaned. “Open it.”

Sunghoon reluctantly pushed the button, internally cursing when Jake claimed he’d been hit by a whiff of sex.

“What’s up, Jake. I’m kinda busy.”

“Yeah.. I can see.” he gestured towards you, believing that you were just some random Sunghoon decided to fuck. “Have you seen my sister?”

He felt you tense beneath him.

“Um.. no.” Sunghoon shrugged. “I haven’t seen your sister.”

Riki walked out from behind Jake.

“He’s lying!” Riki shook his head. “That’s your sister, right there!”

Jake looked at him in disbelief, finally noticing that the girls hair looked a lot like yours.

Sunghoon tried to swat his hand away when he reached in to take your hat but failed miserably.

“Oh my…” Jake stumbled back.

Your head slowly turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Hey, Jakey.”

“Oh my.”

He tried to grab you and pull you out of the car but the loudest whine left your mouth.

“You’re balls deep in my SISTER?!” Jake was furious. “My sister? My little sister!”

The two of you flinched.

“Fucking hell, Sunghoon! You could’ve had anyone else! She’s off limits!” Jake frowned. “Forbidden even!”

“Jake you don’t need to-” you started.

“You shut it.” he shook his head. “Both of you get decent and get out.”

Sunghoon rolled the window up so you could have privacy as you lifted your body off his, cum spilling out while he cleaned you up.

“Riks you can go now.” Jake dismissed the boy who had a smirk on his face.

You and Sunghoon stood infront of Jake, silently taking the verbal beating.

“We’re going home now.”

“I’ll drop her off.” Sunghoon stood his ground.

You pleaded with your eyes to get Jake to agree.

“Fine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh on the drive home.

“That was seriously bad timing.” you sighed, spotting Jake outside the door of your house, waiting for you.

Sunghoon got out first, opening the door for you.

You pulled him in and kissed him goodbye, ignoring Jake’s gags in the background.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow.” you pleaded. “Mother wants you there. So do I.”

“Okay.. I’ll be there.” he smiled. “If Jake tries to hit me though, I am swinging back.”

Jake cleared his throat loudly.

You said your goodbyes to Sunghoon as he watched Jake wrap an arm around you and guide you into the house but not leaving before throwing a middle finger up at him.

“So unnecessary.” Sunghoon sighed.

~

Sunghoon and Jake didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were arguing.

When your dad had told them to set the table together they argued in hushed whispers, fighting over forks.

Even your eldest brother, Noah could tell that something was up, he’d come home and intended to stay for a week after not being around for a whole year.

“Sunghoon?” you mother asked plating up caviar. “Has your mother said yes to the trip?”

Sunghoon nodded in response.

Right the trip. Your parents announced that they were taking you all to Greece, Noah was just there for the free holiday.

“You’re a leech, get a job.” you poked at him.

“Med school is kicking my butt, and who’s gonna pass up a free holiday?” he shoved you back.

“Yn.. you don’t have a job yourself either..” your father teased.

“She doesn’t need a job, I’ve got her.” Sunghoon caressed your shoulder.

Jake began to hysterically gag.

“Stop being so dramatic.” you sneered, body relaxing as Sunghoon rested his palm on your knee.

Everything was going well, Jake and Sunghoon didn’t interact and your parents didn’t pick up on a thing.

Sunghoon tried Foie Gras, he didn’t like it and begged you to let him go to a fast food restaurant but other than that he was enjoying himself.

That was until Jake dropped his fork under the table and noticed how shamelessly close the two of you were under the table.

“Oh my I’m gonna throw up.” he cried out.

“What now, Jake?” Noah sighed.

Jake leaned over the table to whisper at you and Sunghoon.

“Footsies under the table is fucking disgusting.” he sneered.

“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon frowned.

“UGH!” Jake shouted.

“Jaeyun Sim.” you mother scolded. “Sit down.”

“Mumma, no!” he whined. “Those two were fucking behind my back!”

Your dad choked on his wine as you dropped his fork.

“I mean we all thought it was gonna happen soon..” Noah trailed off.

“What?” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by all?”

Your mother ran round to the other side of the table, pulling you and Sunghoon into a hug.

“Aww my baby is growing up!” she wailed. “Who better to bring into the family than Sunghoon!”

Your dad shook Sunghoon’s hand.

“Careful with that one.” he joked. “She’s a handful.”

“You’re supposed to be on MY side!” Jake glared. “I found out that my best friend is sleeping with-”

“Dating.” your boyfriend corrected.

“Ew!” Jake shivered. “My little sister, my baby sister who I tried SO hard to protect from the men of this world.”

“Even I don’t care this much, Jake?” Noah snickered.

Jake stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

Despite having ups and downs with your brother you truly did love him. Seeing how much he hated the situation made you feel sorry for your actions.

“He’ll come around.” your dad assured.

You waited until the table was cleared to go bring Jake the rest of his food.

“Can I come in?” you asked softly.

He grumbled.

His figure lay on his bed, playing catch with a ball.

“What do you want?” he mumbled.

You placed the food on his desk and sat next to him, ignoring how he aimed the ball at your head.

“Jakey.” you started. “Why are you so against me being with Sunghoon?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I knew him first.”

“Yeah but..” you had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from crying. “I just don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I‘m not mad.”

“Right.” you pursed your lips together. “I just wanted you to know that I really do love Sunghoon and that he loves me and I just want us all to be happy..”

A tear slipped out of your eye.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I get that. It’s just..” he wiped the tears that ran down. “He’s my best friend and you’re my little sister, if anyone hurts you i’d naturally have to go after them.. I just can’t bring myself to do that to Sunghoon. I love you both too much..”

Now you were both crying.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” you laughed through your tears.

“I thought that if I delayed the conversation it wouldn’t have to happen.” he smiled sadly. “But i’m not mad, I really am happy for you.. change just isn’t my strong suit.”

“He isn’t lying.” Sunghoon laughed from the doorway. “He’s couldn’t sleep for two months when we first got to uni. Claimed it was nerves but I think he just missed you too much.”

You pulled Jake into a hug, both sobbing gently.

Jake grabbed Sunghoon, pulling him in.

“You’re both so emotional.” he whispered, letting you both cry on his shoulders.

“Yeah well, you have to deal with this forever because you’re not leaving now.” you cried.

“I wouldn’t even dare.” he smiled.

THE END.

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

still overwhelmed, still can't believe this this is getting to much attention 😭 ❤️🫶 THANK YOU FOR YOUR FEEDBACK AND YOUR RESPONSES I LOVE EVERY BIT OF IT

also why are my WORDS LIMITED???? I want to write MORE wtf tumblr

word count: 3.7k with some extras in the form of social media posts warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: after things cooled down for a little while, you have to face lando and your feelings once again... this time with consequences.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop

PART FOUR/2 previous part - next part

The sun dips low over the sky, painting it in shades of amber and rose as you finish getting ready. You’ve been pacing your hotel room for the last twenty minutes, debating whether you should even go to this dinner. Max made it sound casual, just friends and some of Lando’s crew, but the way your stomach twists tells you it’s anything but simple.

Since Monaco, things with Lando have been... complicated. He stayed over after Qualifying, the two of you wrapped in an unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. But nothing about the way he looked at you, the way his presence filled your space, felt friendly. Then there was the race—his P4 finish—and the small get-together afterward, where you both acted like nothing had happened. Since then, his schedule’s relentless pace kept you apart, exchanging only a few texts that danced around anything real. Just keeping in touch.

And now, this dinner.

You change into your favorite outfit, something understated but flattering, and force yourself to take a deep breath. It’s just a dinner. You’re friends, you tell yourself.

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The restaurant hums with life as you step inside, trailing Max and Pietra. Warm light glints off polished wood and delicate glassware, and the buzz of conversation wraps around you like a soft blanket. You glance at the private room Max mentioned earlier, feeling your pulse quicken. You know who’s waiting there.

When you walk in, the first person you see is him. He’s tipped back in his chair at the head of the table, laughing at something someone said, his grin so easy and familiar it makes your chest ache. Then his eyes land on you, and for a moment, everything else in the room seems to blur.

“About time,” he says, standing up in one smooth motion. His voice is light, teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that sends a spark down your spine. He greets Max with an effortless handshake-hug, Pietra with a peck on the cheek, and then his attention falls to you.

“Stranger,” he says. “Lando,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you raise an eyebrow. His grin tilts, just a little lopsided, and the look in his eyes feels like a challenge.

The dinner is exactly what you expected—good food, great wine, and laughter that fills the space like it’s been waiting for all of you to show up. Max, seated on your right, is in big-brother mode, making sure you try everything and nudging your glass whenever it’s even close to empty. Across from you, Pietra chats animatedly with one of Lando’s friends, and you smile along, but your attention keeps drifting. Lando is at the far end of the table, surrounded by people who hang onto his every word. He’s effortlessly charismatic, telling some story you can’t quite hear, but that has everyone laughing. Except every now and then, his eyes meet yours, just for a second. It’s like he’s checking in, or maybe daring you to look away first.

You don’t.

When he gets up to refill his drink, he passes behind you, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder. The touch is so brief, so casual, that no one else notices. But it sends a shiver through you anyway. “Having fun?” he murmurs, his voice low and private, meant just for you. “Loads,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as heat rises to your cheeks.

His chuckle is soft, almost affectionate, before he moves away. You tell yourself to focus, to ignore the way your heart is beating just a little too fast.

Later, the table splits into smaller conversations, and somehow, Lando ends up next to you. Max is too busy laughing at something Pietra said to notice when Lando leans in, his shoulder brushing yours. “This is torture,” he says under his breath, his knee knocking lightly against yours under the table. Your throat goes dry. “What is?” “You. Wearing this dress.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you hold your breath.

You don’t know how to respond, and for a moment, you just sit there, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then Max glances over, and Lando straightens, all easy charm again. “What are you two whispering about?” Max asks, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Lando doesn’t miss a beat. “Just telling your sister she has terrible taste in wine.”

“Hey!” you protest, and the table laughs. Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He drinks that sparkling stuff like it’s water.” The conversation moves on, and you pretend everything is normal, even as Lando’s knee stays pressed against yours under the table. And you don’t move away.

As the laughter around the table flows easily, your own chuckle gets caught in your throat when Lando leans back in his chair, stretching casually, but you don’t miss the way his knee once again brushes against yours under the table. It’s subtle, almost as if he’s testing to see how long he can get away with it without anyone noticing. Your pulse quickens, and you do your best to focus on Pietra, who’s telling an animated story about a mishap at her last work event.

But Lando is… distracting. His words replay in your head on an endless loop—”this is torture”—and you swear you can still feel the ghost of his knee against yours under the table. It’s maddening, really. The ease with which he teases you under Max’s nose, how effortlessly he switches back to joking with the group like he didn’t just upend your entire sense of composure.

You glance his way and catch him smirking, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His focus shifts back to his drink, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—playful yet deliberate—that makes it impossible to ignore him. You try to shake it off. You tell yourself that it’s just Lando being Lando: cheeky, teasing, good at making people feel... something. Just like always. Except this doesn’t feel like always, and that’s the problem. You’re trying to focus on the ongoing conversation. Something about summer plans, maybe? You’re not even sure anymore. Lando is leaning back in his chair again now, one arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, looking every bit like someone who hasn’t a care in the world. But he keeps glancing at you when he thinks no one else will notice.

