#i need to be so honest ive never Gone here before

[galaxygermdraws]

Which is better Pookas or Fygars?

ok so I actually didn’t realize these were the names of digdug enemies so I had to google. I think personally I prefer pookas bc they’re just silly circular little guys.

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: III

Part II | Knock You Down Masterlist | Part IV

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

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

-----

Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted. 

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.” 

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night. 

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his. 

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to… 

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned. 

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.” 

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed. 

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire? 

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones. 

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up. 

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?” 

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there. 

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head. 

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning. 

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

[xxcallmemaryxx]

*gasping for breath*

my liege! a- a letter!! from,, the village!

*cautiously, u take the note, opening it slowly*

scrawled in a hurried hand are two words that chill u to the bone: vampire vessel

u know what u must do

👀🙏

So this is the coolest way anyone has ever requested something and it literally tore me right out of writers block. So thank you!!

Vampire Vessel under the cut ~

Vampire Vessel who spent weeks watching you. Always in the shadows. Always hidden. Always just out of sight. It was a life he was accustomed to. Always getting so close yet never being allowed contact. Ever. He’d been around long enough to know that his safety, and his family’s safety, prioritises all else. No matter how deeply he feels, or how long he’s dreamed of something, if it impacts his safety he can kiss it goodbye. He still remembers the way ii looked at him when he realised where Vessel was going the first time.

“Leave it alone.”

“… leave what alone?”

“You know what, Vessel. We are safe here.”

“I just want to see.”

“… Do not be seen.”

Vessel knows ii has a weak spot for him, he takes advantage of it, but the way ii looked at Vessel before he slipped out the door was pleading. He can’t help his curiosity, he’s been alive for so long that new people tend to make him careless. He was honest when he said all he wanted was to see you. Just a look. To see what you were like. What colour your eyes were. If you had anyone with you. It’s not every day someone new moves into these woods. It’s quite rare. He likes to know things. To know what’s going on outside the manor. To know if he and the guys needed to be more careful than they already were. And truly, that was his intention the first time he came to visit you.

He can’t say the same now. He’d be lying.

It’s been a month. And he never stopped coming to see you.

It’s been a very long time since Vessel has been genuinely interested in someone new. He’s never known his teeth to ache like the way they do when he watches you. He’s never known his throat to close up like the way it does every time you unknowingly meet his eyes in the dark through your kitchen window. He’s never known the urge to run away from a human who wasn’t actively hunting him like the way he feels with you. Because your presence within these woods makes Vessel feel like he is being hunted. And what terrifies him more is that despite that, he can’t stay away from you. He wishes no harm upon you. He wishes no trouble upon you.

But he yearns.

He wants to feel your human skin under his frozen fingertips. He wants to hear your heart race every time he looks at you. He wants to feel the way your breath stops every time he gets close. He sits by your home for hours just watching you live. Watching you exist. He’s beyond fascinated. He’s forgotten a lot about human behaviour, but he’s just obsessed with the way you choose to be. Every time he spends the night with you, he occupies a sturdy tree branch just far enough away to be shrouded by shadows, but close enough for him to still see and hear you.

ii has tried to steer his obvious desire towards something safer. Thinking maybe he’s just hungry and is getting restless. He forces Vessel on hunts with him or sends iii out to mess around with him for a bit, to blow off some steam or get whatever it is out of his system. But every other night the manor is void of Vessel. No matter how recently he’s eaten, or how much like his normal self iii and iv can pull out of him again, he always ends up back up in that tree with his eyes glued to your every move.

Vessel can never just leave it alone. Despite iis warning.

Because long after you’d gone to bed, Vessel couldn’t bare to part with you. He sat up in his tree, with a lap full of sticks and twine he’d made himself. And for hours he worked his long practiced skills and crafted a small gift for you. A dream catcher, in the shape of a heart. It was small, but beautifully put together. He debated leaving it for you the whole time he was making it. Weighing up if it was worth the hell he’d have to pay should any of the guys find out. But as the sun started to peak over the horizon he didn’t think twice. Jumping down from his tree, he hung it off your front door handle and took off back to the safety of the manor.

He tells himself that he technically did keep his word to ii. He hasn’t been seen.

But if ii finds out what he did this morning, Vessel knows ii would find a way to give him human life again just to kill Vessel again himself.

.

.

.

Thank you reading!!

I hope I did this ask justice but just know this isn’t the last of vampire vessel. He will be back.

[yeonmuse]

In which our Alice finds the man she loves so dearly in a place the people call underland

Request from anon: Chosen Journey [ red king guide, pocketclock tether, traveling to through wonder forest and to the red kings palace]

✧ tw. smut & angst (18+ mdni!),readers first time, heeseung worshipping reader, unprotected sex warning mentions of death and ss attempt

Authors notes: req 7 for musies 1k req event. Its been so long since ive got to write some angsty stuff I really hope you enjoy this read, i feel like im a little rusty with the angst but if you love it thats all that matters.

Other reqs can be found here

You’d been fast asleep for god knows how long, back resting against an old willow tree, lips parted as soft snores spilled from your lips with every breath. It wasn’t until you felt someone's hand clasp upon your shoulder and shake you awake that you realized you’d even fallen asleep. As you finally peeled your eyes open you could make out two voices whispering amongst themselves. “Isn’t that-” “it can’t be her she’s not meant to be here yet” “well i’m looking at her right now and it’s definitely her”. Slowly you’d started to adjust your vision until it was no longer a blur, and it was then that you realized you weren’t home? If you were being completely honest you had absolutely no idea where you were.

“You’re awake.’’ the stranger kneeling before you spoke softly, seemingly letting out a relieved sigh before turning to look at another guy that stood behind him. You look around, taking in your surroundings out of hopes of feeling some sort of familiarity or recognition of where you had been but you feel nothing. If this was somewhere you had been before the memory was long gone, buried beneath all the trauma and pain that had slowly started plaguing your psyche for as long as you could remember.

“Who are you…? Where…where am I?’’ you ask, the two standing before you look at one another before the one standing the furthest from you shakes his head as if disencouraging the one kneeling to say anything that mustn’t be said.

“I’m Sunoo..and this is Sunghoon….right now you’re in Underland.’’ the blonde responds, both of them staring at you cautiously as if they needed to walk on eggshells around you, as if there was more to be said yet each of their mouths remained sealed shut in that regard.

“Underland?’’ your reply, brows creasing together in confusion. You’d never heard of the place your entire life, not on any map or through gps, hell you’d never even heard of anyone speak about it.

“It’s where..this is where you go wh-’’ before the man kneeling before you could speak another word, the other that stood behind him all this time finally feels the need to chime in. “Sunoo don’t, if it really is her we should let him see her, he should be the one to talk to her.”

“Okay what’s going on? Can someone just explain how I got here..one moment im…” your voice slowly drifts off and you let out a breathy laugh. “I get it now.. I’m sleeping right now. Lucid dreaming again?’’

Sunoo and Sunghoon share a brief glance, one that had gone unnoticed by you because you had been far too busy trying to convince yourself that what you had been experiencing was not your reality.This was simply your psyche playing tricks on you, something that would happen of since, well since you’d lost someone dear to you. The only difference was this didn't feel like a dream, it felt like a purgatory almost, like you’d been trapped between a world of reality and surrealism.

“You know what i’m probably resting good for once in my life..i’ll just enjoy this while I can.’’ you finally surrender looking over to the two men that were staring at you as if you’d grown two heads.

“Well, are you going to take me to this guy or not?’’ you glance at the both of them expectantly, as if waiting to see which one of them would make the first move.

“Right…come with us.’’ The blonde you knew to be Sunoo turns on his heels and walks away, and Sunghoon follows, both beckoning you to follow them as they disappear past the conglomerate of trees.

It felt like you had walked for hours until the three of you finally stood on the other side of a moat, murky black water, water that looked so dark you were sure if you jumped inside you’d meet no end if you sank to the bottom– and right at the top floating to the surface..severed heads. Your blood ran cold and your body stiffened upon the realization of what it was, this dream was turning out to be more of some kind of nightmare. ‘This isn’t real yn’ you’re forced to keep reminding yourself as the bridge drops down before the three of you and you follow the two men across. You knew this was probably the furthest thing from a smart decision, your mind had been screaming at you to turn around and run away, but oddly enough your body betrayed you, you didn’t feel any fear, nor anguish..you felt oddly calm.

“Do you think he’ll be mad we brought her here?’’ you could hear Sunoo whisper to Sunghoon in front of you. Sunghoon simply sighs and shrugs him off. “It’s not like we’re the ones that brought her to underland..if she’s here then that must mean something is wrong.”

You weren’t sure what any of it meant, who were they talking about and what did it have to do with you?

As the three of you stepped into the castle a cold chill ran up your spine, the place felt cold and daunting. In contrast to its vibrant colors and obnoxious decorum..this place felt oddly lifeless and lonely. Though still you continued to follow them, through the twisted and never ending hallways, up a spiral staircase and into an empty bedroom.

“He’ll be out soon, just wait here.’’ Sunoo says, before he and Sunghoon disappear from the room leaving you unable to utter even one word in response. Once the door shut you were engulfed in complete silence, the type of quiet that seemed so empty it was almost chilling.

You allowed yourself to wander, taking in the minimization of the room, other than a bed, a mirror and a few dressers the room housed nothing else, not a photo or knickknack in sight, not one sense of essence or personality of whoever this guy you were meant to meet.

