#who the hell looks for engagement on ao3??

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 3 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains explicit sexual content (m masturbation)】

ꨄ words: 13.3k

ꨄ a/n. oh wowie, here it is. i hope ya'll enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 3 // fractured realities

Streams of light filter in through the drapes of your bedroom, casting a soft glow across the room.

A groan escapes your lips as you feel a dull throb on your temple—a reminder of the countless glasses of wine and champagne you indulged in at the gala. But as fragmented images of the evening flood your mind, your headache doesn’t end there.

You kissed Satoru Gojo.

Correction—you kissed the hell out of Satoru Gojo.

Each detail is more vivid than the last—the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hold, the taste of him, and his soft groan that you swallowed against your lips.

God, it felt too real, too intense.

You sit up in your bed, rubbing your temples as you try to shake off the lingering effects of last night’s revelry, but you can’t ignore the fluttering sensation that stirs within—your cheeks growing hot from the memory.

Ugh. Being hungover and flushed is not a combination you enjoy.

When did Satoru start having such an intense effect on you?

You want to blame it on a lapse of judgement—perhaps the alcohol lowered your inhibitions? Sure, let’s go with that. That feels better than admitting that maybe you secretly wanted to kiss Satoru Gojo.

He’s insufferable after all—you can’t stand him…right?

Fuck, this is confusing.

Why does it feel like there has been a subtle tension between you and Satoru that has been simmering beneath the surface for a while now, each interaction, each glance, adding fuel to the fire?

Every shared look carries an unspoken promise, every touch lingers a fraction too long, leaving your skin tingling and your heart racing. It’s as if you’re both walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of something profoundly transformative.

Are you imagining things?

Silently cursing yourself, you know these thoughts you’re having will only make things more complicated. This is simply a contract—nothing more.

Transactional. Business.

With a deep sigh, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, hoping to shake off these intrusive throughs with a stretch of your muscles.

If only it were that simple.

Perhaps a shower will help clear your mind—a chance to cleanse yourself from the remnants of last night’s indulgences.

Shuffling towards the bathroom, a yawn escapes your mouth as you rub your eyes tiredly, reaching for the door. But the moment you open it, you freeze in your tracks.

With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, Satoru stands outside the shower, droplets of water glistening on his bare chest, each bead tracing the defined lines of his muscles. You can’t help but notice the way the water trails down his torso, accentuating every ridge and curve. It’s as if he’s been sculpted from marble, each detail painstakingly crafted to perfection.

For a moment, neither of you move—a stunned silence filling the room as your eyes lock.

His damp hair sticks to his forehead in an almost boyish manner, contrasting sharply with his otherwise commanding presence, and your eyes trail downwards…

Oh.

The smooth contours of his abs carve a path down towards the towel hanging precariously low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.

Your heart races, and you feel a blush rushing to your cheeks. Your eyes flicker back up to Satoru’s and fuck, he caught you—eyes twinkling with amusement as his lips slowly curl into a self-satisfied grin.

“Good morning to you too. Enjoying the view?”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies as your eyes widen, blinking rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your daze.

“I... I didn’t realize you were in here,” you stammer, voice higher than usual.

Satoru’s smirk widens as he reaches for an extra towel, rubbing it against his head to dry his hair. He then drapes the towel across his shoulders and meets your gaze with an alluring glint.

“Well, if you wanted to see more, you only had to ask.”

Pressing your lips together in protest, you try to regain some semblance of composure. Satoru had always teased you—don’t take it too seriously, you tell yourself.

Clearing your throat, you advert your gaze, though the crimson hue still remains on your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was an accident—besides, you’re the one who forgot to lock the door.”

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum, feigning innocence as he walks towards the sink.

“Guess I’m not used to sharing a bathroom,” he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, eyes surveying you with a mischievous glint, “You’re to blame too though, could’ve at least knocked. Unless, you were hoping to join me?” he grins.

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the blush creeping up your neck.

“In your dreams, Satoru.”

A low chuckle escapes him as his stare bores into you—oh how he lives for this. Satoru’s always loved seeing you flustered, but this? This is something else entirely, a new level of satisfaction he hadn’t anticipated.

“Sure, sure,” he pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “But you’re still standing there, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard, eyes flickering between his face and his chest, unable to decide where to look. His satisfaction grows with every falter in your gaze, his knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Each glance is a step deeper into a trap of your own making, an unspoken admission that he holds more sway over you than you care to admit.

“Just... put some clothes on, please. And yes, I’m standing here because I’d like to take a shower. Aren’t you done? Why are you still here.”

“Oh sure, I’m done. You can shower, but aren’t you gonna return the favor? Do I get a show too?”

Your breath catches in your throat at his boldness, the heat in your cheeks spreading down your neck. The intensity of his gaze pins you in place, a silent challenge that sends a shiver through your body.

“Not a chance,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “This isn’t some kind of peep show.”

Satoru gives you an annoyingly innocent pout, rubbing his neck with a sly grin, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Tch. Too bad. Would’ve been a great way to start the morning.”

You roll your eyes, pushing past him to get to the shower.

“Out,” you command, pointing towards the door.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling as he walks out.

“Alright, alright. Enjoy your shower, princess.”

You lock the door firmly behind him—heart pounding and your thoughts in disarray. As you step into the shower and the warm water cascades over you, you can’t help but replay the scene in your mind, each word and gesture etched vividly in your memory.

He’s just teasing—you remind yourself as you try to push away the fluttering feeling in your chest. Don’t take his words seriously, your relationship is a charade.

You close your eyes, letting the water wash over you, but the confusion remains.

Fuck. This is getting complicated.

ꨄ︎

The moment you close the door firmly behind him, Satoru leans against it for a moment, his smirk fading into a more contemplative expression.

He runs a hand through his hair—the sight of you, wide-eyed and blushing, had done more to him than he cared to admit. Exhaling slowly, he realizes that he’s in deeper than he thought.

As his thoughts drift back to the kiss you had shared at the gala, a familiar heat pools in his lower abdomen. The way your lips had felt against his—soft and inviting—the memory of your taste, the way you fit so perfectly against him…fuck. It stirs something primal within him.

He can’t deny the growing attraction he feels. After seeing you there with your cheeks flushed and your eyes surveying him, he had wanted to pull you closer, to see if your lips were as warm and inviting as he remembered.

Satoru groans as he adjusts his towel, feeling the fabric brush against his growing erection, trying to focus on anything other than the way you looked at him—the way the framework of your sleepwear accentuated your curves, the indent of your nipples peeking through the thin satin of your tank top. God, his desire only intensifies.

The contract was clear—no emotional entanglements. Yet here he was, aroused as his mind is consumed by you. He can’t help but wonder…what would it be like to explore this connection further, to let go, to give in to his curiosity completely.

Would it be so bad to just…fantasize?

He hears the shower turn on from behind the closed door—God, he can just imagine what it would be like to slide his hands all over your bare body.

Reaching down, he unwraps the towel from his waist, his cock slamming against his abdomen as it springs free from confinement. He curses under his breath; this wasn’t supposed to happen. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like this, but he can’t help but reach down and grip the base of his girth—he needs this, he wants this.

He needs you.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he begins to stroke himself, his hand moving slowly as he traces a familiar path over his length. There's a dull thud as Satoru's head hits the door, his eyes fluttering shut as he gives in to his imagination.

He can picture it vividly in his mind, the way the water would slide over your body, the way you'd respond to his touch... fuck, he can practically hear the little gasps and moans that would escape your lips as he touches you, the sounds that would drive him wild.

He bites his bottom lip, his hand moving slowly, trying to be as silent as possible. The thought of you, just on the other side of the door, excites him even more.

His breath comes out in short gasps as he imagines you, wet and wanting under the spray of the shower. The way your body would arch beneath his touch as he slides his digits between your warm walls. The water would run in rivulets down your body and you’d shiver under his touch, whispering his name, begging for more.

His breathing grows heavier as he speeds up his pace, envisioning you on your knees before him, your head bowed in submission, wet and flushed, looking up at him with a half-lidded desire in your eyes.

He wants you so desperately it's painfully evident in every movement—it’s almost too much to bear.

Your name slips from his lips – a desperate plea rather than a simple invocation. Fuck, it feels so good to have your name rolling off his tongue as he does something so indecent.

He can almost feel your hot, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive head, tasting him, savoring him. His free hand trails down to cup his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers as he pumps faster, just as you would while you take every inch of him in your pretty little mouth.

“Fuck…” he hisses through clenched teeth, his pace quickening as he chases the release he so desperately craves.

He shouldn’t be doing this, especially not right outside the bathroom door. But in this moment, he can't bring himself to care. Nothing else matters but you.

He pictures himself taking you right there, pushing you against the tiled wall, claiming your mouth in a fierce kiss as he thrusts himself deep inside you. The image of you quivering in pleasure drives Satoru further into madness. His strokes become erratic, desperate.

Satoru's entire body tenses, muscles coiling tight as he throws his head back. A desperate whine slips past his clenched teeth “Fuck…I’m gonna…”

His hips jerk erratically, pumping his cock in time with the spasms wracking his body. He whimpers as spurt after spurt of hot cum coats his stomach and chest, the sticky fluid painting his skin with evidence of his forbidden desires. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, each syllable punctuated by another forceful stroke as his hand continues to move, milking every last drop.

Panting heavily, he slumps against the door, his heart pounding in his chest while his spent cock twitches with residual pleasure. As he slowly comes back to reality, he realizes what he's done.

This wasn't supposed to happen—he was meant to tease you, not end up teasing himself. But there was no denying the effect you had on him anymore.

Fuck.

What the fuck is he thinking? This can’t happen again.

He needs to take another shower.

ꨄ︎

Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a fluffy towel around your body as the warm steam curls around you. You begin to head back to your room, but the moment you open the bathroom door, you are caught off guard, immediately met by one of the house staff, holding out a freshly laundered robe.

“Good morning, ma’am. Your robe.”

“Thank you,” you hesitate slightly, trying to offer a polite smile.

Taking the robe, you begin to make your way to the walk-in closet, yet another staff member is waiting with a selection of outfits.

"I've picked out a few choices for today's events, Mrs. Gojo."

You take a deep breath, "Thanks, I'll take a look."

It’s barely morning and you already have staff at your beck and call—sure, they mean well, but it’s suffocating. You’re not one for a lot of attention.

As the staff member steps aside, you examine the array of outfits.

Your eyes scan the elegant dresses, tailored suits, and chic ensembles neatly arranged on hangers. It’s not quite as elegant as the gala, but it’s clear that Satoru must have something important planned for the day. Each outfit exudes sophistication and class, far more extravagant than your usual attire.

As you run your fingers over the fabric of a particularly stunning dress, a ball of nerves settles within you. The thrill of wondering what Satoru has in store is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You select the dress, hoping it aligns with whatever he has planned.

After slipping into the elegant dress, you make your way to your vanity. But just as your fingers curl around the handle of your hairbrush, a maid materializes at your side, yet again.

"Good morning, ma'am. Can I assist you with your hair today?"

Is a moment to yourself too much to ask?

Your headache from last night’s wine lingers, and the incessant stream of people is beginning to fray your nerves—it’s really too much.

Offering another polite smile, you try to mask the mild irritation simmering beneath.

"No, thank you. I can manage.”

The maid nods and steps back, only for another staff member to glide in right behind her, almost as if choreographed.

This one carries a gleaming silver tray adorned with an array of high-end skincare products, each bottle and jar meticulously arranged, their labels promising luxury and perfection.

"Your skincare routine, ma'am."

You close your eyes momentarily, trying to remain patient, your voice as calm as you can manage.

"I appreciate it, really, but I have my own products."

The staff member hesitates, her expression a mix of confusion and professionalism.

"Of course, ma'am," she replies, inclining her head respectfully before retreating.

As the door closes behind her, you release a long, weary sigh. The constant attention is smothering, and you long for the simplicity of your old life.

Those quiet mornings, the sweet solitary moments where you could just… be – without the pressure of performing or living up to impossible standards.

But like it or not, this is your reality now. Guess you’ll just need to find a way to navigate it without losing yourself in the process.

ꨄ︎

By the time you make it downstairs, Haru is already seated at the elegant dining table, her small hands fiddling with her silverware. Satoru sits at the head of the table, reading through some documents.

The table is laden with a lavish breakfast spread—perfectly arranged fruits, pastries, and an assortment of gourmet dishes. The scent threatens to overwhelm you as the lingering effects of last night’s indulgence in wine and champagne churn in your stomach.

"Good morning," Satoru says, glancing up with a grin, looking annoyingly refreshed.

Rubbing the temple of your head, you attempt a tired smile.

“Morning.”

Satoru watches you with amusement as you slide into your seat. The rich aroma of the elaborate breakfast instantly greets your nostrils, prompting a groan to escape your lips.  

"How are you feeling?" he quirks a brow.

"Like I drank half the wine cellar," you grimace.

Satoru leans back in his chair, his grin widening, and Haru giggles, watching you with wide curious eyes as you bury your face in your hands.

“Mama sleepy,” she declares with the wisdom of a two-year-old.

“Yes, Haru…Mama is very sleepy,” you mutter, peaking at her through your fingers. Despite the hangover, that innocent laugh brings a small smile to your face.

Satoru chuckles, setting his documents aside as he reaches for his mug.

"You should’ve stuck to the champagne, lightweight," he teases, bringing his coffee up to his lips.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare.

"Not helping."

A chef sets down a plate of perfectly arranged eggs benedict directly in front of you with a flourish, each element meticulously placed. The aroma wafts up and you instinctively push the plate away.

"Actually, do you have any toast? With jelly?" your voice tinged with a mix of disgust and desperation.

The chef looks momentarily puzzled, a slight furrow forming on his brow, but he nods politely.

"Of course, ma'am."

You abruptly get up, deciding to find it yourself. Making your way to the nearby pantry, you move with purpose as you begin rummaging through the neatly organized shelves. You feel Satoru’s amused gaze following your every move. Turning, you see him leaning back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he watches you with evident curiosity.

“You're like a college student after a party. All this gourmet food and you want toast?"

Your fingers brush past jars of exotic spices and imported oils until you finally find what you’re looking for—a simple loaf of bread and a jar of ruby-red jelly. The familiar, comforting sight of them brings a small, satisfied smile to your lips. You turn to Satoru, holding up the items triumphantly.

“I just want something simple.”

As you set the bread and jelly down on the counter, Haru, perched nearby with wide and curious eyes, giggles at the sight.

"Mama wants toast!" she announces gleefully, her little voice echoing through the kitchen like a bell.

A grin curls up your lips as you unclasp the bread bag.

"Yes, mama wants toast," you say, popping a slice into the toaster. Leaning casually against the marble countertop, you shift your gaze to Satoru. “Anyways Mr. Gourmet, what’s the plan for today?”

Satoru leans back, his eyes narrowing playfully as he studies you.

"Well, I was thinking we could go over some things regarding Gojo Corporation. There are a few upcoming projects I’ve been meaning to discuss with you and I’d like your insight."

You arch an eyebrow, mildly caught off guard by the suggestion.

"Really? You usually handle all that on your own."

He nods, the movement slow and deliberate.

"True," he concedes, "but as my wife, I think it’s time you start coming back to the office with me. I want you to be more involved, and it’s important for everyone to see us working together as a team."

Your eyes widen in surprise.

"You want me to be more involved? I’m just a secretary."

Satoru shrugs with a casual air, but there’s a determined edge to his voice that tells you he’s thought this through.

"I’ve taken on a lot more responsibilities lately, and I could use your help. Besides, your insights have always been valuable to me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sudden pop of the toaster pulls your attention away.  Turning your focus to the toast, you carefully spread jelly across the warm slice, but the task does little to settle the fluttering sensation in your chest.

This is a big ask.

You've always been behind the scenes, a secretary who knew the inner workings but never sat at the table where decisions were made. And now, here he is, trusting you with responsibilities that feel like they belong to someone else—someone more experienced, more confident.

It’s strange, surreal even, that Satoru would entrust you with such a significant role. Even if this is just a charade, this role requires more than just understanding the business. It requires being a partner in the truest sense.

“So…you’re serious about this? Gojo Corporation, we’re doing this together now?” you ask, returning to your seat, your voice carrying a hint of uncertainty as you search his eyes for reassurance.

Satoru nods.

“Absolutely. I think it’s time we show everyone what a true power couple looks like,” he replies, punctuating his words with a wink.

Leaning forward, he rests his chin in the cradle of his hand as he props his elbow casually on the table. His gaze locks onto yours, a glint of something more behind his deep blue eyes.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice softening slightly, “the office just isn’t the same without you.”

You take a slow bite of your toast, savoring the buttery warmth as it spreads across your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the unexpected warmth blossoming in your chest at his words.

“Yeah, right,” you murmur, “You just want to make me do all the paperwork."

His grin broadens, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, dangerously charming smile that always seems to disarm you.

"Guilty as charged."

Haru reaches out eagerly, her tiny fingers wiggling with impatience.

“Toast!” she demands with all the confidence and adorable assertiveness of a two-year-old.

You tear off a small piece and place it into her eagerly awaiting hand. She takes it with a giggle, her eyes lighting up as she munches happily.

As you lift your toast back up to your lips, you catch Satoru’s gaze lingering on you. There is a subtle shift in his expression—a depth of emotion, a certain tenderness that makes you wonder what he could be thinking.

"What?" you ask, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone, though you’re not entirely sure why.

He doesn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he finally speaks.

"Nothing," he eventually says with a playful yet genuine edge. “It’s just... interesting to see you choose something so ordinary.”

“Sometimes less is more.” you counter, a hint of challenge in your voice. “Besides, not everyone grew up with chefs and staff at their beck and call. It’s a bit much sometimes.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, the smirk widening as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh? Are you saying my lifestyle is too much for you?”

You gesture broadly around the lavish room.

"Look at all this,” you exclaim, your voice tinged with a mix of awe and exasperation. “The staff, the gourmet meals, the constant attention. It's like I'm living in a palace. I can't breathe without someone trying to do something for me, and I can’t even cook for Haru without feeling like I'm stepping on someone's toes."

The words spill out before you can catch them, each one landing with a weight you hadn’t fully anticipated. There’s an undercurrent of something deeper in your tone, a tension that has been simmering just below the surface—an unease that you’ve been trying to push aside, but now, in this moment, it bubbles over, impossible to ignore.

Satoru’s gaze sharpens and he arches an eyebrow as he catches the subtle shift in your demeanor.

"You miss cooking?" his voice softening with genuine interest.

“Yeah, I do,” you confess, your voice tinged with a mix of longing and resignation. “It’s one of the few things that makes me feel grounded, like I’m in control of something. Plus, Haru loves my cooking.”

He regards you with an intensity that catches you off guard.

“I didn’t realize you felt that way. You know… you’re welcome to cook whenever you want. This is your home too, after all.”

There’s a brief pause as he seems to mull something over, his eyes distant before snapping back to yours with a newfound determination. He leans forward slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“How about this—you cook dinner tonight? I’ll tell the chef to take the night off.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the offer.

“You’d really do that?”

"Why not?" he says with a shrug. "This is your home now, for the next year at least. Besides, it’ll be nice to see you in your element, and I’m curious to taste your cooking."

A spark of excitement flickers within you at the idea, the thought of returning to something familiar and comforting lifting your spirits.

“Alright then,” you agree, a playful challenge in your tone. “But don’t complain if it doesn’t meet your gourmet standards.”

“I’m sure it will be perfect,” he responds, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that sends a ripple of anticipation through you.

He leans in closer, his elbow resting on the table as he tilts his head, his intense gaze locking onto yours. The proximity makes your heart skip a beat, the air between you charged with an unspoken connection.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he adds, his voice low, almost a whisper, as if sharing a secret meant only for you.

You hold his gaze, trying to maintain your composure, though you can feel a flutter in your chest.

“Just promise me you won’t hover in the kitchen,” you quip, lifting an eyebrow as you lean back slightly, creating a bit of space to steady your racing heart.

Satoru’s grin only widens, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes as he mirrors your movement, leaning back as well.

“No promises. I might want to learn a thing or two."

You cross your arms, challenging him with a smirk and a pointed look.

“You? Help out in the kitchen?”

The disbelief in your voice is clear, though a small smile tugs at your lips. The idea of him, the polished and ever-confident Satoru, navigating the chaos of a kitchen is almost too absurd to imagine.

He laughs, a rich sound that fills the room, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, I can follow directions,” he protests, his grin broadening. “Just tell me what to do.”

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head in mock exasperation.

“We’ll see about that,” you quip, though there’s a part of you that’s curious—maybe even hopeful—that he might actually surprise you.

Before you can say more, Haru claps her hands together excitedly, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Mama cooking! Yay!” she exclaims, bouncing in her highchair.

You laugh softly, ruffling her hair with affection.

“Yes, mama’s cooking tonight,” you confirm, the warmth in your voice mirroring the smile on your face.

Satoru watches the exchange with a softening gaze, a rare moment of quiet sincerity passing over his features. But then, with a stretch that seems to shake off the sentiment, he stands up, rolling his shoulders back.

“In the meantime,” he says, tone shifting back to business, “we should probably get ready to head to the office. There’s a lot we need to cover.”

ꨄ︎

As the car pulls up to the grand entrance of Gojo Corporation, you take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

It feels as though an eternity has passed since you last walked through those imposing doors, yet as you gaze up at the sleek, formidable building, a wave of familiarity washes over you, making it seem as if nothing has changed.

The towering glass structure looms above, its mirrored surface catching the early morning sun and casting a dazzling array of shimmering light that dances across the pavement. The reflections create an almost ethereal glow around the building.

As the sleek glass doors of Gojo Corporation glide open with a quiet whoosh, you and Satoru step through together, hand in hand.

The lobby unfolds before you, just as you remembered—spacious, modern, and a testament to impeccable design.

Polished marble floors stretch out beneath your feet, gleaming like a mirror under the bright, strategically placed lights. The air is filled with a soft, steady hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional click of heels against the floor.

Familiar faces turn towards you, their polite smiles masking the flickers of curiosity and speculation that dance in their eyes. You can feel the weight of their gazes, each glance a blend of respect tinged with a subtle undercurrent of skepticism.

The whispers are almost tangible, a low murmur that follows you as you move further into the lobby, their eyes tracking your every step.

Your hand instinctively tightens around Satoru’s, seeking reassurance in his steady presence. Satoru’s grip is firm yet comforting, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand in a silent gesture of support.

He leads you further into the lobby, his posture exuding confidence and ease, as if he’s entirely unbothered by the attention.

Each of your footsteps against the polished floor brings a flood of memories to you. There’s a palpable sense of nostalgia, a bittersweet longing for the simplicity and familiarity of your old workspace.

But everything has changed, hasn’t it?

Now, you’re his wife—at least, that’s the role you must play.

The weight of that title hangs heavy on your shoulders, transforming the once-familiar surroundings into a stage where every glance, every whisper carries a different meaning.

And Satoru—he has changed too.

The carefree son of the CEO you once knew has evolved into a leader in his own right. The transformation is subtle yet profound, etched in the way he carries himself, the way he interacts with the staff, and the way he commands respect without demanding it.

You can see the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, a mantle he has taken up with a quiet determination.

As you approach the elevators, Satoru’s hand slips from yours, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he reaches out to press the button.

The elevator doors slide open with a quiet, mechanical whisper, revealing the sleek, mirrored interior. You both step inside, the soft hum of the elevator filling the space with a steady, soothing rhythm.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes catching the soft light reflecting off the polished walls. There’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips, one that carries a hint of warmth and something deeper—perhaps a silent promise that everything will be alright.

“So,” he begins, his voice casual, though you can sense the underlying focus in his tone, “today we have a meeting regarding a potential corporate merger with Mei-Mei's company.”

“Mei-Mei… I remember her,” you say, your brow furrowing slightly as you search your memory. “Isn't she from that high-end tech company?”

Satoru nods and leans casually against the elevator wall, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly working.

“That’s right,” he confirms, his voice steady and assured. “She’s quite influential in her field, a key player in the tech industry. This merger could be a significant step for us, opening doors to new technologies and markets.”

As his words sink in, you feel a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. You swallow hard, trying to push down the unease that’s bubbling up inside you.

“Alright. What’s our approach for the meeting?”

Satoru’s eyes meet yours, his gaze steady and reassuring. There’s a quiet confidence in his expression, a belief in your abilities that helps to steady your nerves.

“We’ll present our strengths,” he explains. “We’ll show them what we can bring to the table, the value we offer. Your insights will be invaluable, so don’t hesitate to speak up. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

You nod, drawing in a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest.

“Got it,” you reply, your voice more resolute now, bolstered by his confidence in you.

The elevator dings softly, and the doors glide open to reveal the executive floor, a space imbued with quiet power and understated elegance.

Satoru walks ahead, his stride confident and purposeful, and you follow closely, drawing strength from his unwavering presence.

As you enter the conference room, your eyes immediately land on Mei-Mei, already seated at the expansive table. She’s impeccably dressed, exuding an air of effortless elegance and control.

The moment she spots Satoru, her eyes light up with a warmth that feels just a bit too personal. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips as she rises gracefully from her chair.

“Satoru, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth and honeyed as she glides toward him with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she wants. “It’s been far too long.”

Seeing her in person brings a rush of memories, sharp and unbidden—the sound of her voice, the way she says his name...

Mei-Mei isn’t just any business associate— she’s the woman who was once poised to step into the very role you now occupy.

Satoru’s father had been persistent he consider her for marriage, a match that had been pushed on him relentlessly.

The realization sharpens your senses, and as Mei-Mei continues to hold Satoru’s gaze with practiced ease, you steel yourself, determined not to let old rivalries or lingering doubts shake your confidence.

Satoru smiles politely, his expression composed and unreadable as he extends a hand to her.

“Mei-Mei,” he greets her, his tone smooth and diplomatic. “Always a pleasure.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker with satisfaction as she accepts his hand, her touch light and fleeting, like a whisper of silk.

Her gaze shifts to you as she releases his hand, a spark of curiosity mingling with something more calculated behind her eyes.

“And who might this be?” she inquires, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as if she’s already assessing your worth.

“This is my wife, y/n” Satoru says smoothly, his hand finding yours. “She’ll be joining us for the meeting.”

Mei-Mei’s smile curves at the edges, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which narrow slightly as she studies you more closely.

“Of course,” she says, her tone dripping with courtesy that feels just a shade too polished. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

She pauses, her gaze sharpening with a hint of challenge.

“I must say, I haven’t heard of you before. What family do you come from?”

A twinge of discomfort ripples through you, a reminder of the stark difference in backgrounds. You swallow slightly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I... I don’t come from a well-known family,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should. “I’ve worked with Satoru at Gojo Corporation for the past year.”

Mei-Mei’s smile shifts, the corners of her lips lifting just a fraction, but there’s a condescending glint in her eyes now.

“Oh, I see,” she replies, her voice laced with a faint, dismissive amusement. “How quaint.”

You force a smile, though it feels tight on your lips, refusing to let her patronizing attitude get under your skin.

As you move to take your seat at the table, you watch as she leans in closer to Satoru, her fingers grazing his arm in a gesture that seems almost too casual, too familiar.

“I must say, Satoru,” Mei-Mei purrs, her voice smooth and saccharine, like honey with a hint of venom, “you’ve been doing an impressive job with the company. Your father would be proud.”

Satoru nods, keeping his tone professional.

“Thank you, Mei-Mei. We’ve made some significant strides, and I’m optimistic about the potential this merger holds for both of our companies.”

“Of course, Satoru. I’m sure we can work out something that benefits both parties. After all,” she adds, her gaze lingering on him with a knowing smile, “we’ve always made a great team, haven’t we?”

Determined to assert your own presence, you clear your throat softly and lean forward, your gaze steady and unyielding.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how our strengths can complement each other,” you interject smoothly. “There’s a lot we can achieve together.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes flicker to you. She offers a tight smile, the warmth in her expression barely masking the sharpness beneath.

“Indeed,” she concedes, her tone now laced with a hint of challenge. “Let’s make this a success, shall we?”

The meeting begins, and you do your best to focus on the discussion, but Mei-Mei’s constant flirtation with Satoru gnaws at your nerves like a persistent thorn.

You can feel the tension building within you, your hands clenched tightly in your lap as you force yourself to remain composed, every muscle in your body taut with restraint.

Mei-Mei finds every opportunity to brush her fingers against Satoru’s arm, her touch lingering just a second too long. Her laughter rings out, a bit too loud and a touch too sweet, echoing off the walls of the conference room.

Every compliment she directs at Satoru is overly effusive, dripping with a familiarity that sets your teeth on edge.

Satoru, to his credit, remains the picture of professionalism.

His responses are polite but distant, a carefully maintained detachment that you admire even as it does little to quell the irritation bubbling inside you. He’s skilled at sidestepping her advances with an almost practiced ease, deflecting her attempts to draw him into her web of flirtation.

But despite his composed demeanor, each of Mei-Mei’s calculated gestures feels like a test—a deliberate provocation meant to unsettle you, to remind you of the history that lingers between them.

The subtle, unspoken challenge in her eyes whenever she glances your way only fuels the fire simmering within you.

“So, Satoru,” Mei-Mei says, leaning closer to him, “about the merger terms, I believe we should consider revising the profit-sharing ratio. It would be beneficial for both parties.”

Her tone is persuasive, almost coaxing, as she tilts her head slightly, letting her hair fall in a way that draws attention to the graceful curve of her neck.

But before Satoru can respond, you lean forward, your voice calm yet firm, cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Actually, if you look at the numbers, the current ratio is fair and balanced, ensuring both companies benefit equally from this partnership.”

For a split second, annoyance flashes in Mei-Mei’s eyes, a subtle tightening at the corners of her mouth betraying her irritation. But she quickly masks it with a polished smile, her expression smoothing over as if the moment of discord never happened.

“I see,” she replies, her voice still honeyed but with a slight edge. “Well, perhaps we can discuss this further in detail later.”

Satoru, ever the diplomat, nods in agreement, his tone steady and measured.

“We can certainly revisit that point,” he says, his gaze shifting between you and Mei-Mei, acknowledging both perspectives. “But for now, let’s proceed with the agenda.”

As the conversation continues, Mei-Mei’s relentless flirtations with Satoru are becoming more and more unbearable.

Each coy glance she throws Satoru’s way chips away at your composure, and you find it harder and harder to maintain the calm facade you’ve been desperately clinging to.

Just when you think you can’t endure it any longer, Satoru glances at his watch and suggests,

“Let’s take a short break. We’ll reconvene in fifteen minutes.”

The words are like a lifeline tossed to a drowning person.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you mutter, barely managing to keep the tremor out of your voice as you slip out of the room.

The moment you’re out of sight, you quicken your pace, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you make a beeline for the supply room. The small, confined space offers a momentary refuge from the oppressive atmosphere of the conference room.

As you close the door behind you, the faint scent of paper and office supplies envelops you, oddly comforting in its familiarity, like a reminder of simpler times.

You start to rummage through the supplies, your hands moving automatically as you try to distract yourself from the image of Mei-Mei’s hands brushing against Satoru’s arm, her laughter echoing in your ears.

The memory plays on a loop in your mind, fueling the frustration that bubbles just beneath the surface.

You grab a few items—a stack of sticky notes, a box of paperclips—and begin organizing them on the shelf, your movements precise, almost mechanical.

Moments later, the door creaks open, and you look up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, a nostalgic smile on his face.

“Doesn’t look like you’re taking much of a break.”

“I guess old habits die hard,” your voice clipped, betraying the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“Seeing you in here brings back memories,” he continues, stepping further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the shelves as if he, too, is remembering the countless times you’d both found yourselves in this very spot, buried in work and conversation.

The familiarity of it should be comforting, but today, it only amplifies the growing disarray you feel inside. You huff, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Since I’ve been gone, it’s obvious someone isn’t doing the supply order right,” you gesture sharply to the cluttered shelves. “Everything’s out of place.”

He chuckles softly, closing the distance between you with a few steps.

“You always were meticulous about these things. Guess no one can do it quite like you.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turn back to the shelves.

“This whole day has been a mess,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him, the words escaping in a rush of pent-up emotion.

Each item you straighten feels like an attempt to impose order on something far more chaotic than these shelves—a futile effort to regain control in a situation that seems increasingly out of your grasp.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against a shelf, his posture relaxed but his eyes attentive.

“Really? I thought things were going well,” he remarks, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You turn to face him, your frustration bubbling over, no longer containable.

“Well, they’re not,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice surprising even yourself. “This merger? It’s a terrible idea. It’s obvious Mei-Mei is just trying to squeeze as much revenue out of this deal as possible, and you’re letting her.”

Satoru’s teasing expression falters, replaced by one of seriousness. He uncrosses his arms, his posture shifting as he takes a step closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that wasn’t there before.

“What makes you say that?”

You cross your arms defensively, glaring at him.

“The terms she’s proposing are ridiculous. She’s pushing for more than her company deserves.”

“Why didn’t you say something during the meeting?” he counters, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

You throw your hands up in exasperation, your emotions spilling over.

“How could I?” you quip, the words escaping in a rush. “Mei-Mei was too busy batting her eyelashes and finding any excuse to touch you. Every time I tried to speak, she’d cut me off or distract you with some flirtatious nonsense.”

Satoru’s eyebrow arches, and for a moment, a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks flush involuntarily, and you turn back to the shelves, grabbing a stack of papers and slamming them down with more force than necessary.

“Of course not,” you retort, your voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just... unprofessional.”

He doesn’t back down, the smirk still playing on his lips as he steps closer, closing the distance between you until he’s right in front of you.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know that?” he murmurs, his tone playful, almost affectionate.

That’s the last straw.

Your patience, already worn thin, finally snaps.

“You know what? It's hard enough trying to fit into this world without someone like her treating me like I don’t belong!”

You shove the papers aside, the sound of them scattering across the table punctuating your words, and start to walk past him, needing to escape the confined space.

Satoru’s smirk vanishes as he realizes the depth of your frustration. He grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and pulls you back to him. His grip is firm but gentle, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice sincere. “I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.”

You look up at him, your vision blurring slightly as tears threaten to spill over. The vulnerability you’ve been trying to hold back finally breaks through, and the words tumble out before you can stop them.

“It’s just... it’s not easy being here, Satoru,” you confess, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I feel out of place, like I don’t belong and I’m constantly being judged. It’s like everyone’s waiting for me to fail.”

He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as he studies your face, reading the depth of your distress.

“This isn’t just about Mei-Mei, is it?” he asks gently. “Does this have anything to do with that guy at the gala last night? The one that was overly familiar with you at the bar?”

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his perceptiveness.

“What? No, this is different,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation.

“Is it?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your back of your hand. “Because I saw how he looked at you. And how uncomfortable you seemed.”

You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling to the surface.

“Naoya was just being his usual self, trying to provoke me,” you say dismissively.

“Naoya, huh?” Satoru’s voice hardens slightly, his expression darkening at the mention of the name. “He didn’t just try to provoke you. He was trying to undermine you in front of everyone. Who is that guy to you?”

The intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you can see that Satoru isn’t just curious—he’s genuinely concerned, and more than a little angry.

The protective edge in his voice tells you that he’s not going to let this go easily, and you realize that he’s picking up on more than you’d like to admit.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you weigh your words carefully.

“He’s... he’s Haru’s father,” you finally admit, the words leaving your lips in a hesitant whisper.

Satoru’s eyes widen in shock, the sudden revelation hitting him like a physical blow.

“What? Haru’s father? Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a sharpness in his tone now, not out of anger, but out of the raw emotion of being blindsided by something so significant.

You drop your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, the weight of your past suddenly feeling like too much to bear.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my past,” you say quietly, your voice thick with regret.

For a moment, there’s silence, thick and heavy between you, and you can feel the tension radiating off him.

But then, gently, he lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch is tender, his expression softening as he looks into your eyes, searching for the truth in them.

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt. “And Haru is part of your life. That means she’s part of mine now too.”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you as you struggle to find the right response.

“Satoru, I... I just didn’t know how to bring it up,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly with the vulnerability of the confession. “I didn’t want to complicate things. It’s just… I feel like I’m constantly being tested, like I have to prove myself over and over again.”

The words spill out in a rush, the pent-up emotions you’ve been holding back finally breaking free.

He sighs softly, his expression softening as he reaches out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he says, his voice gentle, but there’s an underlying seriousness in his tone. “But we can’t have any more secrets between us during this arrangement. If we’re going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth in his touch—it all combines to create a sense of safety, a reassurance that you’re not alone in this, even if this is just a charade, it’s the comfort you desperately need.

Tears well up in your eyes again, threatening to spill out as your emotions overwhelm you. You nod, swallowing hard to keep your voice steady.

“I understand,” you whisper, “no more secrets.”

Without a word, Satoru pulls you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

He holds you close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm against your ear. “You do belong, y/n. And I’m not going to let anyone—Mei-Mei, Naoya, or anyone else—make you feel otherwise.”

As he speaks, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you simply melt into his embrace, letting the warmth and security he provides wash over you.

Your heart races as his hand slowly moves up, fingers gently threading through your hair, his touch so tender it makes your breath hitch. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breath warm against your ear, grounding you in this shared moment of vulnerability.

But then, you pull back slightly, looking up at him, and it’s only then that you truly realize how close you are.

Your faces are mere inches apart, and the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, drawing your attention to the way his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as you feel the magnetic pull between you, the tension thick in the air.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leans in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation building as his lips draw nearer.

But just before they brush against yours, a sliver of doubt crosses your mind—the reality of the situation, reminding you of where you are, and what you are to each other.

You pull back slightly, your voice barely a whisper.

“We should probably head back to the meeting.”

Though you say the words, your voice lacks conviction, betraying your true feelings.

Satoru’s eyes search yours for a moment longer, his forehead resting gently against yours as he takes a deep breath, the sound filled with a mix of reluctance and understanding.

He slowly pulls back, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Yeah, we should,” he agrees softly, though his tone carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

His hand slips from your cheek, the absence of his touch leaving you feeling a bit colder.

“Let’s get back to it.”

ꨄ︎

As you re-enter the conference room, Mei-Mei is already seated, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the table.

She looks up as you and Satoru take your seats, a sly, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Ah, there you are,” she says, her tone dripping with faux sweetness, the honeyed edge barely masking the underlying condescension. “Shall we continue?”

Satoru clears his throat, his expression carefully neutral as he regains his composure. There’s a subtle shift in his demeanor, a steely resolve that wasn’t there before.

“Right, let’s continue where we left off.”

Mei-Mei’s smile deepens, saccharine sweet and just as poisonous, as she resumes her position with an air of unshakable confidence.

She leans forward slightly, her fingers stilling as she clasps her hands together, a picture of poised professionalism.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Now, as I was saying, the merger terms we’re proposing are quite favorable, especially considering the current market conditions. I’m confident that with a little cooperation, we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement. Perhaps we can revisit the profit-sharing ratio?”

Her words are delivered with the precision of someone who’s used to getting her way, but you can feel the subtle shift in her gaze as it flickers toward you, her eyes cold and calculating.

You glance at Satoru, seeking the silent reassurance that only he can offer in this moment.

He meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod, the unspoken signal you’ve been waiting for. Your heart pounds in your chest, the adrenaline surging as you realize that this is your moment.

It’s now or never.

Summoning every ounce of courage within you, you rise from your seat, your voice steady and clear as it cuts through the tension in the room.

“Actually, we’ve reconsidered,” you begin, each word carefully measured. “After reviewing the terms, we’ve decided that moving forward with this merger is not in the best interest of Gojo Corporation.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes widen in surprise, her carefully crafted facade slipping for just a fraction of a second. The shock in her expression is almost imperceptible, but you catch it, the brief crack in her confidence before she quickly regains her composure.

“Excuse me?” she demands, her voice sharp with incredulity. “Are you saying you’re rejecting our proposal?”

You meet her gaze unflinchingly, standing firm with a resolve that surprises even you.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” you reply, your voice steady and unyielding. “The terms you’re proposing are not equitable, and it’s clear that your company stands to gain disproportionately from this deal. We’re not interested in a partnership that doesn’t offer balanced benefits.”

Mei-Mei’s smile tightens, the corners of her lips pulling into a strained curve as she processes your words. Her composure is slipping, the veneer of control cracking as she realizes she’s losing her grip on the situation.

Desperation flickers in her eyes as she glances toward Satoru, clearly hoping to find an ally in him.

“Satoru,” her tone laced with forced sweetness, “surely we can discuss this further—”

“I trust my wife’s judgment completely,” Satoru leans back in his chair with a calm confidence, a proud smile playing on his lips as he watches you take control of the situation. “If she says the deal isn’t right for us, then we won’t proceed.”

The finality in his tone leaves no room for negotiation and the impact of his words is immediate.

Mei-Mei’s expression falters, the last traces of her confident facade slipping away as frustration and disbelief flicker in her eyes. She forces a tight smile, nodding curtly, her eyes hardening.

“I see. Well, it’s your loss. Our offer was quite generous.”

You hold her gaze, unflinching.

“We’ll find another opportunity that aligns better with our goals. Thank you for your time.”

Mei-Mei’s eyes narrow slightly, but she says nothing more. Instead, she gathers her things with an icy precision, each movement deliberate as she rises from her seat.

The tension in the room is palpable as she turns on her heel and strides toward the door, her demeanor frosty, the sting of defeat evident in her rigid posture. The door closes behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the suddenly quiet room.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the tension slowly melting away as a surge of relief and empowerment floods through you.

The adrenaline rush of standing your ground leaves you feeling both exhilarated and slightly shaky, but there’s also a newfound confidence simmering beneath the surface—a realization that you’re more than capable of handling whatever comes your way.

Satoru turns to you, his smile widening with pride as he meets your gaze.

“You handled that perfectly,” the warmth in his voice is like a reassuring embrace.

You return his smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

“Thanks. I guess I just needed to find my voice.”

And find it you did.

ꨄ︎

As the sun begins to set, it casts a warm, golden glow through the expansive windows of the Gojo residence kitchen.

The light dances across the sleek, modern space, highlighting the clean lines of stainless-steel appliances and the smooth, cool surface of marble countertops.

You stand at the kitchen island, surrounded by a colorful array of ingredients—vibrant tomatoes, fragrant basil, and glistening cuts of meat, each carefully selected for the evening’s meal.

Satoru walks in, rolling up his sleeves with a playful grin lighting up his face.

“So, Chef,” he says with a teasing lilt in his voice, leaning casually against the counter as he takes in the scene before him. His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

You glance up from the cutting board, catching his gaze.

There’s a lightness in his demeanor, a boyish enthusiasm that makes you smile in return. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most interesting part of his day—sends a flutter of warmth through your chest.

“Nothing fancy. Just some homemade pasta and a simple salad. I hope that’s okay with you, Mr. Gourmet.”

“Sounds perfect,” he grins, moving to your side, ready to help. “What can I do?”

You hand him a cutting board and a knife, pointing to a colorful pile of vegetables waiting to be prepped.

“You can start by chopping these for the salad.”

He takes the knife, looking at it a bit awkwardly and glances at you with a sheepish grin.

“Alright, let’s see if I remember how to do this without losing a finger.”

You can’t help but watch with amusement as he makes a few tentative cuts, each slice uneven and clumsy. It’s clear he’s out of practice—or perhaps he never had much to begin with.

The sight of him, usually so confident, struggling with something so simple brings a smile to your face.

“Here, let me show you,” you say, moving to stand beside him.

Sliding closer, you place your hand over his on the knife handle, your touch gentle yet firm.

“You want to keep your fingers tucked in like this,” you instruct, demonstrating with your own hand, ensuring his fingers are safely out of the knife’s path. “And use a rocking motion with the knife, letting the blade do the work.”

You move his hand with yours, the rhythm of the knife creating a soothing pattern.

Satoru watches you intently, the proximity making your heart race. The warmth of his hand beneath yours sends a shiver up your spine.

As you continue to guide him, your hands move together in sync, and you can’t help but notice the way his focus shifts from the vegetables to you, his blue eyes flickering with something deeper than just concentration.

“Got it,” he murmurs softly.

You continue to guide his hand, feeling the rhythm of the chopping become smoother.

“Like this?”

“Exactly,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “See? It’s not so hard once you get the hang of it.”

He chuckles, and his eyes remain locked on yours, a playful spark mingling with the more serious undercurrent in his expression.

“Not hard at all, especially with such a good teacher.”

The moment lingers, the air between you charged with a newfound intimacy. Reluctantly, you step back, breaking the spell as you release your hold on the knife.

“I think you’ve got it from here.”

Satoru nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he returns to the vegetables with a newfound determination.

There is a new awareness in the way he handles the knife, as if he’s carrying forward the memory of your touch.

The two of you work in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of garlic in the pan.

It feels oddly domestic, a far cry from the high-stakes world of corporate mergers and charity galas.

The simplicity of this moment, shared in the soft light of the kitchen, is a refreshing contrast to the complexities of your usual lives.

“You know, I never imagined I’d be doing something like this,” Satoru admits after a while, his voice breaking the silence. “But I’m glad I am.”

You glance over at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile.

“Cooking is kind of therapeutic for me, you know,” you say, your voice thoughtful as you turn your attention back to the task at hand. “It helps me clear my mind, and it’s something I can control, unlike so many other things in life.”

Satoru watches you for a moment, his expression softening as he absorbs your words. There’s a quiet admiration in his gaze, one that you can feel even without looking at him.

“You know, I gotta say, you’re really good at this.”

“Hm? Cooking?” you ask, glancing up at him with a curious tilt of your head.

“No,” his voice softens. “Balancing everything. Being a mother, dealing with me, and now standing up in that meeting. You’re incredible.”

His words catch you off guard, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

Your cheeks flush at the unexpected compliment, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove.

For a moment, you’re at a loss for words, the gravity of his praise settling in. You turn your attention back to the stove, stirring the sauce with a renewed focus, using the task to steady yourself.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you finally manage. “That means a lot.”

As you continue to cook, the tension of the day begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that settles over you like a warm blanket.

The kitchen fills with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of simmering tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic, the scents mingling together to create an atmosphere that feels both comforting and intimate.

Satoru moves beside you with surprising grace, each motion purposeful and smooth, belying his earlier claims of inexperience.

You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, exposing the toned muscles of his forearms as he works.

There’s a quiet concentration in his expression, a focus that draws you in, making it impossible not to notice the way he’s completely absorbed in the task at hand.

“Looks like you’re a natural.”

Your words earn you a grin, his usual playfulness shining through.

“Don’t jinx it,” he warns, making a particularly precise cut with the knife, his movements confident and sure.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree as you turn back to the sauce simmering on the stove.

“I think it’s time to taste this,” you say, stirring the rich, fragrant mixture with a wooden spoon. “Want to give it a try?”

Satoru nods, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing as he joins you at the stove.

You scoop a bit of the sauce onto a spoon, blowing on it gently to cool it down before lifting it to your lips for a taste. The rich, tangy flavors explode on your tongue, the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity.

“Mmm, I think it’s almost perfect,” you murmur, savoring the taste, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you let the flavors linger.

“Almost?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of challenge.

You smile, opening your eyes to find his gaze fixed on you, the intensity in his blue eyes sending a shiver down your spine.

“Here, taste,” you say, holding the spoon up to his lips, your hand steady.

He leans in, his movements slow and deliberate, every inch closer making your heart beat a little faster. His eyes remain locked on yours with an unspoken intensity, and as his lips close around the spoon, you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.

There’s a brief pause as he savors the sauce, his expression thoughtful.

“Wow, that’s delicious,” his voice low and sincere.

Just as you’re about to smile in response, you feel a light touch on your lip. Before you can react, Satoru reaches out, his thumb gently swiping at the corner of your mouth where a bit of sauce had lingered.

The unexpected contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his own lips, tasting the sauce with a playful smirk that leaves you momentarily speechless.

“Now that’s perfect.”

The simple gesture, so intimate and unassuming, leaves you flustered, warmth spreading through your cheeks.

The kitchen seemed to grow smaller and the air thicker.

You quickly turn your attention back to stirring the pasta, desperately trying to steady your racing heart and regain your composure as you move the spoon in slow, deliberate circles.

“You always know how to make things interesting,” you manage to say, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves that Satoru has stirred up.

He chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through the small space between you, and you feel him step closer until his chest is nearly brushing against your back.

The warmth of his presence wraps around you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and something more—something electric.

“I could say the same about you,” his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly, your breath catching as you realize just how close he is. His blue eyes, so focused and intense, lock onto yours, and the world seems to narrow to just the two of you.

Satoru leans in, his voice dropping to a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You have a way of making everything more exciting, y/n.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry as your eyes flicker to his lips and then back to his eyes.

The pull between you is magnetic, undeniable, and you struggle to maintain your composure.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re so easily entertained,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to diffuse the intensity of the moment with a hint of playfulness.

He grins, the expression sending your heart into a wild flutter.

Slowly, his hand moves to rest on the counter beside you, effectively trapping you in place. The gesture is subtle yet commanding, his body language exuding a quiet confidence that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and breathless.

“Or maybe it’s because you’re just that captivating,” he counters, his voice a hushed rumble that sends another wave of warmth through you.

“Okaaay, Mr. Smooth Talker,” you manage to say, your voice tinged with nervous laughter as you attempt to regain some semblance of control. “How about you help me with the garlic bread?”

The suggestion is your lifeline, a way to shift the focus and calm your racing heart before you’re completely lost in the moment.

Satoru’s grin widens, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Whatever you need, Chef,” he replies, his tone lightening as he pushes away from the counter and moves to the other side of the kitchen.

The distance between you offers a brief reprieve, allowing you to steady your breathing and refocus on the task at hand.

Get it together—this isn’t real.

ꨄ︎

The table is set with a simple elegance that mirrors the meal you’ve prepared—fresh pasta topped with a rich, fragrant tomato sauce, golden garlic bread still warm from the oven, and a crisp, colorful salad that adds a splash of vibrancy to the setting.

Haru, already seated with her eyes wide in anticipation, swings her little legs under the table, her excitement palpable.

“Mama, pasta!” she exclaims, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Her gaze flickers from the steaming plates to the basket of garlic bread, her small hands already reaching for a slice as if she can hardly wait another moment.

Satoru chuckles as he takes his seat beside her, his smile widening at the sight of her enthusiasm.

“Patience, Haru,” he teases, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Let’s wait for your mama to sit down.”

You join them at the table, a soft smile playing on your lips as you take in the scene.

Carefully, you begin to serve the plates, starting with Haru. You scoop a generous portion of pasta onto her plate, the rich tomato sauce clinging perfectly to the tender strands.

“There you go, sweetie,” you say with a smile, placing the plate in front of her. “But remember, eat slowly, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

Haru nods eagerly, though you can tell she’s barely restraining herself. Her little fingers curl around her fork, her eyes never leaving the plate as she prepares to dive in.

Next, you turn to Satoru, serving him a plate with equal care.

The pasta glistens under the soft light, the aroma of garlic and herbs wafting up as you set it before him.

As you place the plate down, his eyes meet yours, and in that brief moment, there’s a silent exchange—one of gratitude, warmth, and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You nod in response, your heart warming at the connection between you, simple yet profound.

Meanwhile, Haru’s eyes widen even further as she finally takes her first bite.

The flavors burst in her mouth, her little face lighting up with pure delight. She chews enthusiastically, her expression one of sheer happiness, and you can’t help but smile at her reaction.

“Yummy!” she declares, her mouth full as she grins up at you.

Her words are filled with such genuine enthusiasm and innocence that it makes your heart swell with pride.

Satoru watches Haru with a fond smile before he too takes a bite of the meal you’ve lovingly prepared.

His expression shifts almost immediately to one of pleasant surprise, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors settle on his palate. He chews thoughtfully, savoring the blend of fresh ingredients and the care that went into the preparation.

“She’s right. This is amazing, you really outdid yourself.”

A smile spreads across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at their praise.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but the way they’re enjoying it makes it feel like the most special dinner in the world.

“I’m glad you both like it. It’s nice to be able to cook for you.”

As you begin to eat, the room fills with the sounds of contentment—Haru’s happy chatter as she dives into her meal, Satoru’s occasional hum of approval as he tastes each dish, and the gentle clinking of cutlery against plates.

The meal continues and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing naturally.

Haru tells stories about her day, her voice animated as she shares every little detail. Satoru listens attentively, his focus on her unwavering, his smile growing with each of her excited exclamations.

At one point, Haru insists on feeding Satoru a bite of her pasta, her giggles bubbling up like a stream as she carefully maneuvers the fork towards his mouth.

Satoru, ever the playful one, exaggerates the motion, opening his mouth wide and making a show of how delicious the bite is. He rolls his eyes in mock ecstasy, his exaggerated reaction sending Haru into a fit of laughter that rings out like the purest music.

The way Satoru looks at Haru, with such genuine affection and warmth, causes a tightness in your chest—a beautiful, almost overwhelming sensation that swells within you.

His eyes are soft, his smile unguarded, and in that moment, you can see just how much he cherishes these little interactions with her.

It’s a sight that tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how deeply he’s become entwined in both your lives.

Taking in this moment, you feel a deep sense of contentment, a quiet happiness that fills your heart to the brim.

This scene, so ordinary yet so special, feels like a moment you want to hold onto forever.

It is a culmination of everything you’ve been striving for—a sense of belonging, of family, of home.

Ah, but this isn’t real—just a charade.

Just as this warmth settles in your heart, a pang of bittersweetness follows.

Yet, despite knowing the truth, you can’t help but wish, just for a moment, that it could be.

Haru, now tired from all the excitement, leans against Satoru, her small head resting on his arm. Her eyelids grow heavy, her earlier energy now spent, and she begins to drift off, her breaths becoming slow and rhythmic.

Satoru glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I could get used to this. We should cook more often. Sharing meals like this... it’s nice.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a second, the line between reality and pretense blurs. You nod, but your mind races.

This is just a charade… right?

Yet, as you look into Satoru’s eyes, the warmth there makes you question everything. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of him that feels the same way you do—a longing for this to be more than just an act.

ꨄ︎

The late afternoon sunlight filters through the curtains of the Gojo mansion, casting a warm golden grown across the living room.

You sit on the couch as Haru plays on the floor, completely absorbed in her toys, her little hands guiding her dolls through an imagined world of adventure and make-believe.

Her soft giggles and murmured conversations with her toys bring a smile to your face, filling the room with a sense of peace and contentment.

Satoru had business to attend to, and before leaving, he made sure you had the rest of the day to spend with Haru.

It’s a rare and treasured opportunity, these quiet hours spent together, free from the demands of the outside world.

As you watch Haru, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for this time—this simple, unhurried togetherness that feels so rare in your often chaotic lives.

But then, the doorbell rings, cutting through the tranquility like a sharp knife.

You glance toward the door, your heart giving a slight, uneasy flutter.

Pushing aside the apprehension creeping into your chest, you rise from the couch, taking a steadying breath as you approach the door.

When you open it, you’re met with the sight of a stern-looking man in a crisp suit, his expression as unyielding as his posture.

There’s something about his demeanor that instantly puts you on edge. He’s holding an envelope in one hand, his grip firm, almost as if the paper holds some kind of weight beyond its physical presence.

“Mrs. Gojo?” he asks, his voice flat, businesslike.

The formal tone sends a shiver down your spine, and you nod cautiously, a sense of dread unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, that’s me,” you reply, your voice a little more tentative than you’d like.

Without another word, he thrusts the envelope into your hands, his gaze unwavering as he says,

“You’ve been served.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and ominous. Your fingers tighten around the envelope as confusion and alarm spike within you.

“Served? For what?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that’s quickly rising.

The man’s expression remains unchanged, impassive.

“Custody of Haru. Mr. Naoya Zenin is filing for full custody,” he states matter-of-factly, as if it’s just another routine task for him, another case on a long list.

The shock of his words hits you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

For a moment, you stand there frozen, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, the envelope clutched tightly in your hand.

This can’t be happening.

With trembling hands, you tear open the envelope, your eyes darting across the densely packed lines of legal jargon. Each word seems to blur into the next as your heart pounds furiously in your chest.

This is happening.

A cold wave of dread washes over you, settling deep in your bones as the reality of the situation begins to take hold.

Just a few feet away, Haru is still playing in the living room, her laughter and cheerful babble a stark contrast to the turmoil that’s unraveling in your mind.

She’s completely oblivious to the storm that’s brewing, her innocence a painful reminder of what’s at stake.

As you stand there, frozen in place, your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your daze.

You glance down at the screen, your stomach knotting as you see Naoya’s name flash across it. With a sense of dread, you unlock the phone and read the message.

Naoya Zenin: There, hopefully I finally have your attention. I suggest giving me a call if you want to avoid this all.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, a toxic mix of fear and anger bubbling up inside you.

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you stare at the message, the smugness practically oozing from each word.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.

With shaky fingers, you dial Naoya’s number. Each ring feels like an eternity, and when he finally answers, his voice is dripping with satisfaction.

“Y/n, I was wondering when you’d call,” he purrs, his tone as smooth as ever, but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of smugness.

“What the hell is this, Naoya?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. “You’re filing for full custody of Haru?”

There’s a pause, and you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he finally responds. He chuckles softly, the sound sending chills down your spine.

“I see you got my notice. Good. It’s time we discussed Haru’s future.”

The casual tone in his voice, as if this is just another business deal, ignites a fire within you. But before you can respond, he continues, his voice turning colder.

“I’m sending you an address. Meet me here tomorrow. Oh, and y/n.” his voice drops, becoming even more sinister, “I strongly suggest you don’t involve Satoru—unless you want this to become a nasty custody battle.”

His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that tightens around your chest like a vice.

You stand there, phone in hand, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down on you.

The line goes dead.

strap in guys we are approaching some angst 🥺 oh if only reader knew how down bad satoru is for her 🥲 i actually really struggled with how i wanted this chapter to be structured, there are a lot of scenes i ended up writing that i opted to move to a later chapter because i just felt it was too rushed. the slow burn of this relationship is really important to me, so ultimately, i think it was for the best. would love to hear your thoughts! thanks for reading my fic 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

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[helloporcelain]

Doux

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/fem!Tav Rating: explicit (18+)  Tags: oral sex (involving period blood), piv sex, blood drinking, mutual pining, slow burn, orgasm denial, mentions of Astarion's trauma (but not graphic), there's also like the TINIEST mention of rimming & breathplay but i promise it's so mild, oneshot Summary: Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. Read on AO3 if you prefer

Tav couldn't help but celebrate. 

The last couple of days had been grueling. Gods, it had felt so good to finally get back to camp. A dip in the cool river, followed by a change into the lovely dress Alfira had gifted her, had Tav feeling like a brand new person for the night. She had stuffed herself so full on a feast of cheese pies and grilled pork belly that she nearly threw up, and then after, she dramatically retold the story of the goblin slaying to the group of wide-eyed children. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off her shoulders – she and her companions had been awarded a win, one they really needed.

Grateful tieflings swarmed Tav the entire night, showering her with wine-fueled hugs of gratitude. She waved off their praises, insisting that it had been a team effort and encouraged the others to accept their share of recognition as well, because there was no way she could’ve done it all by herself. Eventually, Tav found herself sandwiched between Shadowheart and Karlach on a log. The two women were drunk and engaged in unabashed flirtatious banter with each other. Tav, however, kept her wits about her. She took a swig from a tepid mug of ale, her eyes locked onto Astarion across the camp. He was visibly annoyed by the children surrounding him, all clamoring to catch a glimpse of the bow he used to slay goblins.

In the midst of all the chaos, he caught her staring at him through the dancing tieflings. Astarion tipped his head sideways, as if asking a question. Startled, she choked on her drink, inadvertently spilling some on Karlach. 

“Oops,” Tav said, as Shadowheart leaned over her lap to wipe off the ale from Karlach’s pants before the sizzle of the burning liquid caused her to yelp and quickly withdraw her hand.

“We really need to fix that, don’t we?” Shadowheart muttered sarcastically, fanning her injured hand, attempting to cool it down.

“Maybe lay off the wine,” Tav suggested sarcastically. “I’m going to go make my rounds. The people need their gracious host.”

She set off to mingle with the others, and felt the stare radiating through her as she joined the nearby chatter. Lia and Cal, to be exact, were begging for Rolan to present some fireworks. Rolan conjured a rather underwhelming prestidigitation spell, prompting Tav to tuck her mug under her armpit and offer a polite clap after an awkward pause. Round and round, Tav meandered through the camp as she talked to everyone, hells, even Withers, avoiding Astarion as if her life depended on it. With each new person, they topped her mug off with fresh ale. 

As the night wore on and the ale warmed her cheeks, Tav found herself growing increasingly uninhibited. By the time she reached Halsin, she couldn’t resist flirting with him. Who could blame her? Halsin’s gigantic muscles had called out to her, and he was nothing if not good natured. The mountain of an elf laughed off her inebriated advances gently – his head was elsewhere, not that she blamed him. 

“There are many grateful people here who would want to spend time with you,” Halsin said, a glint in his eye. Tav wanted to follow the look, but chose not to, knowing where it trailed behind her. “I must not keep you all to myself. As enjoyable as that may be.” 

She offered something of an agreement before she wandered off to the nearby river, seeking solace and a moment to contemplate on her thoughts, away from the songs and dancing. 

**

The first time Astarion fed on her, Tav had accidentally fallen into a trance one night outside her tent. She had insisted the rest of her companions get some sleep while she cleaned up from the mess they made at supper. After washing the cauldron out in the river, she lugged it back to the fire and had meant to sit down for just a second of rest. Before she knew it, she had drifted off, only to awaken with Astarion hovering over her, teeth bared, wearing an expression she had never seen before. With a dagger pressed to his chest, the look was gone, replaced by a frantic attempt to explain why he had loomed over her so ominously. She couldn't fathom why he was scared; he knew her knife skills were almost as poor as Gale's.

When he confessed the truth, Tav's heart grew heavy – heavy for the way he asked for her trust, no, insisted that she could trust him. Every instinct in her screamed she would be foolish to, but she did.

But she was firm; he could feed on her this one time. After that, it was enemies only, or else. Companions weren’t food, they needed their strength just as he did, and he would not become accustomed to using her – or any of them, for that matter – to satisfy his needs.

Not that any of the others lined up to be his bloodwell... though the group tolerated Astarion, there’d been a sense of uneasiness among the others about the truth. 

Tav braced herself for discomfort at best (and suffering, at worst), but she was completely thrown when all she felt was desire. The unexpected pleasure took her by surprise, though it made sense in hindsight. If it were nothing but pain, vampires wouldn't have gained their notorious reputation for seduction. It felt as though Astarion had plunged his fingers into the depths of her chest and held her heart in a vice-like grip. The more blood he drew from her, the more she wanted for Astarion to take everything he needed, even at the cost of her own life. In the briefest second, Tav felt herself fading away to the gentle chill of her lifesource dwindling, her neck so numb she couldn’t parse out where his fangs were.  In the end, she barely pushed him off her, doubting his self control. Tav noticed the change in Astarion immediately – his face looked brighter, his eyes less dull. Before he left, he promised he wouldn’t forget the gift that she had given him. 

Two weeks later, Tav surprised herself by offering her blood to him a second time.

The camp was quieter than usual. It had been a long day and it had taken its toll on them all. Auntie Ethel turned out to be much more than they had anticipated – offering no cure, only trouble. Shadowheart had gone to her tent for her evening prayers. Gale blew his candles out early, claiming eight hours of sleep was necessary for his mind, body, and complexion. The rest sat by the fire, settling for a bit of relaxation before they retired for the night. Lae’zel, Wyll and Karlach were engaged in a very competitive game of cards while Astarion lounged nearby, engrossed in a book he had stolen from the hag’s teahouse.

Tav had been writing furiously in her journal next to him, when she reached down to her satchel, rummaging through to find an apple for dessert. She couldn’t help but peek at him through the corner of her eye. Astarion had been unusually silent since their return to camp. She had a feeling he was tense from their run in with the monster hunter earlier that day. During the exchange, she noticed a second of panic run across his face as Gandrel revealed who he was searching to capture. The monster hunter never did end up accomplishing his job – courtesy of Astarion and his dagger. 

“If you have something to say, Tav, darling,” he said, his eyes fixed on his book. “You should just say it. It’s ill-mannered to stare.” 

Tav turned the apple over in her lap, contemplating if it was smart to broach the subject, then began nonchalantly, “I don’t suppose you want to address what happened earlier.”

“You want to hear about Cazador,” Astarion said with a tired disdain. “My old master. Before the mind flayers took me from him. Before this strange, twisted freedom.” He slammed the book shut with one hand, and Tav listened intently as he painted a picture of Cazador. A cruel, paranoid master who tortured Astarion for two centuries. A monster obsessed with power, a monster of which it was very clear that Astarion would go to great lengths to never return to.

It was so much worse than Astarion had let on. 

“Why do you think he wants you alive?” she asked.

Astarion pursed his lips. “Maybe he wants to make an example of me. To show what happens to runaways.” He cast his eyes aside before giving her a solemn look. “Or, maybe, he thinks death is too good for me.” 

Tav had always known that Astarion wore a mask, but she had never realized just how often it was in place. It was a remarkably well crafted one, but every mask was bound to slip off at some point. From the very first day they crossed paths, she had found something about him to be perplexing, though she couldn't put her finger on it.  She had thought of him as arrogant, a little malicious, and selfish. Yet, in that moment, as his gaze drifted far away into the embers of the fire, she saw something else—a hint of fear.

“I’m sorry, Astarion,” she said with sincerity. There wasn’t much else for her to say, and she doubted he wanted empty platitudes. 

Astarion nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, but – this isn’t about sympathy. It’s about knowing what we might be up against. The mind flayers aren’t the only monsters out there, hunting us. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open, and watch out for anything lurking in the shadows.” 

Her hand inched closer to his fingers, an inhumane chill radiating from them. Tav thought about putting her hand over his in comfort, but thought it too intimate of a gesture for them. “As long as I’m around, I’ll watch your back,” she promised. “You will never go back to him. I won’t let it happen.” 

Astarion’s posture relaxed as he pulled his hand away from the warmth of hers, and gave her a smile – the one that never reached his eyes.  “What more could I ask for? Now, is that all?” 

His fingers tapped a restless beat on his book, as though they might start flipping the pages on their own. Tav studied his face. He had deep mauve bags under his eyes, and his gaze had darkened to the color of oxblood. She wondered how many animals he must have voraciously consumed to still remain so far from the vibrant state he had been in after she had shared her blood with him. Tav weighed the decision to offer him her blood again. She pictured Astarion feeding on rats as if daintily sipping tea from a tiny cup and it was somewhat amusing, but mostly it just made her pity him.

“I was thinking…” she paused, looking down to the apple in her lap. She brought it up to her face and peered at it, checking it for worms. 

“Oh no. That’s never a good sign.” 

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "...that you looked more weary than usual. Perhaps you might fancy a bite?" His fingers slowed their tapping as his eyes fixated on her mouth. Tav crunched into the apple and cocked her head at him.

"Well," Astarion replied, a hint of pleasant surprise in his tone. "I suppose if you're offering a treat, then who am I to turn you down?"

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Tav said, expression stern as she emphasized her words. “We won’t make a habit of this. But… we do need you strong for when we reach the goblin camp.” 

Astarion’s smile changed into the nefarious smirk that she was familiar with. “If you say so,” he purred, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.  “Come to my tent after the others have fallen asleep.” 

Two hours later, she cursed herself for picking the furthest possible area from him to lay down her tent.  Tav quietly crept across the camp to Astarion, pausing every couple of steps just to listen for snores. She just didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea; as the unofficial leader of the group, feeding Astarion was a purely strategic move.

Sneaking past Karlach was nerve-wracking – she had an open tent, explaining that she ran too hot in an enclosed space. Luckily, the barbarian slept still like a boulder. It was Scratch, who dozed at her feet, that made Tav pause. She brought her finger to her lips and gestured for the dog to stay quiet, his sleepy eyes following her until she reached Astarion's tent. She crouched and leaned against the closed fabric. 

Not knowing what to say, Tav whispered, “Dinner’s here.”

“Cute. Come in, darling.” 

Tav poked into the tent and found him reclining on his bedroll, propped up by an excessive number of pillows, more than anyone else had. He had stolen them in Waukeen’s Rest, grumbling about missing the comfort of a proper bed like a civilized person. It was her first time seeing the inside of his tent, and she couldn't resist taking it all in. The inside was dimly lit by a single candle atop a stack of looted books, and next to him was a tray hosting an array of colorful rings and necklaces he collected from both unsuspecting innocents and dead bodies. Even out in the wilderness, Astarion was opulent. He had changed into his fine nightclothes and looked at her with a raised eyebrow – she was still wearing her muddy, fight-stained cloak.  

“Ah, right.” She looked down at herself. “I washed up, promise. Just didn’t want to traipse around at this hour in my nightshirt.” She shrugged the coat off onto the ground, revealing a plain night outfit. “I don’t plan on being in here long.” 

"Well, make yourself comfortable nonetheless," Astarion beckoned, sitting up and gesturing towards the snug space they now shared. “Just be very quiet and our little midnight rendezvous will stay a secret.” He shuffled on his pillows, inviting her closer.

“I should’ve hoarded some pillows like you,” Tav remarked. “You’re resting like a little princess.” 

Astarion chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you'll be sleeping quite soundly after I'm finished here. Come, sit on my lap." She hesitated, making a reluctant face. 

"Now, don't be difficult," he continued with a playful grin. "It'll be far more comfortable for you this way. I wouldn't want to accidentally suffocate you again, as I nearly did last time." Tav inched towards him, careful to not touch anywhere but the bedroll. She knelt down and followed his request, straddling him while placing a hand on his shoulder for support. A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she felt just how icy he was, catching her off guard.

"Sorry," Tav broke the silence, "You’re so cold. I grew up with the chill, but you’re different."

“I have bad circulation,” Astarion replied dryly.

Tav shifted her body on him, hoping he didn’t realize how mortified she was. "Are you comfortable?" 

He responded with an earnest chuckle and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. "You're rather adorable, aren't you?" He gently pushed her face to the side, positioning her neck at the perfect angle for him. "I knew you liked this more than you let on."

“Don’t speak nonsense,” she spluttered, her head snapping back to look at him. “I am doing you a favor.” 

Astarion adjusted her face to the side again, his hand now more firmly gripping her chin. “Don’t be coy,” he murmured, low and seductive. “Your body has already given you away.” 

He leaned into her neck, taking in her smell, lips hovering over her bare skin. “I could feel it, you know, as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement.” Tav’s back stiffened and she felt the urge to leap and run out the tent, but his other arm tightened its grasp around her hip. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Her body betrayed her when she gasped as his mouth pressed against her skin, goosebumps prickling her arms and the back of her neck.

“You don’t have to say a thing. I already know how you feel. I feel it too.” 

And then he sunk his fangs into the pulse of Tav’s neck, her fingers digging into his arm. Her stinging skin parted under his sharp teeth with frightening ease. Tav never thought of herself as delicate, but she felt as vulnerable as a little rabbit torn apart by a hound.

She jerked suddenly when Astarion bit down harder, willing her frantically beating heart to pump more blood faster into his mouth. He made a small noise, something resembling relief, as each droplet surged past his lips. Sucking away and lapping at the wound at the base of her neck, as if he were merely cleaning up a small mess he made, caused an electric sensation to shoot through her spine and then down to her groin. His hands dug a tighter grip into the sides of her body as he sucked and sucked and sucked. Black dots slowly speckled her vision as if distant stars were blinking into existence. She let out a choked whimper, her body quivering beyond her control.  Blissed out crimson eyes met hers as he pulled away briefly, his lips glistening with her life's essence. His gaze burned into her, the hunger swirling in his eyes.

“That’s a strange definition of quiet.” 

Before she could reply, Astarion placed a firm palm over her mouth. With his lips away from her neck, she felt her blood flow down her collarbones, dripping into the hollow of her chest. He tongued at the trail at the top of her shoulders, lapping up the burgundy rivulets. She shuddered as he went lower to her ruffled nightshirt, and he gently pulled down at it just enough to lazily clean up the remaining droplets at the top of her breasts. 

Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to control her breathing, and that was when Tav noticed the hardness pressed underneath her. “Just a little more, darling,” Astarion panted.

His tongue scorched on her skin as he licked up the trail, fangs grazing her skin on his way back to the puncture marks. His hand fell from Tav’s mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head as another gush of warm blood hit his tongue, coating every crevice of his mouth.

“Astarion.”

His name tumbled out from her in a moan, as she was painfully aware in equal parts both of the erection against her and the wetness soaking through her undergarment. He didn’t respond, but he did stop suckling at her neck. “You can stop now.” 

Then with a degree of reluctance, he removed his lips from her, mouth and chin so completely covered in her blood that it looked morbidly lewd. Tav looked up at him with wide eyes, heart pounding. 

“We could get some privacy,” Astarion murmured after a few seconds passed. His fingers traced down her back, sending a tickle through her backbone. She stiffened, keeping her eyes fixed on his, a reply trapped in her throat.  “To enjoy ourselves more. I know somewhere quiet, not far from here.” He shifted his lap and pressed himself against her, to show her what he meant, if he wasn’t clear enough. 

Tav’s resolve wavered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself and moved to push herself off him, though his arms behind her back kept her in place. “That– that's enough, actually,” she responded, her ragged breath catching up to an even pace. She wasn’t going to respond to his suggestion. Tav knew he was toying with her, that he thought her naive.

“You’re looking better already, for a dead man,” Tav said coolly. He huffed in annoyance and leaned back, granting her space to stand up from his lap. “Your eyes,” she observed. “They glow when you feed on me. A person’s blood does wonders for you."

Astarion lifted his hand up to his mouth, swiping off the wet, shining blood. He coated his fingers with what remained and languidly sucked, keeping a fixed gaze on her that made her want to run for the hills. 

“That is the understatement of the century, my dear.” 

Tav tried to hide the way her fingers trembled as she attempted to button up her cloak, haphazardly connecting the wrong ones. He watched her intently as she covered up his bite with the garment.  She opened the flap halfway and, before she left, turned to face Astarion, her voice firm. “Don’t expect this again.”

Astarion offered a wry smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**

Astarion didn't fancy himself a connoisseur of puzzles and riddles. He loathed prolonged attempts at figuring things out. Patience was a virtue he seldom possessed, especially if figuring out something – or someone – took too long. He supposed he'd grown accustomed to resolving things rather quickly, a skill honed during centuries of servitude to his demanding master, Cazador.

Well… former master. But Astarion didn't want to regard Cazador in past terms, not just yet. He didn’t feel he had the luxury. Not while the wicked vampire lord was actively searching for him. Astarion was skilled at deception, but he refused to lie to himself; fear gnawed at him relentlessly and he found himself barely able to meditate in peace most of the time. He was plagued by nightmares of Cazador finding him and dragging him back into his clutches. So, he conceived of backup plan upon backup plan. He didn’t entirely rule out Raphael – the devil potentially had the power to free him from Cazador, but it would undoubtedly come with strings attached. Would the worm wriggling behind his eye be key to his freedom? Perhaps, if he didn’t turn into a mindflayer first. 

Ironically, all of those possibilities just meant merely shifting him from one master’s control to another.

Astarion sighed, keeping a watchful eye on Mol. She thought she was being quite sneaky, attempting to pickpocket him. He flicked the child in the forehead as punishment, and sent her scampering away with a handful of rings he had deliberately allowed her to take.

Why had he been granted a second, well, technically third chance at life, only to be confronted with one grim option after another? What had he done in his previous life to deserve this? He had been so young when he turned, Astarion couldn't quite recall the details anymore. He remembered working for the government—and probably was not the most benevolent magistrate back then—but surely, he couldn't have been any worse than any other charlatan. It’s not like he kicked children or orchestrated an illicit gnome trafficking ring, right?

His chain of thoughts broke at the sight of Tav’s bright eyes locked on him from across the camp. She averted her gaze when he returned the look. After that, all he could see was the curtain of her hair veiling her face as she maneuvered around the camp, chatting with everybody else.

Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. And she was right to avoid him; it was a foolish thing she had done, trusting Astarion like that. She just couldn’t help herself, could she? Anyone who batted an eyelash at her and cried a sob story got a helping hand from her, it didn’t matter who. She didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t how the world worked – some people weren’t destined to be helped, no matter how often they prayed to the gods.

Tav was good and it sickened him. 

Without her, Astarion thought, he would’ve been content to let the tieflings meet their fate, either slaughtered on the road or at the hands of the druids – it didn’t make a difference to him. In fact, he doubted the others really cared to resolve the whole Druids vs Tieflings dispute in the midst of their tadpole predicament. But Tav rallied them just the right amount that none of them could ever say no to her.

The others genuinely valued her opinion, and often looked to her for guidance, whether they realized it or not. Being on Tav’s good side was the intelligent thing to do, Astarion had quickly gathered. She had vouched for him when the others recoiled at his true nature – most would have stabbed a stake through his heart for what he stupidly attempted to do that night. He needed her on his side. Astarion wasn’t sure what would end up happening after reaching Moonrise Towers, and he was ashamed to admit he didn’t want to go at it alone. He didn’t know how to be alone. The entire concept of solitude unsettled him.

The men and women he was accustomed to manipulating for Cazador crumbled before him with little effort. Seduction had been his modus operandi for over two centuries. Honeyed words and enticing caresses were second nature to Astarion, always serving as a sinister means to a grim end – delivering innocent victims into the clutches of Cazador for torture, death, or worse.

This was precisely what made Tav simultaneously so magnetic and so frustrating. She hadn't succumbed to his charms as expected. Astarion had even briefly entertained the possibility that maybe she just wasn’t interested in men, but that idea was dismissed when he overheard a late-night conversation between her and Lae’zel, who had made quite an aggressive advance – one she promptly rebuffed. So, what would it take to make her more receptive to his advances?

“Sulking will ruin your pretty face, Astarion.” Shadowheart’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I thought you, of all people,  would know how to have a little fun tonight.”

He scoffed at her, dramatically eyeing her figure up and down. “If that were possible, then you would be the ugliest one here, my dear.” 