“Alright,” Max announces suddenly, clapping his hands together as if he’s about to make a grand proclamation. “Drinks back at mine?” There’s a chorus of agreement around the table as chairs start scraping against the floor and people gather their things. You hesitate, glancing at your phone like you might have an excuse to slip away. But before you can concoct some half-hearted reason to head back to the hotel, Pietra loops an arm through yours, effectively trapping you. “You’re coming, right?” although she forms it as a question, you know it’s really not.

“I wouldn’t want to miss out,” you reply lightly, smiling at Pietra. Who, satisfied with your response, let’s go of you to join Max again. Your stomach twists again when you see Lando standing by the door, your coat in his hands, waiting like he has all the time in the world. His curls are a little messy, his grin lazy, yet sharp as his eyes meet yours in the dim light. It’s as if he can sense your hesitation and is daring you to pull away. “Come on, stranger,” he says softly, leaning just close enough that his voice feels like it’s wrapping around you. “Can’t bail now.” You narrow your eyes at him, trying to ignore the way your heart jumps at the way he towers ever so slightly over you. “I didn’t say I was bailing.” “No?” His gaze drops briefly to your phone in your hand, then flicks back up to catch yours. “Good,” he says, his voice dipping lower, quieter. “Because I wasn’t going to let you.”

It’s infuriating how easily he gets under your skin. With a huff of mock-annoyance—because genuine annoyance is impossible when he’s looking at you like that—you slide your arms into the coat he’s still holding and step away before the spark between you burns any brighter.

The group spills out into the cool night air, laughter echoing down the cobblestone street as everyone makes their way toward Max’s flat. Pietra loops her arm through yours again, chatting about some new café she wants to try tomorrow for breakfast. The walk to Max’s place is short, but it feels like an eternity with Lando so close behind you in the group. Every step feels charged, like there’s an invisible string stretched taut between the two of you. You try not to think about what he said earlier—or how his knee pressed against yours, or how warm his hand had been on your shoulder at dinner—but it’s useless. He’s inescapable, even when he isn’t touching you.

When you finally reach Max's apartment, everyone else appears calm and carefree. However, you have come to the realization that you can no longer let Lando do this to you. You don’t know if he isn’t aware of the drama it would cause if Max found out or if he just doesn’t care about the consequences—you however do care about the consequences. While never openly spoken about, you know how your brother would feel about this. He’d hate it. Lando is his best friend and you are his little sister. Two things that, frankly, shouldn’t mingle so close. So you make the decision to talk to Lando tonight.

It’s not like you don’t care or that you don’t feel things when you’re around him, but is acting on it really worth the pain it could and would cause?

Eventually everyone is spread across the living room, laughing and reminiscing, the buzz of good drinks and great music keeping the energy alive. You’re perched on the arm of the couch, balancing your drink as Pietra chats animatedly beside you. Across the room, Lando lounges in a chair, looking infuriatingly relaxed, his attention shifting to you every few minutes. It’s subtle, the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, but you feel it—like a spark skittering across your skin. You pretend not to notice, focusing on Pietra's story about her disastrous attempt at paddleboarding last summer. But when Lando catches your eye mid-sentence, raising his brow in a silent tease, your stomach flips.

Max comes in from the kitchen, holding a fresh beer, his presence immediately commanding attention. “Alright, whose idea was it to leave me in charge of snacks?” he announces. “I could barely find some crisps, let alone figure out this sweets situation.”

Pietra groans. “Max, it’s literally all in the cupboard. You just have to put it in some bowls.”

“But that’s where you put them!” Max protests, plopping down beside Pietra. His knee bumps yours, but his focus is on his girlfriend, who shakes her head fondly. Lando seizes the moment to move closer, taking the newly vacated spot on the couch next to you. “You okay there?” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. “Perfectly fine,” you shoot back, matching his tone with a pointed glare. But your attempt at indifference falters when his knee brushes yours—deliberately, you’re sure. “You’re really gonna keep your distance tonight, are you?” he asks, his voice light but carrying that edge of challenge that makes your heart race. “I am sitting next to you,” you counter, swirling your drink for effect. “You’re just mad I’m busy talking to everyone else tonight.” He chuckles softly, the sound brushing against your skin like velvet. “Give it time.”

Before you can respond, Max’s voice cuts through the room. “What are you two whispering about now?” His tone is joking, but there’s a hint of suspicion there that makes you stiffen. “Just telling your sister she needs to get some updated LN4 merch for the weekend,” Lando says smoothly, leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Excuse me?” you retort, feigning outrage. “That stuff is expensive, genius.” The group erupts into laughter, and Max shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Of course, it is. You should stick to the Quadrant merch anyhow.”

"Hey now," Lando protests with a grin, "I'm hurt, Max. Thought we were friends." The conversation shifts, but you can't shake the tension thrumming beneath your skin. Lando's presence beside you is electric, and you're acutely aware of every subtle movement he makes. You try to focus on the others, laughing at the right moments and nodding along, but your mind keeps drifting back to the man next to you. While Lando's quick thinking may have diffused the situation, it only reinforces your resolve to talk to him. You need to set things straight before they spiral out of control.

As the night wears on, you find yourself growing more and more restless. You've been careful to mingle with everyone, pointedly avoiding extended conversations with Lando. But his presence is a constant, hovering at the edge of your awareness. You catch his eye across the room more than once, and each time, that familiar spark ignites in your chest.

Finally, as the party begins to wind down, you see your chance. Lando slips out onto the balcony, and after a moment's hesitation, you follow. The cool night air is a relief after the warmth of the apartment, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting it wash over you. "Thought you might follow me out here," Lando says softly, not turning around. He's leaning against the railing, his profile illuminated by the city lights below. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Lando, we need to talk."

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "I was wondering when you'd say that," he says softly, a hint of resignation in his voice. You step closer, careful to keep some distance between you. The city sprawls below, a tapestry of twinkling lights and distant sounds, but your focus narrows to the man in front of you. The air feels thick with unspoken words and simmering tension.

"This... whatever this is," you begin, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, "it needs to stop." Lando's brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he schools his expression. "What exactly are you referring to?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "The touches. The looks. The... the way you've been pushing boundaries tonight. It's not fair, Lando." Your words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's jaw clenches, a muscle twitching as he processes what you've said. For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below and the muffled laughter from inside.

"Not fair?" Lando repeats, his voice low but charged with emotion. "What's not fair is pretending there's nothing between us." He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. "Do you really want to ignore this? To act like we don't feel anything when we're around each other?" You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your heart races at his proximity. "Lando, it's not that simple. Max is your best friend, and he's my brother. We can't just—"

"Can't what?" he interrupts, his voice rising slightly. "Can't be honest about how we feel? Can't take a chance on something that could be amazing?"—"Shh!" you hiss, glancing nervously at the sliding glass door. "Keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear?" Lando runs a hand through his curls, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Maybe I do," he says, though he lowers his voice. "Maybe I'm tired of sneaking around, of pretending I don't want to be near you every second we're in the same room."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you struggle to maintain your composure. "It's not just about us," you argue, your voice rising slightly. "What about Max? He's your best friend, Lando. How do you think he'd react?" Lando's eyes flash with a mix of frustration and determination. "I care about Max, you know I do. But I'm not going to let fear of his reaction dictate my life. Or my feelings." You glance nervously towards the sliding glass door, worried that your raised voices might carry inside. The last thing you need is for someone to come investigate. "Please, keep your voice down," you hiss, even as your own emotions threaten to overwhelm you. "No," Lando says, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'm tired of keeping quiet about this. About us." He takes another step closer, close enough that you can smell his cologne, a mixture of citrus and something woody that makes your head spin. His proximity is intoxicating, and you find yourself swaying towards him almost unconsciously.

"Lando," you breathe, your resolve weakening with every passing second. The city lights dance in his eyes, casting shadows across his face that only enhance his features. You can see the determination there, the longing, and it mirrors the ache in your own chest. But he's not listening. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and intense in the city lights. "I can't keep pretending," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Can you?" And before you can answer, before you can even think, he closes the distance between you.

His lips crash against yours, urgent and desperate. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, caught between shock and desire. Then, as if a dam has broken, you're kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands find their way to his curls, fingers tangling in the soft strands as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The world narrows to this moment—the taste of him, the warmth of his body, the way your heart threatens to burst from your chest.

It's everything you've been trying to deny, everything you've been afraid to want, distilled into a single, burning instant.

But reality crashes back in like a bucket of ice water, and you jerk away, your eyes wide with panic, breathing hard, your lips tingling and your mind reeling. "We can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Lando, we can't do this." Even as every fiber of your being screams to pull him close again. Lando's eyes are wide, his chest heaving as he stares at you, looking as stunned as you feel.

Before he can respond, the sound of the balcony door sliding open makes you both freeze. You take a hasty step back, your heart pounding so loudly you're sure everyone can hear it. Max steps out onto the balcony, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. You and Lando are standing suspiciously close, both of you looking flushed and slightly disheveled. The air between you crackles with tension, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the city below.

"What's going on out here?" Max asks, his tone light but laced with suspicion. His gaze flicks between you and Lando, searching for answers in your expressions. Lando, ever quick on his feet, lets out a low whistle and gestures broadly at the cityscape. "Just admiring the view, mate," he says, his voice only slightly strained. "Can't beat a night like this, can you?" You nod enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "It's gorgeous," you agree, willing your racing heart to slow. "I was just telling Lando how I could stay out here all night."

Max leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The look he gives you is one you've known since childhood—the one that says he's not quite buying what you're selling. "Really?" he drawls. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like you two were having a pretty intense conversation."

You feel your face flush as Max's gaze bores into you, his expression a mixture of concern and growing suspicion. The air on the balcony suddenly feels thick, charged with an uncomfortable tension that even the cool night breeze can't dispel. The city lights twinkle innocently behind you, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. Lando shifts beside you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, a reminder of what just transpired.

"Max," Lando starts, his voice steady despite the circumstances. But Max holds up a hand, silencing him. "Max," Lando repeats, forcing a laugh that sounds hollow even to your ears. "Mate. We were just..."—"No," Max says, his tone sharp. "I want to hear it from my sister." His gaze locks onto you, and suddenly you feel like you're fifteen again, caught sneaking out to a party. Except this is so much worse.

You take a deep breath, willing your voice not to shake. "Max, it's not—"

"Don't," he interrupts, his eyes flashing. "Don't lie to me. I've seen the way you two have been acting all night. The whispers, the looks. And now I find you out here, alone, looking like..." He gestures vaguely at your disheveled appearance. Your stomach drops as you realize the jig is up. Max's eyes narrow as he looks between you and Lando, taking in your flushed faces, the slight dishevelment of Lando's curls where your fingers had been moments ago.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You can hear the muffled sounds of the party inside, laughter and music that seems to belong to another world entirely. A cool breeze ruffles your hair, carrying with it the scent of the city and the faintest trace of Lando's cologne.

"How long?" Max asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "How long has this been going on?" You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Lando steps forward, his shoulder brushing yours in a gesture that feels both protective and defiant. "Max," he begins, his voice steady despite the tension thrumming through his body. "It's not what you think."

"Oh really?" Max's laugh is bitter, cutting through the night air like a knife. "Because what I think is that my best friend and my sister have been sneaking around behind my back. Am I wrong?"