A sigh spills from your lips as you take a seat on the couch furthest from the bed, placing a pillow in your lap you found yourself absentmindedly fumbling with its loose stitches. Then the sound of a door cut through the silence grabbing your attention, throwing the pillow off to the side you bounced back up onto your feet almost immediately.

Then he walked in, slowly your eyes trailed from the red towel wrapped snug around his waist, to his chest and eventually as your eyes finally found his face amongst your gawking and you completely froze in your place. Eyes glued to him as he stood drying his damp hair with a smaller towel, seeming to not yet have noticed you standing there. Your eyes began to burn with tears, and before you knew it they'd come pouring down your face.

As you let out a sharp inhale heeseung finally seemed to realize there had been someone else other than him in the room. When his eyes fell upon you, eyes locked to him while tears came spilling down your cheeks he’d become lost for words. There was no way that you were here, you couldn’t have been…you weren’t meant to be. Yes he’d been waiting for you there, he promised himself that he would wait there for you forever, but you weren't meant to join him so soon.

“Heeseung..’’ his name fell from your lips and sent a wave of pain through his chest, your once cheerful voice was tainted with despair and disbelief.

“What are you…how are you here.’’ his eyes scanned over every part of you, as if he were capturing a photograph with his eyes, as if he’d never see you again if he didn’t take in ever detail. And then you ran to him, eyes full of tears and nose a complete mess as you wrap your arms around him, completely enveloping him in your warmth.

He wasn’t sure what to do at first, was he to be happy or upset that you were here? Did he comfort you or reassure you?

“I missed you so fucking much.’’ you choke out in between tears, your voice barely coherent as you’d been in between sniffles and coughs.”i don’t care what kind of dream, i don’t care if it’s a nightmare or the weirdest dream possible i won’t wake up. I won’t’’

“A dream?’’ the words spilled from his lips so softly that they’d gone amiss by your ears. So you thought this was a dream.

“Yn..” he calls softly, his breath getting caught in his throat as you stare up at him all doe eyed, with your tear stained cheeks. Even with your face a mess you were just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you. “Yn do you know where you are right now?’’

“Underland..your friends they told me, well they didn’t really tell me what this place is but i'm sure since it’s my dream that it’ll come to me eventually.’’ you respond, seeming so sure yet so clueless that it broke his heart. It was just as he thought, you had absolutely no idea where you were

“Yn there's something I have to tell you.’’ you stared at him expectantly, he was staring into the eyes of the one person he’d longed to be next to for quite some time now, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. “You can’t you can’t stay here.’’

Then the smile on your face faded.

“What? What do you mean i can’t stay here it’s it’s my dream..’’

“Just, you need to go. The fact that you’re saying those words tells me everything I need to know you don’t know what's going on here. Who brought you here?’’

“It- it doesn’t matter Heeseung i’m not going.’’ you step back, staring at him with a gaze that burned through him, and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get you to go without revealing the truth to you.

“Yn..i’ve missed you, i did but this place you can’t be here?’’

“And why can’t I..? Every passing day all I've wanted to do was see you, you're the only person that keeps me from falling to pieces and if I wake up now, who knows when I'll see you again. I don’t care if I sleep until I breathe my last breath. I won't go. I won’t wake up.’’ and then you looked at him, you looked at him with those eyes that had once made him melt everytime he stared into them, the eyes he fell in love with right before you slipped through his fingertips.

He knew he should have fought harder to send you back, but when he had you standing there staring at him he couldn’t bring himself to yell at you, or scream at you or tell you no. Not when you were standing here before him moments after crying your heart out about how much he’d missed you. His gaze shifts to the clock near the window and a sigh spills from his lips.

“6 hours, you can stay for 6 hours, but then promise me…promise me that if you really think this is a dream you’ll wake up.’’

Then you jumped into his arms, this time as happy as ever, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if you’d dare let him go. “I promise.’’

Then you both pulled away, his hand fell to your cheek and he took his time drinking you in, admiring every part of you that he’d missed.

“I really missed you.’’ he whispers softly, fingers ghosting over your skin through the fabric of your clothes as he rubs gentle circles over your waist.

There was something different in your gaze in comparison to how you once looked at him. Some sort of hidden desire swimming beneath the surface of your doe eyes that he wanted to explore. He’d loved you for years, though the words had gone unsaid by him and eventually he lost his chance.

“Can I..Can I touch you?” he spoke softly, lips only an inch away from your ear. You respond with a nod, his breath against your neck making it hard to form your words into actual sentences. You didn’t care if it was blurring the lines between what was real and what was simply just a lucid dream , all you cared about was that you had him back here, with you. Holding you, touching you, wanting you.

You and Heeseung had known one another for years, since diapers to be exact, your mothers had thought it was the cutest thing how protective you were over one another. Over time that only worsened though, you weren’t sure when the lines of friendship and love had become blurred between the two of you but eventually you’d stopped looking at him as just a friend. By the time you’d gotten ready to tell him that you loved him it had been too late, time had taken him away. But now here he was so lifelike and real, that it made you want to never wake from this dream.

His lips finally attached to your skin, so loving and hot that it made you melt in an instant. With every kiss it was like he was worshipping your body, savoring it in a way that even with time the feeling and taste of you would last forever on his lips.

“Heeseung..”

“Don’t.. just let me..I love you, I’ve always loved you. I may never get this chance again tonight so let me in…let me worship every inch of you as if it’s the last time I’ll ever see you again.” You sucked in a breath at his words, the weight of them crushing you as if gravity had come crashing down from the sky.

“Okay.” The word spilled from your lips so quietly, it was obvious that he’d completely melted you with his words. You were taken by him, completely and utterly taken.

He took his time, leading you to the bed and sitting you down so that he could strip you bare and leave sweet and loving kisses on every inch of you.

“Fuck you’re so pretty my love.” Butterflies, butterflies are what he made you feel, along with the flutter in your chest at the praise and sweet nickname. Then he dove in trailing kisses from your legs, to your thighs, your waist, stomach, breasts— any place you could name even those going unseen even by yourself he’d made sure to love and appreciate.

“Want to worship every part of you like you were always mine.” He whispers, standing up from between your thighs so that he now hovered over you. His fingers tracing circles on your soft skin before he removes the towel from his waist and throws it off some sort of other party of the room.

You let out a sharp breath, this was really happening, you and your best friend, the man you’d loved md for years and never realized loved you back.

“Tell me..tell me if it hurts okay?” And then he eased his way in, splitting you open with every aching inch that made your nails dig deeper and deeper into his skin until he ‘d bottomed out completely.

“You alright angel?” He asks, peppering soft kisses on your face, smiling when you give him a nod.

“I’m fine, I think..I think I’m ready.” You reassure him, and that was all he needed before he’d spend his time completely ruining you.

“So fucking perfect.” he says, eyes struggling to focus on just one part of you. his hands hover just over your waist, tracing circles over eager skin. He didn’t care what the circumstances were after this, all that mattered was that he had you.

The sound of you moaning and panting beneath him, thighs wide spread, knees pressed to your chest, was all enough to throw and sense out the window. Your back arches, lips parting when he sucks lightly under your ear.

You moan his name, soft and shaky, and he absolutely loses it. he leans in, mouth dragging hot and open along your neck, kissing and breathing you in, his lips trembling against your pulse like he’s drunk off you. He murmurs something there, a soft, almost desperate, “my pretty girl.” Before thrusting into you so hard you were seeing stars in the daytime.

His hips rock into you, slow and deep, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you until you’re trembling, mouth parted in helpless moans. He kisses you through it, messy and uncoordinated.

he doesn’t hold back anymore. Every inch of you has been touched by him, his hands, his mouth all have ravished you completely. He has you falling apart entirely, clenching around him with strangled moans, whole body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, and he follows, grinding into you with desperate and melodic moans, holding you close as he spills into you.

Even as he’s struggling to catch his breath he doesn’t let go. He stays buried deep, fingers tracing over your cheek giving loving strokes.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers softly, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist before climbing into bed, lying you on top of him.

The two of you lied there for hours, talking for hours on end, watching the sun slowly fall from the sky outside of his window. Then the clock had finally whined down. You lie resting against his chest, his fingers in your hair as you trace circles on his arm with your fingertip.

“You’ll have to leave soon.” He spoke softly, suddenly turning the mood sour and evidently somber.

“Why.. why can’t I just stay here with you.” You respond, at which he sighs and stops combing his fingers through your hair.

“You promised me.”

“Promises are meant to be broken sometimes.” You respond playfully, a sentence he doesn’t find funny in the slightest.

“Yn you need to go.” He responds sternly, suddenly raising his voice which catches you completely off guard.

“You know what no. I won't. Why do you want me to go so badly!?” You yell in response.

“Because I don’t want you to end up like me!” He responds by making you fall silent.

“What..what do you mean end up like you?”

“You know what I mean yn.” That was it, was all he had to say for you to hang your head down and the tears to come flowing in again.

The crash, Heeseung had been gone for quite some time now, it had been exactly two years since he had died and as much as you’d force yourself to try and get over it you never did. You’d found the worst ways to cope, alcohol, pills, weed, you’d even gone as far as trying to down a bottle of alcohol and your pills at the same time, though that didn’t get you very far.

“Don’t make me.. if I wake up now then that means accepting it, accepting that you’re gone..I just..i never felt so alone. Without you with me I don't know what to do or who I am.” You spoke, your voice cracking with each word and it was putting Heeseung through hell to see you fall apart like this.