Shadowheart stared at him for a moment and then broke out into an uncharacteristic giggle. “We have a long road ahead – be happy that we are all still in one piece, and celebrate for just one night.  I know I am,” she said, waving a bottle of wine towards him. 

“Is that Marsember Blush?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, recognizing the fine vintage wine. “Where did you unearth that? I know that didn’t come from the tiefling’s sorry supplies.”

“You’re not the only one with sticky fingers,” Shadowheart replied, a sly smile on her lips. “And no, I’m not offering any to you. I already have someone to share it with.” With that, she made her way back to the fire near Karlach, who was engrossed in showing the tiefling children her burning Hellion heart. 

He scanned the area for Tav and he found her staring at Halsin with an adoring look. Astarion couldn’t help but feel envious that he wasn’t the recipient of the smile, so gentle that it betrayed the notorious reputation that followed dark elves. He frowned, thinking of Shadowheart's words – she was right. He would have a little fun tonight, and he would get Tav to adore him so thoroughly that she wouldn't ever entertain the thought of betraying him.

Astarion impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Tav to approach him, but she continued on, disappearing around a corner and heading toward a waterfall beyond the camp. Deciding to follow, he snagged a bottle of wine from a passed-out bard and made his way to her. Astarion found her sitting against a boulder, her head tilted back as she gazed at the stars above.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Astarion said. “Done basking in the limelight, Tav? Got tired of having high praises sung to you?” 

She fiddled with the collar of the lovely dress that she wore for the occasion. “I needed a moment to myself. I don’t get them often lately.” Tav looked up at him, her slate gray skin glowing in the moonlight. Despite the mismatched eyes (thanks to her trusting Volo a little too much), she was beautiful, he noted, and he did have a fondness for beautiful things. Bedding her wouldn't be torture; it could have been worse.

“I’m glad I was able to help them, to show that we’re not all Lolth’s servants. It’s usually a little funny, but sometimes being looked at like a monster is tiring,” Tav confessed.

He blinked, taken aback by Tav’s unexpectedly sincere admission, wondering if he had picked a bad moment to approach her. However, she patted the ground next to her, inviting him to sit, and then she chuckled. "Sorry. Did I ruin the mood?"

Astarion settled down against the rock, bumping his shoulder against hers. Tav watched him intently as he worked on removing the corkscrew from the wine. When he tilted the bottle in her direction as an offer, she declined with a shake of her head, prompting Astarion to take a sip himself. He grimaced from the acrid taste. 

“Well, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one people would toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” he paused, taking another mouthful.  “I hate it. It’s awful.” 

“It’s not that bad. Think of all the nasty little goblins you got to kill.” 

“True…” Astarion smiled impishly, thinking fondly on the many different ways to murder. Regular arrows dipped in poison or set ablaze with fiery magic, the thrust of a dagger into vulnerable flesh. The memories were invigorating.

“That was fun," he mused. "Still, I would've liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine. All I want is a little excitement tonight, is that so much to ask? The good kind – not the 'we might turn into hideous mind flayers at any moment' excitement." He sighed dramatically and raised the bottle for another sip.

Suddenly, she swiped the bottle from him, and took a long swig. When she lowered the bottle, he watched as her face juggled through a few emotions, ultimately landing on disgust. “See what I mean? Awful.” 

“Absolutely dreadful," she remarked before bursting into laughter.

This close, her scent was intense, sending a thrill through his body. She had a distinct aroma, one that he could uniquely parse out from everyone else’s. Tav smelled of amber and spiced honey and pink pepper, even through the grime and chaos of their adventures.

“Well, you’ve heard the saying? Beggars can’t be choosers,” she slurred slightly, playfully hiding the bottle behind her back.  

“Look at you… my treat with her cheeks all flushed,” he tutted. Astarion peered into her eyes with practiced adoration. “I’m amazed you managed to keep your mind clear enough to fight. I’ve been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly, you know.” 

Astarion wasn’t lying. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the last time she visited his tent. 

He recalled vividly how she had melted under his teeth, the way her body went limp like a puppet cut from their strings. He had felt profoundly powerful, and she had tasted exquisite, nothing like the rats he had been forced to sustain himself on for centuries. An excitement he had never felt before coursed through his bones at the first droplet. Astarion told himself afterwards it was only because she was his first. He had hoped to have her then, to get the chase done with, as he could smell her arousal clear as day. She had obviously wanted more. And yet, she ran from him. Playing hard to get, he surmised.

“You could just ask for more blood,” Tav responded bitterly. “I knew the goblins weren’t for your refined palate.” The bottle was pushed back into his lap. “You don’t have to woo me with your—” She made a wild gesture with her hands. “—vampiric charms.”

He had hoped a wine-addled Tav would be easier to seduce. 

“Darling, you wound me.” Astarion put a hand to his heart dramatically.  “I saw you earlier, with Halsin. Well, everybody did. Subtlety is clearly not your forte. The way you looked at him had me positively green with envy. Well, I guess I can’t fault your taste, he is a fine specimen.” 

Tav’s ears flushed with embarrassment and she looked away, fixating intently at the fish nearby. They swam down the stream and it reminded Astarion of her, eager to get away from him. 

“That was nothing. Just laughter between friends,” she downplayed.

“Is it so hard to believe that hearing that brings me relief?” 

Another truth. She would be considerably easier to have if she wasn’t attached to someone else. 

"Is it so hard to believe…" He extended his hand to caress her cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “That I want you? That there’s not a single soul tonight, here or otherwise, who I’d rather be with.” When she met his gaze again, Astarion thought he might have caught his little fish by the hook after all.

“Such bewitching lies,” Tav marveled. “I almost believe them. Oh, you’re good.” 

“You don’t have to believe what I say, darling. You just need to believe how I feel .” 

He inched towards her, allowing the wine bottle to roll away from his lap and into the river. Astarion pressed a feather light kiss to her jaw, then her cheek. His fingers held her chin, guiding her to him. When their lips finally met, a sigh escaped her, and Astarion couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as her mouth willingly parted to welcome him. Despite the foul wine, she tasted sweet. And he found that he didn’t mind it, not at all. 

Tav grew more enthusiastic, deepening the kiss. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in,  and clamped his teeth onto her bottom lip, drawing the flesh into his mouth. She moaned, muffled against him. He had drawn blood. He broke the kiss to lap the blood from her lips, and he felt his cock twitch. A natural reaction for any vampire, he told himself. Blood was simply too exciting. 

Tav drew away from him, breathless, her lip bruised.  “Are you…hungry, Astarion?” she asked. 

Astarion considered her question. He could tell her yes. He could answer that he was always hungry, that he could drink and drink and there'd still be something missing, gnawing away in his chest. It was an insatiable yearning, an emptiness that no amount of blood would ever fill—a bleak hunger that defined his existence, a constant reminder of the curse that haunted him.

Or he could choose to play pretend instead. That would be easier to swallow.

He put on a mischievous smile. “In what way?” 

"Don’t be cheeky," she said, a blush gracing her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a feeling you might be. It’s been some time... and you always seem so much stronger and happier when you've had your fill."

"And your point is?" Astarion asked, though he already had a sense where this was going. He just wanted to hear her say it.

“That I can help you. That you might as well continue to use me.” She winced at her phrasing. “I don’t have to be a vampire to understand that animals aren’t the same. I suppose if we come to an agreement about it, the others will have to mind their business. Just tell me when you need it. That is – if you want to, anyway.” 

His eyes darkened at the proposition. “How delightfully pragmatic of you,” he purred in response. 

Tav had given him a refreshing game of cat and mouse, but she succumbed to his beauty, just like everyone else before her. Astarion wished he could say he was surprised, but it’d be a lie. This was how it always worked. You want something, you need to give something. He would shut his brain off, bed her and give her a night of earth shattering pleasure; in return he was not only basically guaranteed protection from Cazador, but was also given a reliable source of blood. Two birds, one stone.

There was nothing else he needed to hear, so Astarion swiftly pulled her into his lap, a surprised squeak escaping her lips. “Hey–”  

He pressed a finger to her lips and kissed behind her ear, then her neck. Tav let out a sigh of defeat and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Astarion’s curled fingers traced at the healing puncture marks with admiration, thumbs pressing half-moons into her skin. He dragged the tip of a fang over her skin, slicing a neat line. Small beads of blood began to well up along the thin cut, and he closed his mouth over it and sank in. His third time, and yet it was just as exciting as the first – Astarion was well aware that anyone would be appetizing in contrast to his dismal vegetarian diet, but still wondered if others would be better, compared to her. 

If that was possible. He wasn’t sure at that moment. 

Astarion lost himself in an instant as he buried his senses in her neck, a haze of sensation enveloping him like an intoxicating fog. He had understood then Cazador's obsession—how could one not want to ensnare a person, to chain them in perpetual captivity, to render them an unwilling pet, when they tasted like this?

“Not too much,” Tav breathed heavily, her voice trembling. “I might –” She shuddered against him, and he groaned in response, but his hunger drove him forward. Astarion was starving, didn’t she understand? After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserved something better. He was never going to return to the days of deprivation; he would do anything to ensure that pathetic version of himself was gone for good.

Tav’s fingers grasped around his curls, trying to pull him away from the shadow of her neck, but in her weakened state, it was no use. If anything, it spurred Astarion on. Euphoria clouded his judgement, eyes glazed over with sanguine lust as his fangs disappeared deeper into her tender flesh, blood bursting around him. He tugged at Tav’s hips, pressing her down against him, eliciting a whimper from her. His cock had swelled with arousal and Astarion tried to recall the last time he had gotten so hard of his own volition. He couldn’t.

You are still a slave, an unwelcome voice from the depths of his consciousness sneered. A slave to your innate desire. Why deny your true nature?

It took every ounce of willpower in his body to not drain her completely, to disregard the sinister suggestions. Astarion found the strength to pull away, his nose nuzzling against Tav’s jaw as he regained his composure.

"There's a clearing in the forest," he spoke with a steady voice, his fingers gently stroking her hair as she struggled to catch her breath. “I have been waiting to have you. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.” 

Tav snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you?” He looked at her with steeled eyes, masking the irritation that simmered in him. He kept the thorniness out of his tone. “I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” 

“And what do you want?”

Astarion’s voice hushed in a sensual murmur, the kind he found most weak willed people were prey to. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me.” 

“You act like you know everything,” Tav replied, finally looking at him. Her expression was inscrutable, but the smell of desire radiating off her was unmistakable. 

“A pretty man and his prettier words.” She cupped his face, as if she were to lean in and kiss him. But she didn’t. “I’m tired. I hope I was able to help you.” 

Astarion watched dumbfounded as she pushed up from his cradle and his arms fell limp to his side. She rejected him again, he thought incredulously. He didn’t look away until she had turned and disappeared back into camp. Then he wiped the remaining blood off his face with his fingers, fully intending to savor what was left. But then something stole his attention—a motionless fish floating in the stream. Without thinking, he plunged his hands into the water to catch it. Astarion had it for a second, until it wriggled its way out and plopped back into the water, swimming away in a swirl of crimson.

** 

They had been venturing through the labyrinth of the Underdark for countless days. It was a quiet familiarity that Tav was thankful for, despite the fact that she had left for the world above many years ago. After everything that she’d gone through recently, she welcomed something that still made sense to her. She understood it  – tricky paths to avoid, what poisonous plants you shouldn’t go near, the right grounds to make camp on. Due to the nature of the journey she was on with her companions, however, she grew to anticipate unwelcome surprises. 

Still, it hadn’t made it any easier to accept that her cycle had started – Tav had completely forgotten all about amidst the chaos of their tadpole predicament. Drow females only bled every three months and their cycles were extremely heavy and painful. It hit her one day as they were on the trail towards Grymforge, crossing paths with Filro the Forgotten and his hook horrors. The man hadn’t even let her utter a greeting before he attempted to murder them.

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?” Gale had complained, jumping out of the way.

Tav was in the middle of casting a fire spell when she felt a heavy gush in her underwear. She stuttered, registering the feeling, and attempted the spell again. This time, her aim was off, narrowly missing the wizard and instead scorching the hair on the top of his head. 

"My friend, have you lost your mind?" Gale shouted at her. "We discussed the value of my own life at length! To kill me is counterproductive!"

Her hand went to her abdomen instinctively as the cramps lurched through her. “My bad,” she stammered.  She took a few steps back, watching Karlach charge ahead with a hammer to whack the vulture-like monstrosity just a hair's breadth away from the wizard’s face. 

"To be sure, I am also averse to being bludgeoned!" he yelled at Karlach. A dripping, acid-coated arrow flew overhead from behind him and pierced the Filro’s right eyeball. Gale threw his hands up in the air with exasperation and quickly teleported himself away to higher, safer ground, muttering something about the stars not being in his favor.

Lae’zel probed at Filro’s lifeless body with her foot. “The elf is dead,” she confirmed, sounding disappointed. 

Astarion stepped up beside Tav, tucking his arrows away. “Did one of those wretched creatures manage to swipe at you?” His tone displayed concern, but his face betrayed a hint of intrigue. 

Shadowheart whipped her head around at his question. “Are you hurt?” she asked, scanning Tav’s body for noticeable wounds. “I’ll tend to you when we’ve set up camp for the night.” 

“No!” Tav blustered, causing Shadowheart to raise her eyebrows in confusion. She quickly clarified: “I’m fine . Astarion is mistaken. I think you might do well to take a look at Gale, though. I may have caused a bald spot.”

In the hours that followed, Tav maintained her distance from Astarion – as he had made it abundantly clear that he could smell her – while they all continued their search for a spot to set up camp. Eventually, they stumbled on an area with access to freshwater, a true blessing. By this point, Tav was simply relieved to have her long cloak, otherwise the others would’ve known for sure that she was bleeding through her trousers like a youngling. She diligently set up her tent, choosing a spot far away from Astarion and close to the lake.

Astarion had not asked to feed on her since they left for the Underdark, and Tav had no intention of offering, especially considering the situation unfolding between her thighs.

Their interactions had remained normal as can be, largely because Tav had bigger matters to occupy her mind than pondering her feelings for him, as if she were a little girl with a crush. Time was a valuable commodity lately and she wouldn’t use her precious free moments dwelling on a man who almost certainly didn’t give her a second thought, unless it was to take something from her. Tav scolded herself every time she found herself looking at him too long or when she thought she saw something softer underneath the shield of malevolence he wore. It was all just a game to him, she told herself, like it was to most vampires. 

After everyone had gone to bed, Tav finally snuck out to wash her clothes at the lake and go for a dip in the water. She wasn’t a prude – she had bathed many times with the women, but sometimes she just desperately needed a moment to herself. Even for something as silly as scrubbing the stains of her cycle out from her pants. She finished cleaning up and made her way back to her tent, dismayed that her fresh cloth was already getting ruined. Tav nearly jumped out her skin when she walked into her bunk and saw Astarion lying nonchalantly on her bedroll. 

“Are you mad?” she hissed at him. “You’re lucky I’m not human, or I would’ve had half a mind to stab you in the darkness.” 

“We both know you wouldn’t have been quick enough to,” Astarion drawled, sitting up. “You sorcerers leave much to be desired when it comes to your hand-eye coordination.” 

They looked at each other for a beat, both listening for any stirring sounds from the others. 

“Why are you here?” Tav demanded.

Astarion replied with a sly grin. “I happen to recall a certain somebody making the generous offer that if I ever got hungry, I could come to them.” 

Tav’s fingers combed through her damp hair as she reflected back on an offer she did indeed make.

“I did say that, yes,” she admitted. “But we can’t tonight. Not until I–”

She halted, a painful cramp pulsing through her.

“…Until I’m done with my bleeding. I’ve lost too much already, I’ll be too weak for you to feed on and Gods know if you end up draining me, you’ll have to wake a very cranky Shadowheart up.” 

Tav opened her tent and held her arm out, signaling for him to get out. “We can revisit this in a few days. I’ll let you know when.” 

“Revisit? What, like we’re discussing tactical advances?” Astarion bristled with frustration as he stood up.

"My dear, I don't believe you grasp the... gravity of the situation. Your scent–“ He accused, his tone growing more intense. "–has been tormenting me for hours. It has taken every ounce of restraint in my being to resist the urge to drag you away from the others and drink until I’ve drowned in your blood. I am utterly and maddeningly ravenous.”

Her hand faltered from the tent flap, closing them in the obscurity of her tent again.

“It won’t have to hurt like usual.” His pupils dilated wildly as he inched closer. Astarion looked feral. “No biting required. I’d hate to waste precious resources.” 

Tav’s face paled when she realized what he was suggesting. She didn’t think she was comfortable with the idea, and yet a warmth started blooming through her.

“And it might provide a distraction from the pain in your belly,” he hummed, latching her tent shut. “I’d say this benefits the both of us.”

“Who’s the pragmatic one now?” Tav answered, her toes tingling. It was a very bad idea, she told herself, way too intimate for what she originally offered.

But when Astarion kneeled down, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns up her thighs before he pressed a gentle kiss against her abdomen, and whispered, "Please, darling," she made up her mind.

It was the sensible thing to do. In fact, she reasoned with herself, if she gave Astarion perfectly acceptable, readily available blood now, she wouldn't have to put herself through any more bites for a while. His intense gaze met hers as he looked up, his eyes filled with a potent mix of hunger and desire. His nails gently scraped against the back of her knees, willing her to answer him.

“Be quick about it,” she finally relented.

Astarion wasted no time. He turned her around and pushed her onto her bedroll, tugging at the waistband of her pants, shimmying them over her knees. He fingered at the sides of her underwear, leaning down to kiss the top of her navel.  Tav’s insides fluttered from the sensation of him peppering her from top to bottom. His nose pressed against the dampness of the fabric and she nearly blacked out of embarrassment from the deep inhale he took. 

“You smell intoxicating,” Astarion groaned. “Like the very essence of temptation.” He nearly ripped her bottoms off, throwing them to the ground thoughtlessly along with her soiled rag. His cold breath tickled against her. "It's like I'm a moth drawn to a burning flame. I didn't know it was possible for you to smell even more enticing," he said, genuine bewilderment coloring his tone.

“No need to provide commentary…” Tav mumbled, averting her gaze.

Astarion pushed her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her thighs apart to reveal her slick mound. She started to drip with arousal, a stark contrast to the inky blood that painted her folds. 

“Like honeyed fire, so rich and delicious it ensnared me. I felt it – tasted it – in my throat before I came anywhere near you.” 

He dipped the tips of his index and middle fingers to spread her apart, dragging his tongue in one icey, long lick. The chill, a shock to her core, made her twitch as he licked her agonizingly slow from clit to tailbone. He lapped around her inner thighs, nipping at the flesh, forcing a shiver up her spine. Astarion let out a noise when she involuntarily jerked her body against his face, thighs clenching around his head. He swirled his tongue all around, his nose grazing her nub. 

“Oh,” Tav moaned. Her eyes widened in alarm at the unapproved noise, as if it was an admission of weakness, but it only seemed to encourage him to tongue her faster. Biting down on her knuckle was the only way for Tav to suppress the noise that threatened to spill from her mouth as he ate her like a savage animal having its final meal. The sounds of him lapping up and down at her cunt was obscenely erotic, and she felt herself dripping another gush of blood and arousal into his mouth. He slid his tongue as far as he could inside her slit, attempting to clean her inner walls from the nonstop trickle of blood.  She felt his thumb move to her clit to stroke it in slow circles and another whine fell from her mouth. 

Why didn’t he just get his fill and leave? What was the point of toying with her? Tav needed Astarion to stop, she thought foggily. 

He slurped up as much as he could of her blood, then shifted his attention on her swollen clit. Her legs shook against him, threatening to drop, but he kept her up like she weighed nothing. Tav finally mustered up the courage to look down at Astarion, and he must’ve sensed it, as his blown out eyes met hers. She gasped at the sight, her slickness painting his face so beautifully her cunt practically purred in response. 

“Please.” 

Her desire and uncertainty tangled in that one word. She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. For him to go? To continue?

Astarion responded with a muffled, guttural groan. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, urging him on, while his lips locked around her clit with a hunger that left her gasping. He suckled her so desperately that his teeth brushed against her, causing her legs to unconsciously spread further, surrendering to the feeling. Tav didn’t know how long they stayed like that; with Astarion dragging his tongue through her slick folds, alternating between frenzied licks and focused suctions on her clit. Before she knew it, an intense orgasm washed over her, prompting a bite on her own fingers to stop her from keening.  She yelped when she broke skin and her fingers shot to his curls as her sex throbbed. But Astarion didn’t stop – he had gone back to tasting her in lazy, drawn out strokes. 

“It’s sinful,” he muttered against her flushed skin. “It's divine.”

Tav pulled at his hair, hoping he would come off from her, hoping he would leave then.  “You’ve not had your fill?” she croaked.

“I would lay here drinking from you all night until I fell asleep, if I had my way. ” 

She watched him lick the inner corners of her thighs, fangs grazing against her flesh, threatening to bite down. Astarion moved up, trailing kisses under her belly button, then maneuvered her legs around his hips. His hands slid up her sides, scrunching Tav’s top up to show just a hint of her breasts, nipples hardened against the sheer fabric. He pulled away, baring a sharp smile, hair disheveled, teeth smeared with her blood, then pressed his clothed cock against her.  “You can stop your little charade now.” 

Before Tav could reply, he caught her lips in a deep kiss, rutting against her in his strained pants. The comedown from her orgasm had caught her with dull inhibitions as she couldn’t help but return the kiss, tasting her fluids on her tongue, coppery and vaguely salty. Tav couldn’t say she shared his sentiment regarding her blood, but she didn’t pull away, brain spiked with his tongue in her mouth. 

“Let me love you,” Astarion whispered tenderly.

Tav suddenly jolted, breaking out of her spell. She pushed at his chest, her body straightening like a lance.  She seethed with frustration. “Get off.” 

He stiffened, pulling away to meet her glare. “Did I do something wrong, my sweet?” 

“Enough with the fucking pet names,” she practically spat. “You don’t owe me. You don’t have to pretend to want me. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to help you, so don’t lie to me and recite sonnets and play pretend lover. ” 

He peeled himself from her, and for once, Astarion didn't respond with a quip or a sly remark.

“I… see. I didn't mean to upset you.” 

Her expression softened, though she couldn't help but feel that if Astarion had wanted to pursue it, he would make a great actor. But Tav didn’t want to put herself through a show, no matter how much she had wanted to watch it. 

Tav sighed, her throat feeling parched as she spoke. "It's alright," she murmured, avoiding his gaze while she reached for her pants. “You know, sometimes, people just want to help you. Because they care about you, and they don’t expect anything back.” 

“Everybody wants something.” Astarion remarked.

“You’re right,” Tav acknowledged quietly, nestling herself in her bedroll and turning over. “I want to get some sleep. Good night, Astarion.” 

** 

Halsin's warning about the Shadow Cursed Lands had been clear: it would be a wasteland where even the animals would be too ghoulish for Astarion to feed on.

So for the rest of their journey towards Gymforge and beyond, Astarion gorged himself on as many creatures as he could. Bats, cave goats, owls, giant lizards – everything was fair game. He even contemplated the bulette at one point, but it smelled awful. He drank from anything and everything that moved, all in an effort to stave off the need to ask Tav for her blood. He didn't want to risk upsetting her again. Astarion was still a wanted man, and as long as she tolerated him, he was safe from Cazador.

Though he was satiated on animal blood, it was like eating plain porridge multiple times a day—nourishment, yes, but completely devoid of pleasure. But that was fine; Astarion didn’t want to grow used to Tav, he was disturbed by the way his body reacted everytime he fed on her. 

After the last feeding, he left for his tent with an aching cock. He had tried to will it away, but Astarion had felt too drunk on delirious bloodlust. Back in his bed, he tugged at himself feverishly, in need of the release that was denied to him. Her smell, taste, body – everything, everything about Tav made him throb with desire. It was only logical, a primal urge, nothing more than that. He had, after all, succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh in the past, no matter how unwilling. 

He understood all too well that the body could respond even when the mind wasn't fully present.

And yet, Astarion remained restless at night. When they all retired to their beds, his mind inevitably turned to think of her. He couldn’t shake the memory of how she ran hot against his bone cold body, hugging him like a furnace. His longing for her went beyond the hunger for her blood, and that realization left him uneasy, causing him to distance himself even more from her. However, he stole glances at her from time to time. Sometimes it happened when they gathered around the campfire for supper, sharing plans and stories. Astarion was particularly drawn to her smile, so sweet that her eyes wrinkled at the corners. He couldn't ignore the knot that twisted in his stomach when he saw her smile for anyone else.

"What will everyone do when this is all over?" Tav asked on one of the rare evenings when everyone remained awake.

“Whatever Lady Shar calls for me to do,” Shadowheart answered with determination.

Lae’zel scoffed dismissively. “Chk. It’s a waste of time to ponder.” 

“Well, I miss my Tara terribly,” Gale confessed sadly. “First thing I do, I would like to see her immediately.”

Karlach leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Aw man… at least you have someone to return to!” 

Wyll flashed a grin at her. "You could always join me, Karlach. We could be the Blades of the Frontiers together, dispensing justice across the land of Faerûn." He dramatically extended his arms to illustrate the vision. Karlach smiled in response. "I'll hold you to that, soldier."

"I'm afraid the grove needs a fresh start without me," Halsin admitted. "I have a feeling I'll be required elsewhere, though I'm not entirely certain where."

Tav flicked her eyes to Astarion and then looked away while she spoke. “I should hope that no matter where we end up, that we all see each other every once in a while.” She rubbed at her arms and then laughed. “Gods, I know I sound so sentimental. But I’ve grown to truly like you crazy fuckers. And it’s going to be really hard to relate to people after this.” 

“You can say that again,” Wyll agreed. 

Astarion hummed, raising his wine goblet with a flourish. "Don’t fret, my dear friends. I’ll host the most extravagant of parties each season in my grand, opulent palace, and you’ll all be my honored guests. I'll personally hunt you down if you fail to attend or neglect the dress code."

“Hear hear!” Karlach cheered. They clinked their glasses together and Astarion’s breath caught when he saw the corners of Tav’s lips curling up. She was smiling at him. And his cold, dead, unbeating heart felt like it had swelled up so large he thought it might burst out of his chest. 

Fuck, Astarion thought. 

** 

The Last Light Inn was a welcome respite for their weary bodies. Each of them had their own rooms with real beds, and they had all ran to claim their rooms. 

However, as usual, trouble had a knack for finding them. Barely an hour into their stay, they were attacked, though they did manage to defend the inn and its people. Tav sat down hours later on a barstool in the tavern, tossing a coin to a tiefling child who was doubling as the barkeep. The little one handed her a mug, only filled halfway, and she chuckled to herself.

"Guess I won't be drowning my sorrows tonight.” 

She took out her journal and went over her notes. There was so much to keep in mind, so much to go over. Tav scribbled away for an hour or two, and as the common area gradually emptied with everyone retiring to their rooms, she remained absorbed in her journal until a familiar voice broke the silence. “You’re up late.” Tav looked up, finding Astarion standing at the edge of the dimly lit hallway. It had been a while since they had been in the same vicinity as each other alone, and she couldn’t help but feel nervous at the sight of him. He made strides to move towards her, stopping only to stoop down and give His Majesty a little scratch behind its ears.

"Says you," she replied. "Though... well, vampires are nocturnal, aren't they?" 

"Well actually, I’ve grown to quite enjoy watching the sunrise." Astarion said as he grabbed a cup from behind the counter. “Can’t wait to get out of this wretched place. I’m afraid the real reason I’m still up is a bit more mundane—I'm feeling a bit on edge." 

He dipped the mug into a barrel of wine and raised an eyebrow at her disapproving look. "What? Free ale is the least we deserve for saving this sorry little inn from destruction." 

Tav couldn't argue with that. She scooted over on her stool to make room for Astarion, and he joined her without a word. Astarion drank and she wrote in her book and they didn’t say anything to each other; it was a comfortable silence, one they both needed. After a while, Tav couldn't stifle a yawn, her eyes bleary from exhaustion.

"If you yawn any more, I'm going to have to toss you into your room," Astarion remarked dryly, his fingers curled around his fourth glass of wine. "You should get some rest."

She looked at him and noticed his cheeks were gaunt. There was no luster to his appearance, and he appeared more tired than she felt on the inside, likely due to a lack of nourishment. Tav had been waiting for him to ask to feed ever since they stepped foot into these cursed lands, but he never sought her out. There were no animals out in these lands, and most of the people they killed were tainted. Unless one of the others felt like offering, he was short on fuel. Astarion was probably starving, and that’s why he was restless.

Maybe she had been too harsh with him. Tav had been the one to offer blood in the first place, and then she had to go and make things awkward with her outburst. A pang of guilt washed over her.

“You too,” Tav replied. “You honestly look a little awful.” He tensed at the comment and she hurried to add: “You’re hungry. When was the last time you ate?” 

With a subtle lick of his lips, Astarion brushed off her concern. “I'm perfectly fine. I'll feast on some True Souls once we reach Moonrise, and you'll see, I'll be right as rain.”

"You're obviously not fine, Astarion," Tav insisted. "I'm not a stranger. I know you."

His eyes searched hers like he was looking for something, a certain melancholy to them that she couldn’t parse out. Then the look vanished, replaced by an empty expression. 

“I don’t think you do.”

She almost believed a few times he cared for her, in his own way. But it was clear now that her original instinct had been correct: it really had been a game for him, and now Astarion was so bored of her, he’d rather starve. Tav knew that if she were smart, she would feel relieved that he no longer wanted to use her, that he had backed off. But all she felt was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

**

Astarion still grieved for his past life, but any memories of family, lovers, or friends remained lost to him. At times, he preferred it that way. Ignorance, after all, had its virtues. Caring for others meant extending a piece of yourself to them, one you often couldn’t get back, and that was a risk he didn’t want to take. Not when he so desperately needed to care for himself. What was so bad about being selfish, he wondered. Astarion couldn't afford to put himself second, not after everything he had been through.

He had come into this world alone, suffered alone, and he would depart this earthly realm alone. 

The second night at the inn, Halsin had gone to find Thaniel, leaving the rest of them to defend his portal while they awaited his return. They hadn't expected the overwhelming forces drawn to destroy it. Wave after wave of undead assailants descended upon them, and they found themselves severely outnumbered.

Tav, determined to protect the portal, was casting a wall of stone when a wraith suddenly teleported and slashed at her, breaking her concentration. Her cry pierced the chaotic battle, and Astarion whipped around at the sound. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her stomach in agony.

"No, no, Tav! Get up, damn you!" Astarion shouted. Without hesitation, he lunged forward with his daggers and tore into the wraith until it dissipated into a shadow of smoke. 

"The portal—" Tav choked out, blood spluttering from her throat. He knelt down and pulled her up against him.

“Fuck the portal,” Astarion grit his teeth. “Shadowheart!” 

Shadowheart, engrossed in protecting Karlach and Lae'zel from cursed Harpers trying to break through, couldn't hear him. He yelled for Shadowheart again, but her attention remained focused on the women. Tav had made a promise to Halsin to keep the portal open, and the others were determined to honor that promise. Astarion cursed them all.

As he looked down at Tav, he saw her eyes dimming, her hand outstretched towards the portal. 

She mouthed, "Halsin."

The druid had come back with the child. 

Astarion would’ve turned back time and seen Halsin dead and the Shadow-Cursed lands forever damned if it meant that he would never again have to feel the fear that struck his heart when Tav went slack in his arms.

** 

“She’ll be alright,” Shadowheart assured, the back of her palm against Tav’s forehead, feeling for her temperature. “She just needs some rest.” 

Astarion had been pacing at the end of Tav's bed, unable to leave her side since their return to the inn. "How long?”

“Can’t say. Maybe a few hours.” Shadowheart put the rest of her scrolls and potions away into her bag. “She’s tougher than she looks, Astarion. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’m not worried,” Astarion huffed, fixing his face to a smooth nonchalance. “But… I’ll stay here with her. Just in case. You should get to bed. You know, vampire and all, we're creatures of the night and whatnot.” 

Shadowheart gave him a knowing look before she left.  “Let me know if she still feels poorly.” 

Astarion quietly pulled a chair closer to Tav's bedside, taking care not to stir her. As he sat there, he wondered what he would say when she woke up. He hadn't planned beyond his initial rush into her room. Hours passed, marked by the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and he never got up from his seat. The exhaustion of the day slowly overcame him and though he tried to fight it, Astarion drifted off into a trance.

Tav woke up after some time, groggy and disoriented. After she checked her body and found nothing out of place, she blinked a few times, surprised to find Astarion sitting nearby.

“No,” Astarion mumbled, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair. “No. I'll never come back.” 

In his nightmares, Cazador taunted him — to his master, he was akin to a mere child who had simply gotten carried away with the infantile joys of freedom. His relentless pursuit haunted him through the forest, and no matter how far into the void Astarion ran, he could still hear him. Oh, how foolish of him to dream of a life that was his own — he would never escape. No matter how far he fled, Cazador would inevitably find him...

"Please, no, Master —" he cried out.

Tav reached her hand out to gently cover one of his. "Astarion," she said, her voice soft and soothing, despite her sore throat. 

His eyes fluttered open, the rims around them inflamed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. 

"Cazador," he sputtered, still caught in the grip of his night terrors. 

"You're safe. He's not here," she reassured him, trying to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly. "You were having a bad dream."

Astarion nodded. “Yes.” His eyes closed as took a deep inhale, calming himself from the remnants of his nightmare. “I didn’t intend to wake you.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. I woke up on my own.” Tav replied, her expression equally laced with concern and suspicion. “Um. Is something wrong? What are you doing here?”

Astarion was quick with his answer. He didn’t want to tell her that, no, actually, he had gone sick with worry and had practically barked at everyone to clear the way as he rushed into the inn with her injured body. “Everything is fine. We just wanted to make sure you were alright. Everyone else is asleep right now.”

“I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings,” Tav frowned apologetically. “I didn’t mean to worry you all. But Halsin came back with Thaniel, didn’t he?” 

He scowled, recalling how his forehead vein nearly burst when Halsin confirmed that Thaniel was of no use until they located his missing half. "I could've strangled Halsin for taking as long as he did. All for some comatose child."

Her eyes bore into him. “I would’ve gone through the pain a thousand more times to help Halsin cure this land. You can’t blame him for anything.” 

Tav was light and goodness and hope and everything Astarion was not and he wanted to throttle her and tell her that this miserable, revolting world didn’t deserve her. 

“I can, and I will. But thankfully, you’re okay. No need for anyone’s head to roll.”

“Ugh. You are so dramatic,” she laughed, her hand splaying under him. His finger rubbed a circle on the back of her palm. Then she paused, and they stared at each other, and Astarion almost shrank from the intensity of her gaze. “I appreciate you watching over me. I’m good, really. I can take it from here. You can go now.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he replied. 

”I…” She hesitated, her eyes shifting slowly between his, searching for something in them. "What do you want?"

Tav had asked Astarion this question once before, and he had delivered his answer, every word rehearsed and refined countless times with various people.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he confessed. His eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself to continue. "I… want to free myself from my constant thoughts of you.”

An unfamiliar tightness gripped his throat. Astarion had always thought of her softness as a horrible weakness, but now, with Tav before him, he understood that to be soft was a terribly difficult thing to do.

“I want…” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. “... to kiss you.” 

Tav echoed his previous response. 

"Well, if that's what you want."

He was careful, the way he rose to caress her cheek, and agonizingly slow as her lips parted and his cold thumb brushed against them. Astarion closed the gap and pressed a kiss on her, so gentle he thought he only imagined doing it. He tilted her head up, the kiss deepening with a swift graduation of intensity that made Tav cling to him as if he were the only solid thing in her dizzying world. 

This was different, Astarion marveled — this felt like undeniable need.

“I can’t summon up any clever words,” Astarion breathed against her lips. “Just that I want you.” 

“Then shut up for once and have me.” She twined her arms around his neck and his tongue glided past her lips to taste her, eliciting a sound from her that redirected all the blood in Astarion’s body in a sweet rush. Every movement of her lips sent a jolt through his body, fanning the blaze that was shared back and forth between them. 

How maddening was it, that one second Astarion was afraid to falter, and the next she reduced him to desperation.

He devoured her with tongue and teeth, pushing her back into the mattress, only stopping when it felt like they would die from lack of oxygen. Astarion broke away from her embrace, peeled his shirt off and hurled it to the ground, then tugged at her pants; she clumsily arched herself up to help him strip her clothes off. Next was her top, then her underwear; his eyes swept over her, committing every detail and every curve to memory. 

“You, my little dove, truly are a vision.”

Tav laughed with embarrassment, but her laughter dissolved into a moan as Astarion's lips met hers. She kissed him like she was untangling him, and he kissed her like he wanted to own her from the inside out. Then she gasped, the sound shooting straight to his cock. “I’ve wanted you. Everytime. But I was scared.”

He groaned and released her from his mouth, then captured her lips in his again. Astarion had never wanted so hopelessly to see someone come undone under him. 

“I know darling. I’m always right,” he chuckled against her lips, the arrogance hiding the relief he felt. She tsked at him and his fingers gently wrapped over her throat, as the other hand thumbed at her lips. “I’m jealous of your neck,” he mused. “It gets to hold your lovely head up, when it could be my hands instead.” 

It was sickening, Astarion thought, how unbelievably, excruciatingly hard he was, and he had barely even touched her. Tav watched him curiously, her eyes raking over his body with lust.  “I want to taste you,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Let me.” 

“Not tonight,” he said simply, wanting nothing more than to see her pretty lips wrap around his cock and to see her struggle for air. But he’d be lying if the simple act of denying her didn’t turn him on. Astarion prodded at her lips with his fingers, knocking at her teeth, slipping two into her mouth. “You can work for that.” 

She opened her mouth without further complaint.  He pressed down on her tongue and she sucked as he slowly twisted his fingers around. Astarion lowered a trail of kisses down her face, peppering her jaw, neck, collarbones, the dip between her breasts. Then, he took his spit slicked fingers out with a plop, saliva trailing out from her lips, before moving down to spread open her wet folds. Tav was dripping with arousal, eyes fluttering in anticipation of pleasure, and Astarion thought he’d like to keep her like this forever. He pinched at her clit then rubbed firm and slow; her hips twitched against him, silently asking for him to go faster, harder, anything, to make her cum. 

But Astarion wasn’t going to let her, he had never intended to let her cum – at least not yet, it was too soon, not when he wanted to unravel her more.

“Get on your knees for me, darling.”

Tav had no choice but to roll over and prop herself up on her elbows. She looked back at him, her eyes glassy with frustration. He could barely hold himself together to whisper sweet nothings into her back, something that had been so vile to do before and so easy to do now. Astarion ached to have her: anywhere, in every position, in every possible way, to mark her and make it so that everyone would know that Tav was his to have. 

He tried to shake away the obsessive thought but it burned through him so deeply that it nearly pushed Astarion to rage. His kisses dragged lower and lower until his hands squeezed at the undersides of her ass. Astarion spread her thighs apart and opened her up like ripe fruit with his thumbs, watching her drool drip down her folds. He lapped his tongue up from her glistening folds to her rim and Tav’s knees buckled under the sensation.   