[the-gay-trashmouth]

I think something that's bothers me about how folks talk about mouthwashing is how they talk about Swansea. It's either "Swansea would have killed Jimmy immediately if Anya had told him" or "he knew and he did nothing just like curly." because, to me at least it leaves out a lot of nuance to his character and situation. Curly and Swansea are really good foils to each other, one who's got a reputation for being the kind and helpful captain but in the end does nothing to truly protect the crew from Jimmy, and one who's gruff, harsh, and cruel but genuinely tries to help in the background, the reliable mechanic.

(read more for a long Mouthwashing character ramble tw for unwanted pregnancy and SA)

Because Curly is the one with the power. He doesn't take what Jimmy did seriously enough. And you can say that he might not have known fully what Jimmy did, but I think the "I told you" pregnancy conversation and his reaction to Jimmy right before the crash ("come on we'll get through this together. We'll figure it out, you've had hard times before-") are indicators that he knew, but he still chose to stick by his friend and treat it like a "mistake" rather than what it really was.

Now that's my own personal speculation of course, there's no outright scene of her telling him "your best friend assaulted me", but I think there's enough evidence in game through Anya and Curlys interactions to say that he knew, and he knew before Anaya knew she was pregnant. He had a fully functioning ship and four fully functional cryo-pods. He could have at least given Anya more security, kept her far away from him, and at most forced him into the cryopod until they got back to earth. Jimmy STILL had full, uncontrolled access to the cockpit AFTER his freakout with curly. AFTER Anya tells curly she doesn't feel safe with him. AFTER Curly finds out he raped Anya. He's so focused on seeing the good in his friend that he does NOTHING to protect Anya, doesn't strip away not one of Jimmy powers as copilot and consequently endangers her and the rest of the crew.

Curly was the captain, he had the power to relegate Jimmy to the fucking storage closet if he really wanted, at least put him in the cryopod until they got back to earth. In fact, he was the only person above Jimmy in terms of rank on the ship, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to let Jimmy continue as acting co-pilot, chose to comfort him rather than actually confront him. Slides off his weird sexual comments as jokes "So what's this about horses?"

Now let's compare that to Swansea, the mechanic.

We don't have any evidence that Swansea knew about what Jimmy did until after the crash ("it's been her telling me things") where they were trapped with no captain, barely any rations, and a single cryopod that he kept hidden away in the one room he had the key too (and the only room that could lead into medbay). He didn't use it for himself, he makes it clear he didn't intend on getting off this hunk of metal in his last few conversations with Jimmy.

Swansea as the ship's mechanic, was used to fixing things in the background. He didn't need to get along with anyone to keep the ship running, he didn't need people to like him to keep them safe. We see that with Daisuke. He's harsh on him, for sure, but he leaves constant notes to help him learn. Genuinely tries to keep him out of harm's way when it comes to more dangerous jobs. We know Anya was scared of Jimmy getting a weapon, she hid the gun case in the medical bay even knowing she would never get it open. We can see Swansea and Anya off on their own towards the first days after the crash, and Swansea still has a tight grip of the axe weeks and months later.

I personally think that was him trying to keep Jimmy from having access to a weapon. The only time Jimmy gets the axe while Swansea is alive is when Anya Specifically asks him to use it to get medical supplies. I don't think that's a coincidence.

Swansea, like any good mechanic, was quietly trying to keep things running out of Jimmy's sight. It's not until everyone is dead or dying that he snaps, that he finally takes direct action. But it was too little too late.

Both Curly and Swansea thought they were doing the right thing, helping in their own way. Curly genuinely wanted to see the good in Jimmy, wanted it to just be some challenge they could overcome, but in doing so he failed to see the monster right in front of him. He had all the power (in context of the crew, the company is a whole other can of worms I have so many other thoughts on), but he was too afraid to use it. Hell, he was DISCOURAGED to use it if the memo about HR complaints are anything to go by. Swansea, on the other hand, never trusted Jimmy, never even really liked him, but he didn't want to make anything worse either. He didn't know what would actually set Jimmy off, or what he was capable of, and aside from just straight up killing him what else could he do that wouldn't just push Jimmy further off the edge? Like with the foam. "One wrong move and you'll rip this ship a new asshole", he worked carefully, hiding the last pod from Jimmy, keeping the only other weapon on himself, guarding the only other entrance into Medbay, but Jimmy was escalating quickly. He underestimated how far Jimmy was willing to go, just like Curly had, and in the end suffered the consequences.

The only character who actually understood how dangerous and unstable Jimmy was is Anya. She knew the moment she found out she was pregnant he would hurt her ("you won't let me protect myself"). He wouldn't be able to take it, he would do something drastic. She knew he was escalating the longer they were stranded. Anya is the only crew member who truly understood how dangerous Jimmy was and took direct action.

And interesting thing to me is that she doesn't just kill herself. She locks herself in the medbay. She could have waited for Jimmy to sleep, or locked herself in the cockpit, but she locked herself in the medbay with Curly. She knows that with her gone there would be no one left to take care of him, she knew Jimmy would continue to escalate his abuse, and with her gone all of his anger and fear and guilt would turn on Curly.

And wouldn't you know it? She was right. Without Anya to stop him, he takes curly out of the bed, forces him upright into the cryopod, and forces a man with no skin, no arms, no legs, and infected tissues to be frozen for 20 years while the rest of his crew Rot. And that's only what we know to be reality- if any of his delusions had some basis in reality he could have done so so much more. Anya is the Only one to take reasonable, direct action to keep herself, and then Curly, safe.

But she didn't have enough power over Jimmy to truly protect herself. She didn't have the code to the gun case, she didn't have a weapon or a rank to fall back on. She was outnumbered by men who she knew from experience either wouldn't or couldn't keep her safe, and she was heavily pregnant with a baby she didn't want and most likely couldn't even get enough nutrients to sustain either her or the fetus. She was physically weakened and trapped in a stranded ship with her abuser with no way home and a medical miracle (curse) in Curly.

This game is a really good reflection of reality, in my opinion as an abuse survivor. Some people will see them as "one of the boys" and constantly excuse or downplay their actions (Curly), some people will do small things in the background, recognize the abuse and disprove, but don't want to get in the way or make things worse (Swansea), and some people are just straight up oblivious/naive (Daisuke). But in the end, it's the system that allows abuse and incentives coverups to keep peace or save face that really allows abuse to fester and escalate.

Which is why I personally have a problem with the idea that Anya should have just Told A Different Man because it ignores the very real chain of power and her own agency in her story, AS WELL AS the idea that Swansea and Diasuke knew but didn't care because that's just not reflective of real life. Not every man is some rapist apologist who doesn't care what abusers do until it happens to them, some people just don't know what to do, or don't have any good options that wouldn't result in further abuse. Hell some people just don't even fucking notice! Not everyone has had exposure to the signs or knows what to look for.

It's easy when looking at fictional depictions of abuse to say "well if I was there I would have just punched him/killed him/called the police" but real life, in that moment, its never going to be clear cut. You can call out abuse, but that might just lead to that abuser taking it out on their abuse victim later. They could even start to target you for daring to speak out, or try to hurt you and cut you off from the person being abused. You can know all the right steps and the right programs, but in the moment, when faced with a real situation where someone could get hurt or even killed? You stumble. You think things over, you don't try and make any direct moves that would set their abusers off. Sometimes that's a good instinct, and sometimes that just lets abuse escalate. It's never a good situation, and it's never actually anyone's fault but the abusers. And this way of thinking also conveniently leaves out the survivor of this abuse, and portrays them as someone who needs to be saved, rather than someone who needs support and resources to save themselves. It also very conveniently lets the company that Put Anya in this situation in the first place get off Scott free.

The solution isn't "oh one of the men on board should have personally killed Jimbo and saved Anya all by himself" its "Anya deserved the support of her crewmates instead of being forced into close proximity with her rapist and also maybe Jimmy shouldn't have access to the fucking controls or medbay or any weapons- AND ALSO the crew shouldn't have financial incentives not to report things to HR"

[hxney-lemcn]

How Was Your Day? — Cater Diamond x gn! reader

summery: you help Cater open up to you a bit more.

tw: hurt/comfort.

wc: 1.1k

Master List

It was so silly. You felt like you were living the most cliche scenario in the world. You had a crush on your best friend. Could you really be blamed? Not only was Cater drop dead gorgeous, but he always made you feel included and seen. There was just one thing that itched at you. You wished he would open up to you a bit more. No matter what, there felt like a barrier between you both, something that kept you from getting any closer to seeing the full painting that was Cater Diamond. You could only really see the surface, the pretty colors and beautiful framing, hiding the gritty reality that laid beneath.

You wanted to dig deeper, to truly dissect the meaning behind Cater. He was your friend, and you felt foolish that you fell for the glitz and the glamor instead of his true self. Or that’s how you felt at least. You had managed to catch glimpses of his softer moments, moments where you were feeling down. Where he’d dim down his outgoing personality and try to make you laugh with either memes he found or acting silly. And if that didn’t work? He’d listen to your complaints, only giving advice if you ask.

It was only a glimpse, though, as those moments seemed far and few in between. Putting on his cheery smile and flash of the camera. Maybe you were being selfish, but it almost hurt, knowing that Cater didn’t seem to trust you enough to show you all of himself when he’s seen you at your worst. That he can see you cry and complain, but thinks you’d mind if he did the same. You only wanted to be there for him like he was for you, to show him that he wasn’t a problem, even if he wasn’t super bubbly or outgoing. 

It seemed like you were going to get what you wished sooner than you expected. 

You hadn’t meant to stumble upon him in such a vulnerable moment. You just wanted to spend some time with your bestie/crush, knocking on his door before entering. You paused midstep, noticing a lump under the blankets on Cater’s bed, ginger hair barely peeking out. 

“Cater?” You called out cautiously, clicking the door closed behind you. He only shuffled further into his cocoon, not acknowledging your presence. Gosh, as much as you wanted him to open up, you were unsure of how to proceed, but one thing was for sure. You were not just going to let him stew alone. 

So as gracefully as you could (quite awkwardly in all honesty), you took a seat next to where he laid, hand hesitantly reaching out to pat his form. No words were said as you stroked Cater’s back, trying to think of what to say or ask.

”Do you want to talk about it?” You settled on asking.

”I’m sorry,” Cater mumbled, you could barely hear it through the thick fabric that covered him. 

“What are you sorry for?” You asked softly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

It was silent for a few seconds before Cater mumbled brokenly, “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

You felt your heart break, a heavy pit filling your stomach. Cater shouldn’t hold his feelings in like this, especially when he has people willing to lend a shoulder…like you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” You replied without hesitation. “I care about you, Cater. If you’re ever feeling down you can always come to me, I’ll always be here for you.”

Cater was hesitant to peek his head out of the safety of his blankets, but the sweetness of your words had his chest aching, a bittersweet feeling spreading through him. On one hand, you were saying things he had longed to hear for so long, but on the other it felt completely wrong for you to see him as anything else but happy and cheerful. 

His emerald eyes peaked at you, the lower half of his face still covered, red locks of hair falling in his face, “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” You scolded gently. “Am I a burden when I’m not feeling good?”

”Of course not,” Cater frowned from beneath the blanket. 

“So what makes you the exception?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cater opened his mouth, reflexively ready to insult himself…but he couldn’t actually think of a proper rebuttal. You had actually managed to stump him. He looked so disheartened and hopeful at the same time.

“Even if I don’t actually like all the things I say I do? Even though I lie to you all about who I am?” 

“Even then,” You agreed, scrounging any confidence you had left in you, you raised a shaky hand to run it through his hair. It seemed like that was the right thing to do as Cater’s eyes shut in a look of bliss, unconsciously leaning his head into your hand. 