“You don’t need to be here..I know it’s hard, I miss you too, I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known how to love someone but it's not time for you to be here.” He spoke, an edge of disdain laced within his time as he forced himself to hold it together. “You have people waiting for you, you still have your life to live.”

“No..i don't. My life ended when I lost you. When you left me my life did end right there.”

“You have to move on, angel you can’t.. you can’t do this to them. They’re waiting for you. You need to go back. To move on and find a way to be happy. Eventually you’ll find your way back to me. Even if you don't, I'll find you in any lifetime.” He reassures, wiping the tears from your face which only makes you cry harder, his touch something you’d longed to feel since before you could remember. This would be the last time you felt that.

“You have to wake up angel.” He whispers softly, pressing loving kisses against your lips and cheeks, ignoring the salty taste of the tears that stained them, “please wake up.”

Then as you close your eyes to rest your forehead against his something shifted, you feel the warmth of a blanket wrapped around you and the softness of sheets below you. As your eyes fluttered open you could hear the faint chime of a heart rate monitor fill the room and the silent him of an air conditioner. Through blurred vision as you turned to your right you could make out the silhouette of a person fast asleep sitting up in a chair. Your mom.

“No..no no no.” Tears sting your eyes, you screw them shut in a desperate attempt to force yourself back to sleep but it was of no use you were wide awake.

Giving in and surrendering to the fact that you’d already lost those moments you stare up at the ceiling tears spilling from your eyes.

“Please, please don’t leave me here alone.” You choke out, your words so faint that they hadn't gone unheard by your mom that immediately jumped from her seat. Tears poured from her eyes as she ran to call the nurse.

Two months , you had been in a coma for two months, what felt like 6 hours to you had been 2 long months for your family. The doctor had declared you as dead at one point, your heart stopped for 30 seconds and in that time you’d fell into some sort of purgatory state.

“She’s not supposed to be here yet.” Sunoo, Sunghoon and Heeseungs words hit you like a truck. You’d finally realize what they meant by those words, you weren’t in some sort of lucid dream state, you’d died and if it wasn’t for Heeseung forcing you to wake from the dream you were so eager to remain in, you’d have been lost…just like he was lost to you

PERM TAGLIST : @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @sol3chu @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jwonistic @getoxo @nithxhoon @lakoya @iichuuo @letmein2urheart @mitmit01 @hollxe1 @tinyteezer @jkslvsnella @manobillie @vvenusoncasual @i03jae @blackhairandbangs @sunooqvrlsx @addictedtohobi @gaytron3000 @firstclassjaylee @riribelle @ivyvioletcarson @academiq @claumbeju @bubblytaetae @pkjay @nightowlpudding @papichulomacy @celestenlav @50-husbands

[ivysprophecy]

good graces

warnings: (did i write this watching a nonsense christmas? maybe?) i dont think there is any, cursing?

word count: 1061

summary: jj thinks he needs a big gesture to apologize about the previous nights' events, but when he gets back youre just as anxious to make up for your mistakes.

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@bernardsbendystraws divider

jj's been gone an hour. i thought he was supposed to be back sooner than this?

ive been sitting in the chateau all day bouncing my leg nervously or pacing the house or throwing rocks into the water. anything to calm my nerves.

im drawing in the dirt when his bike finally pulls up to the house.

hes wearing a helmet? since when does he wear a helmet? ive been yelling at him to get one for months.

i watch as he swings his leg over the seat of his bike and takes off the helmet and shakes his head letting his hair fly free. he hates when it sticks to his ears.

then he finally sees me sitting on the poarch.

"what the hell are you doing out here?? go back inside!!" he runs up to me dropping his bag on the ground shooing me back into the house.

ive never been so shocked by something he's said before. literally jaw dropped.

"excuse me? jj im trying to talk to you- apologize to you! why are you acting like this??" i shove him back as he urges me through the screen door.

"mama you can apologize later im trying to set up your surprise youre gonna ruin it- get your cute ass inside-" he turns me back around and moves me through the door.

i let out a little chuckle with a hint of scoff "jj im still fucking mad at you- what the hell are you doing?"

"im fixing what i fucked up," he leans down and kisses me chastely before grinning, "now sit down on the couch and wait for my say so, pretty please."

"youre being awfully demanding for someone on thin fucking ice."

"it will be worth it mama i promise. please?"

okay im mad at him... but hes being really cute. i think that outweighs my guilt.

"fine... but im not waiting forever."

"it will only be a few minutes. i promise," he kisses me forehead after i sit on the couch and runs back out the front door leaving me dazed and confused.

what has this boy got up his sleeve?

after another ten minutes of nervously waiting in the house, scrolling through my phone, bouncing my leg, biting off my finger nails, i hear the sound of 'you are in love' by taylor swift blaring from a speaker outside.

and he KNOWS thats my favorite song from my favorite album.

THAT catches my attention, and im taking it as his clue to finally come outside.

when i finally make it onto the poarch i let out an audible gasp covering my mouth at the sight. this stupid amazing outrageous throughtful fucking idiot.

theres sea shells spelling out sorry on the lawn, and hes sitting there with my favorite flowers that grow from my secluded beach reading spot, a bag of my favorite breakfast foods, and two helmets for his bike. with both our intitals.

"im really fucking sorry mama... i didnt get a chance to explain myself- i swear id never do that to you. ever. i love you so much and i know how many doubts you had about us. and sarah said id probably need to reassure you and i dont really know how to do that so i just figured id do some kind of gesture and-"

i cut off his rambling but running up to him and wrapping my arms around him, probably suffocating him but i dont really care.

this is so fucking adorable.

"thank you... you didnt have to do all of this."

"what happened to being all pissy?" he looks down at me, doing a horrible job at hiding his smirk.

"shut up... im sorry i was being so crazy. i just saw that i freaked out, i wasnt thinking. im so sorry jay-"

he gently grabs my face, pressing a small kiss to my forehead, "i know... and i shouldve made it clearer what had happened and reassured you. im not good at this boyfriend stuff, but im trying. with sarahs help if were being honest."

"youre doing great jj... this whole gesture is so sweet and thoughtful. im sorry that im a crazy girlfriend who flies off the handle when the slightest thing goes wrong."

jj shrugs innocently, sitll having me in his arms, "i dont mind it. it was kinda hot."

"youre such a pig," i smile leaning up and pressing a gentle, loving kiss to his lips, "so... forgiven?"

"youre forgiven if i am."

"you already were."

i lean over and pick up the flowers hed set down so i could hug him, bringing them to my nose.

they have a faint salty smell of the ocean stuck on them, thats one of the reason i love them. that and wild flower bouquets are really freaking pretty.

"these are perfect... thank you jj- really. this is so perfect."

"im glad you like it mama... it was this or me begging on my knees for forgiveness."

"i wouldve loved either option," i joke. "and i promise i will do better to communicate more clearly," i press pause on the speaker so we can hear each other a little better.

jj sits me down on our hammock still holding me close to his side.

"i know you will, we both got shit to work through but were gonna be fine. im not givin up on you that easy."

"you put up with a lot from me."

"eh, its worth it all in the end. when we go to bed."

"god you are such a perv!" i bump him with my shoulder laughing. while hes laughing with me i find the back of breakfast food and stealthily take it from his side and start to snack on it. "god this is so good. youre an angel."

jj throws an arm around my shoulder pressing another kiss to my temple.

"eat up. im gonna clean this up before everyone gets back and makes fun of me. do you wanna keep the shells?"

i nod shoving a bite of hashbrowns in my mouth enthusiastically.

"alright then," he heads to the yard picking up all the shells and putting them in his backpack for me to keep. maybe ill make stuff out of them so we have them forever, to remember this.

like a picture frame or a coffee mug or something crafty.

[servedvenison]

Girls Night | Garrett Garrison x Reader

QUICK A/N — so, i haven’t written in over three years, but there is one garrett fic and i NEED. more content of this man. this was originally supposed to be uploaded to ao3 and ao3 only but i remembered old friends have that account so i will wait here until i can make a new account LOL. anyway, i hope you enjoy. be kind. its been so long since ive been here hahahaa……

After spending your days with few close relationships, your time in the overworld had changed that for the better. Now, you found yourself in a happy little group of six. Sure, the age gaps were a bit... humorous, but you were all like a little family. Of everyone, though, you were closest to the "Garbage Man" himself. You two had been close even before all the blocky nonsense. But that was it, wasn’t it? Friends.

Garrett, Henry, and Steve were all off doing their "guy business” not that you had any interest in joining them. You didn’t mind one bit, especially after Dawn had suggested you, her, and Natalie spend some time together instead.

"I mean, those three are always running off doing God knows what," she said. "Why don’t we have a little fun, too?" She had a point. After hours of brainstorming some crazy ideas for a girls' night out, you all decided to stay in. You worked full-time jobs, going crazy late at night? Nah, not for us.

The night had gone by smoothly, lots of giggles, jokes, and gossip. Fun stuff, right? But it wasn’t long before the conversation shifted to the guys. It all started with Natalie talking about Henry, how happy she was that he’d finally started to fit in and make friends. Dawn turned to you.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve known Garbage Man for how long? How do you do it? The guy’s a total loser.” You stifled a laugh behind your hand. She was totally right—Garrett was the biggest loser you’d ever met. And in a weird way? You really liked that about him.

“Okay, okay! Back when we were younger, he was like—the coolest guy ever. I’m serious! Don’t laugh!”

Dawn and Natalie were howling at this. They were both well aware of Garrett’s so-called celebrity status, how could they not? It’s all the man talks about. But cool? Garrett? Really? You knew the guy was somewhat of a loser, but him being cool wasn’t that surprising!