Astarion wasn’t just eating her out, he was tonguefucking her; he delved deeper, groaning against her as she pushed back into his face and her musk clouded his mind. The taste of her constant, dripping wetness was intoxicating, second only to her life-giving blood. It threatened to drown Astarion, like a violent wave crashing at the shore of his senses. 

He snaked in and out of her puckered hole, back to her cunt, everything growing slick and sloppy and sensitive, wet sounds mixing with moans spilling from both of them. The contrast of the cold of his tongue and the hotness of her cunt was exquisite, and he thought Tav deserved the gift of his fingers again. His index and middle fingers slid through to part the lips of her sticky cunt, then disappeared, quickly thrusting in and out of her. 

“I need–” She made a strangled sound before she buried her face into her pillow, not wanting to make any more noise should the rooms next door hear.  Then, she nearly sobbed at the sudden loss of his lips against her, though his fingers were still deep at her base. He reached forward to tug at her hair abruptly, bringing her head up from the bed. 

“You need what?” Astarion feigned ignorance, not slowing down the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of her. Tav reached down with her hand to press against her clit, grinding her palm flat against her pubic bone. She humped against her hand and back into his fingers, again and again until he released her hair and snatched her hand and held it against her back as he buried a third finger into her cunt. 

“Fuck, Astarion.” 

The way Tav cried out his name made Astarion want to drag this out, to deny her the way she had done to him for so many weeks. Until she was a sobbing, pleading, pathetic mess. He pressed a wet kiss against her cunt and barely held back a wicked smile when she shook as his fingers curled, pulling and pushing in her.

“Sorry pet, I can’t hear you.” 

“Fucking...“ Tav grit her teeth, her temper rising when she realized he was playing with her. “All this time you've been accosting me and now you want to tease?"

"Little known fact about me, I'm actually hard of hearing in one ear," he lied, pushing a fourth finger into her squelching cunt. Tav pushed her face into the pillow and groaned in frustration, before picking her head back up, choking out the words.

"Astarion, I need you to fuck me." 

“Oh,” he replied, like the answer hadn’t been so obvious. “All you had to do was use your words.”

He withdrew his fingers from her. Tav strained her head to see him tugging his pants down, cock springing out, beautiful and veiny, precum leaking and turned on to the point of agony. Astarion gave himself one firm stroke from root to tip and back. She bumped against him, but he pushed her back down and dragged the tip through her cunt. 

“So wet.” He slid the head between her slick folds, rubbing up to her clit, and back down. Again and again, each time dipping closer to where she needed him most in a torturously unhurried pace. “You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you, my sweet?” 

She moaned an agreement into the bed and ground herself against him, hard enough that Astarion felt relief all around his painfully erect cock. It was truly difficult to stop himself from fucking her deep into the mattress, but the novelty of how much he enjoyed seeing her squirm under him was too new, too enthralling.

“Looks like you enjoy the pet names after all.” 

“Astarion,” Tav cried, rutting desperately on his cock. She looked like she would either break down in tears or hit him. He thought he would enjoy either option. 

Astarion flipped her over on her back and summoned the best of his self control to kick off his pants. Then he kissed her deeply and pushed in, slowly, stretching her out; mesmerized by the needy look on her face and the way her lips parted in a gasp. He wanted to savor this, to paint a picture in his mind to look back on in case it never happened again, but it only lasted a few seconds before Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, willing more of him into her. 

“Tav,” Astarion stuttered, grabbing hold of her hips roughly. “Cheeky little pup — so desperate.”

He slowly dragged out of her until only the tip of his cock was left, holding her legs apart so he could admire the view of her taking the entirety of his length as he pushed back in leisurely. 

“Astarion, fuck me, please, I can’t breathe until you do.” 

Would he ever tire of his name being used like a prayer? Astarion growled in response, pulling and burying himself at the hilt of her cunt. Then he fucked her faster - the pace brutal and unrelenting - and her walls clenched so tight around him that it hurt, a smooth and velvety pain along his cock. When Tav’s eyes rolled back he freed a hand to grab her throat, forcing her to look at him.

“I would tear myself open limb from limb if you could only see the mess you’ve made of me,” he panted. 

Tav choked around his fingers, unable to reply, eyes wide in disbelief; Astarion released her throat to grip the back of her thighs and pin her knees to her chest with bruising strength. He lost himself, he didn’t stop moving, didn’t let up. Fucking her felt both sacred and like sacrilege, like being eviscerated by divine rapture, like something he simply didn’t deserve. He would have chained himself down at her altar and would've ripped through his own ribcage with his bare hands to offer his lungs as sacrifice if that's what she demanded. 

“Yes, it’s so good, Astarion—” Tav babbled incoherently under him, her breasts jiggling with each thrust. “You’re so good. So fucking good.” 

Astarion lurched forward with a groan and buried his face into her juncture between her neck and shoulder, inhaling sharply as his nose nudged at her fading wound. It was wholly unnatural to resist biting her, but he did. He wasn’t good, he had probably never been good in any lifetime. But he wanted to be – would try to be – if that’s what she wanted. Astarion fucked her to the ragged rhythm of his name, hard and deep and devastating, hissing everytime her walls flexed and gripped around him. 

“Bite me,” Tav begged, her arms sliding around him, one slipping into his hair and the other clawing at the scarred skin of his back. “You don’t have to ask. Never.” 

Astarion wavered, but only for a second. His teeth dragged over her skin like the point of a knife and she leaned into it, the pounding of her heart echoing in Astarion’s ears. Tav let out a needy pant of encouragement when he sank in, nothing careful or gentle about his bite. Hot pulsing blood rushed into his mouth; it poured into every vein in his body, exploding everywhere at once.

Tav thrashed under him, threading her fingers through his curls and holding him in place.  He drank and sucked until the skin underneath him spurted so much blood that it spilled out past the corners of his mouth, drenching their chests as they rocked against each other. He dragged a finger through the rain of blood and when it was coated he smeared it on her swollen clit, working frenzied, clumsy circles on it. His arm grew tense with the speed and intensity of it but he didn’t stop. Tav’s sopping wet cunt sucked him in messily in the silence and a dark satisfaction curled through Astarion’s gut, knowing that it was impossible to not hear them throughout the inn.

“You’ll be my undoing,” he told her, less of a statement and more of a promise. Astarion kissed her through the film of blood that coated the inside of his mouth, wet and metallic and sweet. He groaned when she licked the taste of her off his lips and he fucked into her like an animal, spurred on by the cries she tried and failed to stifle. When Tav came, she clamped down so blindingly tight on Astarion’s cock that an orgasm ripped from his body forcefully, shooting through him and spilling into her as deeply as her cunt would allow. 

**

"You'll stay here?" Tav's words were a barely audible request, masked as a question. The persistent voice that had carved out an unwelcome home in his brain urged him to get up and leave. But Tav curled around him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he couldn’t find the strength to listen. 

Maybe she would ruin him. Maybe they’d consume each other. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and pretend tonight never happened. Or maybe some things just burned brighter in the wake of destruction. Astarion was drawn to the fire now, even if it meant risking his wings. 

Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to her damp forehead and drew her closer to his chest. Tav hummed a satisfied sigh, the heat from her body radiating and wrapping him like the thickest blanket in the dead of winter. In that fleeting moment, he wondered if there was a way to bottle her warmth and tuck it away for his loneliest hours.

He chose to settle for a simple truth.

“Yes.” 

[acapelladitty]

ok but,,,, Mr "the" ghoul subbing for his so/ for the first time and he's all unsure and tryna be cocky but he's actually a big softie who loves being taken care of and told what to do 💥

light me up and breathe in

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Summary - After some convincing, Cooper agrees to let you give him a chest massage.

(tw: heavy petting, teasing, cockwarming, threats of violence, cannibalism mention, dirty talk)

Convincing Cooper to let you take care of him was a task better suited for the great thinkers of the world, people who had the patience and the fortitude to deal with his stubborn bullshit as he dodged your every attempt. However, time was always on your side and you weren't convinced if it was the appeal of a massage or the promise that you would stop asking if he relented, but he had eventually given in.

His upper clothing had been shed quickly enough, exposing his bare torso to your greedy eyes. A shapely sight, his body wasn't overly muscular, but clearly held a core strength as it formed a solid expanse - the skin scarred and textured across every visible inch.

Reclined on his chair, his eyes were wary but heated as he watched you clamber onto his lap with a childish eagerness.

"That desperate, huh?"

"Shut up."

Rolling your hands along his chest, the rough texture of his skin left a pleasant tingle in your fingers as you follow the natural contours of his body. Patchy and pitted beyond reason, you map out the ridges with a faint smile and your fascination with his skin didn't go unnoticed.

"You staring at me like that makes me wonder if you're thinking 'bout taking a bite?" Cooper's low voice, dulled by his forced nonchalance, filled the air between you and you refuse to look up and meet his eye as you answer.

"Maybe." You tease, trailing a finger along the column of his neck. "It's about time you had something to worry about so maybe I'll cannibalise some part of you to shut you up for a while."

"If you're gonna wrap those pretty lips around a part of me then I've got some ideas, darlin'."

Gaze flitting across his body as you ignore his suggestion, you settle on his nipples and admire the deep red colour which stands free of his chest. You can imagine him in a better time, picture how dense the chest hair which would have coated him would feel below your fingers. How fun it would be to run your digits across the thick mat and pull at it teasingly, forcing him to shift up and meet your lips with a single tug.

But no.

Hairless.

It really was a cruel world.

Still, there was more than one way to get a reaction and you clamp your thumbs and forefingers around his nipples as you pinch the nubs with malicious intent.

"Maybe I'll focus on these. They're very sensitive."

A strangled gasp escapes him but he covers it quickly by curving his thick hands around the swell of your ass.

"True that, sweetie, but if you tear 'em off I'll be taking yours to replace them. With my teeth, mind."

Pulling at the nubs even more roughly, the discomfort forces a warning rumble from his throat as he arches his back against the chair.

"Not how this works, Coop. You have to say please if you want me to stop."

Scowling, he relents regardless, having alresdy agreed to the terms of the game. "Please."

"That's better, handsome."

Hands feeling dry, you get a move on with your agreement and add a healthy dollop of the unscented lotion which you had stumbled on in an abandoned pharmacy. Its discovery had prompted this little game and you can't hold back your grin as you spread it across his skin - sinking into the intimate contact with a soft sigh.

Tense as hell, Cooper is every inch a coiled serpent ready to strike out. He's subtle with it though; matching your wry comments with his own and visibly attempting to force himself to relax into the earnest touch. For a creature who was wrapped around you like a glove when you fucked, this type of intimate engagement appeared to give him more anxiety than staring death down the barrel of a gun.

"Relax." You soothe, hands running across his collarbone to wrap around his shoulders.

"I am relaxed." He lied.

"Liar." You call him out with a teasing smile. "But if a little massage is so scary for the big, bad bounty hunter then let me make you a bit more comfortable."

Dropping your slickened hand to his groin, you cup his hardened cock through the fabric, wasting no time in opening his fly and releasing him; allowing the girthy length to jut free in the cool air.

"Wow, Mr. Howard," you tease, gripping your hand around his length and stroking along it with a firm grip, "this looks painful. What are we going to do about it?"

"Cruel to play with a man's bone and not give him somewhere to bury it." Cooper rumbled, his hips bucking into your hand as you tighten your fingers around the base of a cock, denying him any further stimulation until he settles. "Might drive a man to do something dangerous, sweetie."

"Oh well in that case." Raising yourself off his lap by planting your feet on the floor, you slip further towards his body and line up his blunted cockhead with your hole - arousal making your lips feels swollen and sensitive as you run his cock along your slickened folds. "Would be a shame to waste it then."

Sinking down on his cock, you drop your head to his neck to hide the discomforting gasp as the familiar stretch of him makes your walls burn with the sudden intrusion. The texture of his cock adds an intensity that makes your legs tremble as it rubs along those sweet spots which make stars fly behind your eyes.

You adjust your hips until you're able to sit flush against his groin, the angle a little awkward but fucking delicious as every slight jostle sparks fresh pleasure. His eyes pin you with a greater ferocity than his cock as his head tilts up to keep line with your gaze.

"Tight as a drum." Cooper growls, the feel of you wrapped around him making his hips move of their own accord as he fucks himself deeper; each small rut leaving your cunt wanting more.

But no.

That wasn't the game.

Slapping a hand to his exposed chest, the skin there still moist from the lotion - you cupped your other hand around the back of his neck and scowl at him with a playful anger.

"Hey! Did I tell you to fuck me?"

Stilling his hips, Cooper curled his lips into a smirk.

"That you did not, darlin'."

"Then stop moving and let me have my fun. You focus on keeping that big ol' gun of yours holstered somewhere I know it likes, and I'll focus on what I want to do."

"You drive a hard bargain, missy." He replies, amusement playing across his harsh features. "But a deal's a deal and, hell, I'm sure there's gonna be a reward of some kind for such agreeable behaviours."

"Keep dreaming, handsome. I'm letting you warm your cock in me. Isn't that enough?"

"From you?" Flashing his teeth with an almost feral grin, Cooper's arm snapped around your waist to pull you flush to his chest as his rough lips brushed your ear. "Never."

Squeezing your cunt around him, the action netting you a muted groan, you push him away and roll your hips as your hands return to his chest.

"Nice try, buddy. But no amount of, admittedly, great cock is going to stop me from rubbing every inch of you."

"Stubborn bitch."

Cooper mutters the words without heat, his hands returning to their original position around your ass as you edge yourself on his cock; determined to explore every inch of him before allowing him to get his rocks off.

"Yours."

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

[peachsukii]

Burn Out

『♡』  pro-hero fem!reader  x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | engaged | aged to 23 | bakugo POV! ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: Japan’s #4 Hero, Dynamight, is holding (forced by his agency) a meet and greet with fans - for the fifth time this year - by popular demand. The only difference? It’s three hours longer than the previous four. tags & warnings: fluff, soft bakugo, pro-hero bakugo, reader has a quirk & is also a pro hero, reader & bakugo are engaged! a/n: i thought the idea of reader waiting in line every time he has a meet and greet was such a cute gesture and relaxes him when he’s overwhelmed by fans :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,300 ꒱

“I really gotta do this shit for 4 hours?!”

“Sorry, Dynamight. It’s standard hours for meet and greets, plus you get the exposure to retain popularity amongst the public.”

God, what a fuckin’ joke.

How the hell does Deku do this all the time? I’m not a people person, end of story. I’ll sign shit and let them sell it, but actually meeting people? My goddamn nightmare. Especially the damn fan girls, they’re rabid fuckin’ animals. I hate when people only see me a piece of goddamn meat and not a top rated hero.

“Why are you still here?” This agency lady is really pissin’ me off. What the hell else does she want from me?

“Just going over the logistics. You’ll be hosting at a store in Shibuya Crossing from 1PM to 5PM tomorrow. You’ll be doing signatures on pre-approved official photos. We’ll meet at the agency at noon and you’ll get suited up.”

I hate these stupid publicity pricks.

“Can’t I just sign ‘em and you sell ‘em? I really gotta do it in person?”

“No can do, you know the process by now. The hours are just extended to allow as many fans access as we can.”

Why the fuck do fans need “access” to me? They don’t. I’ve got better shit to do.

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow.”

───

It’s almost 1PM and I’m already fuckin’ over being here. Nonstop “do this, not that,” “don’t take too long,” “don’t accept large gifts,” blah blah blah. It’s a damn signing, not a conference, I shouldn’t need to follow some stupid rule book.

“Before settling in for a grueling four goddamn hours, I gotta call my fiancé.”

“Make it fast, you’re set to start in 15.”

Was it an excuse to talk to her? Hell yeah it was. I didn’t need to call her for shit, I needed to get the hell away from that agency lady before I said shit I can’t take back.

Really wish she could sit here with me instead of with the agent with stick up her ass.

───

[y/n] Hey babe, what’s up? I thought your meet and greet was happening now? [Bakugo] Yeah, in 15 minutes. I needed to step out before I sit here for four fuckin’ hours. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside or somethin’. [y/n] Nothing really, grocery shopping and boring stuff. Are you nervous? [Bakugo] Me, nervous? Fuck no. I just don’t wanna be here for that long. It’s exhausting. [y/n] I don’t blame you, the last few were much shorter. Do you need me to bring you anything? [Bakugo] Even if you did, I don’t think they’d let me take it from ya. [y/n] That’s so annoying. It’s not like I’m a stranger. [Bakugo] Y’would think so. Fu-dammit, sorry baby, but I gotta cut ya short. This agency bitch has been breathin’ down my neck all week. [y/n] It’s alright. Make sure those fan girls don’t take all of you, I still want my share of the number 4 hero! [Bakugo] Hah, y’know you’re the only one who gets that. I’ll talk to you later baby, love you. [y/n] Love you too, good luck!

───

I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired.

If I hear another person screech over me just looking at them? I’m gonna lose my damn mind - and it’s only 2:30PM.

“Dynamight! You’re my favorite hero, thank you for signing this!”

At least most of the kids that showed up weren’t loud and annoyin’ brats.

“Thanks, appreciate th’ support.”

I’ve signed my name so many damn times that it’s starting to look like gibberish. They wouldn’t even let me use a stamp or some shit like that. Y’think that would appeal to their “access” plan if more people could come and go if it meant signing this shit faster.

───

3:45PM.

Fifteen. More. Minutes.

Exhausted is a goddamn understatement. I don’t wanna talk to anyone for the next 24 hours when this is over.

I’m grabbing the next poster from the agent, tunnel visioned on gettin’ the fuck outta here, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“Hiya Dynamight!”

I can’t help but laugh. Did she really stand in line this whole time?

“The hell you doin’ here?”

She’s dressed head to toe in my merch - sweatshirt from the winter line, joggers from the athletic set, even her damn shoes are the limited release sneakers from the crossover line with Deku.

“Just supporting my favorite hero. I’d love if you could personalize my poster.”

God, I love this woman.

“Hah, y’got it.”

To my favorite hero, y/h/n, my shining star - love, dynamight

I slide it over the table to her and the look on her face is priceless. Her smile never fails to brighten my day, no matter how shitty it is. Really feels like no one else is here but her in the moment.

“This’ll be worth at least $50 online. Thanks!”

“Hey! That’s special, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, Ka-Dynamight.”

“Did ya wait in line this whole time?”

“I did! I wasn’t shopping earlier, I was in line for you. I wanted to support my soon-to-be husband.”

The high school girl behind her makes a face when she says “husband.” It’s not like our engagement is a damn secret. Can’t help but shoot her a dirty look, hoping she gets the “fuck off” memo.

“Dynamight, 5 minutes until we wrap.”

“Back off! It’s my damn fiancé. I’ll take as long as I want.”

All I wanna do is jump over this table, throw her over my shoulder and blast our way home. Dive onto the couch, crammed together against the cushions and pass the fuck out to the sound of TV static.

“It’s okay, I’ll let you go.”

She leans over the table to whisper, “I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you!”

I don’t really care who hears. I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ whisper to my soon-to-be wife in public.

“Love you too. Thanks, sweets. You’re the best.”

Fuck, her ass looks damn good in those joggers. I’ll never get tired of watching her walk away. The way she sways her hips when she walks is dangerous game for me.

“Alright, Dynamight. Last one.”

Thank fucking god.

“Hey, thanks for-”

“Was that your fiancé?”

These damn high school girls are such a pain in the ass.

“…yes. What of it?”

“Isn’t she, like, number 42 or something super low ranked?”

Not fallin’ for whatever shit she’s trying to pull. I sign the poster and slide it over to her, hoping she shuts the hell up and leaves.

“What, I can’t get a personalized photo like her?”

Well, she asked for it.

“Fine, give it back.”

number 42 and still better than you. fuck you - dynamight

I shove the poster back to her roughly on purpose, crinkling the edge against her stupid long claws-for-nails that were tapping impatiently on the table.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Learn some damn manners.”

I don't feel any remorse as the stupid agent starts scolding me for "mistreating fans." The brat had it comin', what can I say?

"I'm outta here. Later."

"Wait, Dynamight, you need to -"

"No, I don't. Not my problem. I'm done."

───

Finally, home sweet home. "Hey baby, I'm home."

"Hey Kats! Made you some early dinner on the stove and the blanket is nice and toasty for you."

When did she even have time to do that? It's only been 45 minutes.

"Damn, what are ya, superwoman?"

"Hah, I wish. Have you checked your phone yet?"

"...No, why?"

She laughs. "#dynamight is trending again. Somethin' about you signing 'fuck off' on a fan's poster?"

Oops.

"Yeah, well I -"

"Fuck her, she's lucky I didn't smack her upside the head."

And that's why I'm marrying her.

Just a cute little "Bakugo hates people" fluff lol

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

AO3 LINK ONE

PREVIEW

It's been two months since a handsome stranger started showing up at your bakery to buy an espresso and two loaves of bread. Nothing more, nothing less. You've never told anyone, but since his first order, you've been practicing new types of bread dough for him to try. He always comes in sweaty, and you believe it's from a run, but he's always so kind and always leaves a good tip. Unfortunately, every time you try to start a conversation with him, he disappears.

"Hello, is anyone there?" You hear a male voice coming from the entrance of the bakery. It must be the handsome stranger whose name remains a mystery. In his cup of coffee, at least, he asks for the name Barnes to be written on his order.

"Just a second…" You speak loudly so the person at the bakery entrance can hear. Unfortunately, you just put the bread in the oven, which means you're probably covered in flour. Not to mention, the Barnes guy has never shown up this early.

"Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to know if you have your famous bread and coffee. I can't start my day without stopping by here." Finally, you make it to the entrance of the bakery. It's him, Barnes with captivating blue eyes and a charming smile.

"It's no bother at all, but unfortunately, I just put the bread in the oven. But I can prepare the coffee right now. I also made a cake. If you'd like, I can offer you a slice. And if you're willing, you can come back at the end of the day; I'll be trying a new fennel bread recipe that you might enjoy." You say, smiling gently at Barnes, who looks at the watch on his wrist. He's dressed formally today, which makes him look even more handsome.

"I will accept your offer to come at the end of the day. If you want to separate the piece of cake; I will gladly take it with me." He appears to be in a hurry as he heads towards the exit. You watch him, shaking your head positively.

"I'll separate them for you." You say as you watch him walk away. For the rest of the day, no matter if you were baking cookies or making a cupcake, you thought that at the end of your day; you would see Barnes.

You're distracted tidying up your counter, saving some leftovers to take home, maybe offer to your neighbors. In reality, you could already be at home but decided to do some extra cleaning at the bakery before leaving. Not because you want to cleaning everything for the thousandth time but because you want to give what you set aside to Barnes. The movement in the bakery was good, its oldest customers continue to return and bring more customers. While you're distracted, something makes a huge noise at the entrance.

"What the hell is going on here?" You shout towards the door. Next thing you know, Barnes is hurt. His clothes are torn, it looks like he was attacked. And he's standing inside your bakery, bleeding on the floor.

"You told me to come at the end of your shift. I'm sorry I'm late, I was finishing up some unfinished business." Barnes says as he tries to stay upright. You approach him, helping him sit down.

"I know we don't know each other very well, but you look terrible." You say, touching his forehead lightly, which seems to be quite bruised.

"I'm bleeding on the floor of your bakery, you can call me horrible all you want." He says smiling but then groaning in pain.

"Shouldn't we call the police or something? Maybe at least go to the hospital…" you try to suggest without success. Barnes shakes his head negatively while groaning a few curses. You worry about what kind of trouble he must be in to not want to do any of that, but suddenly it occurs to you that you have a first aid kit in the bakery's pantry.

"I know I'm asking too much, but at the moment I can't answer any questions or accept any suggestions. I only came here because I feel you like me enough to help me." Barnes speaks with some difficulty as you help him with his injuries. You're still processing the fact that he thinks you like him. While you're applying some bandages, you end up having to tear his shirt to clean the blood.

"Just tell me one thing, are we safe now?" You ask nervously as you put some bandages on Barnes. He looks at you, then holds your hand. You didn't even notice but your hand is shaking.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be safe." Barnes speaks in a seductive way but you try not to think of him that way. Even while he's injured, shirtless on the floor of your bakery. However, before you can answer anything, you hear a gunshot and suddenly, a bullet passes through the entrance to your bakery.

"I know the timing is terrible but are you sure?" You ask as you see the pained expression on Barnes' face turn into one of anger.

"Stay here, I'll sort this out and be right back." Barnes says holding your face lightly, which is the closest thing to intimacy you've had in a while but you could only think that he was intruding towards death. You watch him grab one of his best knives and head towards the front door. You are crouched down in an area a little further away from the entrance to your bakery. You hear grunts, some swearing. The guy who shot threatening Barnes, and Barnes not backing down. You hear the sound of another gunshot and then what sounds like someone using the knife. You grab the fire extinguisher on your wall and prepare to hit whoever walks through the door.And as soon as you make a move to hit the person, you feel the person holding you back.

"That would have been more useful with the bandit in front of your bakery. But it's good to know that you know how to defend yourself." Barnes says smiling pretentiously. After you dropped the fire extinguisher on the floor, Barnes fell into your arms. And all you can think is that you couldn't imagine ending your night with him in your arms like this.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (2) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: though you want nothing less than to marry coriolanus snow, he seems intent on finding you a reason to comply. 

word count: 2,621

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, manipulative!coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s courtship with you was the talk of the ton. After he was seen promenading with you, it seemed like all anyone could talk about was your impending nuptials. It infuriated you to no end. He hadn’t even proposed and people were already treating you like you were his property! What would people do if you actually married him? When you married him. It was an inevitability at this point. He had been at your family home every day for the past week. No other man dared to speak to you, save for Sejanus. They all knew better than to attempt to take you from Snow. 

Your only solace was when you would go to the modiste with your mother. She was often distracted by the fabrics on display, trying to figure out what you might look best in. It gave you the time to talk to Tigris, albeit in hushed whispers. When Snow had been crowned king, you learned that Tigris had grown estranged from her cousin. She never said much about it publicly, but at least she would listen to you vent about the man ever since he decided he was going to torment you with marriage. 

“I do not understand why he’s doing this,” you said to Tigris as she helping you into a grown. “He has always despised me, I’m sure of it. I do not care what Lord Plinth says. We would be miserable together.”

Tigris hummed. “It would not serve you well to try to understand Coriolanus’s mind. Even when you think you understand him, he will have another motive entirely unknown to you.”

You chewed on your lip. You were grateful your mother was too distracted to notice. She always hated that habit of yours. That is not very ladylike! she would hiss and grab you by the arm, dragging you away from whatever social engagement you were participating in. Nor is acting like a crazed banshee, you would think. Heaven forbid you show any signs of nervousness. 

It did ease your nerves ever so slightly, though, to learn that Tigris was as confounded by Snow’s behavior as you were. While it would have been easier to believe Sejanus, to think that Snow secretly held a flame for you all these years, you had enough personal experience with the man to know that, that was the furthest from the truth. Hell, even Snow’s own words—that he wanted a wife that he could keep in line—did not feel entirely honest. He was up to something. You just weren’t sure what. 

“Will you be joining us for dinner at the palace on Friday?��� you asked, trying to pull yourself from the spiral before you could fall too deep into it. 

Tigris looked up, her brows furrowed together. “Coriolanus has not told me about the dinner.”

Your shoulders fell. Oh, you had been hoping she would be there. It would have certainly been a solace for you, to have at least one person in the room who you could talk to and not want to scream. Though, you supposed Snow had done that on purpose. If he was intent on torturing you, this would certainly be the way to go. 

“What a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” your mother asked, her attention finally torn away from the fabrics. 

Tigris answered for you. “We were talking about the dinner with Coriolanus. I was saying that I would not be able to come.”

“Ah. Well, that is a shame. But not to worry, there will be plenty of time to talk once they are married.”

Tigris offered a tight-lipped smile. She spared a glance at you, as if to gauge your reaction to the mention of your impending nuptials. “Of course. I look forward to someone as kind as your daughter being part of the family.”

A satisfied smile curled across your mother’s face. She stood a little taller, shoulders held back, at the idea that one of Snow’s family members also approved the marriage. In her mind, it probably meant that the marriage was sure to happen. Little did she know that Tigris and Snow’s relationship had become strained over the years. If anything, Tigris’s approval might have meant that Snow would suddenly become uninterested in you.

At least, you would hope that. At this point, however, Snow had decided that you were to be bride. There would be little that could stand in his way. A scandal, perhaps, because he cared so much for his personal image. But a scandal could ruin you, and that would leave you right where you started—without a single chance for happiness. 

“Then I hope you would not mind making her wedding gown?” your mother asked. 

“I have already begun working on designs.”

Oh, you hated how your fate was already sealed. 

“The palace is quite beautiful, is it not?” your mother remarked as the butler led you and your parents to the dining room. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, though you could not stop yourself from saying, “You act as if you have never been here before.”

If you were at your own home, your mother might have snapped at you for your remark. But here, in the palace, the home of the King, where he could be lurking behind any corner, she held her tongue. “Yes, well, one sees the palace in a new light when learning that it could be their daughter’s future home.”

Your gaze swept over the palace. In truth, the building was exquisite. A testament to how talented the people of Panem are to create a place that housed only the best of the best. Well-crafted furniture, stunning paintings, marble statutes that almost looked like a person had been encased in the rock. But it was the home of Snow, and you hated anything to do with him.

“The decorations are rather tasteless.”

This time, your mother could not hold her tongue. She stopped in her tracks, snatching you by the arm. For a moment, you wondered if you had gone too far. If you had crossed a line. “You will lose the attitude at once—”

“I have to admit, I do agree with her.” 

Does Snow have trap doors all throughout Panem so that he can appear anywhere at a moment’s notice? 

Your mother dropped your arm. She cleared her throat, as if that might dispel the rage hanging in her voice. “Your Majesty—”

“I have not yet had time to update the decor to my tastes. Ruling a country, it turns out, takes up quite a bit of one’s time. Though, I hope that your daughter shall soon help me with making this palace more of a home.” He took a step close to your mother. His pale blue eyes were uncharacteristically dark. His voice dropped low as he continued, “But do not be mistaken. I will not stand for anyone speaking to her like that, even her own mother. Do you understand?”

Your mother could only bare to nod. 

Snow’s gaze slid over to you. His eyes softened. You never seen him look like that before. For a moment, you wondered if Sejanus was right about Snow harboring feelings for you. But then you remember how cold he just was to your mother. Even if she deserved it, a chill ran down your spine as you wondered how cruel he would be towards you. He held out his arm towards you. “Dinner will not be ready for a while. In the mean time, I could show you the library? I remember how you always had your nose in a book at the Academy.”

Between dealing with your mother’s embarrassment and rage or dealing with whatever torment Snow had in store for you, you would rather be with Snow. If only because you weren’t sure what your mother might do when the King’s eyes were not on her. She needed a moment to calm, and perhaps playing nice with Snow might aid in that. You slipped your hand around his bicep. “That would be lovely.”

Snow smiled—a rarity that was becoming more frequent. If he was playing the part of an interested man just so he could spend the rest of your life torturing you, he almost had you fooled. “Wonderful. The library is just down the hall here.”

He began to lead you down the hall, but he did not get far when he stopped. You were forced to stop as well, confused by his actions. What was he doing? Then he turned, his cold eyes focused on your mother. She stood just a few feet behind you and Snow. She cowered under Snow’s gaze. 

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” she asked. 

“I do not recall inviting you to the library.”

You looked between your mother and Snow. A battle of prides, it seemed. No sane Mama would allow her eligible daughter to be alone with a man. It would be a scandal if word ever got out. Of course, this was the palace and this was King. Nothing ever left the palace walls that Snow did not want out into the kingdom. Even if this was something that would ruin your reputation otherwise, Snow might not let that happen. Unless, of course, that was his plan all along. To ruin you for anyone else.

“That is hardly appropriate!” your mother protested. 

Snow took a breath. He looked down at you, then back to your mother. “Allow me to make myself clear. While we have not yet gone through all the formalities of a proposal, I fully intend to make your daughter my bride. I have only publicly moved at the pace I have so that no one would think ill of her, and in turn, me. Now, there is no one here that could harm her reputation. So, if I would like to go to the library alone with my future bride, I do not see how the mere wife of a Lord could stop me.”

Your mother looked to you, as if daring you to follow him. To do so would be an insult to her. But to deny Snow might be your demise. Granted, you did not know if he was capable of such things. But a man with this amount of power was capable of anything. When you looked to Snow, he was already looking down at you, as if trying to gauge whether you would start a fight or comply. You looked back to your mother. “It will only be a moment, Mama. Nothing untoward will happen.”

She sucked in a breath, seemingly ready to protest. Yet, when Snow turned his glare back to her, she fell silent. A nod was her only signal that she would not fight him further on the matter. 

With that, Snow began to lead you to the library; this time, alone. You expected the walk to be silent, though that might have only been because you had nothing to say to Snow. However, when you were out of your mother’s earshot, Snow said, “See? Isn’t this much easier when you don’t fight me?”

It would have been smarter for you to hold your tongue. But you were not the sort of woman Snow wanted you to be. “When confronted with two evils, it is easier to choose the lesser.”

Snow raised a brow. “You think I am lesser?”

You looked over your shoulder to your mother. Though she was far away, you could still see the way rage overtook her and felt pity for the butler who was attempting to placate her with a tray of tea and cakes. “I do not know what to expect of you,” you admitted. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nor do I know what to expect of you.”

Turning your gaze back to him, you said, “You should expect one thing of me, Your Majesty. I will not be the meek bride you want me to be. I will never fall in line for the sake of falling in line. I do not wish to marry you. I only will because you have removed every other choice I have.”

Snow stopped in front of a large pair of oak doors. He stared at them for a while, perhaps considering whether he should distract you with the arrival at the library or respond to what you have said. Finally, he asked, “Is it true you wished to marry Sejanus?”

How could he have known that, you wondered. The only people you had ever voiced that to were your parents, and only in an attempt to persuade them to let you consider anyone but Snow as a potential match. The question itched at you, and so you had to ask. 

“It does not matter where I heard it from. What matters is your answer.”

You frowned, trying to sort through your options. You weren’t sure how much Snow was a jealous man or vengeful one. You would hate to see Sejanus harmed because you had said the wrong thing. You took a breath. “I always wanted to marry for love, but my parents made clear that that was not an option. It is no secret that I do not wish to marry you despite my parents urging. I had once expressed that, if they wanted to marry me off to a man of higher social standing, that I would comply with a match with Lord Plinth. I did not, and I do not, love him. But he is an easy man to love. If I was forced to marry anyone, I would protest the least with him.”

“He cannot give you what I can.”

“Perhaps. But I value my happiness over all else. How could I ever be happy with a man that so openly stated he only wanted a wife that would provide him a child and be otherwise complacent? We are too different. We always have been.”

Instead of acknowledging you said anything, Snow reached out with his free hand and opened the door to the library. He pushed it open, leading you into the expansive room. Though you wanted him to respond to you, you found yourself dropping your hand from his arm, turning slowly to take in the rows and rows and rows of shelves. The entire room took over two floors, books as far as the eye could see. You could spend every day there and still not have read any books. 

You stepped toward one of the shelves, pulling a book at random, thumbing through it. “I have never seen this many books before. Mama always hated that I was well-read,” you confessed. You weren’t sure why you were saying it. Something about Snow just made you want to confess things today, it seemed. “She would have preferred it if I filled my time with hobbies that would have made me more desirable to my future husband. Needlework, piano…She always said that men do not want women who have ideas. I always told her that that was a relic of the past, that the times have changed. She would say that all men are the same, even if they pretend otherwise.”

A hand reached out, pushing the book down. You looked up at Snow. He looked…odd. You couldn’t begin to describe how he looked. Something caught between pained and…admiration? No, that couldn’t be. Snow cared for you as little as you cared for him. He was only doing this for his public image. Nothing more, nothing less. 

And yet, when he said, “The library is all yours if you will be a good wife for me,” for a moment, you considered agreeing. 

[ersatz-ostrich]

Baby Fever pt. 2: Baby Fever

Connor x f!Detective!reader (I guess?)

The baby fever takes hold.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and drug (Red Ice) use (happens before the story takes place)

<< pt. 1

read here on ao3

“We could be here for a long time. Are you okay going into the room without your daughter?” The woman nodded, glancing into the corridor where Connor was shifting her daughter in his arms. From what she could tell, he was doing it right, supporting her head and neck and all, but he looked somewhat bewildered, like a fish out of water. It was obvious that he had never held a baby before. “We’ll make sure she’s safe and cared for. In the meantime…” You showed her into the interview room and took a seat at the solitary table. From the other side of the mirror, you knew your fellow officers and detectives were watching, recording the conversation, taking notes, and cross-referencing them with their other notes from the ongoing investigations. “...let’s start from the beginning.”

Outside the interview room, Connor softly rocked the woman’s daughter. His system was running dozens of processes at a time, searching the web, employing executables, trying to figure out this new feeling of holding a tiny human in his arms. 

“Tin-can! What the hell are you—” Gavin, passing on his way to one of the holding cells, stopped dead in his tracks. “Is that a baby?!” 

“Yes, Detective,” Connor replied placidly. 

“Did you learn to procreate or something? Where’d you snatch it from?”

“ She is the daughter of Detective L/N’s interviewee.” Connor cast a sidelong glance at the detective. “Until they are finished, I will be caring for the infant.” Gavin made a face.

“Geez, if only Miller were here. He’d know what to do with the kid,” Gavin remarked. “Say, does Collins have any kids?” 

“Hey, what’s going on with you two?” Hank appeared in the corridor, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Get your alcoholic ass outta here, Anderson. It’s bad for the baby!” Gavin gestured at Connor and the infant. 

“First of all, Reed, I’ve been sober for months now. Second of all, you wouldn’t know how to care for the little one even if someone shoved a baby book up your—” The lieutenant stopped himself and dragged a palm down his face, groaning. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken care of a little kid.” His eyes softened as he approached Connor and the baby. “Well, at least you’re doin’ something right with the way you’re holding ‘em. Have they been fed? Changed?”

“Maybe the baby’s better off at the children’s hospital,” Gavin suggested.

“Her mother explicitly stated that she would prefer not to be separated from her child,” Connor replied. “She is about six months old. Her mother said she fed her some formula this morning. However, according to growth charts for her age, she seems to be somewhat underweight.” 

“Hmm. She and mom must’ve had it rough.” Hank mused. “Tell you what, just keep her engaged. Make sure she’s comfortable.”

“Got it,” Connor nodded dutifully to his partner in the Android Crimes Division. As Hank moved to return to his desk, Connor felt the baby begin to squirm and fuss in his arms. 

“Uh-oh,” Said Gavin, backing away.

“Lieutenant, what’s going on?” Connor asked, panicking slightly as the baby continued to wiggle. He extended his arms slightly, as if to pass off the baby to Hank.

“She’s probably been swaddled like that all day. Let her down, let her crawl and play with her a little. Just,” Hank jabbed a finger at Connor. “Make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Keep her away from the choking hazards and anything that could fall on her.”

“Got it,” Connor repeated, unswaddling the baby from under the thick blankets her mother had wrapped her in to protect her from the elements. Underneath the baby wore a soft but too-big white and pink onesie. Hank sighed and went on his way, Gavin trailing behind him and casting a few glances back at Connor and the baby, who was now exploring the floor of the hallway.