“Y’know you don’t have to lie about all that stuff, right?” You asked softly, scratching his scalp gently. “Who cares if you like spicy over sweet, it won’t change how much I love you.”

“Thank you,” Cater murmured with a content sigh, nuzzling his head into your thigh, soaking in your affection. 

“Of course,” You murmured back, admiring the way his hair framed his face so prettily…only to be surprised when his perfectly manicured hand reached out from beneath the blankets and wrapped around your torso, dragging you to lay down beside him. You felt your face flush from being so close, his faint freckles more visible from this distance. 

“I…” Cater spoke out, tongue thick with emotion. Those three words you said so easily felt like a ton of bricks that he just couldn’t cough up, but he wanted to oh so desperately at that moment. You watched on in concern as Cater’s face contorted into what looked semi-painful, like he was struggling with a thought.

”I love you too,” Cater managed to push out, eyeing you with anxiety and vulnerability. Your eyes widened, before it clicked that you had said those words mere minutes ago, you hadn’t even realized those words slipped past your lips, but you had meant them wholeheartedly. 

You relaxed in his hold, resting your head on his shoulder, “Hmmm, well too bad I love you more.” 

Cater let out a short giggle, nuzzling into your hair, the both of you drowning in butterflies. It was a rainy moment turned sunny, the two of you basking in the glow of the other's love. Sure, the problem wasn’t solved and Cater would still have to work on opening up to you, but it was a start, and you’d be by his side supporting him through all his ups and downs.

[s1m0nth3swag]

Could you write “How would Viktor does when reader has depression”.

Of course! Thanks for the ask pookie :)

These r a little short because I am still ill (and my head is literally killing me as I type this) but Viktor is more important than getting well!! (Also bawling my eyes out after act 3, even though I'd still love Viktor nonetheless, machine or not, he's getting it)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: Mentions of Depression (obviously), GN!Reader, sweet Fluff, Viktor has no clue what he's doing in all honesty, he tries (and succeeds) to be sweet

2 Stories - One more casual/not yet dating and the other is established relationship

You've been off lately, Viktor had noticed. Isolating yourself bit by bit, looking more tired and overall acting just weird. You've had your phases before, but this one was too long. It wasn't like you at all. You've barely even spoken to him or Jayce, when usually you'd yap both their ears off about whatever topic you had learned about the previous night. Now, the lab was silent. Jayce was away on some Council party, and god knows Viktor would never start a conversation on his own while working. Though, he couldn't focus tonight. He mindlessly tinkered with small parts that laid around his desk, his thoughts clouded with the question of what was bothering you. Whatever it was, it bothered him as well. He'd never say, but he missed the cheery and chipper way you'd usually be.

"Are you... alright?" He questions after a while, clearing his throat slightly. This was already too awkward for him, but he did care. Totally just because the atmosphere of the lab would suffer if you weren't your usual self. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably as he glanced over to where you were sitting, like you were pondering how to answer. He wondered why you'd need so long to think of an answer, as if you couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I just haven't been sleeping well." You answer, a soft, akward chuckle slipping from your lips. Viktor doesn't like that answer. You're different from how you are when you're just tired - not that he actually paid attention to that, but you weren't on your fifth cup of coffee yet. Actually, you hadn't had coffee at all today, another unusual happening. He sighs softly, and you immediatly know that he's gotten into questioning mode - he was a scientist after all. He really couldn't help it. "You can talk to me, you know? We don't have to be lab partners and nothing else, we can be friends." He speaks, his voice softer than before. "What's bothering you, hm?" Viktor adds, turning his chair around to look at you properly. It's your turn to sigh, letting your head hang slightly. "I've just been... feeling off. Like, actually tired but in a mental way? I don't know how to explain." You mutter, awkwardly averting your gaze from him. "We should take a day off, then. Do whatever you want instead of working." Viktor answers casually. "I don't want to miss important stuff in the lab Viktor, I can't take a day off." You throw back at him. He huffs, a slight chuckle filling the room. "Not you. Us. Maybe all three, if Jayce is willing." He clarifies, already noting it down in his notebook to make sure that day off actually happens.

Viktor noticed the moment he woke up next to you. You'd fallen into another slump. He could tell just by the way you didn't just not want to get up - it was a physical challenge for you. He's seen you like this before, though usually it didn't last too long, at least not that he's noticed, maybe only a day or two at most. But by now, it's been almost a week, and you haven't spoken to him about it. You've been more abrasive, have started caring less about your personal hygiene, and while Viktor doesn't mind, he always hated when you didn't take proper care of yourself. He wanted you to feel good, not fall into a depressive hole. He offered to take a shower or bath with you, to make a game out of brushing your teeth, but you had shut everything down. It wasn't because you didn't think the ideas were sweet, but more because you didn't think you even deserved that much effort. Viktor had to helplessly watch you get worse, and he couldn't even do anything to properly help. It was absolute hell to him.

He'd had enough, wanted to be mad at you, even, but he couldn't blame you for it. He could, however, force you to stay cuddled up in bed with him. You liked staying in bed anyway, and cuddling with him was always one of your favourites. So, here you two were, snuggled into the covers of Viktors way too confortable bed. "You know that I love you, right?" Viktor mumbled, his accent more heavy with sleep. He didn't say it enough, at least that's what he thought. "I do know..." you answered, just as sleepily. "I know you can't control this.. but let me help you, please? I know it's hard, trust me I do, but I hate having to watch from the sidelines as you get worse..." He sighs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Let me just be there for you, yeah, my dear?" Viktor adds, pulling away slightly to look at you. "Alright.. I'll... I'll try, I promise." You answer, scooting back towards him so you could press your face into the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth for a little longer.

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 3

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE | PART TWO

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ i feel bad for changing the tags so often bcs i really dont wanna catfish ppl into my story BUT I GENUINELY DIDNT PLAN THIS STORY OUT SO EVEN I DONT KNOW HOW THIS IS GONNA END

wcજ⁀➴ 5.6k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The cool breeze cut through the streets, but you barely felt it—your mind too occupied with the thoughts swirling around you. It had been a quiet kind of afternoon, the kind that you could lose yourself in, if only you weren’t so aware of every little thing happening around you.

You were meeting up with Gojo, Geto, and Shoko, as usual. At least, that was what you told yourself when you agreed to tag along. But this wasn’t just any other meetup. Gojo had insisted—practically begged—that everyone finally meet someone important to him.

“It’ll be great!” his voice echoed in your head, far too enthusiastic. “I want you guys to meet Mina properly. She’s really excited to get to know you all, too!”

And so, here you were now. Standing at the corner of a familiar street, waiting at the meetup spot, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as the cool breeze nipped at your skin. The streets were quieter than usual, the kind of calm that made you feel more aware of the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Your mind inevitably wandered, drifting to the idea of finally meeting Mina up close. You’d seen her before, of course, but only from a distance. The cheerleading team had always been easy to spot at school events, and you’d watch her from the sidelines, noticing the way she effortlessly blended into the crowd, always smiling, always surrounded by laughter.

There was something almost magnetic about her—something perfect. The way she carried herself, the way her laughter seemed to light up a room. Even from afar, you couldn’t deny that she was stunning. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was obvious. She was the kind of pretty that made heads turn, the kind of perfect that seemed like it belonged next to someone like Gojo. The way they spoke about her, the way he looked at her, it all seemed like the pieces of a picture that fit together so effortlessly.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered in the back of your mind. Would she really be as perfect in person as she was from a distance? Would she live up to the image you had built in your head without even realizing it?

The sound of footsteps pulling you back to reality made you glance up, only to see Gojo, Geto, Shoko—and Mina, standing with them. She was everything you imagined and more. Pretty, confident, and with a kind of presence that seemed to match Gojo’s energy effortlessly. Your stomach twisted.

As your gaze met Mina’s, you felt a fleeting, sharp pang in your chest. She was even more striking up close—her warm eyes and inviting smile only confirmed what you’d observed from afar. Everything about her seemed effortless, like she belonged with Gojo, almost like she was made for him.

Her eyes caught yours, and there was a brief moment where everything felt suspended—until she broke the silence with a bright, friendly smile. “Hey, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she said, her voice cheerful, full of sincerity.

You hesitated for just a second, but it was enough for your heart to betray you, tightening in your chest as you forced a smile onto your face. “Yeah, you too,” you replied, hoping your tone didn’t sound as strained as it felt.

Mina’s smile didn’t waver, and for that, you were grateful. “Satoru’s told me so much about you all,” she said, her voice light and warm. “It feels like I already know you guys.”

“Oh, has he now?” Geto chimed in, his voice teasing as he shot a glance at Gojo. “I’m almost scared to ask what he said about us.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “It was all good things... mostly.”

Shoko snorted, crossing her arms. “Knowing Satoru, I wouldn’t be surprised if he exaggerated every story.”

“Exaggerate? Me?” Gojo put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I would never!” He turned to Mina with a grin. “Don’t listen to them. I’m the most honest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Geto beside you.

Mina glanced your way, her smile growing as if she had caught your comment. “You must be the sarcastic one,” she said lightly, her tone playful. “Satoru mentioned that.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. “Did he?” you managed, keeping your tone neutral, though inside you felt a flicker of something—was it warmth? Embarrassment? Jealousy? You couldn’t tell.

“He said you’re his closest friend,” Mina continued, her sincerity disarming. “That you’ve always been there for him.”

Your throat tightened at that. “Yeah, well,” you said, shrugging as casually as you could manage. “Someone’s gotta keep him in line.”

Mina laughed again, and it was such a soft, genuine sound that you hated how much you wanted to dislike her. But you couldn’t. She was kind, effortlessly charming, and genuinely seemed to care about making a good impression.

“Alright, alright,” Gojo interrupted, throwing an arm around Mina’s shoulder and grinning at all of you. “Let’s get going before Suguru starts roasting me, or Ieiri finds a way to embarrass me.”

“I don’t have to find ways,” Shoko deadpanned, smirking.

As the group started moving, you walked alongside them, listening to their chatter but feeling a little outside of it all. Mina was a natural fit, seamlessly blending into the dynamic like she’d always been a part of it. Watching her laugh with Geto and Shoko, seeing how easily Gojo leaned into her space, it all felt too... right.

You tried to shake off the nagging feeling, reminding yourself that this was what Gojo wanted—to have his friends meet someone important to him. And Mina, in every way, lived up to the role.

Still, as you glanced at them—Gojo’s arm draped over her shoulder, Mina looking up at him with that easy, perfect smile—you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever stop feeling like you were standing on the outside looking in.

The small café came into view, its warm glow spilling out onto the sidewalk. It was cozy, tucked away from the bustling streets, and one of those places that always smelled like fresh coffee and baked goods. Gojo pushed the door open dramatically, holding it for everyone with a grin that was, as always, a little too much.

“After you, my queen,” he said to Mina, bowing exaggeratedly as she stepped inside, laughing softly.

You trailed in last, your hands stuffed into your pockets as you followed the group to a corner booth. The seating arrangement seemed to happen naturally—Gojo slid in first, pulling Mina down beside him, while Shoko casually took the seat across from them. You hesitated a second too long, and Geto nudged your shoulder, gesturing for you to sit beside him.

So you did. Sliding into the seat, you felt Geto glance at you briefly. It wasn’t much, just a quick flicker of his dark eyes, but it carried a weight you couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t say anything, though, and neither did you.