“With the way he followed you around like a lost puppy back in the overworld, for a second I thought you two were a thing.”

The comment caught you off guard, your face going red as you nearly choked on your drink. Natalie and Dawn exchanged a quick glance before turning back to you. Their reaction told you everything—they knew something, and they weren’t going to let you live this down.

“You guys are totally nuts. He didn’t know any of you, and we were in some random dimension, honest!” Wow, as if you couldn’t seem more suspicious. Natalie rolled her eyes. “But he sure did look cozy with Henry, you know, the kid he’d known for less than a day? And don’t get me started on Steve—”

Okay. She’d got you there. You didn’t have a valid argument. But honestly? You’d never even considered your relationship with Garrett that way.

You were lost in your thoughts until Dawn placed her hands on your shoulders, snapping you back to reality. “Listen, as much as I hate that self-centered dud, even I know he really likes you, Y/N. And don’t get me wrong, I do love to play matchmaker!”

Natalie and Dawn giggled together like two high school girls scheming to get their friend to confess to a crush. You appreciated their enthusiasm, but wasn’t this moving a little fast? Was it really that obvious to everyone but you

Lost in your thoughts again, you replayed every small memory you had with Garrett.

He was always doing things to get your attention or approval, trying to ‘protect’ you when mobs approached in the overworld, getting you small gifts and trinkets when his wallet allowed it. But that was just friendly stuff, right? Stuff people do for friends they’ve known for ages, right? Well, sure, but Dawn and Natalie insisted it was more than that. Garrett wasn’t shy, he would do those things for anyone. But the small things he did for you... those were things he hadn’t done for anyone else.

[romanhughesy]

GRAVITY - andrei svechnikov x fem!reader

summary: you meet in spring. andrei is confident, easy-going. deeply casual. summer’s long, but you’re around again when andrei comes back in the fall and ‘casual’ shifts into something fonder, something taking shape around the edges. a mid-season injury brings things to a breaking point, but the longest night only comes once a year.

wc: 3k

warnings: suggestive (like pg13), angsty?, emotionally unavailable!reader<3

a/n: im so sorry it’s late, but this is my fic for @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, written for @sydnikov !! i LOVE your writing and was so inspired by your preferred tropes/figure skating background, so i hope you love it!! ive never wrote anything quite like this before, so feedback is 10000% encouraged bc this is also my first fic in awhile :’) title is from ‘gravity’ by my queen tinashe, that song and her other song ‘cross that line’ PERFECTLY describe the relationship i was trying to capture here.

-

somewhere along the way– far too late��� it becomes apparent you and andrei misunderstood each other. maybe even from the very first moment.

on an unseasonably humid early spring night, in a dark gritty bar with shitty lighting and shittier beer, a spark ignited between the both of you. he approached you, half-drunk and put up to it by the rowdy teammates commandeering a booth with a great view of the bar. of you and your friends. he offered to buy a round of shots for everyone– if your friends would take them back to the booth and leave the two of you at the bar. your girls, who absolutely did not need anymore shots, practically ran across the bar with the tray; not before elbowing you and patting your shoulder, of course. maybe one hockey player could fly under the radar, but certainly not this one, and the table full that were now hosting your friends were the talk of the little bar. even some of the other girls nearby looked at you enviously; like you’d been chosen, or won some sort of prize. it was an unpleasant kind of feeling that you tried to shove aside in favor of easy, tipsy conversation. after talking around the elephant in the room for a minute, the liquid courage helped you decide to name it. you praised his performance in their game earlier that evening. months later, you can still remember how his smile took over his face, wide and prideful.

“thank you, pretty,” he slurred, shuffling a bit closer, “i can teach you how to skate good like me.”

you also remember your own prideful scoff, rolling your eyes on pure instinct. that unpleasant feeling sharpened. “i could carve you up, svech.”

his jaw dropped, the disbelief seeming more honest than his boastful smile, somehow. “you play? you are… small.”

“i’m a figure skater. i coach, too. maybe i should teach you to skate better.”

andrei’s wolfish smile came back in full force then, large hand draping over yours on the sticky bar. “perfect figure skater– pretty and small. i’m sure you skate well, but not like me.”

he raised his drink to signal the bartender, but you slid your hand from underneath the bar to rest on top of his and tapped the back of his palm lightly, stealing his attention with a head tilt.

“should we go and check out each other’s skills?”

one night set the stage for a loose kind of routine, spring nights slipping away in the back of seedy bars, in andrei’s bland luxury apartment; bodies coming to an understanding on rumpled grey sheets in his california king bed. your friends wouldn’t shut up about him, but you insisted there was nothing to tell. and there wasn’t. neither of your lives had room for anything more than what you already had. when he was gone, or just not around, your life passed by more or less the same as when he was there. you weren’t going through the motions to pretend there was anyone else, to him or to your friends, but you knew where you stood. and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. what you and andrei had was good, easy. you didn’t want a boyfriend anyway, so why would you complain about a steady hookup who wasn’t getting attached?

as the days got warmer, the nights got shorter, and andrei’s games became more meaningful. he slipped away— as much as you can really slip away when you aren’t being held at all. he more or less disappeared from your life once their second playoff series went south, and you refused to give chase.

-

summer was a blur. long days full of early morning practice, the smell of the ice invigorating your senses and bringing relief from the oppressive heat. it was a year too hot to be outdoors much, so you holed up, binging reality tv and redecorating your bedroom. your friends brought you out of your shell every now and then with a couple of weekend beach trips and many more coerced nights out. they’d switched from seedy sports bars to cocktail lounges, or dance clubs, and were good enough to not mention why, at least to your face. things felt simpler this way, dancing into the night with a rotating cast of strangers and cutting out early with the excuse of your sunrise rink time. you started landing a new trick, and even the heat couldn’t dull your mood about that.

seemingly in the blink of an eye, the dog days of summer had passed, and banners started cropping up around downtown boasting the shiny newcomers and fan favorites returning to town for training camp. you saw andrei’s face on the house-sized poster hanging on the outside of the arena and pretended to yourself that you’d never met him, because, really, what else were you supposed to do? go back to that same bar, with your same friends, and pretend you knew him at all?

-

well, you did do that– not of your own volition, to be sure– and he was there, because of course he was. you saw him the second you walked in, tall, broad and smiling, just like you remembered. you pointedly looked away, sharp eyes almost daring your friends to say something, but they didn’t have to.

you were fumbling through your purse to pay for your drink when he approached from behind, resting his hand on the bar. your bodies weren’t quite touching, but you were enveloped by his stature.

“you can put all of their drinks on my tab,” you could almost feel the vibrations of his deep voice through your chest. your friends raised their eyebrows, but said nothing, taking their drinks and deserting the bar. that deja vu, memory-on-the-tip-of-your-tongue feeling washed over you, heightened by his next words.

“how was your summer, pretty girl? mine was long, without seeing you.”

you sidestepped his hold to be able to look up at him, to take his features in for the first time in awhile. in person, that is. there was a boyishness, an almost clumsiness, about him like this that never came across in his media. you tried not to let it persuade you.

“i landed my axel for the first time.” you answered, not bothering to address his flattery.

“triple?” andrei asked, eyebrows raised.

you rolled your eyes. “i’m an amateur, andrei. not all professionals can land a triple.”

his eyes flashed, that challenging look that always dragged you in, “i’m a professional. i bet i could. i do lots of hard things.”

“i doubt you could even stand on figure skates, much less jump.”

he tilted his head, and you felt pulled back in time, “can i show you my skill?”

“andrei…” you tried to pull your gaze away from him, but he grabbed your hand, gentle as can be, and you locked eyes with him again.

“please, pretty girl. i missed you.”

looking back, you still aren’t sure what you thought he’d say, but it wasn’t that. the shock stirred up some of the unpleasant feelings of the past few months, the severed connection that was barely tangible to begin with. you lightly scoffed, “yeah, right.”

“i did. i’m glad to be back, to see you tonight. let me show you.”

what else could you say to that?

so you let andrei take you home, and tried to tell yourself you were just imagining the difference in his behavior, projecting softness, maybe even fondness, where there was only lust. tried to explain away his gentle hands on your cheeks, your hips, his quiet praise and adoration. you slept over, that night, and tried to turn a blind eye again in the morning. and again a few days later.

as fall crept in, the two of you start texting more often, meaningless chatter and jokes, and began foregoing the pretense of having to go out to the bars to “coincidentally” meet up. he’d ask to pick you up after leaving the stadium most nights he was in town, and more often than not you’d stay over. andrei didn’t seem to mind that you were often gone before he woke up; flying across the ice to try and leave your emotions behind, heart crawling a little further up into your throat every day. you knew it was unnatural, yet you couldn’t help but try to build your walls a little higher with every step you took forward towards something different with andrei. you just couldn’t help but feel like letting your guard down would be a fatal mistake.

his time on the road helped, in a lot of ways. it gave you a sense of normalcy, you went out with your friends and didn’t look over your shoulder. you could give andrei a bit of a cold shoulder over text and pretend he was the busy one, the one not responding. until he came back to town and kissed you breathless in his sports car, taking off your jacket with his big but deft hands and mumbling into your neck about missing you while he was gone.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like him— certainly not that— but it was hard to feel like you stood on solid ground when his life moved at such a fast pace. he never intentionally made you feel small, but his world, spanning millions of miles and millions more dollars, was dizzying, and so entirely divorced from whatever you two had that you still felt as though you didn’t know him, really, even though you held all of these small pieces of him close to your heart. you felt constantly at a loss, not sure how to best express yourself in any given moment, caught between honesty and protecting your feelings, unsure how to do both at once. the leaves turned, then fell, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were also waiting for the other shoe to drop.

andrei, apparently, had none of the same hangups. he was simple, straightforward and never shy to go after what he wanted. his interest was more than clear, but you could never bring yourself to ask just how far it went. he never asked you to go to dinner, or one of his games, and even though you guys weren’t just hooking up, in fact there were a couple of hangouts late fall without having sex at all, you couldn’t find any other name to call whatever you two were doing. so you stopped trying.