“I’m too old for this,” Connor heard Hank mutter. “Don’t miss it at all.”

“Yeah, right, old man,” Gavin retorted.

Connor returned his attention to the child. Blinking, he revisited the information box in his HUD.

“Alexis,” He said tentatively. He knelt on the ground, observing the child crawl unsteadily. The baby made a garbled sound that sounded something akin to “Ba?” 

Connor questioned the functionality of his auditory sensors. When the infant repeated the sound, he questioned the functionality of his thirium pump.  

“I’m not your father,” He replied gently. “Your mother will be back soon.” Connor sat down cross-legged on the floor, holding his hands out to baby Alexis as she crawled towards him. “Your mother must have named you. She chose a beautiful name.” Alexis made her way towards Connor’s outstretched hand and tried to grab it. He helped her latch her tiny little hands—so soft!—onto his artificial ones. 

“Oh—! Oh!” Connor exclaimed. “There you go!” He gently lifted Alexis to her full height, watching her try to find purchase on her stubby, socked feet. Little Alexis squealed, stumbling a little while Connor tried to support her. Connor found himself grinning with delight at the sight of the baby standing shakily before him. This feeling was new to his software—he had never felt such a bright, warm emotion before, not even when he had first met you, or when he had first become deviant. Perhaps this was why humans valued parenthood so much—or at least, some people did.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approach him and gasp.

“A baby!” It was Officer Chen, rushing to fawn over Connor and the infant. “Oh my God! Connor, where did you—Collins, you gotta come see this!” Connor heard footsteps in the hallway behind him, but he kept his attention on Alexis. 

“Chen, what the—” Collins watched in disbelief as Connor helped Alexis stand. 

“Aren’t they so cute?” Tina gushed. “I wish I had my phone on me. This is adorable!”

“She is cute,” Connor admitted. He let go of the giggling child’s hands momentarily to scoop her up, hands under her armpits, hoisting her into the air. Kicking her feet, the girl’s squeal attracted more curious officers, who began to cluster around Connor and the cooing six-month-old. 

Meanwhile, you listened intently to Alexis’s mother, Samantha, as she recounted the past six months to you.

“I gave birth to Alexis alone,” Samantha began. “At Henry Ford. My husband was coming home later than ever. I couldn’t reach him on the phone. He wasn’t there when I went into labor, so I called an automated taxi with what little money I had.

When I returned home with Alexis, he was still out. When he finally came back, I could tell he was still coming off of a high. But then…” Samantha lowered her gaze. “I noticed he had wads of cash in his pockets. He had it in brown lunch bags, plastic baggies…money from his deals. 

I kept Alexis far, far away from him in those times. I doubt he even registered that she’d been born in those first few days; he was always high. So, when he was really out of it, really dissociating, I started taking some of the money from his deals. 

After a few weeks, he started to notice. He got more careful in counting the money he made. He started suspecting me, threatening to hurt me or the baby. He’d never hurt me before, but losing his job and taking up Red Ice really…transformed him. Not long after he started threatening me, I found a gun…” Samantha started sniffling. You reached out a hand to gingerly comfort her, massaging her trembling shoulder.

“It’s okay,” You soothed. “Take your time.”

“I found a gun in the TV console,” Samantha shook her head. “That’s when I knew I had to get out. But I didn’t have enough money to pay for a place to stay. I tried, I really did, to stall as long as I could. Maybe steal an extra ten dollars or so. But he chased us out. Threatened me with that gun. And here I am.” 

“I’m so sorry, Samantha. You and your daughter deserve someplace safe and secure.” She held your hand in a tight grasp as she wept quietly. “Did you know where he was going when he left the house? Who was he with?”

“All those nights, I don’t know where he went off to,” Samantha answered, shaking her head yet again. “But…people kept calling him. Unsaved contacts. I caught some of the voicemails, from people talking about someone called Nate…”

“Nate…” Could it be? “Nathan Lance?” 

“Who’s that?”

“A prominent drug dealer, with control over almost forty percent of the Red Ice going in and out of Detroit. I’ve been on his trail for weeks.” You stood up. “Do you have any idea where your husband could be right now?” 

“He’s probably gone off to get high somewhere,” Samantha answered. “I’m sorry. He could be anywhere.” 

“We’re going to find your husband, Samantha, and take him in. If we can get through to him, we can get to Lance. With your testimony and any evidence we gather, we could press several charges against him. Illegal possession of a weapon and illicit drugs, threats of bodily harm, the like.” You squeezed Samantha’s hand. “He won’t ever lay a finger on you or your daughter if I can help it.”

“Thank you,” Tears welled in Samantha’s tired eyes. “This means everything to me.” She stood from her seat and made her way around the table to embrace you. You smiled sentimentally, returning the hug. 

“You’re a strong woman, Samantha.” You said. “I truly wish for the best for you and your daughter.”

When you stepped out of the interview room, you caught sight of Samantha’s daughter gumming contentedly on a plain rice cake taken from somebody’s snack stash. Someone had also brought a small stuffed leopard from their desk for her to play with. Your eyes lit up when you saw Connor watching the baby gnaw on the puck of puffed rice with a look on his face you’d never seen before.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” Connor smiled warmly up at you. “Hank left to get some unsweetened applesauce for her.” 

“Looks like she’s having fun,” You replied. 

“I’m so glad,” Samantha sighed. She lowered herself to the ground and wrapped her arms around her infant daughter, running a gentle hand over Alexis’s barely-there hair. “Thank you for taking care of her, Connor.” Alexis giggled. 

“Looks like she likes you,” You remarked, grinning at Connor. You offered your finger to Alexis, like her mother had earlier, and Alexis nearly dropped the rice cake. Connor quickly caught it, leaving the baby to play with you. 

“The baby fever’s spread like wildfire, eh?” Hank emerged from the bullpen with a six-pack of baby applesauce and some papers.

“Who can help it?” You replied. “Alex is such a little angel.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“By the way, Connor, Ben gave me the list you asked for. Women’s shelters around the city, willing to accept Samantha and Alexis for a time.” Hank handed him the list, which Connor leafed through before handing to Samantha.

“Wonderful. You and Alexis should have a safe place to stay until you can support yourselves again,” He addressed the mother as she flipped through the packet. 

Finally letting go of little Alexis’s hand, you stood up and adjusted your clothes. 

“Once the paperwork’s done with, Connor and I can take you to whichever place works best for you,” You offered. Samantha stood as well, scooping Alexis up in her arms. 

“I would like that very much,” She replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Late that night, you unlocked the door to your apartment. You hung up your jacket, kicked off your shoes, and tossed your bag onto your couch. You flopped onto the cushions with a sigh. Connor followed you in, depositing his own belongings and taking his spot next to you on the couch. 

“So…” You mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder as you felt your tired body melt into the cushions. “...the baby.”

“She was cute,” Connor replied. 

“Oh, yeah?” You teased. “I bet you’re thinking of getting your own baby, huh?” You didn’t miss the slight tint that colored Connor’s cheeks.

“Unfortunately, that can’t happen for you and I.”

“Yeah. Not unless we get one of those YB model prototypes Cyberlife was working on before the revolution.” That had been a weird case for the Android Crimes Division—investigating the project Cyberlife had put on hold when deviancy exploded across the country. 

“Y/N, you know that wouldn’t be the same.”

“Well, there are other options.” You shuffled closer to Connor, who took you into his arms and rested his chin on your head. “Adoption, maybe.”

“Maybe.” You leaned on Connor’s chest, savoring the reverberations of his soft chuckle. 

“Baby fever got you good, huh?” You grinned up at him.

“I may be an android, but it appears I am not immune to this ‘baby fever’.”

I wrote this all in one go in the middle of the night, because that's how I function sometimes (: it was NOT supposed to include mentions of domestic abuse or Red Ice when I first started brainstorming I SWEAR anyways hope you enjoyed! x

Let me know if you want to be part of my general, Connor, or Detroit taglists!

[boywifesammy]

spn fic rec fest - 6

AUGUST 16 - case fics AUGUST 19 - outsider pov

as before, i've tagged authors that have their tumblr public on their ao3. if you'd like me to remove the @, just lmk. @spnficrecfest for more info on the event.

Case fics

The Hottest Blue by submariner (@submarinerwrites) Dean/Sam, 14k, E

A ghoul hunt drags up painful memories of Jess for Sam. this is one of my fav case fics!! everything is amazing from the story to the characterization to the smut. it really delves into sams grief after jess and how it affects his romance & sex life, its explored very well in a realistic way!!

A Love That Lasts by bloodwrites (@bloodwritesfic) Dean/Sam, 4k, E

Sam & Dean are hit by a love spell on a milk run for Rowena. love spell fics are my guilty pleasure and this one had that perfect combo of feverish need and tentative fear… the smut is really intimate and it captures the vibe of late seasons samdean very well!!

A Fever Dream by brokenlittleboy Dean/Sam, 33k, E

Reverse!Djinn dream fic where Sam’s perfect world is one where he has Dean. this fic is a wonderful take on djinn!Sam because it plays well into storylines with hallucifer where he’s manipulated into questioning himself/the world around him. the whump after sam wakes up is also wonderful, i love well written disability plots! the twist of sam finding out that it isnt real is soooo painful, BUT the happy ending makes up for it!!

Outsider POV

Man at the Crossroads by BlindSwandive (@blindswandive) Dean/Sam, 4k, T

"Cordelia (paralegal) needs to know who the hell this leather jacket-wearing, cheap cigarette-smoking rough trade is. And just why his rolling into town is shaking up her normally so-calm boss, lawyer Sam Winchester." this is one of this fics thats a self-contained little novel in a oneshot. the writing is amazing and the character development of cordelia in such a short span of time is really well done. i also have SUCH a thing for prim&proper sammy losing his composure and going feral with dean ;)

Tomorrow's Headline by ohagony (@ohagony) Dean/Sam, 5k, E

Sam and Dean stroll into a town and tell everyone they’re brothers. Nobody buys it. INCEST KINK YUMMY MEAL!!!! i love the snarky little interactions between the boys here & the writing&voices of the side characters is delightful. cute & short while still being super engaging.

Scumbag Fuck (But I Swear That He's Not) by TeleportingAspen Dean/Sam, 3k, T [underage]

“Sam Winchester is caught with a young omega and no brother. Turns out it looks really bad when your brother/mate is suddenly twelve.” victor henriksen pov !!!! my favourite outsider pov character other than bobby. i LOVED the detail in this about them realizing that young!dean had all of the same scars as dean <3 sooo dark and horrifying! poor victor haha

[pumpkinickel]

A Mix-Up || Egon Spengler x reader

Summary: Gender-neutral reader mistakes Elon as Egon (they really do look alike from the back!)

Relationship: Egon Spengler x gn!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 669

Warnings: Not beta-read, but other than that none! This is just fluffy slice of life

Author's Note: This is actually a little old (early 2022). I'm currently writing for a different piece of media BUT I thought "hey, why not post this now because...why not!" I've always been kinda shy to post my writing on the internet in general but to hell with it tbh ! Cringe culture must die and I love my blorbos past, present, and future too much lol

On AO3

It was a regular, snowy day in downtown New York. Ray was in the downstairs of the firehouse, fixing whatever new problem the Ecto-1 had come up with. Janine was reading some magazine with smart shopping tips while Louis was on the phone discussing taxes, the latter having piles of paperwork on his desk. Business during the holiday season usually slowed down, and that meant getting to spend more quality time with the guys. Peter and Winston were engaging in a friendly but competitive game of pool, and Egon was nowhere in sight. He mentioned something about “bringing a surprise” to the station, baffling everyone since Egon certainly wasn’t the surprise type. You sat on the couch, head propped up by your hand, watching as Peter lined up his shot.

"I never understood this game," you said with a yawn.

Winston had a small laugh and shook his head. "It's alright, kid, neither does Pete."

"Hey!" The other man said as he thrust his cue stick, completely butchering the shot in the process. "I just don't play this game often enough, alright, Z? I got no practice,"

You and Winston share a laugh at the expense of your colleague, Peter placed his hand on his chest in feigned offense. Winston took his shot, clearly doing a better job than Peter as the other man had scowled as the ball went into the hole. As the two continue playing, the sound of familiar footsteps enters the second floor. Turning your head, you smile brightly as you finally see your boyfriend Egon. His back was turned, preoccupied with refilling the snack cabinet in the kitchen. As he rummaged through the seven eleven bag, you took the chance of slowly sneaking up behind him to give a surprise hug. The two men playing pool had paused their game to watch you, amused from the sight of seeing you crouch up behind their friend.

“Gotcha!” You yelled as you wrapped your arms around Egon’s torso and chest, placing your chin on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, he was completely frozen, unlike how he would usually turn around to return the hug. Your expression quickly morphed into one of confusion as the seconds passed and he stayed completely still.

“Anyway, Elon, I want you to meet-” You whip your head to the left to see Egon standing next to Ray, both the men having mildly concerned looks on their faces.

“...(Y/N)?” The man you were hugging spoke, his voice only slightly different from Egon’s but you could tell it wasn’t your boyfriend. Hastily taking your arms off him, you spew out apology after apology, face fully red.

“I’m so sorry! God I- I should’ve known the second you didn’t hug me back I-”

Elon waved his hand with a laugh, the other guys in the room except Egon cracking up as well. “No matter, no matter, at least I know my little brother is well loved,” Elon took the liberty of pulling you in for a hug this time, and just like Egon he was surprisingly good at giving them.

Egon’s cheeks turn a light pink color from his brother’s statement as he pulls you in for a hug and forehead kiss. Elon had headed over to the billiard table to greet the two men who ended their pool game. The mood in the room turned joyous as all the guys had not seen Elon in a while, making this occasion a real treat.

“Sorry, Eggs, he really does look a lot like you,” you whispered. He smiles before putting his lips on yours, causing your face to go red once again. Getting kissed by Egon certainly did not get old no matter how many times it happens.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), I missed you too.”

Ray called out, “Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before we finish all the pizza.”

You pull away from Egon and adjust his tie, taking his hand and walking over to the others to get a fresh slice of pizza.

[winter-sol]

leviathan vs. leviathan?! (or an idiot's internal struggle)

word count: 2,4k

pairing: GN! reader / Leviathan

contents: ! nsfw minors DNI. pathetic and jealous levi, begging, praising. handjobs. a light crossover with what in hell is bad? featuring its Leviathan as a fictional character.

Leviathan, as the pathetic demon he is, gets terribly jealous over WHB!Leviathan while you play that game. You are willing to reassure him he's the only one for you.

also at ao3 here 🖤

There was a limit to how long he could endure watching you so engrossed in that damn game. The game with the fictional -and inferior- versions of themselves, the Seven Rulers of Hell. How could you be so interested in that when he is right there?!

He could guess that, in some way, it’s a compliment, considering it would mean your attraction to him transcends the limits of reality and made you want to install the game and meet that Leviathan.

…That Leviathan.

Blond, light-colored eyes, a sensual and mysterious gaze that leaves on their knees anyone who has the bliss to look at his graceful and erotic figure, wearing a tight and elegant black suit. He looks nothing like the disgusting and socially awkward otaku he is, the real one.

“Mmm… So, if I level this up I can get that skill… I see.”

While he observes you from the floor cushion, he thinks immediately you’re only pretending to be interested in the gameplay instead of the demons, his insecurity and envy overflowing and shamelessly escaping his control. He should pretend as well, pretend he’s fine with it. But in that moment, he simply doesn’t care.

“Ahhh, there it is! Hey, Levi, you wanna take a look?” You ask innocently, thinking that he also feels curiosity at it when in his insides he only wishes that shithole of a game never existed in the first place. Fuck them. Fuck that… sexy imposter, he bets he could never summon Lotan and destroy the entire Hell or Celestial or Human Realm.

“Nope, pass.” He says in an indifferent voice as he pretends to focus his attention in an allegedly more engaging game in his console. His pout still goes unnoticed by you, so you insist.

“You gotta be kidding, you really don’t wanna meet your alter ego? He even has completely voiced lines! His voice actor apparently has experience doing these kinds of things, hehe.” You say as you stare at your phone’s screen, with your arms propped on the edge of the bathtub, poking out slightly, while you await your demon’s answer.

“Nope, not interested. I’m grinding so leave me alone.”

His curt tone now actually grabs your attention back to him, and there’s no way you can ignore his expression. He’s literally huddled up in a ball, sulking and avoiding at all costs looking at your direction. You find it hard to contain your laughter in that moment, but making fun of him may not be the best decision. This is the Avatar of Envy.

Smiling to yourself, you get out of his bathtub and move closer to him, laying down behind him and draping your arm around his waist, pulling him into a hug. Without expecting the sudden physical contact, he makes a little jump at your action. “H-Hey! What are you doing?! Get out and stay over there with your little game, since he clearly is a better Leviathan than me, right?”

He must be joking… Is he really that obvious? Now you can’t hold back the laugh, but you do the effort to make it look like a silly, flirty giggle.

“Levi~ What are you saying? No matter what, I only want you,” you tell him in a sweet voice while you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder, his back still turned on you.

“Don’t lie. Deep down, you’d like me to be like that, don’t you?” A tinge of sarcasm is found at the end of that sentence, jealousy fueling his words as he keeps going. “He’s sexier, his voice is more attractive and deeper, and he looks absolutely dreamy. Aaand he totally must have a better body, obviously, ‘cuz he was created for that. Oh, and he doesn’t have this horrible tail I grow in my demon form. Does he even have demon traits or is he just a pretty boy with horns? Hmph.” He scoffs and continues, “And I bet he wouldn’t info dump you or make you all bored with my stupid animes all the time. And he doesn’t have a 2D waifu or husbando since that’s totally disgusting and unattractive, right? Also-.” You can’t help interrupting.

“What the fuck, Levi” You feel like cringing at his rant a little bit but now you’re entertained. “Have you really been staring at him that much? Wow, I mean, I thought you didn’t care about him at all.” You finish that sentence with another giggle, knowing you could be entering more dangerous territory with the teasing, but deciding to test your luck and see how he takes it.

“N-No!! Don’t be ridiculous! Aghh, you normie,” he says grumbling. Mmm… You figure you’ll have to convince him otherwise before he sinks in his bad mood even further.

You reach your hand to his chest, caressing lightly above the fabric of his hoodie, and you get your lips close to his ear. “You seriously believe those pixels are better than you? When you’re this amazing, Leviachan~” You purr his name while you press your fingers over his thick muscles, wanting to emphasize his body’s appeal. “No one makes me feel like you. No one ever will. You’re the only one for me.” You finish with a kiss directly on his neck, sensing how he shivers at the gesture.

“H-Hey! You’re trying to make fun of me?”, he says with a confrontational voice, but you know it won’t last long if you play your cards well.

“No, love. I mean it. You want me to prove it to you?”

You embrace him from the back with both of your arms, sneaking your hands below his clothes. You rub your palms over the hot skin of his torso, fondling him without any subtlety in your intentions, desire starting to flow through you while you cover him with pecks on his nape, his neck, and his shoulder.

“Ngh!” Leviathan responds immediately at your ministrations, air escaping through heavy, ragged breaths while you delight with his reactions. His sensitivity is adorable.

One of your hands travels to his v line, sensing the hard muscle there in direction to his crotch. Expectant, you follow the trail and slide your hand under the hem of his sweatpants that are already flaunting his quickly growing hardness through the fabric. An exciting sight, indeed, that you only want to put your hands onto. And as much as he tries to play difficult to get, he’s easy when you know what to say, where to touch, how to fire his own want too.

You decide to continue with the sweet nothings. “How am I supposed to look elsewhere, hmm? Please tell me because I couldn’t if I tried.” Your hand palms his length through his underwear as he gasps, trying to fight his urges and wanting to prove you wrong even though it’s almost impossible for him now, not when he can feel your touch so vividly, so irresistible.

“A-Ah…” A moan comes out finally as you reach under the fabric and fully grab his erection, your own composure faltering at the sensation of his scorching skin of his long, thick cock.

“Levi.” You say in a low voice while you circle your hand around it, gripping it greedily and dragging it down in a slow, tormenting movement. Your voice is almost a whisper, deviously teasing him “I bet you’re bigger than him”. He shivers at the touch, gasping as your grip goes down, then up, torturing him in a delicious, slow pace. You always enjoy taking your time when it comes to feeling all of him, as much as you can. No one else can have the honor of touching the Third Ruler of Hell like this.

As if awakening something feral in him, a growl comes out while you keep working him with your hand, desire pooling in you as you feel his frame stiff. Before you can continue, he grabs your wrist and turns his head to your direction.

“Prove it”, his voice is hoarse while he looks at you from above with serious, lust-filled gaze that fails at hiding his true desperation. The sunset in his eyes almost nonexistent as black engulf his aching stare. “Show me I’m the only one you need.” You notice him gulping, and conveying his own longing, he gives up his dignity in a low, weak voice “...Please.”

You smile viciously at the display, grabbing firmly the base of his cock and pulling a grunt out of him.

“Of course, love. You’re the only demon for me, Leviathan.”

You kiss under his jaw, licking that sensitive spot for him while you start a quicker pace. A sweet groan echoes through the spacious room, and his body tenses as your grip twists, giving a circular motion that only makes him fall deeper into delirium, a touch so delicious he melts into it, resting his body against yours while his legs spread giving you more access to anywhere you want.

“That’s it, sweetheart, you like this, don’t you?” Your sultry voice makes him shudder, completely surrendering himself to you. In this moment, he couldn’t care less about the other Leviathan, fuck him, he doesn’t even exist but he does, he does and he’s right here for you to take as you please. 

“MC…! Yes, yes, I like it, please,” he cries out, feeling his toes curling at the buzzing ecstasy that fills him violently, your other hand rubbing his nipples under the hoodie, pinching one and gently fondling it after, turning him into a bigger, hungry mess.

He suddenly wonders if you’re even comfortable, his weight resting more on you as he squirms, but any thought dies when your thumb rubs the slit of his dick, eyes watering at the pleasure that defies his own self-control. “Fuck, MC, ahh!!” he whines while precum comes out, making your movements smoother as the strokes only grow harder and faster.

You are delighted by his sounds, possessiveness and power clouding your mind with the desire of him to beg you more, to beg for you to own him and show him he’s the only one. He still gets like that, insecure and jealous over the most stupid things, but you’re ok with it. You’ll reassure him as much as he needs. If that’s the kind of partner he needs, you’ll gladly be that.

“C’mon, baby, tell me, what do you want from me?” You sound playful and delirious yourself, marking your words nibbling his neck again afterwards, starting to abuse the red skin in there. He cries at the bite, closing his moist eyes and his hips moving with increasing frenzy.

“MC… Please, keep saying it… Say you love, say you need me, ah! As much as I need you… please…”

There it is. More begging. It sends electricity through your own body, and you let him fuck your hand as he cries out. You’re as desperate for him as he is for you, and you can only obey him.

“I love you, Levi.” A hungry adoration can be heard in your words, your whisper loud enough for his ears only. You bite his shoulder while he erratically rocks his hips into your hand, searching his own selfish pleasure and bringing himself at the edge of his release. “Come for me, love. You’re mine, mine, mine… I need you, only you.”

Those final words are too much for him, a loud moan resonating as he spills his orgasm on your hand, flows of cum leaking and making the last drags thicker and strained, as he finally collapses. His mind is still on the clouds, vision white as he slowly starts regaining his consciousness. His body starts relaxing, still in your tight embrace, and his breathing is gradually becoming steady once again.

You kiss his jaw, his lobe, and his cheek while you wait for him to recover his senses, soft pecks tenderly awakening him from his intense climax.

“…MC… You’re amazing… hehe.” The light chuckle that decorates his voice at the end makes you smile at his sincerity.

“You are amazing. Now give me a kiss, love.”

He shifts and gets on his side, finally facing you properly. He complies and kisses you gently, a wave of affection and unreleased want filling you as his soft, moist lips presses against yours. You smile into it, letting it grow more passionate in an intimate moment of calm and blissfully quietness. The movements of your mouths are languid, lazy, as you enjoy tasting each other.

After a while, you both part and regain your breathing. The tension between your legs is starting to rise as your own hunger remains unattended. You decided to tease him some more in order to get what you want from him.

“Levi… I need you…” You lock your eyes on his, eager arousal filling your thoughts of getting to claim him one more time.

He widens his eyes as he gets the meaning of your words, smiling and pecking your lips once again. “Yeah… Let me do it for you.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you two hide under the cozy blanket, he admires the way the voice actor seems to be giving his all in the porn scene of the game happening in that instant. “Wow… this is hot, I give them that.”

You enjoy how he’s finally open to try the game and share this… unique situation with you. You chuckle, “I told you, you wouldn’t hate it. Besides, take it as a compliment, you’re so cool you inspired this little guy to exist!” You scratch the imposter demon through the screen, red lines appearing on his skin as the sound of a breathy moan comes out. “Look, he’s into pain like you sometimes.”

He gives an exaggerated noise as a complain. “H-Hey! That’s… Wait, how would they even know?! It’s just a coincidence… Right?” You laugh at how he ends up admitting it.

“Yeah, but an incredible one.” You say as blond Leviathan whines while you keep stimulating him. You try to give your Levi the phone. “Here, do something to him too.”

He looks at it for a moment, contemplating his options. “Mmm, I don’t know. Wouldn’t that count as some type of masturbation?”

You burst out laughing at that.

“Hahahaha! Holy shit. Maybe? I don’t know, you aren’t him, so...”

“Yeah, I don’t know, it’s kinda weird? Doing these things to this 2D version of myself?”

“…You’re really saying that as if you haven’t jacked off to multiple hentai games before. The audacity of this pervert.”

He looks at you with a horrified expression. “Shut up!! That’s totally different! It has nothing to do with myself! It’s with other characters.”

He really has no shame anymore.

[acapelladitty]

When The Lights Go Out: Riddler

Summary: Richard Madison is a crook but a strange encounter with a man calling himself Edward Nygma may prove to be his undoing.

Part 1: When The Lights Go Out: Scarecrow

AO3 Link ☆ Fic Masterlist

The miraculous release of Walter Johnstone from his asylum incarceration was not the only odd thing to have occurred in Gotham that day. Nor would it be the last.

It was certainly a day that Richard Madison was never likely to forget.

If you asked the average person to describe Richard Madison they would have a host of phrases ready to spring forth in his praise. As sweet as sugar, one might claim. Honest as they come, another would cry. A good man with a good heart. However, there were those who saw another side to the man and those individuals would quietly lament his misdeeds and misgivings.

Both opinions are entirely valid to their holders, as all opinions are, however those who believed in him were only witness to the facade which he presented to the world.

To put it simply, Richard Madison was a crook.

Oh, how people loved being around Richard. They whispered promises in his ears, slipped offerings into his pockets, and overall doted on him in exchange for the opportunity to engage. To have their needs met.

And he was never a man to deny the people their needs.

When it suited him.

Emerging from the elevator to his private office, his shoulder clicked as he stretched his arms before him to prepare for the next few hours of sitting at his computer and running his small empire from the comfort of his favourite chair.

However, an unexpected sight stopped him dead in his tracks.

Standing in his office as though he belonged there, lounged a suited man. His body was on the thinner side and even from this distance Richard could tell that the bottle green suit, expertly styled as it cinched his frame, was cut from expensive cloth. Boyish features shone from a face which could not have been a day over forty and his appearance was made all the more striking by the shock of flame red hair which sat atop his head, mostly covered by a lurid green bowler hat which perfectly matched the shade of his suit.

“Richard Madison!” The man exclaimed in a showman voice, his excitement radiating from him in waves. “In the flesh! The man of the hour!”

Reaching out as he approached Richard’s stunned position, he gripped his hand in a firm grasp before shaking with an almost comedic level of effort. His arm swinging up and down in the grasp of the madman, Richard politely let go before hiding his hand within his pocket to prevent any further touching.

“Who are you?” Richard asked. This was his private office and absolutely no one got in here without first jumping through a series of hoops designed to keep out any 'undesirables'. “And what the hell are you doing here?” He allowed his shock to manifest as anger as he roared at the red-haired man.

“Lovely office,” throwing an arm out with great flourish, the man ignored the open aggression to gesture wildly around the room, “you must tell me who your decorator is.”

The stark minimalism of his office stared back at him as Richard's eyes swept the room. His room was boring, intentionally designed as such, so was he joking?

“Look, buddy, I don't thin-” cutting himself off, Richard clenched and unclenched his fist as he repeated his earlier question. “Who are hell are you?!”

“My name is Edward Nygma.” Flashing a smile, Edward dropped his head in a dramatic nod and allowed the green bowler hat to topple from his scalp and into his waiting hands before tucking it below his arm. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Madison. May I call you Richard?”

Now exposed, his red hair was perfectly coiffed into an old-fashioned style which felt very out of place in the modern office.

“I suppose.”

“What about Dick?”

Pursing his lips as his eyes narrowed, Richard was unable to tell if this man was mocking him or his earnest manner was genuine.

“I usually insist on Richard.”

“Then feel free to call me Edward.” Edward answered. “And to answer your earlier question, I am here to make you an offer which I know you will be unable to resist. We are both men of knowledge and money, so I know that you will want to hear what I have to say.”

“I’m not a trader.” Richard spat back, the surreal nature of this meeting making his aggression feel more performative that anything. “If you want me to invest in some shit you’re cooking up then go to Wall Street and pitch to the sons of bitches there.”

“Oh, I met the fools at Wall Street. Quite a long time ago.” Smirking as lips curled into a smile, Edward flashed his white teeth. “I gave them all the clues and all the opportunities to be honest men and they chose to ignore me. And then? Can you believe it? BANG!”

At this, Richard jumped in place as Edward smacked his hand against his thigh with some force.

“It all came crashing down. The Wall Street Crash, they called it. More than a few brains came to decorate the nearby paving after that, but they can't say they hadn't been warned. I gave them every chance.”

He's definitely mad, Richard thought. Edward did not look a day over forty and yet he had the gall to claim that he was present for the Wall Street collapse in the 30's?

“Talking like that will get you locked up in Arkham.” Richard warned.

“Oh no,” Edward exclaimed, “oh no, no, no! That would never do! I am far too intelligent for that and besides,” leaning in close as though divulging some information that only he was privy to, the green of Edward’s eyes twinkled madly for a moment, “an old friend has already made himself comfortable in those harrowed halls. It would be rude for me intrude on his delicate work.”

“You have connections in Arkham?” Such things were not unheard of and Richard himself had at least one guard on his payroll to ensure that the odd piece of information here and there fell into his hands. “Staff or guests?” He added.

“Staff today could be guests tomorrow and vice-versa. Let's not judge people based on their current position, particularly when that position is fragile at best. Fantastic things are afoot in Gotham right beneath your nose,” Edward insisted, “and my associates and I are here to see what she has to offer. So much filth and rot and chaos all wrapped in a pretty package of gothic architecture and urban landscaping.”

“Associates?”

“Oh, don't you worry, Richard. You are very unlikely to ever meet them as we tend to stick to our roles somewhat rigidly.”

“I need to make a phone call.” Richard interjected quickly. “Excuse me.”

Quickly retreating back to the doors of the elevator, Richard snatched his mobile from his suit pocket and quickly hit one of the numbers on his speed dial. This man, Edward, seemed to have decent connections and money to his name but he wanted to be sure before moving any further.

To his luck, his secretary picked up after only two rings.

“Hello, Richard Madison’s office. How may I direct your call?” Came a feminine droll from the other end of the line.

“Hey, Sam.” Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Richard continued. “Need you to run a quick background check for me.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Claims his name is 'Edward Nygma'. Never heard of him before but he looks like he has some decent coin behind him.”

“Okay. And where is he currently?”

“Standing inside my office.”

An audible hitch of breath.

“Okay, boss.”

Immediately on to business, Richard could hear the frantic tapping of her keyboard as she sought out the information he needed.

“The name is coming up here, boss.” As though reading from a script, Sam listed off her findings. “Edward Nygma. Business owner and entrepreneur. Apparently considered rather handsome. Worth…”

A pause.

“What?” Richard asked.

“Billions. Christ, he could put Wayne outta business. He’s absolutely loaded.”

“Billions! How have we not heard his name before?”

“He's a noted recluse. Very little personal details available here. All I can see is that his net worth is mind-blowing but the only thing he has name officially to is a production line of different types of toys.”

“Child toys?”

“Puzzle toys. For all ages and ranges.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not a lot to go on but it’s definitely there. Good source too. He's legit.”

Hanging up with a shaking finger, Richard could smell opportunity like a shark could blood. A noted recluse worth billions, right here in his office. He could take advantage of this in a way which he and all others had been unable to do so with Bruce Wayne; a man so wrapped up in his holier-than-thou attitude that he refused to engage in any business which would dirty his hands.

Richard hated him.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped his phone back into his pocket and started to move back towards Edward. He had not moved an inch since Richard had disappeared, but his attention was wholly focused on something which was clutched between his hands. As he approached, the flash of the brightly-coloured item in Edward's palm also drew Richard's attention and he squinted as though a sharp light had accosted him.

“What's in your hands?”

Rolling the offending object between his fingers with a practised ease, Edward brought it into the space between them.

“This?” He asked. “A curious little thing. I am very fond of puzzles and I haven't seen anything quite like this before.”

Recognising the piece, Richard squinted once again.

“A rubix's cube?” He asked, incredulous.

Who is their right mind had never seen a Rubix cube before?

“Rubix cube.” Edward repeated with a look of contemplation. “After the man who created it?”

“I guess.” Confused as to what exact relevance the puzzle held to the current discussion, Richard gestured vaguely with his hands. “I don't know what this has to do with-”

“Oh, of course! Of course!” Exclaiming loudly, Edward slapped a hand good-naturedly on his knee as he smiled. “Excuse my ramblings but you must forgive an old man his pleasures.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Watered down whisky doesn’t agree with me, Dick,” Edward declined. “And I would think a man like yourself would want to watch his health. The liver can be a tricky old thing, especially six years down the line.”

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Nygma? I doubt this is a social call since we don’t, uh, know each other.”

“I have an opportunity which you would be a damned fool to pass up on. A new line of puzzle and magic toys, fabricated and distributed across Gotham and her sister cities.”

With Edward waving his hand around, Richard was able to catch a glimpse of his watch and found himself momentarily stunned by the beautiful timepiece and the various gemstones which were embedded within.

“Toys? Just toys? Surely we cou-”

“I have meetings today with others, including a meeting with a very interesting man named Wayne who seems to have taken a liking to my products,” Edward grinned.

Richard’s chest clenched with anger at the familiar name and he immediately backpeddled on his scepticism, “That won’t be necessary. I would love to enter into a business deal with you, Mr. Nygma. I hear you have quite the reputation.”

“I’m certain I do,” Edward replied, “and I would like to bring you onboard before I return to my other duties. $10 million would suffice as a minor investment, one which would see major returns.”

Wincing at the amount but desperate to keep the vaguely gullible and eccentric billionaire within his grasp, greed already blinding his thoughts as he imagines various ways of involving the fool with his less pleasant ventures, Richard nodded at the proposed amount.

The conversation flowed smoothly after that, discussions of timescales and proposed returns forcing Richard into the belief that he was making a smart choice. His mind focused despite the whirling nature of Edward’s demeanour; Richard felt the thrill of his greed thrumming in his veins as he catered to his latest potential cash cow.

“So, do we have a deal, Dick?”

Extending his hand with a showman smile, Edward allowed it to hang in the air between them with a sense of finality.

Willing to ignore the nickname this one time, Richard nodded once more and accepted the handshake before dropping his hand to his inner pocket. Mobile phone in hand, it took Richard less than five minutes to have the investment money wired over to Edward’s accounts – ensuring that he retained a firm copy of all Edward’s account details should anything go awry with their deal.

“This account is one of my more selective accounts and I would appreciate its use being kept on the quieter side of things. I am sure you understand,” Richard muttered with a put-on smile.

“Of course, of course! My lips are sealed.” Edward winked, placing his bowler hat atop his head with a dramatic flourish. “A silent account for a silent partner.”

His smirk actually blossoming into a genuine smile, Richard took the initiative to end their meeting.

“A pleasure, Mr Nygma. I hope to work with you again.”

Tilting his head with a wicked smirk of his own, Edward answered in kind.

“I’m sure you’ll think of our partnership often.”

x-x-x-x-x

Stepping into the familiar office of Salvatore Maroni, Richard inclined his head to the goons who remained on guard as he joined both the owner of the office and their mutual friend, Daniel Mockingbird, by taking a seat on the only available chair.

“Evening, boys. Pour me a decent one, eh, Sal?” Richard asked, inclining his empty whisky glass to Maroni. A glass which was quickly filled with amber liquid as the man in question poured him a healthy slosh of scotch.

“You’re chipy as fuck today, Richard. Balls finally drop?” Mockingbird cut in, his thick Italian accent glossing over the words with ease.

“Funny,” Richard deadpanned as he sank a gulp of the scotch, “but anyway, how has your week been gentlemen?”

“Great, I got me a new business partner and I think he’s going to be one for the books, boys,” sipping from his own glass, Maroni appeared pleased with himself as he divulged his luck to the other two.

Surprised, given his own unmade announcement, Richard inclined his hand to Maroni as he indicated for him to continue.

“Yeah, some fucking freak. Came here to ask me to partner on an investment deal for some shitty kids toys and-”

“Bullshit!” Mockingbird called out, surprising both men at the outburst. “You met with Nygma too?”

Open shock playing on his face as he watched the two speak, Richard dropped his hands to his lap as his head darted between the two like a tennis match.

“Yeah. Showed up here asking for $10 million.” Maroni confirmed.

“Fuck! Same from me.”

“Same, huh? For the toy business?”

“Yeah, for the fucking toy business. He didn’t say nothing about having other partners.” Running a hand through his slickened hair, Mockingbird was clearly unimpressed with the fact that his great deal had not been as exclusive as he thought. “Jesus Christ man, $20 million from us both. Sneaky fuc-”

“$30 million,” Richard intercut with a frown. “I also received a visitor yesterday.”

Genuinely speechless, all three men grumbled their discontent into their glasses as they observed the others with open suspicion. Their friendship was tenuous, agreements always being settled under the table to ensure that the dirt they could hold over each other was limited, and an event like this would only breed discontent.

Unable to muse for too long as his phone started vibrating madly in his pocket, Richard pulled it free with a gruff greeting as he pressed it against his ear.

“Mr. Madison, we have a problem.”

Sam. Sounding thoroughly distraught as her voice stuttered across the words.

“What is it?” Richard asked, a sinking feeling dropping his chest into his stomach.

“It’s gone, Sir. Everything. All the money from the secret account.”

His heart stuttering at the information, Richard barely noticed when both Maroni and Mockingbird picked up their own ringing mobiles.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s gone?”

“The account is empty, Sir. The $10 million transferred through to the Nygma account but the rest has disappeared. It’s gone, Sir.”

“No, no-NO!” Richard snapped, snarling his words down the phone. “You find me that money, Sam. Find it and get it back. Hunt down that fuck Nygma if you need to because I think he has something to do with it.”