The chatter resumed easily enough. Gojo was in full swing, dominating the conversation with some ridiculous story about their last mission. Mina listened intently, her laughter ringing out at all the right moments. Even Shoko seemed mildly amused, her smirk betraying her usual cool detachment.

You wanted to focus on the conversation, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of your friends’ banter, but your thoughts kept drifting. Mina fit in so well, like she’d always been part of the group. The ease with which she spoke to Geto, how she didn’t hesitate to tease Shoko lightly—it was effortless.

And yet, it made you feel... out of place. Like you were watching it all unfold from behind some invisible barrier.

“You okay?” Geto’s voice was low, quiet enough that it didn’t interrupt the others. His gaze was steady, unreadable.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he said simply, leaning back in his seat. “More than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Geto didn’t press further, but the knowing look in his eyes lingered. He was always good at reading people, especially you. It was both comforting and unsettling.

“Hey, you two over there,” Gojo called out, pointing at you and Geto with a playful grin. “Are we boring you or something? You’re awfully quiet.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Not everything needs to be a performance, Satoru.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “A performance? This is entertainment, Sugu! You should be thanking me.”

“More like tolerating you,” Shoko muttered, sipping her coffee.

The table burst into laughter, Mina included. You chuckled along with them, though it felt hollow. As the conversation shifted again, you found yourself stealing glances at Mina and Gojo. The way she leaned into him, how his arm rested casually on the back of the booth behind her—it all felt so natural.

And yet, a part of you wished it didn’t.

The conversation flowed around you, and you caught yourself drifting again, staring absentmindedly at the coffee cup in front of you. It was silly. You had no reason to feel this way—this quiet, gnawing feeling deep in your chest. Maybe it was just the weight of how easily Mina had slipped into this dynamic, how effortlessly she made everyone smile. But you weren’t a child. You weren’t some outsider. You were one of Gojo’s closest friends. So why the hell did it feel like you were on the sidelines?

A sigh escaped you before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath. Get it together, you thought, forcing your eyes to flick up.

When you did, you found yourself meeting Mina’s gaze. Her expression was warm, a little hesitant, but there was something real there. She wasn’t trying to dominate the conversation or make everything about her, but she was giving it her all, smiling, laughing, and just... being present. It was clear she was genuinely making the effort to be part of the group, to get to know everyone—not just Gojo, but the rest of you too.

And as you watched her, you realized that maybe this feeling of yours wasn’t about her at all. Maybe it was about you. About how, for all your history with Gojo, you’d never felt as though you were part of this easy, natural rhythm before. You’d never had to share him with anyone in this way.

But Mina was doing everything right. She wasn’t overstepping, wasn’t pushing. She just fit. And something about that made you feel like you should try harder, too. It wasn’t about competition; it was about inclusion.

You cleared your throat, feeling an odd shift in the air. It was time to say something. Something that would help her feel even more welcome, even though the jealousy—small as it was—still lingered under the surface. It was ridiculous to feel threatened by her. She wasn’t taking Gojo away; she was just adding to the group dynamic.

You took a deep breath, pushing the weight of your lingering thoughts aside. You couldn’t afford to let this strange unease keep creeping in. It wasn’t fair to either of you, and especially not to Mina, who was genuinely trying to be a part of the group and you weren’t going to let the discomfort linger anymore.

"So, tell us more about yourself, Mina," you said, trying to keep it light, leaning back in your seat. "We know the basics, but I feel like there's so much more to you."

Mina's face lit up at your question, the shift in energy already palpable as she relaxed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she thought for a moment, clearly appreciative of your effort to make her feel a part of the group.

"Well, where do I even start?" she said with a little laugh, running a hand through her hair. "I guess, I’m a cheerleader, obviously," she added, her smile a little sheepish. "But it's not all flips and chants, you know? I mean, I do it because I genuinely love it—there’s something about being part of the team, getting everyone hyped up, and seeing everyone come together that feels... energizing."

You nodded, genuinely interested. "Yeah, that makes sense. You seem like you enjoy it."

Mina grinned, clearly relieved to be asked about something she was passionate about. "Definitely! It's a lot of hard work, though. You wouldn’t believe how much practice goes into it, especially with the team. I’m always on my toes—literally. Plus, we’ve got some pretty intense competitions coming up, so it's been non-stop."

As Mina spoke, her voice full of warmth and excitement, you couldn't help but smile. It was hard not to be drawn in by her energy, the way she lit up when she talked about cheerleading and the team. There was something infectious about her enthusiasm, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to let go of that gnawing discomfort, just listening to her without any reservations.

You watched as her hands moved animatedly, illustrating her points about the intensity of practice and the thrill of the competitions. Her passion for what she did was evident in every word she spoke. Despite the strange tangle of emotions that still simmered inside you, a part of you couldn't help but admire her. She was so effortlessly likable, so kind, and it was impossible not to feel a sense of warmth toward her.

It was ridiculous, really. Mina was Gojo’s girlfriend now, and you were here, in the moment, enjoying the conversation. The past was just that—the past. You were here, part of this group, and that’s all that should matter. So you smiled, genuinely, as she finished talking, and offered her an encouraging nod.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to shift. Mina glanced around, and then her gaze settled on you, a curious expression in her eyes.

"So," she began, her tone light and friendly. "What about you? What do you do outside of all this college stuff?"

Before you could respond, Geto leaned back in his chair, glancing at you with that usual smirk. "Ah, she's in a band," he said, his voice laced with an easy-going amusement. "Plays guitar, right? You should ask her to play something sometime. She’s got skills."

As soon as Geto finished speaking, Gojo shot forward in his seat, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said, eyes wide as he turned to Mina. “She’s the guitarist, and let me tell you, she's a legend. Plays it like it’s an extension of her body. I swear, every time she picks it up, it’s like magic happens.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you shot him a glare, trying to push down the embarrassment. He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like the center of attention without even trying, but right now? You just wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Gojo, please," you muttered, rubbing your face in mock frustration, though part of you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he was being.

“No, no,” Gojo insisted, practically grinning ear to ear. “You need to hear her play, Mina. She’s got this raw, natural talent—totally different vibe from anything you’ve ever heard. Honestly, I’d go so far as to say she's got the kind of skills that could put some of those big-name bands to shame.”

Mina’s eyes widened, clearly impressed, while you tried not to visibly cringe. “Wow, really?” she asked, clearly intrigued. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you! What kind of music do you play?”

You felt yourself squirm a little under the attention, but you forced a small, humble smile. “I mean, Satoru’s just exaggerating,” you said, glancing over at Gojo with a playful roll of your eyes. “But I do love playing. It’s just... it’s kind of my thing. My band’s mostly into indie—nothing too fancy, just some good tunes to vibe to.”

Mina nodded, clearly still intrigued, but before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in with her usual casual tone.

“Wait,” Shoko said, her eyes flicking toward you with a smirk. “Your band’s got a performance coming up, right? In about a month, I think?”

You blinked, surprised she remembered. "Yeah," you said, your voice a little quieter now, a flicker of nerves showing through. "It’s actually a pretty big one. There’s going to be some scouts there—so it's not just any usual gig. It’s kind of a big deal for us."

Mina’s eyes widened at that, her expression shifting from casual curiosity to genuine interest. “Scouts?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious. “That’s amazing! Is this the kind of thing you’ve been working toward?”

You nodded, trying to keep your composure, but the nerves were creeping in. "Yeah, it’s a big opportunity for the band. We’ve been putting in a lot of work to make sure we’re ready for it."

Mina smiled brightly, clearly impressed. "I can only imagine how exciting that must be. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it. Maybe we should all go and watch!"

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the conversation, and the waitress approached with a tray. As soon as she reached the table, she paused, eyes lighting up as she recognized Gojo.

"I’ve got your usual." She said in a sing-song manner, a casual grin laced on her face.

You watched as she placed the familiar dessert in front of Gojo. It was something you and Gojo had always ordered together over the years. A simple sundae, but it had evolved into something far more unique. Back when you were in middle school and had first ordered this, the two of you had added every weird topping and extra bit you could think of. The first few times you’d order it, the dessert would always get confused or judgmental glances from waitstaff, who had no idea what to make of your creation. Even the newer servers still gave a look of uncertainty when they brought it to you, unsure if they’d gotten it right. But over time, it had become your thing—your signature order.

Gojo grinned like a kid as he slid the dessert between him and Mina, pushing it towards her with an enthusiastic gesture.

“Here you go, babe,” Gojo said, his tone playful. “I know it looks a little… weird but trust me. It’s a masterpiece. Don’t judge it until you’ve tried it.”

Mina hesitated, her gaze flicking between the toppings piled high and the spoon in Gojo’s hand. You could see the skepticism on her face, but after a moment, she took a tentative bite. The way her eyes widened in surprise made it clear she hadn’t expected it to taste that good.

"This... is actually amazing," Mina said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. “I didn’t think it’d work, but it totally does!”

Gojo laughed, clearly pleased. “Told ya. The best things are always a little unexpected.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at her, clearly proud of the creation.

Unable to continue watching them gush over the dessert, you tore your gaze away and tried to focus on the food being served to the rest of the table. You picked up your fork, trying to push aside the tight feeling in your chest.

Just then, Geto, with his usual smug expression, cut a slice from his pancakes and held the fork in front of you.

“Here,” Geto said with a smirk, as though he were about to do the same thing Gojo had just done. “Open wide.”

You looked up at him in confusion, blinking. “What are you doing?”

Geto didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he nudged his head toward Gojo and Mina, who were now happily discussing the dessert and sharing it between themselves. You could feel the small pang in your chest again at the sight, and Geto must have caught on, because his smirk only deepened.

You couldn't help but flick your gaze back to Gojo and Mina once more, watching the way he smiled at her, the two of them so effortlessly comfortable with each other. A pang of something you couldn't quite place squeezed at your chest, and you quickly averted your eyes.

But as you were met face to face with the pancakes still in front of your face, you looked up at Geto, deadpanning with a frown. “Seriously?” you muttered, your voice tinged with an exasperated sigh. He was still holding the fork out, practically dangling it in front of you like it was some kind of challenge.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned forward and took the bite from his fork, trying to ignore the feeling of discomfort that was still gnawing at you. The food didn’t help distract from the odd tension building up in your chest, but at least it gave you something to do.

Geto grinned smugly as you ate, clearly pleased with himself. You chewed the bite, trying to push aside the strange, tight feeling in your chest. It wasn’t the food, nor Geto’s teasing, that was bothering you; it was the way Gojo and Mina seemed to be in their own little world. The way Gojo looked at her, the way they laughed together—it all seemed too natural. Too perfect.

Before you could shake off the feeling, Gojo suddenly cut through the moment with an exaggerated, playful tone. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on between you two?” He leaned forward slightly, a grin still on his lips, but there was something a little off about his tone—almost as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to be amused or... something else.

You raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of it. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo gestured at you and Geto with his fork. “I mean, you two have been acting like you’re in your own little world since we arrived just now.” His eyes flicked between the two of you, his usual easy grin still on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Geto shrugged nonchalantly, cutting into his pancakes. “We’re just eating, Satoru. Chill.” He took a bite, clearly unfazed by the question.

Gojo paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Geto and then on you, as though trying to gauge something. “Yeah, sure, just eating,” he said, but the slight edge in his voice didn’t escape you. He quickly smiled again, though, and his attention shifted back to Mina. “Anyway, you like it, right?” he asked, directing his focus back to her as if to put the moment behind him.