-

somewhere around the first frost, things changed. andrei had his first injury of the season, having to sit out a short road trip, and you found yourself out of your depth with the version of andrei that reminded you of unpleasant early-summer heat. you didn’t know how to comfort him, scared to cling or insert yourself unnecessarily into his personal life, so you thought you should just mirror his attitude. maybe that’s what brought things down.

one late november night, you started shrugging back on your clothes after leaving the bathroom until andrei’s voice, thick with sleep, gave you a momentary pause.

“where are you going?”

you looked up at him, and immediately regretted it. his high, strong cheekbones were softened in the dim light, eyes dark and confused, but you refused to believe the furrow of his brow held any traces of disappointment

“home. i have an extra-early skate tomorrow.”

“you know you can stay here,” andrei assured in a low voice, but you just shook your head and sat at the edge of the bed to put your socks back on.

“it’s fine, andrei. it’s not that late.”

he sat up fully, then, long arm reaching across the bed to try and touch you, but you were too far away.

“what’s going on?” andrei asked, not letting you answer before another question sprung from his lips. “why are you not comfortable with me?”

you froze, looking up slowly but deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“it’s nothing. i’d just rather be at my place tonight.”

“it is something,” he insisted, voice still quiet, but more firm than you’d ever heard him speak to you. “you don’t want to be honest with me. why?”

“i’m being honest with you,” you argued, even though you knew it wasn’t true. “why are you upset? it doesn’t matter.”

“i like spending time with you. i’m alone, i’m hurt, and you make things better.”

it somehow stung, the sweet words only serving to remind you what he could say instead, what you wished he’d say.

“we spend plenty of time together, svech. i can’t put my plans aside for you just because you couldn’t travel with the team.”

you didn’t have to read a different emotion into his furrowed brow any longer, it was set in a very clear frustration, now.

“don’t say that, don’t call me that,” he insisted, “what did i do? why are you angry?”

you stood, at that, pulling your sweater over your head hastily. “i’m not angry. you’re the one making this a big deal.”

“you are leaving and trying to hurt my feelings. i am just trying to figure out why.” he rose from the bed, trying to catch your wrist as you went to button your jeans, but you took a step back.

“we already fucked, andrei. you had plenty of my ‘quality time’ for tonight. i’m leaving, now.”

he stepped into your space, shaking his head and grabbing both of your wrists, not forceful, but firm.

“this is not about sex, pretty. you know it’s not. why are you saying this?”

“well, that’s all we have. we’re not dating, i’m not your girlfriend, so you should call someone else if you need comfort.”

it was his turn to take a step back, then. dropping your wrists, hurt clear as day across his face.

“that is not true. we cook together, work out together, watch movies together, talk on the phone while i am gone. is it all just about sex, to you?”

your insides twisted, hurt and anger shifting into a kind of guilt, a panic. you’d been so painstakingly, yet fruitlessly, trying to protect your own heart, trying to push yourself away. blind to the fact that the whole time, he was reaching out to you.

“i… didn’t want to ask for something you couldn’t give,” you hedged, eyes down and picking at your nail beds.

andrei shook his head again, but his expression softened, closing the gap between you.

“i have been trying to date you since i came back, beautiful. but you have been hiding from me, even when you’re this close. i’ve been waiting on you.”

you stared up at him, eyes wide, hands dwarfed in his grasp. you couldn’t even begin to find the right words to say.

“let me show you, gorgeous,” he continued, one hand coming up to rest on your cheek. “let me cherish you how you deserve.”

“andrei…” you breathe. he bends down, captures your lips in a kiss so tender it makes tears well up in your eyes.

“it’s okay, pretty. we’re okay.” he kept mumbling assurances to you in between soft kisses all over your face, across your jaw and down your neck. you couldn’t contain your sigh as his faint stubble brushed against your neck, hands finding a gentle perch on his broad back. andrei pulled back the slightest bit, soft smile and mischievous eyes making your heart flutter.

“can i show you, my darling? or do you need to go home?” he teased, hands absentmindedly trailing up and down your sides.

“please, drei,” you plead, hand stretching up to the back of his neck to pull him back down to you. andrei doesn’t move a muscle, his own strength so much greater than yours, but you couldn’t complain because you got to watch his soft smile grow, eyes alight like he just scored the greatest goal of his career. he lifted you with seemingly no effort at all, laying you back down on his grey sheets, hovering above you, bicep bulging next to your head. it was distracting, but you couldn’t look away from those gorgeous eyes, locked on yours.

“can i come to the rink with you in the morning? want to finally see how my pretty girl skates. probably puts me to shame.”

you were pulled from your daze at that, searching his face and finding nothing but openness, happiness, satisfaction. but you still can’t help but ask, “are you sure? it’s an open skate. people will see.”

“see you ‘carve me up’?” andrei joked, caressing your face. that spring night felt so far away, a version of you that could never conceive of where you would end up. “i don’t care. just want to see you.”

you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. the pit in your stomach hadn’t exactly subsided, the heaviness of wasted time and self-admonishment lingering, but you tried to push it aside, letting yourself reveal a gap in the armor you’d woven so tightly around your heart. you wouldn’t be able to just let yourself fall overnight, but you could do this. you could give him an opening, a glimmer of warm sunshine on a cold winter’s night.

“sure, but we’ll need to go to bed soon. it really is extra early,” you conceded, hand raising to brush some of his hair back from his forehead.

his sweet smile turned that wolfish, boastful grin you knew too well, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“soon? maybe not, pretty girl. i have been waiting for this. might take awhile. but don’t worry, i know great stretches for sore muscles we can try in the morning, too.”

and, well, what else could you say to that?

———

[birdie-in-arcadia]

In Our Wake

Chapter 12 is here, and this one is long and emotional, so as always, read at your own discretion, loves. Enjoy <3

CHAPTER TWELVE — RETURN  (Vessel’s POV) 

It’s strange how quickly time stretches when you’re trying not to feel anything. The flat has been… silent. Clean. Predictable. Exactly what I thought I needed. But now that I’m back, I realize I’ve missed the noise more than I ever expected. The clatter of equipment cases. The soft strum of IV warming up before soundcheck. The barely veiled sarcasm in III’s voice when he’s pretending everything’s fine. And her. Especially her. 

I don’t see her straightaway. We’re back at a venue in Glasgow, somewhere between beautiful and broken. Cracked tiles in the green room, velvet couches that have seen too much. Home in a strange way. I unpack in silence, letting the weight of the room settle back around me. Then I see her. She’s sitting in a folding chair near the stage door, knees tucked to her chest, notebook open but the pen motionless in her hand. Her face is turned slightly toward the window, catching what little grey light leaks in from the alley beyond. She doesn’t see me yet. She looks smaller. Thinner, maybe. Tired in a way I can’t place; not just physically, but spiritually. I cross the room slowly. No need to announce myself. She looks up just before I reach her. 

And there it is, the flicker in her eyes. Not surprise. Not quite relief. Something quieter. Something like grief and hope tangled up together. “Hi,” she says, soft. “Hi,” I reply. She looks at me like she’s trying to read a book she used to know by heart but can’t quite remember the ending of. I want to ask how she’s been, but I already know. I want to ask if she missed me, but I don’t want to hear it if the answer is yes. Because if she did, I’ll never be able to leave again. 

She closes the notebook slowly. “Didn’t think you’d come back,” she says. “I wasn’t gone forever.” “No,” she says, looking down at her lap. “Just long enough.” I sit beside her, but not too close. She doesn’t flinch. That feels like something. 

We sit there for a while. Saying nothing. Breathing in each other’s presence like a song we’re both afraid to sing out loud. I finally say, “You seem… different.” She smiles faintly. “So do you.” A pause. “Are you okay?” I ask. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I don’t know,” she says, and it’s the most honest thing I’ve heard in weeks. 

Before we’re called to soundcheck, she glances at me. “You really didn’t want to be near me, did you?” I look at her. “It wasn’t that,” I say gently. “I just... needed space from the turmoil. I needed to write, but I couldn’t focus at the house...” I lie. Her breath catches. “So, you abandoned me at my lowest point to write fucking songs? Knowing that you were the only thing I had to keep me sane?” she asks, fury leaking out through her gritted teeth.  

My heart falls out of my chest and straight through the floor. I want to tell her everything. I want so, so badly to explain myself and lay everything out on the table, but I can’t. I can’t complicate things for her any more than they already are. If she needs to hate me for this, then that’s okay. Maybe that’ll be better in the long run. 

I stay silent for a moment before I apologize to her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, love, I promise I didn’t.” But before she can respond, someone calls my name from down the corridor. She nods once, almost to herself, and gathers her notebook, standing slowly. “Guess we should get back to it.” she says in an attempt to be dismissive as if the conversation didn’t hurt her. I understand why. She’s got her walls up again, and it’s my fault. I nod. But long after she walks away, I remain seated. Because I know this now: distance didn’t protect either of us. It only made the inevitable louder. 