Slamming his phone shut, his heart pounding in his ears as his blood pressure reached new levels, Richard zoned back into his companions to find that all hell had broken loose across both men. Maroni’s face was a stunning shade of puce as he screamed insults into his mobile while Mockingbird was speaking in Italian at record speed, his expression equally as angry.

Allowing both men the time to finish their phone calls as they went through a similar disbelieving anger to himself, Richard understood without a doubt that they had all been swindled in a similar fashion.

“What the fuck is happening?” Mockingbird hissed, throwing his glass to the floor as the scotch splashed across the carpet. “One of my private accounts has been tanked! Gutted! Fucking robbed!”

Maroni pulled his lips back into a snarl, “Same here! Fuck! The account I used yesterday. That sneaky fuck Nygma is behind this and I’m going to find him, boys.”

“Pull our resources! I’m going to kill that red-haired fuck.” Richard added with a roar.

“Red hair?” Mockingbird face was confused despite the rage, “You mean black hair? Short little fucker too, only about 5ft? Weasley as fuck.”

“What?” Squinting, Richard shook his head. “No. He was wiry with red hair, probably about my height and thin as an addicts piss. Sal?”

His voice so low that both men struggled to pick up on his exact words, Maroni growled his own description.

“Brown hair. Slicked back. Slight build on him. Had a stupid cane with him. I even got the bastard on record.”

Snatching out a voice recorder from a nearby desk drawer, Maroni fiddled with it before clicking play on the recorder as all three men stared at it with narrowed eyes.

“-an excellent choice, Mr Maroni! I admire your taste in being able to pick up on a good deal when it comes your way. So, let’s get down to business and I can be on my way. Shall we say around $10 million as an investment? With that I cou-”

His heart racing at the familiar voice, Richard saw a similar look of rage on Mockingbirds’ face as he listened to the recording.

“That’s him!” Mockingbird grunted, his fists clenched against his lap. “That’s the smart-mouthed cunt.”

“How the fuck can that be the same man we all met?” Richard asked reasonably, rage giving way to confusion. “Sure, he could wear a wig or change his clothes, but his height? He wasn’t a fucking magician. This shouldn’t be a fucking riddle. How much did he take from you?”

Directing the question to both men, the grave looks he received in response no doubt mirrored his own. If their loss was as great as his own then they were looking at an easy collective loss of over a hundred million. A hundred million dollars, gone in a puff of smoke.

All dirty.

All untraceable.

As it was designed to be.

It was a perfect theft.

“Play the bastards voice again, Sal.” Mockingbird hissed. “I want it committed to memory so I can remember to have his tongue ripped out when we catch the prick.”

Thick fingers pressing the play button of the audio recorder, Maroni startled in place as the casual conversation which had previously been loaded on the device was replaced by a loud, cackling laughter – the rising cacophony of Edward’s mirth making all three men shiver in place as something dark curled around the joyful sound and rattled them to their cores.

Richard Madison was a crook, but he was no fool, and, as Mockingbird fixed himself with the sign of the cross, Richard could not shake the furious anxiety which seared in his chest as he realised that something evil had held counsel with him in his office yesterday and that his money was gone somewhere he did not dare to follow.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Naughty or Nice - Chapter 13

Summary: Negan and Y/N get ready to leave her family's farm, but when certain things are revealed it leaves an explosive amount of emotions for everyone.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Beau, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/134344273

Warnings: Swearing, severe angst, etc.

Notes: This is my second to last chapter. It's long. It's very angsty and I love you guys who put up with this the whole time and those who have taken the time to comment! I appreciate you all.

You can tell yourself that it’s going to be easy breaking up with someone, but it never is. Especially when it’s someone you consider to be an overall good person. A person where there is really no good reason for breaking up with them. Other than you just don’t love them and they aren’t for you. So many people would tell Y/N that she was crazy for giving up Glenn. He was sweet. He was caring. He was cute. But he just wasn’t someone she was in love with. Standing before his bedroom door this morning had her feeling awful about the decision she was about to make.

At first, she considered actually sitting down and talking with Glenn. That was probably the most kindhearted option and the best thing to do, but she couldn’t gather enough strength to wake him. Negan and Maggie had broken up the night before, agreeing that they didn’t belong together. Telling Glenn that to his face when Glenn was actually good really made things hard. Because of that she decided to write Glenn a letter. It was vague, but it just stressed that she found someone else that she realized she was in love with and it was an attempts at letting Glenn down easily instead of hurting him.

Thinking back on her relationship with Glenn, it was always pretty obvious that the only reason she continued on with the dating part was because she actually enjoyed his company. When Glenn showed up in Y/N’s life, she was always busy and deep into work. It didn’t really give her time to socialize or date.

There was no plans on having Glenn in her life. Hell, he was just a guy that delivered her pizza to her late one night that was nice to her. Both of them just enjoyed talking to each other. Glenn confessed that most people didn’t treat him like a human being and she lacked connection with people outside of her job. They hit it off in that sense. But what she really needed was a friend and Glenn provided that for her.

Asking Glenn on a date was more so a way of her trying to get him to spend more time with her instead of her having to order pizzas every time she wanted to talk to someone. What was nice about everything was being able to have someone to share moments with. To not feel like she was alone, but she never truly felt like she was in love with Glenn. They only had sex because Y/N felt like she had to after how long they had essentially dated. For her, she never felt connected to it. She loved Glenn in the friend way so it only felt awkward any time she had to get intimate with him.

When Glenn asked her to marry him, it was on a vacation they had taken together to France. They were in front of a bunch of strangers, miles away from home and they were going to be stuck together for days. The only reason she told him yes was to avoid hurting him and making things awkward. Sure, she wanted Glenn in her life, but not in the way that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Quietly turning the doorknob, Y/N was hoping that Glenn was still sleeping. Thankfully when the door partially opened, she could see that he was deep in sleep. Stepping into the room, she gazed over Glenn and felt her chest ache. Hopefully by the time that he woke up she would be long gone. Setting the letter down on the corner of the dresser that was in his room, she took a look at Glenn and sighed. Grabbing a hold of the engagement ring that Glenn had given her, she tugged it down her finger and held it between her fingertips. It felt weird taking it off after this long, but she knew this was genuinely the best thing for both of them. Setting the ring down on top of the letter, she knew that he would be confused, but this had to be done.

Taking another look at Glenn sleeping reminded her of the past. Glenn was a good-looking guy, there was no question in that. Most women would be lucky to have someone like Glenn in their lives. That was why she always felt bad for wanting more. Glenn was enough. Just not in the terms of what she needed in her life. Sure, this wouldn’t be the last time she would see Glenn. This was just the easiest way of breaking up with him and making things easier for both of them. Knowing this wouldn’t be the last time seeing him made things easier. Although she assumed he may never want to see her again after all of this.

Backstepping toward the hallway, she wanted to make sure that she didn’t make any noise to draw him to wake up. Glenn was a pretty light sleeper so this made it hard enough as it was. Taking extra time to close the door, she realized she likely looked silly in how she was acting, but those extra steps to keep him asleep were necessary. Once the door clicked closed, she waited outside of it. Listening closely, she was thankful that she didn’t hear the sounds of Glenn moving around inside telling her that she successfully escaped. Standing still for a moment longer, she finally tip toed back toward the stairs that led to the attic.

Originally, Negan had talked about them revealing things to her family, but that was before he had broken up with Maggie. Truthfully? She was happy they changed their plan. Instead of sticking around, they were just going to leave before everyone woke up. It was the only way that made sense for her. She had written letters for everyone. Everyone except for Hershel. Everything that she had to say had been already said to her father. Once she was done with them, she put them on the counter and addressed each letter to the person it went to.

So it was very important to still move quietly throughout the house. Avoiding conflict and confrontation was key. After everything from the night before, she didn’t want to fight with anyone. And as strong as she was, she knew that she probably couldn’t tell Maggie to her face what she had done. This was good enough. It was easy for everyone and it avoided more fighting.

Closing the door that led to the attic, she moved slowly up the stairs. She was sluggish in her movements. Both from depression and her trying to be quiet. At the top stair she heard a squeak that made her wince. Damn this house for being as old as it was. Standing beside the bed was Negan attempting to prepare the shirt that he was about to put on. Hearing the stair squeak drew him to look over his shoulder at her, flashing her one of his charming smiles.

In his eyes Y/N could tell that he was still tired. They had talked most of the night. If anything, they might have gotten an hour of sleep together. It was nice having someone to talk to. With Glenn, Y/N never felt like she could truly connect with him. A lot of her feelings were deep and Glenn was always so positive. It took someone like Negan who could see both the positive and negative in life to help her hear what she really needed.

“Hey there beautiful,” Negan was cheerful in his delivery, turning slowly on his heel. “How’d everything go?”

“I’m a wimp,” she confessed, throwing her hands up when she realized everything she had done was to save herself from more stress and drama. Wiggling her fingers in the air had Negan smirking, but his eyes narrowed showing that he was confused. “My hand hurts. I wrote everyone a letter. I know that was the plan with my family and I thought about talking things out with Glenn, but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually do that. So I wrote him a letter too.”

Heading over to the corner of the room, she rest back against the wall to stare out at Negan who dropped his arm down and was holding his shirt at his side, “I couldn’t even have the decency to break up with him to his face. I just left the letter and the engagement ring on his dresser. I didn’t even go into details in the letter. I just told him I found someone else that I realized I was in love with. That he was a perfect guy and I still cared about him, but I just wasn’t in love with him.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Negan quipped, his eyebrow arching in curiosity. By the expression over her face, he could tell that she didn’t think it was a good way to break up with someone. Moving across the attic, Negan outstretched his arms to place his hands over her hips. Drawing her near him, he tipped down to press a loving kiss over her forehead and she sighed.

It was a loaded question. There were so many things wrong with how she decided to break up with Glenn, but she didn’t want to talk about them. Not right now.

Brushing her fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered Negan’s chest, she gave him a weak smile and looked down. Negan’s jeans were hanging low at his hips giving her plenty enough of a view to have her heartrate quicken. The v-line on Negan’s hips were incredible and she loved his body. A lot of people were attracted to the muscular type, but she was in awe of Negan’s slender physique, “Did I just miss you putting your pants on?”

“I did just change out of my pajamas,” Negan snickered, tapping his fingers against her chin. Leading her to tip her head back, Negan’s expression grew arrogant and she knew that he liked her being naughty with him. “What? Is seeing me shirtless not good enough for you.”

“Come on Negan. Play fair. You know that I love every part of you,” she frowned, sliding her hands down from his chest toward his slender abdomen. Negan’s eyes fluttered to a close when she reached the area just beneath his bellybutton where there was a softness to his flesh. Even the small smirk he gave when she dragged her fingertips further down had a fire growing inside of her. “I’m just suggesting that maybe seeing you changing out of your pajamas and into your pants would have helped me get through the day.”

“Is that so?” Negan’s right eyebrow arched, a growl falling from his throat. Stepping back, Negan unhooked his belt that he was wearing after tossing his shirt back on top of the bed. Dropping her gaze, her lips parted and her breathing grew louder. It was hard to really focus on what with Negan. His body or his incredibly attractive features? Because it was hard doing both. “If it’s the only thing that can help you make it through the day, then who the fuck am I to keep that from you?”

There was something sensual about the way that Negan dragged his fingers across his belt and over the button in his pants. Being sexy wasn’t something he had to try hard at, but he was doing his best to put on a show for her right now. Even the way he dragged down the zipper of his jeans had her heart skip a beat. Ever so slightly, he began to tug at the material of his jeans. Inch by inch he started to reveal his body to her, stopping when he reached the area to reveal the dark curls of hair that surrounded the base of his cock.

“Is this good enough for you?” Negan taunted her, very much aware of the fact that she wanted more.

“Now you’re just being a tease,” she alerted him with her throat growing dry at the sight of him.

“Oh? I’m a tease?” Negan dramatically repeated, turning on his heel and lower his pants just enough to reveal his small bottom her. His antics had her rolling her eyes, but his laughter was cute in itself. “Is this better?”

“I thought you wanted to be good to me,” she played back, sucking faintly at her bottom lip when he shot her a flirty glance over his shoulder.  

“Oh, it wasn’t my ass that you wanted to see?” Negan rambled, turning to face her again. Enthusiastically pushing at the material of his jeans and his boxer briefs had them pooling at his ankles. Throwing his hands up in the air in an arrogant fashion and giving her the biggest, cheesiest smile had her laughing. “Better?”

“You’re ridiculous,” she confessed, stepping forward to brace her hand in over the center of his chest. Tipping up on her toes, she brought their lips together having him hum against her flesh between their kisses.

“And you love me anyways,” Negan slurred, his tongue brushing out between her lips. Pulling her flush against him had her gasping out, her right arm hooking around his shoulders. Behind heavy eyelids, Negan stared down at her and shook his head. “I love you so fucking much.”

“And I love you,” she assured him, dragging her left hand down over the side of his face. Stroking her fingers through his short beard had him leaning into her touch and sighing. “You’re a sight I could never get sick of.”

“I do have a pretty nice dick,” Negan admitted causing her to roll her eyes and laugh. “Hey, you’re the one that came in asking to see it.”

“You do, I agree,” she whispered, drawing her finger across his bottom lip. With him pressing faint kisses at the pad of her thumb, she knew that she needed to be able to focus. “But I meant in general. Fully clothed, partially clothed, completely naked…I could never get sick of you.”

“That’s good,” Negan snickered looking down between them and she did the same. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

“So that?” she tipped her head down to stare at his semi erect body. “That’s mine?”

“All yours,” Negan snorted, burying his head against the side of her neck to press wet kisses over her flesh. “If you want, you can touch it a few times, but that’s probably it. We need to get out of here before everyone is up and about. Maybe later tonight after Santa delivers the presents under the Christmas tree, you can let him come down your chimney.”

“Oh wow. That sounds like quite the offer. I don’t know, is Santa going to be dressed up in his suit?” she lowered her hand down between them to curl her fingers around the root to his masculinity hearing him growl. Pressing his forehead to hers, Negan smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Because I think I’d be more willing to let him come down my chimney if he was dressed appropriately.”

“If that’s something you’re interested in, we can make it happen,” he whispered, his eyebrows furrowing when he looked between them to watch her touching him in delicate strokes. “I just have to warn you it may be the skinniest version of Santa Claus you’ve ever seen. He’s been on a bit of a diet.”

“I can work with that,” she nibbled at his bottom lip having him faintly moan when she gave it a small tug. “It’s too bad we can’t get in a quick session before we go.”

“I kind of fucked myself over in this situation,” Negan informed her with a growl, grabbing a hold of her wrist to stop her from getting him completely rigid in her touch. Damning himself, Negan licked his lips and huffed. “I already have Beau and Erin up. They are packing their things. If I didn’t I would have had no problem doing that.”

“I guess we will just have to wait until tonight to get that visit from Santa,” she chuckled giving him one final kiss before stepping back and away from him. Huffing out, Negan looked down and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re not wrong. We do need to get out of here before everyone wakes up.”

“Fuck,” he grumbled bending down to grab his boxer briefs and his jeans. Working them back up his body, Negan took some time to adjust his length in a way that would be comfortable enough for him to zip his jeans back up. “I didn’t think you would be ready to go for another round this morning. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have woken them up.”

“I’ll survive,” she assured him, patting him on the chest and then heading over to the bed. Snatching the shirt that he threw on top of it, she tossed it back to him and he caught it. “The buildup for tonight will make it that much better.”

“I feel like you have to flash me your ass or your tits to only make this fair,” Negan explained which made her laugh at the bluntness of it. “I just gave you everything here.”

“You’re almost fully erect Negan, is that really what you want?” she pointed down toward his groin hearing him huff him response. Stepping forward, Negan brought her in closer to him and hovered his lips in over hers. Gasping out, she felt Negan’s fingers caress up under her shirt to trace his rough fingertips over the lengths of her back. When he slid them back down, his fingers sank beneath the material of her pants to caress at her fleshy bottom. Purring against his lips, she felt her heart rate quicken and she shook her head. “You really do like torturing yourself, don’t you?”

“Probably,” Negan scoffed, giving her bottom another firm squeeze before pulling back and away. Pulling his shirt on had her laughing with the expression that he was making. “I promise to be a good boy from here on out.”

“You better,” she noted heading over toward the window that was in the attic to stare out at the land with the sun only just starting to come up. Thinking about everything she had already accomplished today made her let out a loud exhale. “You don’t think I’m a bad person for breaking things off the way I did with Glenn, do you?”

“You didn’t just take off with no explanation,” Negan reasoned with her going back to packing his things for them to leave. “I think what you did was appropriate enough. I told Maggie the same thing you did in your letter to Glenn. So what makes mine any different than yours?”

“You actually broke up with her to her face?” Y/N suggested, looking back over her shoulder at Negan to watch him gathering his things. “You’re stronger than me. I don’t think I could have dealt with Glenn’s reaction to him finding out I was in love with someone else.”

“Glenn will be fine honey,” Negan stood up from where he was and headed over to where she was standing. Cupping her face in his hands in a tender grasp, his eyes connected with her and he tried giving her the support she needed. “I know you are going through a whirlwind of emotions right now, but you have to trust me. Everything is going to be okay. I promise you that.”

“I’m sorry for being all over the place with my feelings right now. I just feel like a terrible person,” she frowned allowing Negan to pull her in closer to him. Placing her hands in over the center of his chest, she looked up at him with her saddened expression and he shook his head. “After everything that has happened, I don’t know.”

“You’re not a terrible person,” Negan hushed her dragging his thumb out over her bottom lip. “You just want to be happy for once and I really don’t think there is anything wrong with that Y/N. You deserve happiness just like everyone else does.”

“With what Hershel said last night,” she started, but Negan hushed her trying to keep her from letting her thoughts linger with her father.

“What he said doesn’t matter. Nothing he says matters because it’s a bunch of bullshit. He’s a liar,” Negan stressed lowering down enough to press a tiny kiss over her lips. “We’re going to get you away from here and then you are going to realize that everything is as it is meant to be. You will be happy, I promise.”

“How do you think people will handle us leaving together?” she inquired, her face flooding with contemplation. “I forgot to leave the keys with Glenn, but I will set them by the door when we finally do leave.”

“I don’t know. You pretty much told me that we were terrible at hiding things,” Negan replied, letting out a long sigh. An arrogant smirk tugged at his handsome features when he clasped her jaw between his thumb and his index finger. “Maybe the whole family knows at this point. I mean last night, when you first came in here, we weren’t quiet. I think we almost put a hole in the wall with what you were doing originally.”

“I was upset,” she reminded Negan who simply nodded. When she came in here, she just wanted to feel like the center of Negan’s world. Maybe she was too rough, but he handled it well in swaying her to what she really wanted. “I just wanted to feel something else other than the pain. My father tried to suggest that both you and Glenn liked Maggie more than you did me. I told you the things he said last night and they were just eating away at me.”

“I know what you were doing because I’ve been there,” Negan assured her capturing her lips in another kiss that lingered. “I just know that rough sex is not the way to fix a broken heart. You needed to be made love to and if people heard, well then…fuck them. We don’t have to deal with them again after this. What these people say to you just aren’t true and you deserve so much better.”

“Well, Maggie will probably have to get her things from your apartment and Glenn with mine since he does live with me,” she acknowledged realizing how awkward that was actually going to be when the time came.

“I can send Maggie her shit,” Negan suggested with a bounce of his eyebrows. After last night, Negan was not stressing about things as much as Y/N was. Things were done and cleared as far as he was concerned. If Maggie still wanted to be part of his life in some fashion. Alright. If she didn’t, that was okay too. He didn’t care what everyone else thought. “And with Glenn, I can go over if you need me to. Hell, you can just give him the apartment because you can move in with me. That’s the plan anyways.”

“I haven’t even seen your apartment yet,” she pointed out with a laugh knowing that they were just jumping right into things. “You really think it’s going to work out, don’t you?”

“I know it will,” Negan answered her giving her another quick kiss. Stepping back, he moved over toward his things again and made sure that they were packed away. “We should get going though. I have some ideas for what we can do when we get home. That way you can get settled in better.”

“All of my stuff is by the door ready to go,” she reminded him, heading over toward the bed to sit down on the edge of it. Bracing her hands back on the bed, she looked up at the decorations she did for Negan at the start of this trip and observed the room. “I’m taking everything in. This will be the last time I see this place.”

“Your room and this room is definitely something I will always have fond memories of,” Negan snickered, shooting her a glance back over his shoulder. “Oh man. And the barn. I’m serious about the two of us getting a farm together after we get married. Just so we can recreate that little session we had in the barn. Your father would shit his pants if he knew what we did in there.”

“Yes, he would,” she agreed with Negan, a smile tugging at her lips. “Good. He deserves to get angry over the shit he has pulled.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan slurred, standing up from the ground to pull his things over toward the stairs. Snapping his fingers, Negan headed back for the bed to grab his backpack that was sitting on it, letting out a frustrated sound when the things fell out of it. “Make sure that fucking thing is zipped up before you fucking grab it Negan.”

“Talking to yourself is a pretty solid thing,” she teased him, lowering down to help him pick up the odds and ends that had fallen out of his backpack. Reaching for the thing that had slid under the bed, she felt her heart skip a beat when she realized that it was a jewelry box. Kneeling back, she opened the box and let out a hesitant sound when she saw that it was an engagement ring inside. “Negan?”

“What?” Negan’s smile was big when he lifted his head, his eyebrows bouncing up in an arrogant motion until he realized what she was looking at. The color drained from his face when he attempted to grab it. “Hey…”

“Was this for Maggie?” Y/N inquired, her somewhat happy expression turning to confusion when she observed the ring closely.

“It’s complicated,” Negan went to reach for the box, but she pulled it back and away from him. A sense of panic flooded his veins when Y/N stood up from the ground and headed over toward the corner of the room with a chill flooding down her spine. “I can explain.”

“Go for it Negan because I know it’s not for me. You told me clearly the other day that we were going to get a ring when we went back to New York, so why don’t you explain this for me?” she couldn’t take her eyes off the ring feeling her heart hammering in her chest. Her limbs went numb and hot. It felt like the room was spinning around her. “You always stressed to me that things weren’t very serious with Maggie, Negan. So why the hell do you have an engagement ring in your backpack?”

“I bought it weeks ago,” Negan reasoned with her, stepping forward and placing his hands together in attempts to get her to look at him. “Maggie kept talking about wanting to get married. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. So I got confused…”

“You were going to ask Maggie to marry you on this trip?” she pushed for information watching Negan’s head tip from side to side. “You told me it wasn’t that serious Negan. You repeated multiple times that you two weren’t even living together so I had nothing to worry about. And you have an engagement ring for her?”

“Now hold on a minute,” Negan requested, his voice getting raspier when she snapped the box closed. Damn, he should have hid this fucking ring better. Both Beau and Y/N got upset by it, even knowing that there were no plans to actually give it to Maggie. “This was before anything happened with you. Okay? I bought the ring, I considered asking because I knew I hated being alone. Maggie was getting antsy and I don’t know. It was a buy that I regretted the moment that I did it. The box sat in my top drawer the whole time. When we were packing to come here, I was looking at it and Beau came into the room. I panicked and I shoved it into my bag. I didn’t really consider asking Maggie to marry me after the moment we spent together.”

“That’s bullshit Negan. You wouldn’t have been looking at it if you weren’t considering it,” she countered hearing a breath catch in Negan’s throat. “You threw all that shit on me when we first slept together about how we were meant to be together and you still brought an engagement ring just in case.”

“Y/N, come on,” Negan snickered finding himself uncomfortable that she was getting so upset with things. “What’s going on here? Yes, I bought her a ring before the two of us were together. Yes, I considered asking her to marry me here before we got together. But right now, we’re broken up and I’m ready to start my life with you. I want to be with you.”

“It means that you were in love with Maggie. Like genuinely, full-fledged in love with Maggie,” her words were coming out broken, tears burning at her eyes when she thought about everything that her father said the night before. “Hershel was right. Maggie was always the perfect one.”

“No. No she wasn’t,” Negan noticed that she was picking up on the insecurities of the things that her father had said. “I did it because I was afraid of being alone. Not because I thought Maggie was the love of my life Y/N. It’s because she was acting like she was going to run and I got worried.”

“Which means you were scared of losing her,” she repeated having Negan let out a confused sound. “God, I just confused you Negan. You were in love with Maggie and this ring says everything. You are going to realize the mistake you made. I took my sister away from a man that actually did love her. This is…”

“Hey!” Negan snapped his fingers to try to pull her thoughts back to him, his eyes narrowing when he tried to reason with her. “What does it matter Y/N? Why are you acting like this right now? You love me.”

“Of course I love you, but you were in love with my sister and I took the man that she was in love with. The man that was going to give her everything and…” she felt the guilt tearing away at her when Negan attempted to reach for her wrists. “God, I’m everything my father says I am.”

“No, no you’re not,” Negan tried to pull her to him, but she yanked away from him and he could see that she looked like she was about to be on the verge of a meltdown. “You are reading this all wrong Y/N. It doesn’t matter what I felt before I was with you. This ring, it was the same exact thing you did in your relationship with Glenn. You agreed to the things that Glenn wanted because you didn’t want to be alone. You wanted to feel close to someone, even though you knew that you didn’t love him. We’re the same. The two of us are exactly the same. If you take a moment to really think about it. You will see that.”

Anxiety and her fears were clouding her judgement. Negan could see that in her eyes and her expressions, “That night we first got together, I had no idea you were related to Maggie and I knew that I wanted to be with you. You are this close to having everything you’ve ever wanted and deserved. Don’t let your family ruin this for you.”

“I’m ruining the perfect life for my sister in order to be greedy. Sooner or later you are going to realize that Maggie is the one that you want to be with,” she insisted with a whimper going to step back, but Negan shook his head, his facial expression becoming stern. “I can’t do this Negan. I’m breaking Glenn’s heart, I’m ruining my sister’s future, I’m only confusing you right now because…”

“You’re not,” Negan pulled her in closer to him trying to grasp her face in his hands to get her to focus. “I know you are going through things right now and we will get over this because we love each other. The two of us are meant to be together Y/N. You have to understand that. You’re my soulmate and…”

“Your soulmate died Negan and you just got confused because I got tangled up in your web,” she reasoned with him feeling like she could drop at any point. It felt like her face was on fire. Everything ached the more she thought about all the details of everything she had missed. “I’m no good for anyone Negan. Getting with me is just going to make things toxic and…”

“You have been in this family way too long Y/N. You’re just upset because you are here,” Negan whispered, his head pressing forward to try to rest it against hers to have her relax. “When you are away from them, you are so strong and you don’t care about anyone’s shit. But your family has a way of getting under your skin and breaking you down. You’re not the bad guy Y/N. You never have been. You were the victim and they are gaslighting you right now. You have to fucking see that. Please don’t overthink this.”

“This is a hard thing to forget Negan,” she lifted the box and Negan took it, sliding it into his back pocket. “You loved Maggie enough to want to keep her with you. Even at the office, I was the first person to make the move. I knew you were dating someone and I didn’t care. I just found you so appealing and…”

“We cheated. So fucking what?” Negan scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air when she pulled away from him. “Yes, we cheated and we had incredible sex, but we also connected on another level that I haven’t done with someone in a very long time and I fucking know you feel it too. If I loved Maggie like you are saying that I do, I would have never let what happened between the two of us happen. So please just take a minute and realize…”

“I can’t,” she frowned, turning on her heel to head down the stairs and Negan was quickly stumbling after her. “Negan. I just think I should leave on my own, okay? I have to go.”

“No. No, you’re leaving with me, Beau and Erin,” Negan claimed with apprehension in his tone, his body locking up when he followed her down to the second level. “Please, think this through. If you weren’t heart broken because of your father right now…”

When they reached the bottom, Negan stumbled over his own feet and almost fell over. Grasping a hold of Y/N’s hands before she could take off, Negan had hopes that he could appeal to her to stop her from freaking out. Before he could say anything else, the sound of a door being pulled open was heard. Gazing back, Negan rolled his eyes and cussed out when he saw that it was Glenn standing in the doorway to his bedroom holding the letter that he had obviously read and Y/N’s engagement ring.

“Motherfucker,” Negan scowled, his face scrunching up in anger. “This is just my fucking luck. Come the fuck on.”

“Can we talk about this?” Glenn ignored Negan’s frustrations, moving into the hallway with Negan still holding onto Y/N’s hands. Tugging her hands from Negan, she shook her head and shoved her hands into her pockets to keep Negan from touching her. Red flooded into her face showing the discomfort she had with Glenn running out and interrupting them. “I think this is something we really need to talk about.”

“Now is not the time buddy,” Negan warned with a huff, finally getting Glenn to notice that he was there. Anger flooded into Glenn’s brown eyes with Negan telling him what to do. “We are going through something right now and…”

“I think I can decide when it’s the right time for me to talk to my fiancée,” Glenn exploded on Negan, his voice growing louder and it made Negan step back.

“Ex fiancée,” Negan stressed that word because in his mind? Y/N was his fiancée now after what they had experienced together on that loop of decorations the other night.

“Excuse me?” Glenn was visibly ready to fight until the sound of another door opening followed.

“What’s going on out here?” Maggie’s surprised eyes gazed upon the commotion that was happening outside of her room. Glenn looked like he could die on the spot, but also appeared to be enraged. When her eyes fell upon the ring that was between Glenn’s fingers, she let out a gasp. Clutching the door, Maggie turned white as a ghost. “What’s happening?”

“I’m leaving,” Y/N claimed, holding her keys up in the air letting them jangle. Heading for the stairs, she was eager to make a quick escape since this situation was only getting worse. This was not how she wanted to have Glenn learn about things. She was meant to be gone by now.

“Wait!” Negan snapped following her down, but he wasn’t the only one. Maggie and Glenn were on his tail which only irritated Negan more. Once she got downstairs, Y/N grabbed her things and she was quick to make it to the door. Heading toward the car, she threw her things in the trunk and they were all outside with her. “You are rushing this without thinking.”

“All I’ve had is time to think Negan,” she vented letting out an upset breath with Glenn and Maggie approaching them.  

“I still don’t understand what the hell is going on,” Maggie demanded some kind of an answer, throwing her hands up in the air trying to get everyone to pay attention to her in the moment. “Why the hell is Y/N leaving? What is going on? Someone needs to start giving me some answers.”

“She wrote me a letter breaking up with me and she gave me the ring back,” Glenn informed Maggie, fear in his voice when they stood in front of the car door not allowing Y/N to leave. At this moment Y/N was both annoyed and infuriated. This was embarrassing that it came to this. Glenn shifted on his feet, his shoulders shrugging when he spoke in a whisper. “Are you leaving because of us?”

“Glenn!” Maggie scolded Glenn in something close to a whisper.

“Because of you?” she repeated, looking between Maggie and Glenn. Both of them looked like they could die on the spot with her questioning Glenn’s response.

“What’s going on?” Hershel called out from the steps and Negan’s overwhelmed growl of frustration filled the air. With her father bringing the attention to him, it allowed them to see that not only was Hershel out there with them, but so was Shawn, Annette and Beth who had obviously all heard the commotion of their bickering. “Do you all know what time it is? You’re out here screaming at one another.”

“What the hell is going on right now?” Y/N let out an uncomfortable laugh noticing the guilty features over both Glenn and Maggie’s faces. Having Hershel ask that question too was also borderline amusing. Pointing between Glenn and Maggie had them turning their eyes back to her instead of her family. “You want to know why I’m leaving? I’m leaving because Hershel requested me be gone in the morning.”

“And we’re going with her!” Negan spoke up, his tone determined when Y/N spun on her heel to glare back at him. Waving his hand about, Negan wanted to make sure he made everyone aware of what their original plan was together. “Beau, Erin and I are going with Y/N. We’re all going back to the city. Back home.”

“No, you’re not!” Y/N bickered in frustration trying to pull away from Negan when he attempted to touch her arm again. “I’m going alone.”

“Give me a fucking break Y/N,” Negan begged of her, sadness behind his eyes that she was having a breakdown of this caliber. “You know this is what we planned. It’s what we’ve had planned all along. Don’t let your father ruin this for you. Your father asking you to leave only sped up this plan by two days.”  

“Daddy asked you to leave?” Maggie wondered looking back over her shoulder at Hershel who had his hands buried in his pockets from where he was standing on the porch. It was like Maggie was completely ignoring the things that Negan had said to Y/N. “Why?”

“He demanded me to leave. Told me he wants nothing to do with me and I plan on giving it to him,” Y/N answered and the sound of Annette getting upset from Y/N’s confession was heard. Refusing to look at the rest of her family, Y/N bit back on her emotions and gave a simple nod. Having her eyes locked on Maggie’s made sure that she had her full attention with Maggie. “You should feel so good though Maggie because he let me know that you are better than me in every way. Negan sees it. He sees it. Glenn sees it. Apparently, everyone knows that I’m trash and you’re better than me.”

“Why does that whole statement feel like you are angry with me?” Maggie was offended that it felt like Y/N was mad with her over the things that Hershel undoubtedly said the night before. “It’s not my fault that daddy is the way that he is with you. It never was,” Maggie asserted herself and there was fury in her green eyes when she spoke. “I told you last night that talking to him about your mother was going to end up with you in pain. It was going to ruin things. I asked you not to do it.”

“I tried listening to you,” Y/N reminded her of how she tried to leave with Maggie, but Hershel trapped her in the kitchen. Maggie was there, she knew that it took a while for Hershel to force Maggie away. “I didn’t get an answer anyways. I was just reminded again about how imperfect I was. How awful I am. I know it’s not your fault Maggie, you really are perfect. And I know that.”

“No she’s not,” Negan threw his hand up in the air drawing Maggie’s eyebrows to bounce up. “No one is fucking perfect and certainly not Maggie.”

“What the fuck Negan?” Maggie scowled at her ex-lover when Negan shot her a glare and his hands found his way to his hips.

“No one is perfect,” Annette tried making her way down the steps to get everyone to calm down. “I don’t know what happened, but we should probably head back inside and talk things out. Your father may have said something ridiculous last night, but this is my home too and I have a say in who stays and who goes.”

“I agree with her,” Negan blurt out, his hands pointing in the direction of Annette. “We are all emotional right now and I think we need to talk some things out. Rushing into decisions fueled on confusion and anger will only hurt people more.”

“Wait, I’m really having a hard time understanding…” Glenn pushed forward into the group still holding onto the letter and the ring that Y/N had left behind for him. “If you don’t know about Maggie and me, then why did you break off the engagement and want to leave without me?”

“Come again?” Y/N stammered, her lips parting when everyone in the group went silent. Turning toward Maggie, Y/N let out a hesitant laugh and looked to Glenn. “What do you mean about you and Maggie?”

“Listen,” Maggie held her hands up in a pleading motion to try to calm the situation. “There is an explanation here.”

“I’m all fucking ears Maggie,” Y/N chided, her hands curling up into fists at her sides when she felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest. “What explanation is that?”

“I was spending a lot of time with Glenn because there was always things going on. And we started really enjoying being around each other,” Maggie slowly spoke out, her hands gradually raising up to try to hint for Y/N to keep calm. “One thing led to another and we ended up…sleeping together.”

“Good lord,” Hershel scoffed from where he was standing on the porch, lowering down to bury his head into his hands when he listened to the drama that was going on in his family. Everyone made some kind of noise in response to what Maggie had said aloud.

“It was an accident and we didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did,” Maggie explained to her sister drawing a laugh from Negan’s lips when he looked to Glenn with a shocked expression. “We just realized that we had so much in common and I know that he’s your fiancé, but things just happened and we wish we could have changed it, but we can’t.”

“Glenn?” Negan repeated pointing toward Y/N’s fiancé letting out an amused breath. Cutting through the anger with his laughter had others looking to him confused. “Fucking hell Glenn, you were supposed to be the good one between the two of us.”

“I’m not a bad guy,” Glenn claimed, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. This was not a situation Glenn was comfortable in and he hated being the center of attention with all eyes on him. “I kept trying to tell Y/N yesterday about things, but I just…”

“Got interrupted,” Y/N finished looking to Maggie knowing that Glenn was on the verge of telling her something last night, but Maggie stopped him abruptly. “So it was just the one time? That’s what you are trying to tell me here? That’s it? Nothing more between you because you realized it was a mistake?”

There was a silence that followed causing Y/N to let out a stressed sound and shake her head, “That’s a no.”

“You obviously don’t like good sex,” Negan commented getting a frustrated expression from Glenn and Maggie threw her hand up in the air. “Come on Maggie, Glenn was a virgin when he got with Y/N. You really think I’m supposed to believe that he’s a good lay? That tells me you definitely fell for the personality because a sex god Glenn is not.”

“You told him I was a virgin?” Glenn seemed upset when he turned to look at Y/N with upset in his eyes. “That’s not something you should be telling someone Y/N.”

“I told her too,” Y/N stated looking to Maggie who seemed like she was about to drop from all of this happening. “I don’t know if she knew before you slept with her or after, but she knew that you were a virgin too.”

“That doesn’t make things better,” Glenn fought back, the color growing more vibrant in his face. “I told you I was a virgin because I didn’t want to make things bad for you. Telling everyone about it makes it seem like I’m horrible at sex.”

“It’s not always about the sex Negan,” Maggie looked to her ex-lover hearing Negan let out a laugh. Folding his arms in front of his chest, Negan was amused to hear this shit coming from Maggie. “Sometimes it’s about connecting with someone on a level that you may not understand, but it’s there. That’s what happened with us. We were just connecting and things happened. It doesn’t have to be good sex for it to happen more than once.”  

“Are you saying I’m not good at sex?” Glenn huffed, turning to look at Maggie. There was a silence between all of them and Negan gave a tip of his head. “I’m not bad at it. I thought you enjoyed it with all the times it happened.”

“All the times it happened?” Y/N chuckled repeating the words of Glenn which only worried Maggie more. Glenn seemed more upset that Maggie said he was bad at sex than he seemed upset over what was actually going on here right now.

“Don’t worry bud, with more practice you are bound to get better. Hopefully,” Negan mocked Glenn, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder firmly. Shoving Negan’s hand away had the two girls groaning out in disgust over the two men’s reaction. “I’m just trying to be positive here.”

“By mocking me?” Glenn went to bicker with Negan further and it only had Negan chuckling in amusement.

“Not everyone is good at sex Glenn, some people have it,” Negan started, pointing toward his chest before pointing back to Glenn, “Some people don’t. That doesn’t mean people aren’t going to want to be with you.”

“I can’t believe this was going on under my roof,” Hershel seemed overwhelmed while he rubbed at his face. A loud sigh followed when Annette moved in beside Y/N to get her to try to calm down. Moving closer to the group of them, it was obvious Glenn looked like he was about to pounce on Negan for embarrassing him. Y/N looked like she was going to freak out and Maggie appeared to feel like she just wanted to disappear from the moment. Stepping in beside Glenn had Y/N’s eyes raising up to Hershel. “You see what you caused by coming back here?”

A loud exhale escaped Y/N’s lungs with how that seemed directed at her, “What I caused?” Y/N snapped back at Hershel, a rage flooding through her veins. Pushing through the crowd and toward her father had Annette trying to reach out to her. “Maggie fucks my fiancé under your roof and I’m the problem? I caused this?”