You were still trying to piece together what had just happened, trying to make sense of Gojo’s sudden shift in attitude, but before you could overthink it, you decided to push it aside. It wasn’t worth dwelling on—whatever it was. So you focused back on your food, trying to ignore the small knot of confusion that had formed in your chest. It was probably nothing, right?

You glanced over at Shoko, hoping to distract yourself from whatever had just simmered in the air between you and Gojo. She had been quiet during the entire exchange, but now she was staring at the scene before her, completely deadpan. Her gaze flicked between you, Gojo, and Geto, the only reaction being a slow, unamused blink and a deep, weary sigh.

────────────────────────────────────────────

After the cafe, the atmosphere had softened a bit, but the there was a slight tension from earlier that still hung in the air, mostly because of Gojo. You tried to focus on the lighthearted chatter, but the nagging feeling didn’t completely leave you. Gojo was acting... off, and you couldn’t quite shake the odd feeling in your chest when you thought about how he’d reacted earlier.

The ride back to your apartment was uneventful, the conversation flowing easily between Geto and Shoko while you mostly listened, lost in thought. Gojo, however, seemed quieter than usual, distracted even.

When you arrived at the building, Gojo insisted on coming up with you, claiming he needed a “quick pee” before the drive back. The rest of the group stayed in the car downstairs, which was just fine with you. The lift ride was silent at first, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound between you and Gojo.

Then, Gojo finally broke the silence, his voice light but tinged with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “So, you and Suguru seem pretty close these days.”

You glanced at him, brows furrowing a little. “What do you mean?”

Gojo didn’t look at you as he leaned against the wall, arms folded. His tone was nonchalant, but there was something sharp beneath it. “I don’t know, just seemed like you two were... getting along pretty well just now. Spending a lot of time together, more than usual.”

There was a brief pause before he added, almost too casually, “Guess I never really pictured you and Suguru that close. But hey, whatever works.”

You blinked, the words landing heavier than you expected. “We’re just friends, ‘Toru.”

He gave a small, barely noticeable smirk, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Yeah, sure, just friends,” he said, voice a little too easy, but the faint edge in it was still there. He pushed off the wall as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open—but he didn’t step out.

You stepped out of the elevator first, waiting for Gojo to follow, but he didn’t move. Instead, he pressed the button to close the doors, looking at you with a lazy grin.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said, his tone back to its usual playfulness as a chuckle slipped past his lips. “See ya.”

The doors slid shut before you could respond, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely confused.

Gojo leaned against the elevator wall, eyes half-lidded as he watched you step out. He pressed the button to close the doors before you could take another step, the action more impulsive than planned.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said with a playful grin, the words leaving his mouth so easily that even he didn’t think much of it at first. His usual charm was there, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as natural.

You paused, looking back at him, and for a second, there was that expression on your face—confusion, curiosity, the way you always seemed to try and read him. Good luck with that. Even he wasn’t sure what was going on in his head.

Gojo held your gaze for a beat, his smirk faltering just slightly. He could feel the weight of the silence between you two, an awkward tension hanging in the air. But he ignored it. No need to read too much into this, right?

He waved you off, pushing the button again and watching the doors close.

“See ya,” he muttered, though his voice didn’t carry the usual lightness. His mind wandered back to the conversation, or rather, the subtle mention of Suguru.

It was nothing, really. He had no right to feel anything about it but if his best friend was going to get closer to one of his other friends—hell, maybe even start something—he had a right to know, right? Friends should keep each other in the loop, and that was all this was. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not really.

But then, his thoughts lingered on the image of you and Suguru together. Laughing, talking like you were the only two people in the room. He’d seen it, noticed it earlier. And now... it wasn’t sitting right with him.

He rubbed his temples as the elevator doors slid open, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Maybe he was just overthinking it. It was just... it was just weird, that’s all. Seeing you with Suguru like that. They were close, sure, but that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

But still, the more he thought about it, the more the thought of you and Suguru together—the way you looked at him, the way your smiles came easy—left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated it. He hated that feeling. And it made him want to forget about it, brush it off. So he did.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze forward as he walked away. No need to dwell. It was just one of those things. It didn’t matter.

Gojo barely registered the walk back to his car. His mind was still occupied with the odd heaviness he couldn’t shake, lingering just below the surface. As he reached the vehicle, he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, the cool leather beneath him offering little comfort.

He didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he glanced up at the rearview mirror, eyes landing onto Suguru for just a moment. Suguru, sitting in the back, was engrossed in his phone, probably texting someone he didn’t need to be texting at that hour. Gojo’s gaze lingered on him, but something in the pit of his stomach shifted, and without even thinking, his eyes flickered to the passenger seat.

Mina was there, leaning back with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling under the dim streetlights. She caught his gaze and tilted her head playfully. "Got a good pee?" she asked, her voice light, teasing.

He smirked, the easy expression sliding back onto his face like a well-worn mask. "Yeah," he replied, the word coming too smoothly, almost like he was trying to convince himself. His hand moved instinctively to her thigh, squeezing it lightly as he looked at her, letting the familiarity of her touch settle him.

She didn’t seem to mind, giving him a grin before shifting her focus back to whatever it was she was doing. Gojo’s thumb brushed over her leg absentmindedly, and the motion felt automatic, like he was just doing what he always did.

He started the car, the engine humming to life, and without another thought, he pulled out of the parking spot, heading toward the main road. "I’ll drop you guys off first," he said, his voice casual, still somewhat distant as he motioned to the two at the back with a nudge of his head.

Mina hummed an acknowledgment, and Suguru muttered something from the backseat, but Gojo didn’t really hear it. His attention was elsewhere, pulled back to the fleeting thought of you again—the way you were with Suguru, the way you talked to him. The thought lingered, biting at him more than it should.

He gripped the wheel a little tighter, but it was too late to push the feeling down. It kept crawling back, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

────────────────────────────────────────────

With Geto and Shoko finally sent home, Gojo was nearing the last house – Mina’s. He parked by the sidewalk as they approached the apartment complex and took the elevator up. As they reached Mina's front door, Gojo slowed his steps, hands casually tucked in his pockets. The soft glow of the porch light framed Mina’s face, her features lit with that ever-present, effortless cheerfulness. He always liked that about her—how easy she made everything feel.

"Thanks for sending me home," Mina said, her voice light but tinged with affection.

"Anything for you," Gojo replied smoothly, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "What kind of guy would I be if I just let you fend for yourself out here?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re so dramatic."

As she turned to unlock the door, Gojo took a step closer, reaching out. Gently, he placed his hands on her cheeks, his touch warm and lingering. Mina blinked up at him, caught off guard but not uncomfortable. If anything, her grin widened as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

It was slow and deliberate, a soft gesture that made Mina’s eyes flutter shut. Her heart felt light, and when he pulled back, she looked up at him with a contented smile, unaware of the shadow of thought crossing his face.

Gojo’s eyes lingered on her, a furrow forming between his brows as his thumb absentmindedly brushed over her cheek. His expression softened, almost distant, like he was seeing someone else entirely.

“Gojo?” Mina tilted her head, her grin dimming slightly as she studied him. “You okay?”

Her voice pulled him out of his trance, sharp in its difference—cheerful where he’d expected something quieter, something familiar. For just a split second, his hand paused before he masked his hesitation with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone light as always, but Mina caught the way he inhaled deeply, as if to steady himself. “I was just admiring your face. You’re, like, unfairly cute, you know that?”

Mina rolled her eyes with a laugh, her earlier concern dissipating. “Flatterer.”

He took a step back, giving her one last grin. “Goodnight, Mina. Dream about me, yeah?”

She smiled back, waving as she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her.

Gojo turned on his heel, walking down the path with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His smirk faded as soon as he was out of sight, his mind replaying the moment Mina spoke. The voice he’d expected—it wasn’t hers. And no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, that momentary lapse clung to him like a ghost he couldn’t quite let go of.

[nerdallwritey]

About to Strike (Part 1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not!”

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

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

“Nor I,” Halsin cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks,” Astarion said flatly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what a day it had been. 