__________  (My POV) 

Vessel's back, just like that. No warning. No explanation. He’s here again, like the silence he left behind didn’t cut clean through me. Like being abandoned by my only friend didn’t push me off the edge and into a deep, dark headspace. I tell myself not to feel anything about it. But of course, I do. 

When I first saw him, standing there in the shadow of the stage door, hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes unreadable, I almost said his name out loud. Almost. Instead, I said hi like we were strangers who remember too much. And when he answered, it felt like someone had lit a candle in the middle of a cold room.  

I should’ve said more. I should’ve said where the hell did you go? I should’ve said I missed you every night you weren’t there. But I didn’t. Because part of me still believes I don’t have the right to be angry at someone who never promised me anything. 

__________ 

Later, after soundcheck, I find myself alone in the corridor, leaning against the wall. That’s when III finds me. His steps are quiet today. Careful. “Hey,” he says, soft. I look at him. He looks… haunted. Tired in a way I recognize in myself. Eyes rimmed with a kind of sorrow I’ve seen before, but never aimed inward like this. “I meant what I said the other night,” he continues. “About being sorry.” 

I nod, but my chest is a coil of something I can’t name. He steps a little closer. “I don’t know how to undo what I’ve done,” he says. “But I want to be better. For you. For us.” And I want to believe him. God, I want to. Because there’s a part of me that still remembers who he was before all this. There’s a part of me that I think still loves him and wishes to see him succeed. The fire. The thrill. The way he made me feel like the center of gravity. But I also remember the yelling. The nights he made me question whether I was the problem. The words he threw like knives. The silence that followed when he realized he’d cut me too deep. “I need time,” I tell him, my tone flat, but defeated. His jaw tenses. Just a flicker. “Time for what?” “To figure out if I’m still in love with you,” I say. “Or just in love with the memory of who you used to be.” He doesn’t answer. Just nods once, sharp and unreadable. 

Then he walks away, hands in his pockets, shoulders tight like he’s trying not to collapse in on himself. When I’m alone again, I exhale like I haven’t been breathing for days. And the worst part? I’m still not sure who I’m angry at more; him, for hurting me, or Vessel, for leaving when I was breaking. I sob silently, my shoulders trembling as the dams behind my eyes break. 

__________ 

That night, I find Vessel in the green room. He’s tuning his guitar, head down, completely absorbed. I stand there a moment, just taking him in. He doesn’t look up, but h doesn’t need to. Somehow, he knows it’s me. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he says, quiet. I sit beside him, arms crossed. “You did, though.” I murmur. “I know.” he replies solemnly. “You left me alone with all of it. With him.” He nods. “I thought it was the right thing to do.” “Why?” “Because being near you was starting to hurt.” I look at him then, really look. And he looks wrecked in the way only someone who kept everything inside too long can be. And suddenly I don’t want to argue. I just want to understand. 

__________ (My POV) 

I don’t sleep, not really. I doze, more like. I watch headlights bleed across the ceiling of the hotel room like ghosts trying to get in. Sometimes I hear Vessel’s voice in the back of my mind. Quiet. Careful. “Being near you was starting to hurt.” 

It keeps echoing. Not because I didn’t know it. But because I didn’t want to admit I felt it too. I could tell that I was just dragging him down right along with me. I really shouldn’t even be upset that he left. He did what was best for him, and I can’t fault him for that. He did what I still don’t know if I have the strength to do. 

The band’s call time is mid-morning, but I’m up early. Wandering. Coffee in one hand, jumper sleeves tugged past my knuckles. No one stops me as I make my way through the quiet hallways. 

I find myself in the venue's small backstage lounge, still empty, lit by cold grey morning light. I sit cross-legged on the couch, mug balanced between my palms, and let the quiet press in. It feels like the only thing that makes sense anymore. 

I think I’m grieving. Not a death, but something close. Grieving the version of myself that believed love could fix things. Grieving the boy I fell for, who lit up a room and made me feel like the only thing he wanted to hold onto. Grieving the space between me and Vessel, safe and sacred. But it doesn’t feel like something I’m allowed to want, either. Not after being accused of sleeping with him multiple times, or after dragging him right down into my personal life bullshit. I feel guilty that it’s affected him on this large of a scale. I never meant for it to happen. I just needed someone. 

I tried so hard to keep everyone together. To smooth over cracks with innocent affection. But now I feel hollow. And no one notices how quiet I've become, because I was always the quiet one beside the chaos.

When I close my eyes, I remember the first time III kissed me. The thrill. The fall. The fire. Now, when I picture him, I see the look in his eyes when he told me I was just like the others. And when I picture Vessel… I see hands that never reached for me without asking. I see a room made safe just by his presence. But he left, and I don’t know what that makes him anymore. 

The door creaks open behind me, slow. I don’t turn around. I know that footstep. Vessel says nothing at first. Then: “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” “I could say the same.” He hesitates. “Are you alright?” “I don’t know,” I whisper. And there it is again; honesty, raw and painful. He doesn’t sit next to me, he just stands near the door, unsure. Instead, I say: “I feel like I’m mourning someone who’s still alive.” He finally steps forward. “That’s the hardest kind of grief,” he says. “The kind that still breathes.”

We stay like that for a long time. Quiet, still, not healed, but not alone either. 

__________  (Vessel’s POV) 

I’ve never felt this useless before. Not on tour. Not in music. Not even in grief. Because with music, I can give something back. I can channel pain; alchemize it into something people find meaning in. But with her… I can’t make a sound that will make any of this right. She said she feels like she’s mourning someone who’s still alive, and I know exactly who she meant. And I hate that I couldn’t stop it. I hate that I left her behind in that room, in that house, in that wreckage. I told myself I was protecting her. Protecting the band. Protecting myself. But mostly, I was afraid. Afraid of what I’d say if I stayed. Afraid of touching something I couldn’t ever take back. Afraid of ruining my brotherhood within the band. Because I don’t just love her, I ache for her. And I think part of me has since the day I saw her in that lounge. 

When she spoke today, sitting cross-legged in that empty lounge, voice cracked and far away, I didn’t know how to breathe properly. She looked like a flame that had run out of air. Not extinguished, just… flickering. Smoldering. I wanted to reach for her, but something stopped me. The same thing that’s always stopped me. Respect. Restraint. Fear. If I reach for her now, it won’t be out of comfort. It’ll be because of want. And that kind of want has teeth. 

She’s still with him. Technically. But even he must see it; the way she’s slipping further away each time he tries to hold her tighter. He never learned that love isn’t about possession. It’s about presence. And presence, real presence, doesn’t leave bruises behind, literal or metaphorical. 

I pick up my notebook and write a few bars. Chords that feel like autumn; soft endings and the promise of something colder underneath. I write until the ache in my fingers distracts me from the ache in my chest. It doesn’t help, but it’s something. 

Maybe IV was right all along. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner. But if I had, she might never have trusted me the way she does now. And maybe, just maybe, the only reason she’s still standing, however unsteady, is because I didn’t say the thing I’ve been dying to say. 

I love you. I love you enough to wait. Even if you never choose me. Even if you never know what that wait has cost me. I. Love. You. 

__________ (III’s POV) 

I think I’m losing her. And worse than that, I think she’s already checked out. 

She’s still here. Still walking these halls. Still sitting on the far side of green rooms with either a cup of tea or coffee between her hands like it’s the only thing holding her together. But her eyes don’t find me anymore. And when they do, they’re empty, lifeless, and they don’t stay. We used to be gravity. We used to be the only creatures on the planet who could love each other this much, more than anyone has ever loved anyone. Now she floats around me like something untethered. Completely disconnected. Like a ghost who hasn’t realized they’re dead yet. 

And I fucking hate how much I miss the version of her that looked at me like I was everything. Like the world would stop turning if she wasn’t by my side. But what I hate more is the version of me who burned that out of her. I saw her talking to Vessel again. She talks to him more than anybody else lately, even me. Especially me. Didn’t have to hear what was said. The way her shoulders softened. The way she looked up when he walked in, like she was remembering how to be a person again.  

And him. Always still. Always present. Like he’s been standing in the same place all along just waiting for her to notice he never moved. I believe she’s already forgiven him for disappearing. I just wish it were that easy for her to forgive me. But I didn’t abandon her. What I’ve done is much worse. I’ve made her abandon herself. 

Part of me wants to hit him. Not because he’s done anything wrong. Because he hasn’t done anything wrong. And maybe that’s the part that kills me most. Seems like everyone around me is just so fucking perfect. Why did she choose me over them? Her judgement is shite, I’ll tell you that. The prospect that I’m probably one of the worst decisions she’s made in her life seeps over me slowly, maddeningly. It raises chill bumps so strongly on my flesh that it’s painful and it settles in my stomach like fucking granite. 

These blokes are my brothers. We’ve been through it all and stayed close. Tours, being fucking doxed, stress, exhaustion, women, men, depression, failure, longing. Everything. Yet somehow, I don’t resent them for taking her side. It definitely raises red flags for that little voice in the back of my fucking skull. But the question is, it is some unlikely coincidence that all three of my brothers want to fuck her, or am I just the intolerable asshole? I think I finally have my answer. If only I could keep myself reminded of that when I’m pissed. My brain falls out of my ass when I’m angry and I say and do whatever it takes to hurt, and I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out why that is. But I do know that I can’t keep hurting people dear to me while I try to figure it out. 