“I told you,” Hershel advanced toward her, shaking his head when he looked to Maggie and Glenn, “you would have known last night if you would have just listened. Anyone with eyes could see the boy was smitten with Maggie. When it comes to you and your sister, people are always going to pick your sister.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Negan called out from where he was standing, attempting to move forward, but Y/N placed her hand in over the center of his chest to get him to stop before he could get in Hershel’s face.

“This is the second time that Maggie has done this to me,” Y/N reminded her father, her tone getting even more upset hearing her father defending what happened with Maggie and Glenn. “First, she did it with Shane and that fucking destroyed me. I was just a teenager dad. And then she does this with my fiancé and it’s my fault? How did I cause this?”

“Maybe if you spent more time on him and less on worrying about me, it might have not actually happened,” Hershel grumbled under his breath and he knew what it was going to do to Y/N with tears burning at her eyes. “You were so damn busy focusing on hating me that you allowed the two of them to spend time together. Can you blame the boy for falling in love with your sister?”

“I don’t know if you genuinely believe you’re a decent fucking person, but you’re a vile piece of shit,” Negan spat trying to get around Y/N, but she did her best to keep the two of them separated. “Who the hell says this kind of shit to their own child? No wonder she feels so shitty about herself with the way that you talk to her. You deserve to be knocked on your ass old man.”

“Negan, please…” Y/N begged doing her best to keep Negan from getting himself in trouble. “I can handle this myself.”

It took Y/N touching his face to pull his attention away from Hershel. Behind his angry hazel eyes, Negan obeyed when she asked him to stop. Even though he wanted to rip this fucker limb from limb, he allowed her to take control of the conversation.

“I don’t even love Glenn, but to hear that coming from your mouth is so fucked up,” Y/N declared, her voice breaking from all the yelling and upset that was going on between them. “You have no idea what you do to my self-esteem Hershel.”

“You didn’t love me?” Glenn spoke in a whisper instead of Hershel responding to Y/N. It wasn’t the person that she wanted to talk to, but it pulled her to look away from her father toward Glenn. Lowering the letter and the ring down at his sides, Glenn visibly looked upset to hear that.

“Why are you acting upset? You didn’t seem to care when the two of us were together? Yet all of a sudden last night you have a change of heart?” Maggie pushed finding herself fed up with the way that Glenn was responding to things. “You told me that you loved me.”

“I love how this was sold as a mistake and now the two of you love each other,” Y/N shook her head with disappointment behind her voice. “Is it real this time Maggie or was it your attempt to actually upset me again for something I’m sure I’ve done to scorn you?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you Y/N,” Maggie suggested throwing her hands up in the air. It was horrible that her whole family was hearing all of this. “What happened with Shane was me being an awful person. I did terrible things back then and I know that. I want us to be close again Y/N. I wanted things to go right. Having this happen with Glenn was the last thing I wanted.”

“Now Maggie has two men fighting over her and then there is you,” Hershel waved his hand in the air pointing over toward the car. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“Okay old man fucking river,” Negan couldn’t hold it in any longer stepping forward, urging Y/N behind him in a protective stance. “I have had it up to here with your fucking nonsense with the way that you treat Y/N. If you weren’t so fucking old, I would knock you on your ass and I’m still considering doing it. I don’t know what the hell is wrong inside of you that makes you want to treat one of your children, one of your own flesh in blood like you do, but you are one sick son of a bitch. And I’m not fighting anyone for Maggie because Maggie and I broke up last night. Reason being, she told me she cheated on me and I told her I was doing the same. And you know what? I’m head over fucking heels in love with your daughter and it’s not Maggie. It’s Y/N and I’ve had it up to fucking here with the way you treat her.”

Again, every person in the crowd made a sound that was either shocked or upset, but Negan didn’t give a shit what they thought.

“Hello Jerry Springer,” Shawn whispered heading over toward the swing that was on the porch to take a seat on it knowing that this was only going to go south from here on out.

“I really don’t care what you fucking think of it either. Y/N is perfect in every way fucking possible and because of you she can’t fucking see it,” Negan was already so upset that Y/N was so prepared to leave since Hershel left her with some terrible thoughts last night. “All I want to do is be with her and she’s so goddamn focused on the horrible shit that you say to her.”

Everyone still seemed so shocked about the truth that he dropped, but Negan just felt his anger building up further inside of him, “Since you’re so big on fucking rules Hersh, I fucked your daughter in your house so many fucking times. We did it in the barn. We did it in her bedroom. We did it in the attic. Both your daughters have called me daddy Hersh. And you know what? I’m a better daddy to both of them than you ever will be. At least I made them feel fucking good. You on the other hand are a miserable piece of shit.”

A gasp fell from Maggie’s throat when Hershel’s face grew red, his breathing growing stronger. There was silence and it was broken up by Beth letting out an amused chuckle, “Holy shit.”

“You’ve been sleeping with Negan?” Maggie called out from behind them getting Y/N’s attention. Hershel had stepped back and away into the house when Maggie approached the two of them. Looking to Negan, Maggie pointed over toward Y/N noticing the way that Negan nodded. Maggie lifted her hand like she was going to speak before turning to quickly bring her knee into Negan’s groin. A groan filtered through the air when Negan fell forward into the snow, his hands clasping onto himself. “That’s really low Y/N.”

“Maggie!” Annette chastised her stepdaughter for what she did to Negan who was down on the ground in pain.

“What I did is low?” Y/N lowered down in attempts to check on Negan with his face buried in the snow. His face was red and the vein at the side of his neck was bulging after how hard Maggie kneed him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. You slept with my fiancé. I slept with Negan the night before we came here. I didn’t even know he was your boyfriend when the two of us slept together the first time.”

“Bullshit Y/N! This is because of what I did with Shane. You slept with Negan to get back at me for the stuff with Shane,” Maggie insisted which in follow had Y/N rolling her eyes. “You know that I’m right. You always held that Shane shit over my head, so when you had the chance to get your nails into my boyfriend…”

“You have no fucking right to be saying this when you were sleeping with my fiancé,” Y/N corrected Maggie on the way that she was acting, amusement flooding her veins at the thought. “I knew you would pull the Shane thing over me. I should have seen this coming a mile away. I actually did. I told Negan I had to break it off with him originally because I knew it was the way that you would react.”

“Because it’s fucking true,” Maggie bickered with her younger sister while Negan continued to lay between the two of them after Y/N slowly got up to stare down her sister. “There is no other reason for it.”

“I had no idea that Negan was your boyfriend. We were alone at the Christmas party for our work. We got to talking and then we got intimate with one another,” Y/N thought back on what happened with her and Negan. Lifting his hand up, Negan reached for Y/N’s hand and she helped him back up to his feet. Negan’s hand was cupped firmly over his groin holding himself and Maggie scoffed. “I didn’t know he was your boyfriend Maggie because you refused to be in my life over something that Hershel did when we were kids. If you actually tried to stay in contact with me, then this would have never happened. I was just so in love with Negan that I couldn’t stop what we started before we knew you two were together. I’ve never felt for anyone the way that I feel for Negan. I love Negan very much.”

“And so did I,” Maggie suggested making Y/N roll her eyes. “I did.”

“You only liked being with Negan because you thought he was a good fuck and because he had a big dick,” Y/N reminded her of the things that Maggie bragged about when they were alone together about Negan. “You didn’t care about Beau, Erin or the things that made Negan tick. You just cared about whether you got off or not.”

“I am so uncomfortable right now,” Glenn whispered under his breath after what Y/N just blurt out in front of everyone.

“Good for you,” Shawn waved his hand about in the air and Annette hushed him. “Hey, if he’s got it you gotta give the man credit.”

“Shut up Shawn,” Maggie demanded of her stepbrother and he threw his hands up in the air. “It was more than that.”

“Was it though?” Negan could barely get a line out without wincing, but he shook his head. “Our relationship wasn’t that deep Maggie. You and I both know that.”

A loud booming sound went off that drew all of them to jump and they looked back to see that Hershel was standing on the porch with his shotgun in his hand, “Listen here. I’ve heard enough of all of this. You’re going to gather your things and you are going to get the hell out of here.”

“Holy shit,” Negan laughed when he realized that it was him that Hershel was pointing the shotgun at. An amused rumble fell deep from within his throat when he shook his head. “What are you gonna do Hershel? Fucking shoot me?”

“If you want your kids to still have a father, you are going to gather them and you are going to get off my property,” Hershel asserted himself, stepping down from the porch. It didn’t scare Negan that Hershel had his gun on him, instead Negan actually laughed. “I’m warning you son.”

“You’re not gonna…” Negan cussed out, stumbling backwards in the snow after Hershel shot at Negan’s feet, but ended up just missing him. “You crazy old son of a bitch.”

“Hershel!” Annette called out to her husband trying to draw him to knock it off. “What in God’s name are you thinking?”

“Daddy!” Maggie gasped attempting to try to help Negan up to get away from Hershel.

“Why the hell are you shooting at only me and not him?” Negan demanded to know, scrambling back in the snow again realizing how close he was to getting shot. “Both him and I did the same exact thing, yet I’m the one that is getting shot at?”

“Hey,” Glenn stepped back with Negan pointing back at him. “I don’t need to be getting shot at for this.”

“That would be a hate crime Negan,” Beth suggested drawing everyone to look back at her. Having all eyes on her felt uncomfortable, but they were all floored with her answer. Shrugging her shoulders, she pointed toward Glenn and shook her head. “I mean, it would be.”

“What is going on?” Beau’s voice called out from where he was standing at the door after hearing the gun go off. A sense of worry flooded his veins when he saw that Hershel pointed the shotgun back at Negan again. “Erin is upstairs! What in the world are you doing Mr. Greene?”

“You get up there and you grab your things! Leave!” Hershel demanded only to feel Y/N reaching for the gun. Fighting with her father, she finally got it from his hands and heard Hershel releasing a frustrated growl.

“Hey! Hey!” Beau moved forward on the steps, holding his hands out. “How could all of you be doing this when Y/N is pregnant? The stress and getting physical with her won’t be good for the baby! You need to stop this right now!”

“The baby?” Maggie repeated with a sense of shock and even Y/N’s eyes got big. “You’re pregnant?” 

“I’m pregnant?” Y/N questioned looking to Negan with a confused expression and Negan half laughed.

“He took the whole trying for a baby thing very seriously,” Negan answered Y/N when Shawn came over to reach for the gun in hopes of taking it away. When Shawn disappeared back into the house to put the shotgun away it made Maggie let out another upset sound.

“You two are trying for a baby?” Maggie couldn’t help but be upset hearing all of that. “Please tell me that you are joking. We broke up last night!”

“Come on Maggie, we’ve been on the offs for a long time,” Negan reasoned with her knowing that it all sounded bad, but it was just how things were. “Yes, we want to have a baby together. Yes, we are trying for a baby and we are engaged. We are going to get married on New Years.”

“How are you engaged when we were engaged?” Glenn still seemed so confused by everything watching Y/N lower her head into her hand. “I don’t understand how the two of you are planning this future together when you were engaged to me.”

“Because she didn’t love you,” Negan answered for her, finally getting up and wiping his hands off on his pants. “And I really don’t think you have a right to be offended there Glenn. You and Maggie cheated as well. Acting so surprised isn’t a good look for you.”

“I can see why Hershel shot at you,” Glenn hissed, stepping forward in the snow to push into Negan’s chest.

“Enough!” Y/N screamed out, finally tipping her head back and letting out an overwhelmed sound. With so much bickering, she couldn’t help but think this was genuinely all her fault for causing all of this drama. “You all need to just stop this shit. You want to know why Negan is the one being shot at?” Y/N turned to her father feeling her heart hammering inside of her chest. “You might think it’s because Negan is disrespectful. No. That’s not it. And it can’t be because he slept with both of Hershel’s daughters. Hell, Glenn did the same thing. Glenn even had sex with Maggie under the same roof which Hershel acted like that was sacrilegious to do. The thing is the reason that Hershel shot at Negan is because Negan cheated on his sweet, sweet Maggie. It has nothing to do with the fact that Negan and I got intimate all over the place. It’s not because Negan says it like it is. It’s because Negan fell in love with me and he dumped Maggie.”

A silence fell over all of them when she called Hershel out for his behavior. And when they thought about it, it did actually make sense what she was saying, “Come on Hershel. Tell me that I’m wrong. When you found out that Glenn slept with Maggie, you told me that it was my own fault. That I deserved it. You didn’t get upset with him for cheating on your middle child. You shot at Negan because he cheated on your favorite.”

“Wow,” Glenn muttered, his words coming out quietly when he actually thought about what Y/N was saying. “Mr. Greene, I did do the same thing that Negan did. It may even be worse what I did because I was engaged to Y/N.”

“Are you asking me to pull the shotgun out on you son?” Hershel questioned, his gaze locking with Glenn who shifted on his feet uneasily. “Then don’t speak up.”

“Yeah, how dare Glenn make a good point. How dare he have the common sense to add two and two together,” Y/N went off on her father feeling her body shaking with how upset she was. Hershel’s face was red and he was saying nothing. “Glenn was engaged to me and he found love with Maggie. Which hey, good for them. I’m glad for them. I find love with Maggie’s boyfriend, not knowing that he was Maggie’s boyfriend and suddenly we are the ones that are wrong? This only confirms everything I’ve said with the way that you are with me.”

No one said a thing and Y/N sighed loudly knowing that her father would never admit to the things that he did that were in a negative light toward her.

“Daddy,” Maggie finally spoke up, folding her arms out in front of her chest. “She’s not wrong. It doesn’t look good. Negan has two children here and you did that. We broke up last night and we were just going to keep it between the two of us until after Christmas because I knew that you wouldn’t handle it well. You do have a clear bias when it comes to me.”

Hershel scoffed and Maggie sighed, “I am in the wrong daddy. Glenn was Y/N’s fiancé and I knew that. I knew what I had done in the past with Shane and how much it hurt her, but I still let it happen. If you’re mad at Negan and Y/N, you should be just as upset with me and Glenn too.”

“What’s really sad is that I’m head over heels in love with that man,” Y/N declared, her words coming out shaken when she pointed to Negan. “When I’m with Negan and his family it is the only time I’ve ever felt seen and loved in my life. And I love his children too. Beau, he’s the most incredible boy I’ve ever met and he has the biggest heart.”

“Then let’s leave,” Beau spoke up, moving down the stairs toward Y/N seeing that she was getting emotional. “We can all leave together. We don’t have to be here. Let’s just go.”

“Beau, your father loved Maggie before I got involved with him,” she insisted feeling Negan moving in behind her to try to touch her and she shook her head. “More than anything, I want to be with you and your family Negan. I do. But I know better. I have to leave.”

“Please don’t do this,” Negan begged, his expressive eyebrows furrowing when he tried following her toward the car that she had already packed to leave. “You’re emotional right now and you just don’t know what you are doing.”

“I know what I’m doing Negan,” she frowned, shaking her head and letting out a long sigh. “I’m doing what’s right.”

“Please,” Beau reached for her this time instead of Negan, his young features visibly upset with what was going on. “Just wait for me and Erin to get our things out here. Then we can leave. You don’t have to run away. We aren’t like your family.”

“Beau,” she whispered, stepping forward to brush her fingers throughout Negan’s son’s hair. “You were the best part about this whole trip. I’ve loved every minute that I’ve gotten to spend with you because you are awesome. I’ve never met someone so talented and capable of so much at such a young age. You have the biggest heart and you stand up for what is right. Your mother and your father raised you to be such an incredible boy and I know things are going to be good for you in the future because you are amazing Beau. You really are. But my father isn’t wrong.”

Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around Beau and gave him a big hug, squeezing him tightly in her arms, “I ruin everything. If I was in your life, I would somehow end up destroying your life like I have everyone’s here. In a perfect life, I could be part of your family, but I’m far from perfect,” she stepped back and away, tears still burning at her eyes when she reached for the door to her car. “Thank you for being the best part of these days for me.”

“Hey,” Negan attempted to reach out to her seeing that she still got in the car and wasted no time in pulling away. Beau stood beside him upset, not sure how to react and Negan’s hands found their way to his hips where they rested. Silence surrounded them and right now all Negan felt was anger. Anger toward these people that they all had a hand in breaking apart one of the most amazing women he had ever known. Finally moving, he stepped before Hershel and there was still anger in Hershel’s eyes from everything that went down. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

There was no response. That was a shock.

“Go get your things and grab your sister,” Negan instructed looking back at Beau with a frown. “We’re leaving.”

----

Digging through the drawers in her office at work, Y/N continued to grab a few more things that were personal items. After packing them into the boxes that she brought with her, she leaned back in her chair and took a look at her office. Once she made it back to New York City, she tried going home to her apartment, but her mind was still going crazy. Lingering thoughts built up inside of her and it led her to come to work. Most people weren’t here because it was Christmas Eve. There were still a few people that came in to finish some things, but she was thankful that she would be left alone for the most part. Right now, what she needed to be was left alone.

If you would have told her when she was younger that she would have been one of the top people at an advertising agency in New York City, she would have never believed it. This right here was everything that she dreamt of growing up. When she was younger, New York City was the one place that her and Maggie used to always talk about. It was the one place she longed for the most because it meant she finally made it. It meant that her art wasn’t a waste of time and everything she did to get here was worth it.

Even her office was a dream come true for anyone. It the corner office is one of the taller buildings in New York City. Two walls of her office were large windows that gave a stunning view of the city and it was part of what she loved about her job here. The views were stunning and always inspiring.

When Y/N left home and finished college, she just went to the nearest city and worked her way up. So when she got a call from a rival agency in New York City it almost didn’t seem true. Convincing Glenn to go with her at the time was hard. Their original home was near his family, but he wanted to be with her. If Glenn hadn’t found love with Maggie, it might have made her feel guilty that she ended up dumping him, but it seemed like she helped him find something more anyways.

Outstretching her hand, Y/N grabbed a photo that was on her desk of their group at the company. When she got to the company, everyone was very welcoming to her. Back then, the people that were on Negan’s team were originally uneasy with her because they thought Negan would be the one in charge. It reminded her of how she treated Negan at first, always giving him a hard time. It was hard being a woman in charge considering most men never liked it. Even though Negan was always good with her, when she thought back on things, she realized that she definitely could have been better with Negan herself. It was surprising that Negan fell so hard for her because she knew that she could have been better to him from the start.

Before all of this, she knew that this was the job that Negan wanted more than anything. And at the moment? That ate away at her. She stole this job out from under Negan. For years Negan worked at this company and helped build it up to what it was today. Yet, given the chance to jumped right into this position and took it from him. There were no questions that this job really should have gone to Negan. Those in charge just wanted to prove something when they were able to steal her away from their rival company.  

“You need help with anything?” a voice beckoned her from her thoughts drawing her to look to the door to see Simon standing there. “I’m going to head out and go be with the family, but I wanted to make sure that you were good before I left.”

“I’m fine Simon. Go be with your family,” she waved her hand in the air dismissively. It was obvious that Simon was curious as to why she was in her office packing things up, but he never questioned it. He just let do her thing and she appreciate that he left her alone.

“Are you sure?” Simon offered up a final time pointing back toward the rest of the open office area. “I can grab you a coffee or a dessert or something? I brought in a yule log that my wife made. It’s really good.”

“I think I’m good Simon, thank you though,” she appreciated that he was trying with her, but she almost assumed that he wanted her to unload on him and right now she wasn’t even sure what she was doing for the most part. “I want you to have a good holiday with your family.”

“Yes boss,” Simon gave a wink and tapped his hand against the doorframe before stepping back. For a moment he lingered and it looked like wanted to say something, but instead he pulled his jacket on and left.

It was weird having Simon being so nice to her since he was one of the people that hated her at first. And she didn’t blame him. His team was originally destined to take over at this part of the company, but then he had to remain where he was.

Getting up from her chair, she headed over toward the corner of her office so she could look out at the city. There were so many things running through her mind and she wished that things would be easier than they were.

The sound of her office door closing was heard and she sighed to herself, “I appreciate what you are trying to do Simon, but I really wish you would just go home to your family.”

“While I would love to go home to my family, I was hoping that you would be willing to talk,” that familiar raspy voice responded causing her heart to sink, a sharp exhale falling from her lungs. Lowering her head, she immediately knew who it was and she let out an uneasy sound. Footsteps approaching her made her cuss to herself when a warmth pressed in behind her. “What are you doing Y/N?”

“I’m packing up my things,” she responded, closing her eyes and wishing that he wouldn’t have come here and found her. “This job should have gone to you Negan. It was always yours and I stole it from you. I’m going to quit and suggest that they give you this job. You’re the one that should have had this whole time anyways. Everyone here respects you and knows that it should have gone to you.”

“Did you already quit?” Negan wondered, stepping in behind her when she finally turned to face him. It was obvious that she had been crying most of the day and she likely looked like shit. “Did you?”

“Not yet. I was going to wait until after Christmas. I was just packing things up to make it easier,” she explained looking to the boxes that were on her desk. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you,” Negan stammered, his long eyelashes fluttering before he moved over toward her desk. Opening up the boxes, Negan frowned and grabbed a few items from them. Watching him start to unpack the boxes had her letting out a frustrated breath. Negan was putting everything back where it was before and it upset her. “You’re not quitting this job Y/N. I won’t let you do that.”

“I appreciate what you are doing here Negan, but you know just as well as I do that this job should have gone to you,” she didn’t know whether to stop him or not while he continued to return her things to where they were previously. “You know that you are better in this position anyways. The people respect you, you do better work…”

“No,” Negan shook his head, ignoring what she was saying because he thought it was bullshit anyways. “You see, I like the position that I have. I like my boss and I think I’ve been the most productive I’ve been in a very long time because you and me? We make a good team. So no, you aren’t quitting because you belong here. You have always belonged here.”

“Please stop,” she begged of him when Negan finished up with the items and stacked the empty boxes to place them near the door. She wasn’t fighting him. Her body was just frozen when he stepped before her, his hazel eyes full of emotion while he looked her over. “You know just as much as I do how much you wanted this job.”

“Yeah, I wanted this job,” Negan agreed with her sucking at his bottom lip and shrugging his shoulders. “But you got this job and I realized how much I genuinely liked working with you. Trust me. We’re better together than we would be apart. I’m comfortable where I am at this place. And I don’t want it to change. This company is the best it has been in years because of us being a team and working together.”

“Negan,” she lowered her head when Negan stepped forward, his hand lifting so he could stroke his fingers in over the side of her face.

“I’m doing what you deserve,” she protested and she genuinely believed it. “I’m just going to move back to the old city that I was in and see if…”

“If you quit, I quit,” Negan vowed drawing a scoff to fall from her lips. “I don’t want to be here if you aren’t here. So if you’re thinking of leaving this place, then they are going to lose me too because I don’t want to be somewhere you aren’t.”

“Negan,” she frowned hating to hear him say that, but when she lifted her eyes, she knew that he was being serious. Here she was trying to make things better for him and give him what he wanted originally and he was giving her shit. “You’re being stubborn.”

“I am fucking stubborn,” Negan threw his hands up in the air and shrugged his shoulders. “We know that. We’ve know that for a long time now. But I don’t want to be somewhere you aren’t. So unless you want me to leave this place to…”

“You love this job,” she reminded him, a shuddering breath falling from her throat when cupped her face in his hands. “You really love this job.”

“I love you more,” Negan countered, his eyes falling up on her lips when he gave a simple shrug. “I don’t want to be here if you’re not going to be the person in charge because I’ve grown to enjoy where I am in the company. I don’t want it to change. I know the two of us make a good team. Like I said, we’re better together than we are apart.”

“We won’t be able to work together after everything,” she suggested hating that the warmth of his hands comforted her while he stroked over her face in attempts to calm her. “I don’t even know how you knew that I was here…”

“I have my ways,” Negan responded with a long sigh when she turned away from him and headed over toward the window to look out at the city.

“In other words, it was Simon,” she thought aloud knowing that he was the only person that could have told Negan that she was here.

“You know,” Negan began, his voice sounding sad when she gazed out at the city. “I wish you wouldn’t have run off like you did.”

“It was better for everyone that I did,” she claimed still feeling incredibly emotional about everything that happened back at the farm. “I was just going to make things worse and it was going to cause more fighting. It was better that I left.”

“Me and the kids left immediately after too,” Negan informed her stepping forward to caress in over her shoulders. Even though he knew she was upset and she was confused about how she felt with things, he wanted to show her that he was still supportive of her. “I don’t think you realize how much me and the kids do actually love you.”

“I hear you,” she whispered, shaking her head when the warmth of Negan’s body pressed in closer to hers. It was never a question of if they loved her or not. She knew that they loved her. They showed it in their actions and their words. It was just the truth that she knew about herself that kept her from them. “The problem is exactly what I said though Negan. I have so much baggage and I’m a mess…”

“As do I,” Negan reminded her, tipping down to nuzzle his nose in against the side of her neck. God, she hated that her body loved him as much as it did. Even the smallest things he did had chills filling her veins. “I’m a fucking asshole who pisses everyone off. I have loads of baggage that comes with being with me so it shouldn’t bother you. Your baggage is something I’m very willing to take on and help carry with you. Because I love you.”

There was so much that she wanted to say, but she just couldn’t. Instead she stayed in front of the window with Negan wrapping his arms around her to hold her tightly in his grasps, “I fucking love you so much. I understand that you are a broken. I’m broken too, but for the first time in a very long time I feel whole again. And it’s when I’m with you.”

Urging her to turn in his arms, Negan brushed her hair back behind her ear and shook his head, “I know why you feel the way you do and I understand everything being overwhelming. Your family is overwhelming and they have trained you to always blame yourself. To always feel bad about who you are, but I like who you are. I love you. I love everything about you. Waking up with you in my arms over the last few days has been the best possible thing I could think of because it’s the one time that I truly feel alive. Where my heart finally feels like it’s beating again. I always felt cold to everything, but with you, I feel that warmth again.”

Having Negan confess his love to her in this situation had her crying. After everything that happened, he was still doing his best to try to convince her of his love.  

“You are beautiful. You are sweet. And you hold my heart in your hand. Everything I am is yours,” Negan peppered kisses over her face with every word he spoke drawing her body to shake. “I meant what I said when I told you that if I couldn’t be with you, it would fucking destroy me.”

“I know that’s what you think Negan, but being with me would be worse for you than being apart from me,” she tried to suggest and the expression that he gave her showed that he felt otherwise. “I’m serious Negan. It might hurt right now, but if you were with me, you would feel more pain in the long run.”

“You have a very skewed view about the woman I love,” Negan stated with a firm shake of his head, his thumb and index finger capturing her jaw to get her to look up at him. “I see you for who you really are Y/N. Not this version of yourself that your father has made you believe that you are.”  

A shuddering breath fell from her throat when Negan knelt down before her on one knee, his hand grabbing a hold of hers while the other reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a jewelry box. Pulling open the top, Negan revealed a gorgeous engagement ring that took her breath away and she felt her eyes tearing over, “Erin and Beau helped me pick this one out. We all agreed it was the best one for you because it reminded us of you. Regardless of how you feel about things, you stand out to us Y/N. You are beautiful. You lighten up a room and you shine like no other when you let yourself shine.”

Holding the ring up, Negan’s dimples became more prominent with his smile expanding out over his features, “I love you with everything that I am Y/N. When I’m with you, I feel whole and when I’m not, I’m in physical fucking pain. Everything hurts when you’re gone because I love you so fucking much. I want to be the person that you come to when you’re sad. I want to be the arms that hold you when you need that comfort. I want to wake up every morning and see your face because your face makes me the happiest. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

It was quiet. Most people were gone, so it was actually scary quiet how everything was when Negan wasn’t talking, “It’s Christmas Eve Y/N. I know this ring isn’t as sweet as our previous one, but I think it was perfect for you. Y/N, will you make me the happiest fucking man alive and do me the honor of marrying me?”

A whimpering breath escaped her lips. She was crying. He was crying. This was what she wanted more than anything. This was a perfect proposal in a place that actually meant something to her. Yet, she didn’t answer. Lowering her head had Negan letting out an uncomfortable sound because she didn’t respond like he thought she would.

“You have can have that perfect life Y/N. We can make it, together,” Negan stroked his thumb over the top of her hand, lowering his head to try to get her eyes to connect with his. “We’ll get married on New Years. You can move in and we can start a family, together. With the four of us, we will be the thing that you always deserved. A family that loves you, that wants you happy. We can keep trying for a baby together. We can have the perfect life, all you have to do is just say yes.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up and a saddened sound fell from her throat, “I know that you are upset about what happened at your family’s home, but they are just a mess. They have been victim blaming you all along making you think you are the bad person, but you’re not. Don’t let those people determine your future and your happiness Y/N. Let me, Beau and Erin give you the love that you always deserved.”

“Negan,” she began, using her free hand to reach up to wipe at her eyes with the back of it. Call her a fool, call her what you want, but she knew that she was not what was best for Negan and his family. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Pulling her hand away from his had him letting out hurt exhale when she moved around the office to go over to the couch to sit down on the edge of it. Negan remained still in the position that he was in, his body slouched over and his hand that was holding the ring lowering down to the ground. Turning down the best proposal she would have ever likely gotten was against everything that she wanted, but she felt like saying yes would be greedy and hurt those that she actually cared for.

“You and your family deserve better than me,” she made it clear how she felt hearing Negan’s breathing loud while he braced his hands on the floor of her office. “You are a gorgeous man, with an incredible job. I know you can find better than me.”

“There is no one better than you,” Negan whispered, finally get back to his feet. When his eyes met hers, it took her breath away to see that he was actually crying. Full on crying over how this was going. “Why can’t you see how much I fucking love you? I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to keep looking. I know how my heart feels and it loves you. It wants to be with you. No one else. Stop letting your father fucking rule your life Y/N. You aren’t the person he let you believe that you are. You found someone who loves you more than life itself. Someone who would do anything for you and they would go to the ends of the Earth to make you happy, yet you are denying yourself that happiness. Because of what some angry, old farmer said to you? I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too,” she whispered feeling the noticeable chest pain that she had because it hurt to hear Negan upset and to see him that way. “I love you so much. It’s crazy how much I love you Negan. I meant everything I said. With you is the only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged in this world…”

“Then marry me,” Negan begged one final time, a tremoring breath falling from his throat, but once again it was followed up with a shake of her head. “I don’t understand why you are doing this to yourself. To me.”

“I just can’t Negan,” she whispered, her breathing uneven when he dropped his arms down at his sides. “I can’t. I’ll consider staying at this job, but us? We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Getting up from the couch, she stepped forward to drag her hand down over the side of Negan’s face. There was misery in his eyes when she headed for the door leaving him alone in her office. It hurt seeing him like that, but she knew deep down if she were to marry Negan, she would only give him more trouble in the future. She wanted him happy and, in her mind, the only way he could be happy is he found something better than her.

----

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[lihhelsing]

Final Part - Catfish Steddie

You can also read it on Ao3!

When Steve walks into his apartment after a long shift at the coffee shop, it takes him almost a full five minutes to notice there’s someone else in there with him. 

He’s been so tired lately he probably wouldn’t have noticed if the person, a petite strawberry blonde, hadn’t cleared her throat while looking at him. 

“Uh. Hello?” 

Had he walked into the wrong apartment? He couldn’t remember using his key but he’s pretty sure he did. 

“Hi,” the girl smiles as she places a Vogue Magazine on the coffee table. Steve looks around and he knows this coffee table. He knows this apartament. He’s definitely in the right place. 

Still doesn’t explain the girl. 

“Who are you?” 

She laughs as if he’s being funny but once she understands he’s serious, her smile falters a little. 

“Chrissy. I’m Robin’s -“

“Girlfriend. Yeah. She’s not here.” 

Chrissy nods. “I know. I’m here for you.” 

Either she’s going to murder him or try to convince him to forgive Robin and Steve’s not sure which one is worse right now. 

“Then you wasted your time. You can go now. Or stay, I don’t care.” 

Chrissy clicks her tongue. “Robin did a shitty thing.” 

“Yeah. You don’t say.” 

“She’s not a bad person, though.” 

Steve shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, does it? She still hurt people.” 

She hurt me is what Steve means. He doesn’t say it out loud but he has the feeling Chrissy sees right through him. 

“I was so mad when she told me. It was such a fucked up thing to do.” 

Steve nods, doesn’t see the point in expanding this conversation. 

“Look,” Chrissy says eventually. “She’s not a bad person, she just… sometimes she gets obsessed with things and she doesn’t know when it’s too much. This was too much. It was crazy and hurtful. I thought about… breaking up. But I know her and I know this was just a mistake.” 

Steve doesn’t know why Chrissy is saying all those things to him. He shrugs. Maybe if he doesn’t engage she will leave him alone. 

“I know it’s not good enough. But she’s really sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“She would love a chance to try and fix things.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No thanks. I asked her to leave me alone.” 

"Robin's not the best at boundaries if you haven't noticed," Chrissy says and it honestly annoys the hell out of Steve. He's pretty aware of his roommate's problems. He had been looking for another place to live ever since his talk with Robin but it seems luck isn't on his side, at least not with the budget he has right now. 

"Oh, I noticed it alright," Steve replies dryly but that also doesn't seem to faze Chrissy. "Like I said, the best she can do right now is leave me alone and not send her girlfriend to, what? Guilt trip me into forgiving her? Not happening."

Chrissy seems a little ashamed at that, but Steve doesn't care. He doesn't! The people pleaser inside of him is definitely not cringing at himself right now. 

"Listen. She did send me here, but all she wants is another chance at fixing things. She knows she fucked up bad but like I said, Robin's not a bad person. She was pretty nervous when you two first talked about this and she thinks she can explain herself better. I know it sounds like bullshit but I told her I would try to convince you to go talk to her and if you said no, we both would respect your decision."

Steve is about to say no. He wants to say no. He wants Robin to suffer for messing with his life and Eddie's and for fucking up something that could've been so good. But Eddie's not really answering his calls right now, Steve is about to flunk one of his classes because he's been so stressed about the whole thing. He's been stressing about getting a new place too, and finding a roommate that's not a total psycho and also someone who won't potentially try to sell his organs on the internet. He definitely needs a place that he can afford and for a second he considers it. 

And then, he has an idea. 

"Ok, I'll go."

Chrissy's whole face lightens up. She must really care about Robin to react like that just by Steve agreeing to go talk to her. He's not going to forgive her, just hear her out one more time because honestly? It can't get worse than it already is. 

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I have one condition."

"Of course, anything," Chrissy says, nodding enthusiastically. 

"I'll go and I'll hear her out. If she's just bullshitting me again, I get the apartment."

Chrissy frowns at him. "The apartment?"

"Yeah. I don't intend on keeping living with her but it's hard to find a place half decent that I can afford. And I can afford this and it's a pretty good place. So she'll keep paying her half until I find someone new to share. Then she'll be gone from my life."

Steve crosses his arms. Either way, he's going to win. He's going to get what he wants, no matter what, even if that's still not Eddie. Steve's been making peace with the fact that he's not going to get Eddie, after all. 

Chrissy nods even though she doesn't seem sure. 

"Shouldn't you check with Robin about this? I can wait."

She bites her lower lip but shakes her head. "No, it's fine. It's a deal."

Steve doesn't know exactly what to think but maybe Chrissy and Robin should work on their communication. 

x

Chrissy waits as Steve gets ready. He honestly didn't feel like changing but she said he should take a shower and relax just a bit, so he wouldn't be all defensive when it was time to talk to Robin. 

Steve sighs but he ends up agreeing because a nice, hot shower sounds good. His shift was proper hell today and he was looking forward to relaxing a bit, maybe watching something or even calling Dustin to catch up. 

When he's ready, Chrissy announces she will be driving them and Steve shrugs but accepts  anyway. He expects her to take him to her place or something so when she stops at a weird-looking parking lot Steve thinks maybe Chrissy is the one about to sell his organs on the internet. 

"Go on," she nudges him softly and Steve raises an eyebrow. "C'mon, it's not that bad."

"I should've known looking for roommates on Craigslist would have consequences," he says as a joke. Mostly. 

Chrissy chuckles. "It's not that bad."

It is that bad and she knows it. From what Steve can gather they are outside a dive bar in all its glory. Steve is not opposed to dive bars in general, but this was definitely not how he expected his Friday night to go. 

"Fine, I'm going, but just so you know my parents will come for you if something happens to me." 

"Robin says you don't talk to your parents," Chrissy grins at Steve and he shrugs.

"It was worth a shot," and then he's out of the car and into the quiet cold night. 

The bar isn't as bad as Steve imagined, even if it's called Hellfire. Not a very inviting name but then again, it's absolutely packed and Steve is kind of shocked. There are old-looking guys who Steve would bet have come to this same bar every day for the last twenty years and then some twenty-somethings grouped everywhere, with cheap-ass beers in their hands and loud voices. 

What surprises Steve the most is how both groups seem to get along pretty well, as long as they stay on their side of the bar. 

Steve takes a look around trying to see Robin's mess of mousy-brown hair but she's nowhere to be found. For a second he thinks maybe Chrissy tricked him for some reason but when his eyes inspect the place once again he finds what he was looking for. 

And it's not Robin. 

Eddie is sitting in a booth in the far corner of the bar, with no one around him. Steve might not be the brightest person on earth but in that same second, he understands Eddie is there to meet him, for some reason. 

He clenches his hands closed and walks toward him, trying not to think too hard about seeing Eddie again, otherwise he feels like he'd puke. 

"Hey," Steve says as soon as he's close enough and Eddie rips his eyes from his bottle to look at Steve. There are too many feelings there for Steve to figure out so he nods to the empty seat in front of him. "Mind if I join you?"

Eddie shakes his head and Steve thinks he looks adorable. 

"Interesting choice of place," Steve says to try and make things less awkward. 

Eddie laughs and the sound is delicious and Steve feels like he's winning, somehow. 

"I work here," Eddie admits, but he has a secret smile on his lips as if he knows exactly why Steve said what he said. As if they are connected in a way Steve had never felt with anyone else. 

As if a minute had passed since the last time they talked and not weeks. 

"Good to know," Steve says and he thinks he's flirting even though he should be apologizing but Eddie doesn't seem mad that he's flirting because he's flirting back. Or so Steve hopes he is. 

"Robin said it was a safe choice," Eddie says and Steve can feel her name souring his mood a little. "Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned her."

Maybe Steve needs to get this over with. 

"It's ok. I just really needed to say I'm sorry again. I hate that you got caught up in something so awful and fucked up and I'm sorry I didn't try harder to explain myself and-"

"Stop."

Steve does because he's been rejected by Eddie once and he's afraid he's getting rejected again. He thinks - no, he knows - he wouldn't survive it. 

"Robin might've ambushed me at work and forced me to listen to her explanations and her weird apology."

Steve clicks his tongue. He rests one of his hands on top of the table and feels the pull towards Eddie. If this was any other date he would reach out and grab his hand but he's not even sure this is a date. 

"I'm sorry for that too. Chrissy told me she has a hard time understanding boundaries."

Eddie shrugs as if it doesn't matter. "Yeah, well. That was clear from the start."

At that, they both laugh and it feels so right it hurts. Steve had accepted the fact that he wouldn't get this, not with Eddie, and now. 

Now he might. 