Or, tenday, more like.

~~~~~

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

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

“Can I help you?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liking the sound of this,” Karlach nodded.

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

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

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

“Woof,” Karlach said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion cleared his throat loudly.

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

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

You blinked at him. “Breakfast in bed?” 

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

It all felt very nice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re up!” Wyll exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made no move to leave your side.

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

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

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

“Well, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kicked him.

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

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

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

“Thank you…” you murmured again.

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

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

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

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

“Let me-” 

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for looking out for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious.”

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

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

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

“Hmm,” you hummed through pursed lips.

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

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

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

You swallowed thickly. “Enough.”

He chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

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

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

“And what would that be?”

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “Okay, so what-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi Halsin,” you said nonchalantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s only natural-”

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Halsin,” Astarion waved him off. 

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

You looked over at him. “Moment over?”

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

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

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

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

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

“See?”

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

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

“Because…?”

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

“Because you’re still sore-”

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

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

You frowned at him. “Asshole.”

Kiss. “Darling.” 

“Bat brain.”

Kiss. “Beautiful.” 

“Priss.”

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

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

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

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. 

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

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

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

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

“That’s different.” 

“How so?”

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

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

You stiffened, thrown off by his honest answer. “Oh.” He met your eye. “People like feeling seen, and ‘darling’ does the job quite nicely. Call it a habit now, I suppose.”

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

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

“Good answer.”

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

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

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

You met his eye again and saw his features soften. 

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

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

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

You snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out an amused sigh. “Go on…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tsk'va!”

You and Astarion froze, your mouths inches apart. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we do something?” Wyll asked.

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

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

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

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

“Harpers?” Karlach repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You exhaled. “Sorry about the guard dog.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

“Thank you, Jaheira!” Karlach said excitedly.

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

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

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

Karlach was practically vibrating with excitement next to you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t imagine why,” Astarion muttered.

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

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

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

You nodded. “Yes.” The truth.

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

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

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

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

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

“A long journey, indeed,” Gale said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll join him,” said Wyll.

“Right behind you,” Karlach agreed.

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

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

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

Lae’zel shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion said your name, his voice laced with worry.

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” Gale asked. 

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

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

“The room,” Astarion said anyway. 

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

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

“Ooowww,” you moaned.

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

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

“Ow! Gods, it hurts!” you wailed. “Get out of here!” Astarion practically yelled at the wizard.

Gale sighed. “Goodnight you two.”

“Goodnight Gale!” you called after him sweetly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

[madhatterbri]

Tag Team | D.P.

Summary: Fem!reader is part of the TJD 2.0 & has been giving attitude towards her family since Raquel joined in. After a disagreement Liv suggests reader to take a walk, Reader then bumps into Tiffany Stratton who doesn’t have time with a reject. When reader demands a match with Tiffany from Pearce, Damian comes in asking for a match with Ludwig. Adam Pearce decides to do a mixed tag instead. Reader & Damian refuse to team up but realize they have no choice. After reader & Damian win, reader looks at Priest with dark eyes & kisses him. Backstage; TJD 2.0 watch with their mouths hanging open.

Requested by: Anonymous

Happy Friday Night Smackdown, babes. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @keytothewardy @missbmc94

Anyone who had the misfortune of walking past Y/N knew to move out of the way as fast as they could. Nostrils flared, face hotter than the sun, and her chest heaving, she needed to avoid anyone and everyone at all costs. Apparently, Tiffany Stratton didn't get the memo.

"Awww, did your new family kick you out already?" Tiffany Stratton pouted. Y/N tried to push past her. The blonde wrestler stood in her way.

"I don't have time for this. Move," Y/N growled.

Tiffany didn't move a muscle. "It's Tiffy Time. Everyone has time, but it's me who doesn't have time for a little reject,"

Y/N balled her fist but stopped. Nia Jax was probably lingering somewhere in the shadows. The disgruntled wrestler currently had no allies with her since Liv and Raquel were now best buddies. She shook her head and walked away. There was only one person who could resolve this.

"I want a match with Tiffany. Tonight, next week, I don't care. The clock has struck midnight on that little bi-"

"I want a match against Ludwig, Pearce," Damian interrupted.

"Excuse me. I was here first," Y/N pointed out. Damian rolled his eyes and put his hand in her face.

"As I was saying. I need a match against Ludwig,"

Adam Pearce looked between the two wrestlers. An idea popped into his head.

When he saw Y/N slap Damian's hand out of her face, he knew this was the perfect plan.

"You want a match with Tiffany," Adam started and looked at Y/N. He turned to Damian. "And you want a match with Ludwig. Looks like we got an intergender match next week on RAW,"

"No, no, no, no, hold on. I'm a former champion. I don't need someone that'll slow me down," Damian insisted.

"I'm a former champion," Y/N mocked. "Congratulations, you lost it when you acted like a bully to your friends,"

"You two play nice and get your matches or not. What is it going to be?"

Damian and Y/N stared at each other. With hate filled eyes, they knew they had no choice but to accept the conditions.

"You will be hearing from my lawyers," she spoke. With a stomp of her foot, Y/N stormed away.

Damian sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. "Women,"

"ADAM!" Chelsea Green's shrill voice screeched.

The RAW general manager pinched his nose. "Tell me about it,"

Y/N stared in shock when the referee raised her hand along with Damian. They beat Ludwig and Tiffany clean. No outside interference or drama. She had been on a losing spree, and she couldn't believe it. Her tag team partner hadn't been as annoying to work with as she thought. Damian was an excellent partner and sometimes even sweet.

Her eyes worked their way up the Archer of Infamy. His bare chest heaved while trying to catch his breath. He just performed South of Heaven on Ludwig to seal the win. Y/N shook her hand out of the referee's grasp. She walked over to Damian.

With dark eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to hug her. She kissed him. A sweet peck with her eyes closed. She pulled away before Damian could process what happened to him.

As the audience roared, Y/N rolled under the bottom rope. She sat on the apron of the ring. Her head was in her hands as she thought about what she had just done. Damian was public enemy number one to her group.

Y/N slipped off the ring. She started to walk up the ramp. Her eyes avoided looking into the camera and the towdy crowd.

Meanwhile, in the back, the new Judgment Day stared. Their mouths hung open in shock.

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[estcaligo]

Sebek and phones facts and headcanons *contains x Prefect

We got some lore bits in this new update, and I want to talk about it a little.

We already know that Diasomnia is new to phones. They don't use it in Briar Valley (as there is little to no electricity, and internet is available in only a handful of places - never mind phone coverage).

This makes it 10 times funnier when you think they've been using phones for only 1–3 years :)

Lilia is the most familiar with tech among Diasomnia thanks to his age, experience, and gaming hobby.

Malleus breaks his phones often or doesn't understand how they work (but Malleus has beef with technology in general lol).

Silver at least uses his phone camera often, and it's for some mundane things, as he mentions in his 3rd birthday vignette.

And as for Sebek's phone lore:

In the recent update, we got confirmation that Sebek at least has a Magicam account. However, he claims he only uses it for communication.

I am really, really curious what kind of communication that is, because:

Sebek finds it rude to text Malleus and Lilia directly (meanwhile, Silver doesn't see a problem contacting them at all).

In Book 7, we learned that Sebek doesn't really have friends, or he doesn't consider them as such. But in the vignettes, we learn that he spends time with the first years, at least - eating out in town, visiting karaoke, etc. I assume they have each other's numbers for communication. Maybe a group chat. He also likely has Riddle's contact information (and perhaps other members of the Equestrian Club?). Perhaps they even have a club group chat too. (For some reason I think I remember Riddle mentioning this but I can't find it)

While Sebek insists he isn't interested in the videos and pictures humans post, I suspect he does use the internet occasionally. For example, in the 2024 Halloween event prologue, he mentions learning about a book fair. While it's possible he saw an announcement at the bookshop or on a bulletin board, maybe he also uses the internet to keep up with updates about new books or events.

In the latest 4koma manga, there's an entire episode featuring Malleus and Cater, where Malleus discovers a gargoyle on Cater's Magicam (on Lilia's pc with him). If Malleus starts using Magicam to look at gargoyles, I can definitely see Sebek following his liege's example - or browsing for gargoyle content himself to share with Malleus later :D

Now some of my personal headcanons:

I think Sebek would also use his phone as an alarm to make sure he never oversleeps.

He uses a timer for studies or training.

Like Silver, he takes photos of important things, for reference, etc.

In the Diasomnia group chat, he's always the first (at 00:01) to say happy birthday lol

(Adding these headcanons I've mentioned a while ago - I still like them)

He has Malleus on his lock screen of course

and his Human's photo on his home screen, but he'll never admit it.

Also, it would be so funny if he acts all tsundere about his disinterest in the photos humans post, but then one night you get a notification that he liked your photo. It was accidental, of course, and he'll deny it to his last breath if you ask him about it (especially if it was a cute photo of yours) :D

*Also, while we're on the topic, check out my comic about Sebek being a charger :)

[vellazx]

Inspired by one of my friends prompts — Law x Reader (gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff

You were a Straw Hat.

The most perfect person in the world for him — on a different crew. You were someone who he couldn’t reach, no matter what he did.

He fell for you. Hard.

You always liked him. He was a pretty boy; perhaps the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. Ever since you laid your eyes on him two years ago in the auction house in Sabaody, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Hells, you didn’t even speak to him.

At first, he just believed you were some diehard simp who wasn’t genuine towards him. So he shrugged you off.

He was always rather insecure, not capable of believing someone actually loved him. Romantically, at least.

You talked (pestered) him the whole time he was on the Sunny due to the newfound alliance he made with your captain. Honestly, you didn’t really do a good job at hiding your feelings.

More like you didn’t even bother to hide them in the first place. You were so direct with him about how you felt.

Still, he wasn’t phased by your endless compliments and attempts at making him open up.

One night, however, he wasn’t in the best mood.

He said you irritated him. Bluntly.

After that, you decided to leave him alone. It felt unusual around the Sunny without your constant rambling. For some reason, his heart ached without your warmth by his side.

He told himself you meant nothing to him; only a temporary ally with good fighting skills he couldn’t risk losing.

However, in Dressrosa, when Doflamingo managed to capture you and him both, you acted strangely.

You saw how distressed he was, being helpless before the Warlord. Behind that tough exterior, there was a little boy, scarred from his past.

And, oh, how absolutely protective you got.

Doflamingo was holding you up by strings, blood spilling from every wound they cut into your skin. But you still retaliated.

Risked getting killed to escape the strings, all because you didn’t want Law to feel helpless. His emotions were through the roof whenever he realized you were trying to meaninglessly fight back. For his sake.

When you got out, you were a bloody mess, barely able to stand with how wobbly your knees were. Some of your bones were even broken.

He asked with wide eyes, “What were you thinking?!”

You simply smiled, and said, “You hate him, don’t you? I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing to help. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He met your gaze with an unfamiliar softness you’d never seen before. His heart skipped a beat.

That’s when he realized.

You fell first, but he fell harder. Way harder.

The whole time you were in Zou and Wano with him, he couldn’t stop staring at you. You shone like an angel in his vision. All your features amplified to make you more ethereal.

His teeth ground against each other whenever you got too close to one of your crew mates. Especially the blond cook. He swooned over you, and you laughed so wholesomely in response.

What he would do to just steal you for himself.

When Kaido and Big Mom were defeated, the whole country celebrating by holding a feast, Law offered to look around at all the games set up throughout the capital.

Happily, you dragged him around, completely forgetting that day when he said you were annoying.

He couldn’t stop admiring you as you indulged in the games.

His heart raced.

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Gods, he couldn’t take it anymore.

So, he dragged you away, into a nearby alleyway. You flushed, asking him what was wrong. He was so red in the face that he looked feverish.

He hadn’t even touched you, yet he was drunk off of you. That same warmth he craved and missed.

Before you could question him any further, his lips brushed against yours, his hold on your wrist tightening. You gasped against him, not expecting the intimate contact.

Eagerly, you kissed him back.

He loved you too much for his own good.

“Come with me. Please. Leave this country with me.”

“Tra-.. Law. You know I can’t… I can’t do that.”

Fuck.

When he had to leave you behind, it felt like he was leaving half of his heart behind. With someone else. Under someone else’s supervision.