IV won’t look at me properly lately. He talks like I’m something fragile he’s not allowed to set down too fast. Vessel tries to talk to me and hang in my room to play games with me, but it’s tense, and I can tell there’s a hundred things he’d like to say, but he won’t. II acts like he doesn’t even hear me half the time, and he’s got this kind of scowl that settles on his face whenever I enter the room. And I know what that means. It means they’re preparing for the fallout. It means they think she’s what needs protecting now. And they’re probably right.   

Last night, I walked past her door. I didn’t knock, didn’t say anything. Just stood there with my fist clenched at my side like I could punch my guilt into submission. I thought about everything I could say. I’m sorry. I’m scared. I love you. Do you regret me? I don’t know how to love someone who won’t run from the worst parts of me. 

But I didn’t say any of it. Because I know it’s too late for words. And too early for the consequences. When she finally walks away for good, I know I won’t try to stop her. Not because I don’t want to. Because I won’t know how. Because I know it’ll be the best thing for her. And I fucking hate that that’s true. 

__________ (IV’s POV) 

Some people think silence is absence. But silence can be everything. The unsaid. The unfinished. The unbearable. It fills rooms when people forget how to listen. And lately, it follows her like a second skin. She’s unraveling. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just... fading. She speaks less. Smiles less. Leaves cups half-finished, and thoughts even more so. I pass her in hallways and her eyes flicker like she’s somewhere else entirely. She haunts the halls in clothing that no longer fits her frame with the cuffs of the sleeves clenched in her fists at her side. She’s paler, smaller, and I swear her hair looks thinner. Like she’s wasting away right in front of our eyes, and we’re just... letting it happen. She’s not broken. Not yet. She’s exhausted. And I don’t think any of them see that the way I do. My anger at the situation flares as my fists clench at my sides and nearly collide with the navy-painted drywall next to me. 

III’s unraveling too. In his own way. You can see it in the way he stands; shoulders hunched, always braced for impact. Like he’s already expecting to lose everything and trying to decide whether he deserves it. I don’t think he knows how to stop the cycle he’s created.  He only knows how to brace for the wreckage. 

And Vessel? He’s a shadow of what he used to be. There’s grief in his stillness now. A kind of waiting. A kind of knowing. He looks at her like he’s reading a prayer he’ll never say out loud. And she looks at him like she’s afraid to believe there’s still something safe in this house. He tries to offer her some sort of solace and relief, but I don’t think even that is enough anymore. None of us know how to help her. Well, we do, but it’s not exactly something you can force. 

They all orbit each other now, in loops so tight I’m not sure how we’ve avoided collision this long. But it’s coming. You can feel it in the walls. In the tension before soundcheck. In the way we all avoid being the first to speak when we enter a room. We’re all just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

She’s going to leave soon. Not forever, maybe. But far enough that we’ll all have to learn how to speak in past tense. I don’t know if it’ll be a silent break or an explosive one, but at this point it is inevitable. And I believe we’re all terrified of the possibilities and the carnage. As for me, I’ll be here. As I’ve always been. Holding steady ground. Watching. Waiting. Saying nothing. Until I have to. 

__________  (My POV) 

I don’t go back to III’s room that night. Or the night after. At first, I sleep in the spare room or on couches at venues. I stay in corners of the green room with headphones on, pretending the world is quieter than it is. Then Vessel offers his floor. No questions. Just a folded blanket and a soft, “You’re safe here if you need it.” And I do. More than I want to admit. 

He never crosses the space between us. Not even in sleep. He stays on his side, and I stay on mine. But sometimes, on the hardest nights, I hear the soft scrape of his guitar or the slow scratch of his pen in the dark. Those sounds settle me in a way III’s arms never could. Not anymore. Just knowing that he’s there. That I’m okay in this space. It’s a massive comfort. 

III barely speaks to me now. He doesn’t ask where I go at night. Doesn’t follow. But I see it in the way he watches me from across the room. The twitch of his jaw. The way his fingers curl into fists when he sees me next to Vessel, even if we’re only sitting in silence. He knows. Or at least, he suspects. And that’s worse somehow, because there’s nothing happening. But the air between me and Vessel is so thick with almost that I don’t even know how to name it anymore. He’s a shelter in the storm. His kindness and understanding are always unwavering. Unconditional. He never asks for anything in return, and I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why he does it. Part of me keeps waiting to find the end of his patience, because I know he won’t tolerate me and all my bullshit forever. No one can give forever. He’s already left once, so I know he’ll do it again. And I dread that day with every fiber and filament of my bones.  

One evening after soundcheck, I fall asleep on Vessel’s hotel bed while he works quietly on a song across the room. When I wake up, there’s a mug of peppermint tea on the nightstand and a blanket over my shoulders. No note. No gesture made of it. Just care, offered without condition. And for a moment, it hurts more than anything III ever said. Because it reminds me what love is supposed to feel like, even if it’s platonic. 

The next day, III finally speaks. Not with words. With silence that’s sharper than glass. He doesn’t greet me. Doesn’t look at me when we pass each other in the hallway. And later, when I laugh for the first time in days at something II says during load-in, I catch him watching me from the back of the room. Eyes like cold fire. Mouth set. Hands clenched at his sides. That night, when the lights go down after the set, I know it’s coming. The waves are rapidly receding, and what comes after will be catastrophic.  

I try to avoid him after the show. I duck backstage, stick close to Vessel and IV, act busy. But he finds me in the corridor near the stairwell, just outside Vessel’s room. “Where’ve you been?” he asks, voice low. “Getting air.” I reply, trying to keep my tone even. “With him?” he demands quietly. I fold my arms, my eyes rolling ever-so-slightly. “Don’t do this. "I say, pleading. He takes a step closer. “Then tell me what’s going on.” “Nothing,” I snap. “Because I’m not allowed to feel anything, remember? I’m just supposed to sit there and absorb the heat while you burn through everything else.” “You’re staying in his room.” he seethes. “Because I feel safe there.” He recoils. Just a little. I wish I could take the words back. But I don’t. Because they’re true. 

His voice drops. Quieter. More dangerous. “I knew it.” he scoffs. “There’s nothing going on between us, III You don’t get to virtually ignore me for two weeks, then pop up and accuse me of sleeping with your friend, my friend! Have you ever considered that maybe, just fucking maybe, he’s my goddamn friend too?!” I say lowly my voice raising in tone, the exasperation in my tone evident. “But you want there to be something there, don’t you.” he retorts, blatantly ignoring my outrage. And the worst part is… I don’t know how to answer. Because there’s a version of myself, somewhere, maybe not far, who might. I truthfully do not know. I’ve been so completely consumed by this shit with III that I can’t see anything or anyone else; not even myself. I’m just trying to fucking survive. 

“I needed you,” I say, voice cracking. “And you made me feel like I was the enemy.” He shakes his head. “You chose to walk away from me.” he says. “No. I escaped.” I sneer. That’s when he slams his hand against the wall. Not near me. Not touching me. But close enough that the shock of it trembles through my spine. I don’t flinch. But I want to. His chest heaves. His eyes burn. And for a split second, I think he might say something venomous. 

But all he manages is: “Don’t go back to his room tonight.” I meet his gaze. Steady. Hollow. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

__________ (My POV) 

I wake to the sound of fists on wood. Not a knock. A threat. The kind of pounding that rattles the walls, vibrates through the floor, and hits your chest before your ears can catch up. It’s jarring. Violent. Familiar in a way that makes my blood run cold. Then I hear the voice. Slurred. Loud. His. 

“Open the fucking door!” III screams. My body goes rigid. Breath catches hard in my throat as I sit up too fast, the sheets twisted around my legs like a trap. Another crash sounds as he throws himself against the door, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. “I know she’s in there, you bastard! Come on, open up!” he slurs. 

Beside me, Vessel shoots upright, wide awake in an instant. His hair’s a mess. His torso is exposed, but he’s still cladded in the sweats he laid down in. But his eyes are clear. Alert. He turns to me. “Stay here.” “No, don’t,” I whisper, reaching for his arm. “He’s drunk. He’ll hurt you.” I plead. “I’m not letting him scare you.” Vessel says, a hint of protectiveness in his tone. Another crash. 

“Don’t make me break this fucking door down!” III is relentless. My heart stutters violently. A cold sweat breaks across the back of my neck. I want to disappear. Vessel stands, pulling his hoodie on over his head in one sharp motion. He moves to the door slowly, deliberately. Calm. Controlled. But I see the tension in his back. I see the way his jaw clenches. I hear it in his breath. 

The second the deadbolt turns, the door swings open hard, bouncing off the doorstop on the opposite wall. III stumbles into the room without waiting. His shirt is half-buttoned, hair soaked from sweat or rain or both, and he reeks; cheap whiskey, sweat, rage. “You fucking snake,” he snarls at Vessel. “You thieving, gutless little leech-” Vessel doesn’t move. “She’s mine. You hear me? She’s not yours to sneak into at night like a fucking vulture.” 