"I'm really sorry, Eddie," Steve's not looking at him when he says it but then he feels a warm, calloused hand on his and he looks up. Eddie is smiling softly at him as if they were all alone in the whole world. 

"You don't need to apologize. Robin explained everything and she said you had nothing to do with it. I'm sorry my insecurities got the best of me. I should've let you explain yourself. I should've believed you."

Eddie's hand feels good around his and Steve moves until their fingers are intertwined. Eddie has a couple of tattoos on his fingers which contrast with Steve's blank ones in a way that feels absolutely right. 

"I'm still sorry. I hate that you got caught up in this," Steve answers easily. 

"Me too," Eddie says. His thumb starts drawing circles on Steve's hand. "But in a fucked up way it brought me to you, here. So maybe I don't hate it all that much."

Steve smiles. He doesn't hate it either. 

x

Talking to Eddie is as easy as the first day and Steve feels amazed by it. 

They keep their hands securely clasped together as they sip their beers and talk about everything. Steve tells Eddie about his talk with Robin right after he left and how angry and upset he was. Eddie tells him about his talk with Robin and how… Numb he felt. 

He explains he spent so much time thinking he had Steve all figured out that it was really hard for him to see he didn't. To see Steve was telling the truth and to see Steve, for some weird reason, really wanted Eddie. 

Steve feels his cheeks burning hot at that and his skin tingles in the places it meets Eddie's. 

After an hour they drift off to other subjects as if this is nothing more than a typical Friday night date for them. As if they are just picking up right where they left off. 

It's almost 3 in the morning when a shorter guy with curly hair approaches their table and announces it's the last round - and it's on the house. 

"Thanks, Gareth," Eddie says but he doesn't make eye contact with the guy. And the guy actually looks like he's glaring at Steve. 

Steve furrows his brows and Eddie squeezes his hand softly.

"It's complicated, he's just like, overprotective. I'll tell you all about it later."

Later. 

It gives Steve hope. 

x

Later looks like the empty alley behind the bar at almost 4 am. 

Not for any Gareth stuff, but for… Other stuff. 

Steve lets Eddie push him up against the wall and kiss him like the world is ending. 

Steve kisses him right back as if they could fix the world with it. 

Eddie feels warm and soft pressed against him and Steve can't contain the small sounds leaving his mouth. Eddie swallows every single one of them, hands finding their way underneath Steve's polo shirt.

Skin touching skin as Eddie's fingers explore him, squeezing and moving around, drawing circles that drive Steve crazy because he wants more. He wants more and more. Eddie lets his fingers brush on Steve's nipple and he can't help but moan, even if they are still in public. 

"Come home with me," Steve pleads, face buried in Eddie's neck as he drowns in his scent. Eddie smells warm and sweet and so good Steve wants to stay there forever. "Please, baby. Come home with me."

Eddie nods against his skin as his mouth nips at whatever he can find and Steve thinks he can come undone right here if Eddie keeps that up. He doesn't want to stop but he does it anyway because he also wants to take his time. 

He and Eddie never rushed into anything and they are not rushing into this. Eddie smiles that gorgeous smile of his and Steve feels like he could die right now and he would still be the happiest guy on earth. 

"Lead the way," Eddie whispers and Steve does, pulling him away from the wall before it's too late and he loses all his strength. He keeps their hands wrapped up together because he knows that's how it's supposed to be. 

He brings Eddie home again, and that tonight they take their time with each other. They talk and laugh and kiss and smile. They take pieces of clothing off and they spread their fingers everywhere. They touch and squeeze and scratch. 

They take each other apart knowing they won't ever be apart again. It's a silent promise in between kisses and laughter. It's a spoken promise when they are all sweaty and tangled up in each other, hands still clasped together, with no space in between their bodies. 

Eddie kisses him again and again and again and Steve feels like he's floating. 

Steve kisses him again and again and again and he hopes he gets to do it forever. 

x

They wake up to a buzzing sound that tells Steve someone is there but when he opens the door there's only this big breakfast basket. He doesn't need to open the note to know it comes from Robin (and Chrissy, he finds out later). 

There are all kinds of foods and a fancy sparkling wine that Eddie immediately opens and pours a glass saying you can only fight a hangover drinking more and Steve wants to drop everything and lock Eddie in his room with just the wine. 

There's also a key Steve recognizes as their front door key. He hums as he looks at it and Eddie pushes the wine in his hand as he grabs a piece of bread from the basket. 

"Are you going to forgive her, you think?"

His question isn't loaded with anything other than curiosity. Steve gets the feeling Eddie wouldn't judge him either way and still, he doesn't know the answer. He shrugs and feels Eddie hugging him from behind. 

"That's ok. There's no right answer here," Eddie says, placing kisses on his shoulder and neck as if he's chasing every single one of Steve's moles. Maybe he is. 

"I don't really know what to do," Steve admits it out loud. Eddie's hand feels so solid around his waist and he feels grounded for the first time in a long time. Maybe ever. 

"Her professor is getting his license revoked," Eddie says and Steve feels a strange satisfaction at that. "She's getting suspended and is probably going to lose the whole semester."

Steve doesn't know if it's too much or not enough. There are too many feelings inside his chest right now. 

"I'm just saying. It's not only up to you to punish her. And you should, you know. Punish her. However you want. Just don't punish yourself in the process, ok?"

Steve's not sure what this means but he knows he's going to figure it out. Robin already gave up the apartment and she's getting held back in school, and Eddie is here and maybe Steve believes nothing else matters right now. 

"You're too smart for your own good," Steve says as he turns in Eddie's arms and finds his mouth so he can kiss him again. 

He tastes like sparks flying and Steve kisses him like he could love him. 

Eddie kisses him back as if he already loves him. 

For now, it feels like enough. 

Previous | Read it on Ao3 and leave kudos!

[underdark-dreams]

I got too excited and finished the second chapter 👀 [ch1]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.2

Tav finally catches up with her wizard at Sorcerous Sundries; Rolan has some complicated feelings about seeing her again.

Tags: Reunions, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3,042 [Read on AO3]

The next day dawned just as gloomy and gray as Rolan’s mood. 

He hadn't slept well in his chilly room at the Tower; the flesh beside his brow was bruised deeper than he’d realized. His fretful dreams of shadow curses and illithid monstrosities had been laced through with the dull ache in his skull.

As a result he’d been short with the customers this morning. It didn’t really matter—no one cared about the boy behind the counter. People tended to look through him, if they looked at him at all. 

No doubt his bruised and beaten appearance made people uncomfortable. Rolan knew Lorroakan didn’t care a jot for his wellbeing, but he did wonder why the man wouldn’t avoid damaging the first face people saw when they walked in. It couldn’t be good for business. 

These days Rolan found himself more of a shopkeeper than a student, after all. 

With that thought in mind, he pulled the large book of figures up onto the counter. At least there was plenty of work there to occupy him—Lorroakan had been an atrocious bookkeeper.

By the time midday dragged along, Sorcerous Sundries had cleared out almost completely. The sky outside the wide front entry had darkened further from the approaching storm. Periodically a humid breeze would gust through the doorway. Each time, Rolan had to grab hold of the pages of his ledger before he lost his place.

Eventually he shoved the thing aside in impatience, thunking a heavy potion bottle down on top to weigh down the page. 

From its hiding place among the scroll shelves, Rolan instead pulled out a stained and dogeared volume: Suspended Ceremorphosis. He'd swiped it from the tower while Lorroakan was engaged with yet another so-called Nightsong hunter. 

Lorroakan certainly wouldn’t miss the text. He hadn't maintained the protective spells on the reference section of his library the way he had the sections on spellcraft and the Weave. Evidently he thought everyone must have the single-minded and incurious lust for power that he did himself.

Rolan had never thought of himself as having a weak stomach, yet he found he had to take the text in small doses. The only thing that kept him reading it was a promise he’d made to Tav many moons ago, on a night when hope was easier to come by.

Whoever had authored it must have been a surgeon—more likely a necromancer. Each gruesome detail was described thoroughly, almost lovingly in some passages. 

Rolan forced his way through as many pages as he could manage. Combined with the painstaking diagrams of each stage of the infection and transformation, he found it painful reading. Especially when it directly concerned one of the people he cared about most in all the Realms. 

Who knew if Tav still even needed his help after all this time? She’d proven herself far more resourceful than him on many occasions. Maybe she was already on the trail for a proper cure by now. Maybe he was just wasting his time.

Rolan abruptly pushed this book aside too, turning back to his ledger again for the reprieve of sordid coin. 

All things considered, Sorcerous Sundries was thriving. The citizens of Baldur’s Gate were shaken, borderline terrified by the recent march of the Absolute's forces…and frightened people spent gold on anything they thought might keep their families safe. Rolan summed last week's numbers a second and a third time, convinced he must have added a figure somewhere.

A brash voice outside pierced his concentration. Rolan glanced up sharply to the open doors, quill poised on the page. 

Suffering hells. Aradin again? Whether or not he’d actually been involved in this week’s clumsy burglary attempt, he should have the common sense not to show his face.

The mercenary had been no rosy presence back at the Grove, and he was a constant bane at the magic shop ever since Rolan had been placed on front desk duties. He was always appearing to insist on a private audience with Lorroakan, or some great sum owed to him, or some other equally improbable outcome depending on the day. 

Just as Lorroakan had accused him of last night—ungratefully—Rolan had finally taken it upon himself to charm the metal construct at the door to turn him away on sight.

As he watched, Aradin jabbed a threatening finger into the construct's face, as if it might be intimidated into compliance. 

Thick fucking idiot, Rolan thought viciously. He had no patience for this today. Right as he set down his pen, someone else caught Aradin's attention from behind.

If not for her change in attire, he would have recognized Tav’s figure at first glance. But then Aradin shifted slightly as he spoke, and Rolan caught sight of her face.

The city seemed to be treating her well; he was relieved to see it. Her features were bright and well-rested for once, despite the scowling line of her brows as she squared her shoulders toward Aradin. 

For the first time in days, Rolan managed a faint smile. She never did like bullies. 

She'd commissioned fine new armor—perhaps from Dammon's forge up the street. Tav shone like an aasimar despite the overcast day behind her. The thought occurred with not near enough force to distract him from gaping at her lovely face.

His face. Zurgan—

Rolan’s spine straightened with a jerk. Why hadn’t he prepared for how she might react? How he might explain his pathetic appearance? He’d forgotten to anticipate any of it properly, and found himself blinded by panic.

There was no time to unfreeze his boots from the floor—Tav and her companions were already sweeping past Aradin and into the shop. 

Her gaze landed on Rolan before any of the rest even noticed him. His heart hammered in his chest as he watched her expressions play out in quick succession: dismay, then concern, then indignation. 

The way her eyes traveled over his face made Rolan wish he could melt into an invisible puddle. But such powers were beyond him—all he could do was stand mute as Tav drew up to the counter in front of him.

“Welcome to Sorcerous Sundries.” Rolan spoke the usual lines, and hated the falseness of his voice as he did so.

Tav only blinked at him for a moment. “Hi,” she replied softly. 

The two of them looked at each other for what felt like an age. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, in truth. Her eyes were wide and wholly inescapable. Rolan found his mind full of many words, all of which refused to exit his mouth.

“Oh shit, Rolan? What happened to your face, mate?” 

The towering Tiefling hellfighter spoke up before either of them could. She was peering at him from behind Tav’s shoulder with an expression of guileless concern.

“Karlach—” Tav wheeled on her with a soft admonition. 

She was trying to spare his pride. For some reason, that made Rolan feel lower than ever. As Tav turned back to him with a tight smile, he hoped the patchwork of bruises on his face hid its flush of abject humiliation.

Tav opened her mouth, but Rolan rushed to speak first. “I expect you’re here to see Master Lorroakan.”

Something flickered behind her eyes. “We are,” was all she answered.

“Then you’ll find the portals to the Tower upstairs. Do be careful to choose correctly the first time, it’s a great deal of trouble getting back in here if you don’t—Lorroakan has little patience for anyone who might waste his time—” 

Rolan was fussing with his ledger and rifling through the pages as if it contained much important work he had to get back to. Anything to avoid looking at her anymore.

“Right…thanks, Rolan.” Tav’s voice was uncertain. He clenched his jaw against a sudden pang of remorse. “See you later, then?” 

Rolan nodded tersely down at his work. He made no other answer.

She lingered for just a moment as the rest of her friends departed for the staircase. Then Rolan heard the metallic clinking of her plate armor as she too moved away. 

He kept his head bent doggedly over his book as she did. Rolan’s eyes pretended to move over the page, seeing none of it. His ears were trained behind him to track Tav’s footfalls on the stairs. 

When he heard the rushing whirl of a portal activating above, he stayed frozen for a few seconds to be sure. Then he shut the ledger with a snap.

And like a shameful coward, he ran to hide.

At least Rolan had enough sense to summon his master’s projection before he turned on his heel. Not a familiar incantation, but he glimpsed the Weave successfully materializing from over his shoulder as he swept toward the concealed door under the great staircase. 

His fingers fumbled for a key at his belt—the one Tolna had lent him his first day. Once the door latched behind him, he stumbled down the dark stairs into the ancillary storeroom.

The place was full of more dust than anything else. Rolan coughed and sneezed several times before he managed a simple cantrip to light one of the torches along the wall. 

Then he sank down onto an empty crate, slumped against the bookshelf behind him, and leaned the tips of his horns back against its dusty volumes.

What in the hells was he doing?

Living the life he’d chosen, Rolan answered himself. Tend the shop, ascend for lessons—sleep and repeat. 

For how many years? One, two? Five? 

Five years as a wizard’s apprentice was rare, but not unheard of. And Lorroakan didn't strike him as a man who readily dismissed his apprentices from service. 

What exactly did he expect Tav to do for the next five years? Surely not wait around for a pathetic wizard-in-training who didn't have the strength to fight back against his own worthless master.

Sitting in this damp basement, surrounded by cobwebs, Rolan couldn't think of a single good reason why someone like her might still want someone like him. 

An old, familiar feeling slithered through his gut. Unwanted.

It was true that Lorroakan had proved more of a disappointment than he could possibly have imagined. But the man had one advantage over every other archwizard Rolan had written to over the years, pleading for a chance to prove himself. 

Lorroakan was the only one who had accepted him in.

Whatever the archwizard’s many deficiencies, they did nothing to change the other advantages this apprenticeship could grant him. Notoriety, privilege, access. The wizarding circles of Faerûn didn’t open for just anyone, especially not a bastard Tiefling. Not unless you had connections.

So what if he had feelings for Tav. Strong ones. Ones he sometimes wished he could make disappear…despite the way she continually visited his dreams. This apprenticeship was something Rolan had dreamed of for far longer.

And what about her feelings?  

She'd told him she loved him many times during their last brief nights together at Last Light Inn. On one particularly memorable occasion, she'd been naked on top of him. 

Rolan had replayed the moment in his head too many times to count, yet it never failed to set his heart racing.

But those were moments when blood ran hot from freshly escaped peril—moments suspended in forgiving shadow. Under the harsh light of day, perhaps Tav could finally see him clearly.

Rolan’s hands rose to his face. He prodded and felt along its planes with his fingers, gritting his teeth as he rediscovered each fleshy bruise and scrape on its surface. He was a mess of a man.

Abruptly, Rolan shook his head to clear away all this self-pitying nonsense. His thoughts turned back to Tav’s current audience with Lorroakan. 

He wondered what they spoke of. Perhaps the Nightsong; perhaps her parasite. 

If Lorroakan knew anything about Illithids or ceremorphosis—an idea that seemed more laughable by the day—Rolan prayed to all the gods that he’d have the decency to share his knowledge with her. 

Whatever the subject, their conversation was brief. 

Rolan’s ear caught the muffled hum of the portal once again and knew Tav and her companions had descended from the Tower. He waited a few more minutes to be sure, then rose to trudge back up to the main floor. When stepped back into the light, she and her companions were gone. 

Rolan had no right to feel as disappointed as he did. He was the one who’d hidden from her like a child, after all.

As his feet dragged him back behind the counter, Rolan realized that in his haste he’d left out the stolen book on ceremorphosis—turned open to a particularly gruesome illustration. 

He thanked his stars that it had been Tav and her friends paying a visit. Another customer might have been put off by the sight, enough so that a complaint made its way back to Lorroakan. The archwizard was jealous as a dragon when it came to guarding his hoard, however little personal interest he took in its riches.

As he picked up the tome to hide it away again, a small slip of parchment fluttered from between its pages to land on the counter in front of him. Rolan turned it over, then felt his heart repeat the motion.

Had he truly never seen her handwriting before? The letters were small and even, yet clearly written in haste:

Let’s talk alone. I love you

ps  thank you for the research

Whatever information Lorroakan had provided her, if she was thanking him for reading a dusty book, it must not have been worth much. 

Despite every weight pulling on his heart, Rolan reread each word several more times. Then he slipped the note gently into the pocket of his robes. 

—

“Hey! You coming?”

“One second,” Tav called over her shoulder. 

She hastily fit a postscript onto the small scrap of parchment. Then she slipped it like a page marker into Rolan’s book and laid his quill back on the counter.

It was obvious that Rolan wanted to avoid running into her a second time. A sad pang ran through her at the thought, but she couldn’t really blame him. She’d never seen him looking so miserable—not even that night after his siblings had been taken to Moonrise. 

Lia’s words from yesterday rang in her ears. I don’t think he’s treating Rolan well. Whatever dark things Tav had imagined, they hadn’t prepared her for the sight of Rolan’s face—plainly dappled with weeks of brutal mistreatment.

Her fingers clenched hard at her sides. Tav glanced up at the shimmering projection of Lorroakan behind the counter and quelled the furious urge to put a fist right through its vapid smile.

As she jogged back out through the atrium of Sorcerous Sundries, Karlach turned to fall into stride beside her. The other two had walked ahead, clearly unaware that they’d left anyone behind. Gale was gesticulating animatedly about something; Wyll listened politely at his shoulder.

“So that Lorroakan’s a real prick,” Karlach remarked with characteristic bluntness as they walked. 

Tav gave a harsh laugh. “Read my mind.”

“How d’you think he knows about the Nightsong?”

She had been asking herself the same question. Her mind’s eye conjured up the circle of runes in his study, the one he’d indiscreetly shown off to them on this very first meeting. 

It had Balthazar’s fingerprints all over it.

“Probably has a background in necromancy,” Tav guessed aloud. “No way to know for sure.”

Karlach’s palm rang against plate metal as she clapped it between Tav’s shoulder blades. “Until we kick his arse and charm it out of him, you mean.”

Tav only smiled weakly in response. Inside, she could scarcely wait for the day when Lorroakan would get what was coming to him.

Beside her, a mischievous chuckle was rising from Karlach’s chest. “Hells, imagine when we tell Aylin. She’s going to tear that man apart.”

“Let’s not tell her just yet,” Tav said in a rush.

She felt Karlach’s eyes search her face. “Why not?”

Tav looked down at the cobblestones as they continued. “Rolan and I need to talk, Karlach. Whether or not he wants to, I owe it to him. He should know everything before all the Nightsong’s righteous vengeance comes down on his archwizard’s head.”

There was a pause. “You don’t think he knows?” 

“No way.” She looked up at Karlach then, her face steely-certain. “Rolan would never do something like that.”

“Yeah…you’re right. Forget I said anything,” Karlach added, her tone apologetic. Before she knew it, Tav felt a warm arm jostle around the pauldrons on her shoulders. 

“Listen, Tav, it’s gonna be okay. You and Rolan will talk it through, or maybe you’ll just fuck his stubborn wizard brains out again—”

“Karlach!”

“Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t already know?” Karlach was cracking up loud enough that Wyll glanced back from in front to see the commotion. Tav couldn’t help an embarrassed laugh, but she hid half her face behind a hand.

Before long, the dark stormclouds gathering above put a pause on the rest of their errands in the Lower City. It seemed wise to just wait out the weather at their rented room in the Elfsong.

Karlach did make some excuse or other to swing by Dammon’s forge instead—despite the fact that they’d been just yesterday.

Tav said nothing, but she wasn’t fooled. To borrow Karlach’s words, if anyone needed to fuck anyone else’s brains out, those two were obvious candidates.

With thunder rumbling on the horizon, everyone else settled into their private corners of their quarters for the rest of the afternoon. Shadowheart and Lae’zel turned to meditation; Gale to the large stack of books that he always mysteriously managed to fit in his pack. Astarion was curled in front of the fire, his lips moving silently as he pored over a book on Infernal.

For a few hours, Tav found herself with no plans and no responsibilities.

Though her new armor from Dammon was exquisite, she exchanged it for some more inconspicuous clothes, then pinned her heavy hooded cloak around her shoulders for the inevitable rain. 

And with everyone else occupied, she slipped unnoticed out of their rooms and back down to the streets.

[rosedere]

Murder Mountain

(Yandere Azul ashengrotto x Afab reader x Jade leech)

Modern Au

TW: Dark Content, Attempted Murder, Harassment, Non Con/Rape.

Cross Posted on AO3.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 (you are here) END

Want more?- - -> Our spring secret (sequel)

I thought I had a happy life

And the city lights

Didn't bother me

Before I met you

You're always on the go

Don't you love me anymore

Please stay

-

When you arrived to work that next day the usual busy, chattering, environment was missing. No one would look at each other in the elevators nor in the breakroom, some just dilligently typing on their computers or carrying on with their job.

All of a sudden Floyd burst in the cubicle row you were working in informing you to all meet downstairs for a emergency meeting.

Everyone at work was informed via Floyd and Jade in the office courtyard about Azul’s Absence.

Finally someone asked if Azul was still alive.

It was definitely their attempt at damage control, dispelling the rumors the media had spread about Azul being hunted by a bear on the trail or that he had been attacked because of his status as CEO being the few you had seen on TV.

Your ears perked up as you looked at Jade who hesitated before explaining he was in a comatose state and at present, was unsure when he'd awaken, but he was mostly out of any life-threatening harm.

After the slew of questions about the future of the company Jade declared Floyd and him would be temporary acting in Azul’s absence along with rescheduling the retreat indefinitely until Azul came back.

Floyd would be the temporary assistant of finance and assistant director of the company; Jade, however, was to become the acting CEO of Mostro Inc.

You were relieved. Learning you would never see Azul again as long as you got your transfer started before Azul woke up from his coma, you could finally leave. You knew Jade would certainly help transfer knowing he most likely already had certain people he wanted lined up to take up positions in the company. Plus, your lover had already offered you an open position as finance director of Sugar Horned Devil.

Why wouldn't you accept freedom? You would be a higher position than you had in your whole career in Monstro inc.

After the meeting was dismissed, you eagerly went home to submit your notice for transfer as soon as possible, quickly typing the form you got the bright confirmation page. In 3-2 business days, it would take for you to be freed from this corporate hell.

Just a little longer..

As the days went on peacefully, you felt yourself being able to be happy, even engaging more often with your co-workers in the break room and chatting with your desk neighbors at your computers.

You guessed it was because, without Azul's overwhelming influence in the office, people were able to relax.

Especially with Floyd being in charge of the floor, everyone enjoyed his impulsive mood swings and chill demeanor. It felt like you fit in for once, having people ask for your opinions on how to do certain tasks or just to talk as friends.

You were becoming yourself again.

-

It's been 10 days.

You took the week off from work after an on-and-off stomach bug you got one morning a while back, your stomach becoming bloated and a bit, irregular feeling.

Assuming it was bad food the first few times you tried to power through work only for you to have only taken three steps into the lobby before you ran to the restroom to vomit for half of the morning in the lobby restroom.

Nothing was really helping with your stomach so you went to the doctor to get blood work and figure out what was causing your flu-like symptoms after numerous failed flu tests and anti nausea medicine you recieved.

The fear of this being the way you found out you had something dire like Cancer or a Gastrointestinal disease was all you could think as you checked your phone every other hour for any news about it.

Currently, you were lying in bed with the worst cramps and nausea youd had from all the days you had been sick; it was so bad you couldn't even brush your teeth without feeling like you were going to throw up.

Rolling to your side, hoping it would relieve you of vomiting, you heard the familiar ring of your phone, immediately making you perk up out of your stupor.

Your lover had texted you: They had asked you why you declined the position.

“What happened (Name)?”

Frowning, assuming you read it wrong and fighting the urge to spit the rising stomach acid and the overwhelming sense of wanting to vomit that had begun right away during the usual evening hours.

In confusion, you checked if your request was approved.

Previously, when you checked at the beginning of the day it showed pending…

“Declined by manual review??” You whispered to yourself reading the automated letter.

Maybe it was a mistake… you could have gotten lazy and left something crucial out of your application.

Dragging yourself to your computer, ignoring the onslaught of your usual symptoms of overwhelming fatigue. You sent the best short professional email to your higher-ups about your request to transfer.

Sending the email with the small chirp you were about to roll back to your blanket cocoon you were forming ontop your mattress.

Chirp!

Not even 15 minutes later, you received an email saying they had no control over it and instead told you to talk to Jade.

The acting CEO.

-

Jade

Knowing Jade had everything Azul didn't was an indescribable joy. Sure, he was the former Director of Finance in the company, but that didnt come with the ultimate rewards he wanted…

Azul’s company, his friends, his status…

And the biggest treasure…

(Name)

He had to admit the former things were not as important as the latter, but nonetheless, he was waiting for you to look for him.

Just like old times…

Despite the rift in Azul and Jade's current relationship recently, Jade still dearly cared for Azul, just as he did back when he was in high school.

—

It was one Spring luncheon; it was unusual for Azul to invite Jade and pay for his lunch.

He should have known something bad was going to happen as he ordered his lunch that day…

“You might know her, Jade, She's a part of the company." Azul dreamily sighed as he began swirling the fruit infused sweet tea he had ordered with his straw.

Raising a brow Jade only smiled, Azul confiding in him was rare these days.

“Oh? Is she an employee? Or is she a client?” Jade mischievously added, sipping his lemonade.

Watching Azul’s lips twitch into a confident grin he uttered the worst response to the question he could think of.

It being two years ago, but he could still remember his response clear as a bell.

“Oh no, she's actually working in our finance department,” Azul’s face began to blush.

“She transferred from the lower floors a while ago, but she's the one; I just can't get a chance to talk to her,” Azul muttered raising his glass of tea taking a sip.

“I wonder who she might be.” Jade trailed off.

Jade felt the dread in his stomach.

Everyone knew that Jade had fallen for (Name), The office couple, ever since the moment she joined their company.

A small, quiet type, basically lost in the sea of many young professionals at the company, diligently working hard and taking only a few days off.

Jade met (Name) because he had to train them since Azul thought he was too good to talk to (Name) at the time.

Reminiscing to that moment when he helped you take your things to the 86th floor of the Finance department It would be the beginning of a friendship.

But that's all it was; mostly for a little while, Jade didn't know how to progress the relationship since he got promoted to work closer to Azul. Having to follow his tailcoats as he conducted buisness he only would see you maybe once or twice a month.

He couldnt figure out why he wanted to seize any opportunity that would arise to be with you, the one most would look over in favor of anyone else.

“If I tell you Jade you must not tell anyone” Azul looked around under the private dining veranda they were seated at.

“I'd rather not have PR about this— it could ruin the company if everyone knew I was going to pursue a date with someone” Azul’s voice dripping with a haughty tone, setting his glass down before flicking his gaze towards Jade, staring at him with excitement in his hues.

“Her name is (Name)” Azul’s grin never slipping off his face.

Jade only scowled in response, clearing his throat to mask his true emotions.

“Not to come off as rude, but why her?” Jade interjected.

“I mean let’s be honest here, the city’s most eligible bachelor wants to date a regular office worker? Not a super model or a celebrity...”

“She’s a super model to me Jade” Azul sighed, “besides I’d rather have someone Independent and a hard worker like them” he drank some more of his tea for a moment.

“I think she's dating someone anyway, and she’s like a little mouse— it’s hard to even get a hello out of her…” Jade quickly responded, “plus she’s a bit boring once you get to know her” Jade chuckled to himself.

Lies.

She's very much single and has so much personality to her.

“Ah well, I love that in a woman—She does not stir drama, diligently works, and asks question's when she needs help”

“I can just see her by my side,” Azul rambled on.

Jade was in his office, unboxing all of the items from his previous office. The large vast space that was once a reflection of Azul was looming over him as he began to silently place the ugly decor he had decorated his desk with into the same box he used to bring his items upstairs.

Diligently humming he unpacked his replica mushroom statue placing it besides his laptop. Reaching once more into the box however he reached something he had thought was his stapler.

But when he pulled it out of his desk items was when he saw what it truly was.

Smiling down at the crudely made picture frame, the hot glue beads and small candy canes decorating the boarder of the frame. Jade could already picture how adorable you looked assembling the gift you gave him last Christmas; the wobbly Polarbear with a scarf holding a mushroom in the bottom corner on your side of the picture.

Dressed in a long Santa clause themed dress, you had your hand placed on Jade’s much taller shoulder, A nice memory he had on his desk for the longest while he would fondly look at everytime he’s come to work.

And now he could finally place it overlooking his new desk.

With silent admiration he placed it at the center of his desk, hopefully camouflaged enough anyone that walks in wouldnt comment on it.

Especially his brother…

With a sigh he turned to look towards the bright tall windows in front of him.

He hoped today would be the day you would return from your sick leave.

-

Name

After another week off from work, you reached a breaking point.

You felt terribly tired, not as sick as you normally were in the morning, despite being warned to stay at home until your results came in you decided to return to the office.

In your casual clothes since your abdomen was uncomfortable in anything that wasnt stretchy or loose, you approached the door you had been eager to see the whole time of your absence.

Raising your fist to the hard oak doors, you made a small curteous knock against the door.

As you waited for a response, you casually glanced at the title placard on the door.

“Jade Leech, Acting CEO”

I guess he didn't waste any time taking over Azul's office.

Not that it was any of your business anyway.

“Come in,” you heard faintly on the otherside of the door.

Opening the door, you were shellshocked with the new scenery in Azul’s office.

The various glass knickknacks, photos from Azul's high school days, and his coin collection were gone from the tall walls of the office, now replaced with various terrariums filled with mushrooms, different pictures of Jade on top of mountains, and just pictures of mountains were also around the vast walls of Azul's walls.

“Did you redecorate in here, Jade?” You were looking in awe at the change of office space approaching where his desk was, the temptation to sit on it like you use to when Jade had his office downstairs.

“It looks wonderful; it reminds me of your old cubicle,” you laughed to yourself.

You glanced over to see Jade half turned towards the tall windows beside the desk in front of you.

"Well, it might be a while before Azul comes back to work, or even at all,” Jade wryly smiled with his signature hand over his heart gesture as he took his seat in Azul's huge dark leather swivel chair.

It felt unusual to see the normally passive man in a position of power Normally demure and quiet, but when he spoke up, he was actually an intelligent and sometimes silly man. Although, once he became Azul's assistant, you rarely if ever saw him, and when you did, he never talked to you, making you a bit sad at how he made it obvious he had chose Azul over your friendship.

“How so? I heard he might be able to go back to work in a few months," you watched Jade for a reaction.

Jade tight lipped as always eyed you from where you stood.

With a sigh you decided to listen to your intrusive thought to sit on his desk, covering your legs with your dress.

Jade smiled up at you, his sharp, needle-point teeth glinting dangerously at you.

“so why did you request to meet me today, (Name)?”

His hand creeped towards the front of the desk near his laptop, sitting close to where you were currently sitting.

“If I recall correctly, you aren't supposed to be out of bed and yet here you are," Jade spoke, eyeing you with his mismatched gaze.

His fingers tapping at the wood on the desk, anxiously.

Blinking, you remembered why you were here.

"Oh, yeah—sorry," you cleared your throat crossing your legs across the table.

“I submitted a request to transfer a while ago, but it got denied... I'm just curious if this is a mistake or not, '' you informed.

Jade narrowed his eyes, the screech of the chair moving back as the tall man began to stand up from his desk, walking over to, what you thought, him standing in front of your spot perched in front of his desk.

Only, he sat besides you on his desk. His expensive cologne extremely strong in your nostrils as he leaned into your person bubble.

Moving back a little bit only encouraged him to inch closer as he began to rest his hand on your shoulder.

"Well, you see, dear (Name) I can't let that happen." Jade whispered giving your shoulder a light squeeze, his one mismatched eye on you.

Like you were possesed you pushed his hand off of your shoulder, annoyance written all over your face as you felt your chest flutter once more.

"What? Why not?” you almost growled.

Jade only gave a chuckle, suddenly he grabbed you with a strong force watching you struggle as he held onto your bare shoulders with his mismatched eyes, Staring dead into your colored hues.

“Because I finally won, why would I give away the prize I earned, fair and square?” Jade sighed to himself.

He decided to take the opportunity to grab the loose strands of hair that was stubbornly not falling into place with the rest of the hair that was framing your scared face.

You felt yourself flinch away from him, but his grip was almost stronger than Azul’s grip he had on you.

“I dont get it, Jade?” you stuttered trying to hop off of his desk, only for his long leg to pin you into place ontop of the oak desk.

“You see, Azul has been acting as a roadblock for me as well name” Jade lowered his voice a few octaves, “He was catching onto my feelings for the one he also sought after," he clicked his tongue. “So I had to distract him with a rumor about this rival that was talking to the woman he was attracted to,” Jade said, looking deeply at your face.

He then shrugged, “I however didnt anticipate this woman was actually speaking to the Rival I lied about”

Realizing the weight of his words, you got up from your spot and backed away from him towards the skyline window.

“It was you? But why? Azul almost killed me for that incident” you were feeling tears blurring your lash line as you gasped your words out.

So many different emotions; you wanted to scream.

As suddenly as you backed away, Jade came to your side, swiftly holding your face into his chest, his head leaning over yours as he kept you stuck there.

Normally, you wouldn't have minded for Jade to give you a hug, but this wasnt a normal hug, his hands beginning to dip behind your back towards your dress.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were my friend Jade” You shoved him in a rage you hadnt realized was festering inside you, pushing into his chest with the heel of your Palm as hard as you could.

As you pushed him, Jade grabbed your wrists with a bone-crushing grip, stopping you altogether, your face turning red from the exhaustion and anger.

"Please, (Name) don't make a scene—if anyone you should hate is Azul”

“Regardless of whether I told him or not, he was going to know when he’d see you two kissing each other at the company retreat,” Jade calmy explained.

“You dont know what I had to deal with that asshole” you angrily spat shoving him once more to make a point.

“Just stop talking to me; I don't want to hear this anymore”

Fixing your dress you began to walk around his desk past the gaudy decorations before stopping in front of the door.

“And If you don't approve my transfer request— I'll just leave this company with no pay. I don't care anymore." You screeched back at him.

Unfortunately, Jade followed close behind his hands reaching for your own, his mouth about to open and tell you something before you swatted at him, freeing your hands and dusting your dress almost about to open the door.

Jade didnt follow you, only staring calmly at your disgruntled figure.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, exhaling as he did so, placing his hand over his heart.

“(Name) I wouldn't try that if I were you,” he sternly warned with a cold smile.

You turned to look back at his eerie gaze.

“Why are you going to fire me or something? You and Azul already have tortured me enough,” you scrunched your eyebrows at him before scoffing.

Jade hesitated before he laughed.

You only stood watching him laugh and point at you.

"Well, (Name)”

He once again stood close to you grazing the back of your dress with his hands.

“I never told you to go get Azul Friday morning,” he gingerly whispered with a smile.

Eyes widen at the mention you felt your blood go cold.

“Now why would you quietly go behind me and Floyd's back and reach out to meet the man that’s been actively lusting after you?” Jade annunciated with his open needle like teeth.

“It seems like you wanted to meet him alone at the retreat and when he rejected you that morning you snapped and tried to kill him”

“What are you insinuating?” You shouted with venom over your shoulder.

“Just letting you know, I will find out the truth. And you better hope I don't figure it out soon,” Jade leaned his head down on your shoulder, letting his breath graze your neck.

A kiss was all he had time to plant on your bare neck before you shoved him off without another word: You paused for a brief moment turning to look at the still smiling tall man before abruptly leaving Jade's office.

Harshly you pressed the button to call the elevator impatiently waiting to be let down to the parking lot.

After getting out of the towering office you had grown familiar with, reaching the familiar employee car park, you briskly walked to the familiar baby blue color of your sedan.

Clicking open the door, you harshly threw the door open before slamming it hard against the frame.

Throwing your purse and things a into the passenger seat you threw your head ontop of your steering wheel.

The urge to cry overwhelming as you felt your composure fall.

A shaky exhale before you felt the tears began to fall down your cheeks in rivets.

but right before your pity party began it ended.

The little constant melody coming from your phone that was now thrown under the passenger seat.

Angrily, you shifted over to look under the seat, finally grabbing your phone. Normally when you were in a pitiful mood you’d just decline and forget about it, but the caller was someone you’d been waiting desperately for.

"Oh, thank God, it's the clinic; hopefully it's good news,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing a tissue from your middle console you wiped your face before clicking the green icon.

“Hello, this is (Name)”

“So… What's wrong with me? Is it bad or...”

“Oh yes, (name) we just got your blood results back since as we know we tested you for everything after your flu test came back negative..”

You kind of dreaded the answer, especially with the hesitation from the nurse who was calling you.

Well (name) at least you have a perfect mountain to end it all on if the worst news comes out of this sweet nurse’s mouth…

“Well, first off, congratulations (name)…”

“Congratulations for…” You winced.

“Congratulations on the little troublesome bloom causing all that ruckus in your body” the nurse chuckled.

Cancer…

“Your four weeks along, according to the bloodwork it's causing you to have a storm of hormones right now”

What.

“Since we found out the true reason for your vomiting and nausea, we'd like to see you come in around the 15th of January so you can have your specialist visit and get you prescribed some medicine so you can go to work soon”

"Alright”

“Works for me”

The tears were falling like a waterfall now.

“Thank you have a nice day (Name)”

The line cut off. You dropped your phone under the pedal this time barely registering it.

What.

But..

4 weeks pregnant.

You laughed— a loud maniac Laugh from you belly until it started to melt into a heartbroken wail eventually dying down in a messy sob.

Any people walking by would have probably thought you were insane. Your disheveled dress and running mascara as you wailed into the leather steering wheel.

You thought you'd puke.

What horrible irony was this?

The only person you've ever had sex with…

Was the man laying in a coma in the hospital right now, unknown to the true consequences of that morning four weeks ago.

He might not even make it, and this baby would be the cruel reminder that…

That.

Azul had gotten you pregnant with his child.

You felt like you wanted to die.

What were you going to say? How do you tell anyone about this?

Your lover would leave you.

And…

Worse, what would Azul think?

Would he even want to keep the baby? Or hell even you?

Would you have to marry Azul? He wouldn't want you at all as a wife.

You felt a headache coming on as you started to feel your tears building up again. As you were spiraling from your driver's seat, you heard your phone's delightful ping noise alerting you of its location below.

Azul woke up yesterday.

Your face flushed as hot as ever.

You knew what you had to do.

Or at least what you should do.

But why say anything? You calmly thought to yourself.

It's only been 4 weeks, and you're not even showing… apparently Most of the time, people don't tell anyone until about 5 months, so... at most there was 4 months to go to do the deed.

So Why don't you keep this as your little spring secret?