If anything happened to you, he’d steal you away without even asking for your permission.

But if something happened to him…

He just wanted you to know that he loved you.

[rungssparemodelpieces]

Dating the Lost Light crew

Megatron

* It takes a lot of convincing to get Megatron to date you, throwing every excuse he could to convince you, or rather himself, that he wasn’t even close to the best option and yet you persisted and he had to give you that, finally relenting though not without some hesitations. To date him posed a lot of risks, not only to your safety as an ex-warlord has many, MANY enemies, but your standing in society and friends, and you were willing to risk it all for him? He felt like he didn’t deserve this, like he didn’t deserve you, but maybe this was just another step on his road to redemption, to feel loved and feel worthy of it.

* Megatron and you have planned out our relationship as to not alert anyone on the Light Lost or anywhere else. Professional during the day but in the berth behind closed doors, you could be as loving towards him as you’d like. Though the arrangement made him feel better about keeping you safe, there were some downsides to the arrangement. For you, it was the want to be affectionate; to hold his hand, kiss him helm, to tell him you loved him, and you couldn’t do that outside of the berth. For him, he couldn’t stay by your side when out, which caused some bots to see you as available and wouldn’t take no for an answer. If he stepped in, Megatron’s actions could be seen as suspicious but for the most part, you’ve been able to get your way out of those situations by either sneaking away or getting Magnus involved. Megatron might have alerted him to the inappropriate behavior though

* Speaking of affection, Megatron isn’t the most affectionate bot in general. In fact, you could say he was opposed to it but it’s more complicated than that. During the war, he was more focused on his cause and efforts towards total victory than his own personal needs but never received it as much either. Frag, he’s even admitted he’d never been hugged before! He’s slow with showing affection but you have a lot of patience and love to give him which he appreciates. It starts simply with grazes of his servos, hand holding, and helm presses with most initiated by you but over time, he bridges that effort and will return the small gestures in turn.

* If you define his love language, it would be words of affirmation. Megatron uses his words, especially his writing, to convey his emotions to you. Whether it be a simple haiku to tell you how much he loves you or a something more elaborate to describe the little things you did like the way you did on your work, your gaze focused and intense, or what he loves about you such as your kindness and your humor. He’ll share some of these with you but others he’ll keep to himself, especially if their a little more spicy or personal. Perhaps he will when the time is right? On the other hand, you’ve tried to come up with your own poetry in order to flirt with him which started out rather… poorly but Megs is willing to teach you the style and form to help you improve. Some of these sessions though end up becoming endurance rounds for how much you can flirt, tease, and praise him before he ends the session by one means or another…

* Of course some bots had to know like Ravage, given how close he is to Megatron, but others either got suspicious or tried to unravel the depths of your relationship. Rodimus speculated for a long time something was up but couldn’t quite catch you in the act. Rodimus would tell Ultra Magnus something was up but Magnus would bring up a logical explanation for your interactions which was starting to drive Rodimus a little mad.

* Whether the relationship is exposed on purpose or on accident, the shock is not as bad as initially thought though Rodimus will gloat for a long time that he knew from the very beginning and Ultra Magnus does give a short speech regarding policies on dating coworkers but overall, the reception of the news was well taken, albeit with some teasing and jokes made at your expense.

* Being an older bot, you do nag him on taking better care of himself. Millions of years and his previous professions have left some aches and pain in his frame and joints that he keeps delaying taking care of but being together, you make sure Megatron actually does take care of himself or else you force him to due it, either by his or your hand. If you’re an older bot/human, you try to include him to your routines on your own self maintenance and it creates a nice bonding experience for the both of you.

* You’ve perfected the art of mimicking Megatron’s disappointed and frustrated faces though more unintentional than mocking. Being around him as long as you have, you picked up his gestures when he gets upset with his fellow co-captain. If Megs is not on the bridge and needs to convey his disappointment, you take the mantle and let Rodimus know how his co-captain feels. Even when he’s there, Rodimus ends up getting a doubled up look of disapproval.

NSFW

* Megatron does have some experience in the berth though it has been a while since he’s been intimate with someone. He takes it slowly with you, but there are moments where his needs outweigh the pace he set for himself and he just needs a good frag. Just because he’s an old mech doesn’t mean he down and out! He’s rather awkward with aftercare due to his previously mentioned affection issues but he does get better with time, rubbing your back or letting you rest against him while you catch your breath.

* If you are human, he would prefer to use his holoform as to not hurt you while making love. but you can sweet talk him into interfacing all natural. Can be on top or bottom but gets a certain thrill watching you ride him with either you setting the pace or if he needs to take control, can take a hold of your sides and pick up speed along with the snap of his hips, becoming more of a vessel for his spike to fill up completely.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Social Media QB

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

The reputation of the Chargers social media team was unmatched. They are known for being funny and up to date on all memes and pop culture references while also showcasing players’ personalities. That alone made you apply and this past year on the job had really been a once in a lifetime experience. Working with Megan and the crew was a daily adventure and you were becoming more and more comfortable calling the guys your friends. It even got to a point where you didn’t even call them by their names anymore.

Quentin was usually just “Q.” JK was always “J’Kaylin”, Derwin was “3” and your favorite nickname was definitely calling Justin “Sunshine.” At first it was a Remember the Titans reference but it became a lifestyle. Everything and everyone revolves around the sun and that’s exactly what it felt like when you were at work. All of the players were important and special but you could just feel the energy in the room shift when Justin was there. It was palpable, it almost took your breath away sometimes.

Off camera he was goofy, funny and had this uncanny ability to make the world stand still for a bit, even just for a few fleeting moments where it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. But then reality would hit and you were reminded that you work for the team and he’d never see you in that way, he was just nice to everyone he encountered. But on camera? It was all fun and games. There was a running joke, mostly based on his real feelings, that Justin hated cameras. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention or having people perceive him so he avoided the social media team altogether when phones were pointed in his direction. 

But sometimes, a rarity, you were able to get him on camera, even if it was just for a split second. The two of you reviewed the questions he was going to be asked before their Hot Ones appearance and there was ALWAYS a discussion, more like subtle begging if you all were going to have him participate in any content.

“We need Justin for this new segment we’re doing, so you’re gonna have to talk to him.” Megan sighs, grabbing her Stanley cup that was sitting on the counter. She’d just finished editing a video where she and her assistant put fart spray on the tiny mic and could still smell the rancid scent until she grabbed some Lysol spray to de-funk the place.

You were going through photos taken during practice earlier that morning and deciding which ones to post and without looking up you asked her, “why do I have to do it?”

Lorren and Allie giggle in the corner, shaking their heads. “You cannot be serious right now y/n,” Lorren gives you a pointed look.

“What?”

“We all know you and Justin have a thing for each other. Even if you won’t admit to us…or yourself. It’s pretty obvious.”

You finally raise your head up from your laptop, staring at them while also wracking your brain trying to figure out when your innocent crush had become so painfully obvious. If the girls knew, then Justin had probably somehow caught on and the thought of that made you want to dig a hole right outside on the practice field and never come out. “Is—am I that easy to read?”

“No one blames you,” Megan runs a loving hand on your shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ve been trying so hard to hide your feelings that you haven’t noticed that he’s doing an even worse job of hiding his massive crush on you.”

The look on your face sends the room into a fit of laughter. “We’re being serious. The way he looks at you and acts around you. Anyone can see he’s into you friend.”

You weren’t convinced, “I need an example.”

“Okay fine,” Lorren stands up to prepare a demonstration. “He wasn’t ready to put the mics on when he was mic’d up until you walked over and helped him get the mic in the perfect spot in his pads. And then he wore the friendship bracelet for six weeks because you handed it to him.”

Allie pipes up to put in her two cents. “And let’s not forget when he had you driving him around the golf tournament and kicked Zion to the curb. There’s no way all of those are just a coincidence.”

“Fine. I’ll go ask him if he’ll shoot the video for us but I’m not going to lose my job because of a meaningless crush on the starting quarterback.”

You waited around for the guys to leave treatment after practice and caught up with him on his way out. “Hey Sunshine, quick question for you.”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he gives you a small tight-lipped smile. “What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a huge favor and be in this tik tok. It’s a short game and it’ll only take like 15 minutes.”

His deadpan face and disappointed dad sigh has you practically begging, saying “please” in your finest sing-song tone.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You knew he’d crack, he always did. “On one condition. You also have to participate.”

You hold your hand out and he engulfs it with his much larger one. “You’ve got yourself a deal Herbert.”

“Okay the rules of the game are simple,” Megan begins from behind her phone screen before hitting record, “we’re going to give you these Canadian snacks and you’ll rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. One being it’s awful I’ll never touch that again and 10 being a solid snack that you’d eat everyday if given the opportunity.”

You and Justin nod, diving in on everything from the ketchup chips to the toffee. The video didn’t take long as promised and the quarterback went about the rest of his day with no further distractions.

In your office a few days later on the team’s off day, you were contemplating your life. Maybe you should take a step back from him so people don't get the wrong idea. Sure, your coworkers were convinced the crush was mutual but what if he was just being nice? He was always so focused on football and making the most out of every opportunity. Why in the world would he waste time flirting with a social media manager? It just made no sense. Instead of continuing to run a million imaginary scenarios in your mind you packed up your stuff and tried heading out to the parking lot. Even after all this time you still struggled to maneuver all the twists and turns of the building and somehow found yourself walking past the quarterback room. You intended to just keep walking but he was in there alone and called out your name when he saw you.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think anyone would be in the building today.” His bright eyes staring down at you made your heart feel like it was beating out of your chest. You desperately needed to get it together.

“I came in to finish up a few things but I’m heading out now. What are you doing? I think you’ve watched enough film to last you a couple lifetimes.” That gets a light chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, the two of you knowing that his quest for perfection would never allow him to believe he’s watched enough film. “Thank you for shooting that video the other day. The fans are gonna love it, they’re always begging us to get you on camera.”

“No problem, anything for you.” He clears his throat after whispering the last part, desperately hoping that you didn’t hear it. Even though you definitely did. You should go home for the day and leave him alone in the office so he can get back to work. You should stop staring at his lips that look so soft and just begging to be kissed. He should turn around and get back to the playbook and the computer but here he is, standing still, right in front of you.

You’re just there, waiting for someone to rip the carpet out from under you, to fall on your face, for someone to tell you that this isn’t actually happening. The space between your bodies diminishes significantly, so much so that you can smell the Dr. Squatch Birchwood Breeze radiating off of him. It’s intoxicating and you swallow the fear in your gut and ignore all of the common sense thoughts plaguing your mind, allowing you to feel.

The kiss is tentative at first, he pulls back slightly, whispering if it’s okay to keep going as you feel his breath against your lips. You don’t respond but instead pull him in closer, hearing a satisfied husky moan from him as he allows your tongue access to his. His right palm rests against your cheek until he’s tilting your head up ever so slightly to deepen the embrace and he pulls you in even closer, holding on for dear life while closing and locking the door behind you. It was so much more than he imagined, these feelings that he’d been pushing aside were being confronted and magnified by the second. This innocent crush that you had on him were genuine, real feelings that created a deep ache in your bones, actively being soothed with his hands all over you as the two of you made out like helpless teenagers.

You didn’t think you’d have the strength to tear yourself away from him…until his phone rings. He ignores it the first time but it’s all you can think about by the fifth ring.

“Answer it,” you whisper breathlessly and you can feel him hesitating to pry himself away from you. The heat that was radiating off of his body that you felt being so close to him sends shivers down your spine at the sudden distance. A thousand unspoken apologies are painted on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps the call short and sweet but the look of devastation is clear when he hangs up. “You have to go don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m so sorry. We can—we need to talk about this I know. And I promise we will. I just—I need to take care of this.” He doesn’t want to leave, not like this. Even if he knows you understand. Justin presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers another “I’m sorry” leaving you in the room to think about what just happened.

You walk around the empty parking lot until you reach your car, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of what the conversation with him is going to look like after this. You need to be mentally prepared for good news, bad news and everything in between.

He is the sun after all. And sometimes when you stand too close, you might get burned. And maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid the burn altogether and bask in the warmth as long as you can.

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

[bullet-prooflove]

A journal, Christmas card and a scented candle

Tagging: @kmc1989

Bobby keeps a Christmas card in his journal, he uses it to mark the page as he writes down the five things he’s grateful for each day. It started as a method of therapy when he was coming to terms with the death of his family and now it’s a habit he maintains to keep his head on straight amongst the wins and the losses.

As he sits on the roof of the firehouse, the sun setting in the distance, he can’t help but smile as he reflects on the past twenty four hours.

It’s his birthday today and you’d surprised him with a scented candle, an expensive one that he would never allow himself to splash out on, no matter how much he may love the smell. You’d seen him observing it when the two of you were shopping at the Farmer’s Market this weekend, he hadn’t realised you’d picked it up.

The Farmer’s Market is something you’ve been doing together since he first moved to LA. You’d become his tour guide in the early years, helping him find the best places to suit his needs. It was handy having someone like you working with him, someone kind enough to volunteer their free time to take him around, engage him in the community.

It's only after you made the move to a teaching position in the training academy that things began to change between the two of you. There’d always been an attraction but neither of you had acted on it, not until you were outside of his chain of command.

Up until this morning it had been a handful of dates squeezed in between his shifts, there’d been some teasing kisses, a little petting because Bobby he hadn’t been ready. Then you’d stopped by with that candle and he’d realised in that moment just how perfect you were for him, how thoughtful, how dedicated. He’d spent the next  couple of hours showing you his appreciation, with his mouth, his body. He thought he’d be a little rusty after all that time, but when it’s with the right person…

And you are certainly were the right person, he’d known that from the moment he’d found that Christmas card on his desk during his holiday season in LA.

Bobby, you’d written, we’re lucky to have you, let’s make some new memories together next year. Mel x

He hadn’t had a single friend up until that point. Everyone else was judging his ability to run the 118, waiting for him to fall flat on his face.

But not you, never you.

He picks up his pen and writes the number one, before adding your name. It’s the same all the way throughout his gratitude diary, it has been since the moment you met.

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