His eyes land on me, curled in the bed, frozen. “And you, you lying little slag-” III spits.  “Enough,” Vessel says, voice low, but shaking now. “You’ve been shagging him this whole time, haven’t you? Behind my back-” III continues, ignoring Vessel’s warning. “Shut up!” I scream, voice cracking with something between rage and terror. “You don’t get to speak to me like that anymore!” He laughs. Not joyfully. Ugly. Bitter. Cruel. “No? You move on that fast? What, you get bored of me, decide to shack up with the mute martyr instead?” Vessel’s fists clench at his sides as he yells through gritted teeth, “Goddamn it III, stop! I never touched her!” III completely ignores him, continuing to step toward me as I stand from the bed, hands clasped in front of my chest; a form of protecting myself from III’s barrage of insults and accusations. “You think this wanker’s gonna love you better? He’s not even a man. He’s a ghost in a fucking hoodie,” Vessel moves. Not toward him. He just stands straighter. Solid. Breathing heavy now. And then, like a dam bursting- “I love her.” It cuts through everything. III stops. Blinks. The room goes still. Even I stop breathing. Vessel stares at him like fire incarnate. 

“I love her, you twisted, selfish bastard. I have loved her through every fucking tear you caused. Every bruise on her spirit. Every time she smiled like it hurt.” His voice rises now, no longer calm. “I watched her fade because of you. And I kept my mouth shut. Because I thought she needed to fight her way out of you on her own. But I can’t stand here anymore while you stand in this room and call her such vile things.” III’s face contorts. Rage. Shame. Fury. He steps forward, and shoves Vessel hard in the chest. Vessel doesn’t even stumble. 

He absorbs it. Then explodes. “You think you’re a man because you know how to break things? Because you know how to control people with fear and fists and tears? You call that love? You call what you did to her devotion?” His chest is heaving now, his gestures wild and flailing, eyes wide and face red. His voice shakes with every word. “I was there when she stopped eating. When she cried in dressing rooms. When she slept in stairwells because she was too scared to go back to you. I was there when she said she felt like she was disappearing.” His voice cracks. 

And when he speaks again, it’s devastated. “And I loved her through all of it. Quietly. Respectfully. Desperately. Because I knew touching her before she was ready would make me no better than you.” III doesn’t respond. Because what can he say? He’s finally lost the one thing he thought he owned. Not because Vessel stole me. Because he let me slip away. He pushed me away as hard as he could. I step out from behind the bed. Barefoot. Shaking. But no longer afraid. “Leave,” I say. He looks at me. Something flickers in his eyes. Not love. Not hate. Just emptiness and intoxication. 

He gives us both a nod, his eyes fixed on the ground as he turns walks out without another word. The door clicks shut behind him. The silence that follows is deafening. Vessel turns to me. But I don’t speak. I walk into him like gravity’s pulling me there. My arms wrap around his waist. His hoodie smells like sweat and soap, and he holds me like he’s terrified I’ll shatter. 

We stay like that for a long time. No words. Just breathing.  

__________ (My POV) 

The door is closed. The shouting has stopped. The silence that follows is thicker than anything III could’ve screamed. But it’s not empty. It’s heavy. Breathing. Full of everything we haven’t said. Vessel sits at the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands braced on his knees like he’s holding up the weight of the night. I’m still standing, a few feet away, wrapped in my oversized hoodie like its armor. We quietly and solemnly coexist in this charged space, contemplating, processing, comprehending. Part of me is waiting for the door to slam open again. It doesn’t. Neither of us move. Not for a while. 

Not until I speak. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” My voice barely cuts through the quiet. But he hears it. His shoulders rise. Fall. Still, he doesn’t look at me. “Because it wasn’t my place.” That makes my chest ache. “Even when I was falling apart?” I whisper. My saddened gaze drifts over and falls upon his form. 

He finally turns to me. His eyes are tired. Raw. Still burning faintly from the fire he unleashed only minutes ago. But there’s no regret there. Only grief, and something softer. “I saw the cracks,” he says. “But I also saw how hard you were trying to hold everything together. I didn’t want to be one more thing pulling you in another direction.” I give a moment of pause, then I reply, “You wouldn’t have been.” “You were with him.” he mutters. “That doesn’t mean you had to stay silent.” I say, my tone low and sympathetic. “No,” he says. “But I chose to.” I step forward. “Why?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was another man waiting for you to break so I could sweep in and collect the pieces.” I stop. That lands harder than I expect. “I just wanted you safe,” he adds. “Even if it meant loving you from far enough away that you never had to carry the weight of it.” I sit beside him. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him. Close enough to hurt. 

I reach out, slowly, fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. “And now?” His breath catches. “Now I wish I’d told you sooner,” he admits. Silence again. But it’s not cold this time. It’s full of the question neither of us wants to ask. What now? 

We lie back on the bed without saying anything more. Fully dressed. Barefoot. Facing each other in the low light, heads on opposite pillows. His fingers find mine between us, tentative at first, then certain. His hand is warm. Steady. Safe. Like he’s always been. 

“Do you still feel it?” I ask. He blinks. “What?” “The love. For me.” His jaw tightens. Then he nods. “I think I always will.” It should scare me. It doesn’t. Not anymore. 

I shift closer, resting my forehead against his. He closes his eyes. His voice is almost a breath. “I would’ve waited years if it meant you got to find peace.” I don’t cry. I just lean in, eyes fluttering shut, and kiss him once. Slow, soft, full of everything we’ve both left unsaid. His lips don’t move like he’s claiming something. They move like he’s letting go. 

When we part, neither of us speaks. We just stay there. Holding each other. He pulls me gently against his chest, and I curl into him like I was made for the space between his arms. There’s nothing rushed. Nothing possessive. Only this moment. Only us. If this is the last night we ever get to feel this… I’m glad it feels like home. 

__________  (Vessel’s POV) 

She’s asleep in my arms. Her breath is slow, steady, warm against the hollow of my collarbone. One leg draped across mine. Her hand still lightly curled in the fabric of my hoodie like she needs to hold onto something even in sleep. And I don’t move. Not a muscle. Not even to blink more than I need to. Because this… This might be the only night I ever get to hold her like this. And I don’t want to lose a single second of it. 

The room is quiet, lit only by the soft amber glow from the lamp by the bed. Outside, the city hums faintly; taxis, wind, rain tapping softly against the window like it knows not to intrude. Inside, the silence feels alive. Sacred. She kissed me. She kissed me and I didn’t deserve it. Not because I’ve done something wrong, but because she’s not mine to keep. She never was. But for a moment… For a breath in time that I’ll never forget… She was. 

I replay it again. The feel of her lips on mine. Soft. Uncertain. Full of gratitude and sadness and the tiniest echo of something that might have been love. She kissed me like it might be the first and the last. And I kissed her back like I knew it absolutely was. 

Not because she’ll leave me. Not because we’ll part ways in some dramatic fashion. But because the version of her that needed me like this, the broken, aching girl who found safety in the space beside me, she’s going to begin to heal. And healing means she won’t need to hold my hand forever. I want her to be free. Even if that means she runs from me. Even if she wakes tomorrow and never kisses me again. 

God, she’s beautiful. Not in the way people usually mean it. Not the magazine kind. Not the stage-lights kind. She’s beautiful because she feels. Because she stayed soft even when the world tried to sharpen her. Because when she looks at you, really looks, it’s like she’s seeing past every lie you’ve ever told yourself. Every shred of self-doubt, every insecurity. 

 And when she smiled at me tonight, that tiny, tired smile, it felt like forgiveness. Not for something I’d done. But for everything I hadn’t said. Why didn’t I say something sooner? Because I was terrified. Terrified that loving her would be selfish. Terrified that she’d turn away. Terrified that she’d look at me and see someone else trying to claim her. 

So I kept it buried. I let myself love her in silence. In glances. In stupid small things. Like knowing how she takes her tea without asking. Like standing between her and the press when she flinched at the flash. Like sitting with her in dressing rooms when she didn’t want to be alone but couldn’t quite say why. 

I’ve loved her every day in invisible ways. And tonight, when she finally looked me in the eye and asked if I still felt it, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Because it’s never stopped. Not once. 

 I should’ve left the kiss alone. But I couldn’t. When her lips brushed mine, I felt the whole weight of restraint I’ve carried for months crack straight down the middle. She kissed me like she was giving me something precious. And I kissed her back like it hurt to breathe. I didn’t press for more. Didn’t deepen it. Didn’t pull her closer. Because this isn’t about getting. This is about being. Being the place where she can finally fall apart without fear. Being the arms that hold without taking. Being the answer to a question she didn’t even know she was asking. 

She shifts in her sleep, pressing her face closer to my chest. Her breath ghosts across my skin, and I swear it almost makes me cry. 

I’ve spent years on the road. I’ve stood before thousands in silence. I’ve worn a mask every night and never once felt as exposed as I do now, lying in bed beside the one person I would give my entire soul to, just to make sure she wakes up tomorrow feeling lighter than she did yesterday. And she’s here. Wrapped around me. Trusting me. Needing nothing more than space and warmth and presence. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to give. 

What happens tomorrow, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll still need me. Maybe she won’t. Maybe we’ll move forward into something neither of us can name yet. Or maybe this is the chapter that ends without a sequel. But no matter what comes next, I know one thing. Tonight mattered. This moment, this hour lying in the dark, hearts beating just inches apart, no walls between us, it’s real. And no one can take it from me. 

I close my eyes. Let my fingers softly trace the curve of her spine through the cotton of her shirt. Just once. A ghost of a touch. She exhales, a content, unconscious sigh, and nuzzles in closer. And I know… Whatever this was. Whatever this is… It’s love. And I will never love anyone the way I love her now. Quietly. Fiercely. Completely. Even if I never say it again. Even if this is the last night she ever lets me hold her like this. 

@yourgirlisa here you go! If you'd like to be added here, let me know.

[greencreekwolf]

so it's a new year and i have a lot of feelings about that but at the same time also none. there's been a lot that's not great. this past year was the second year spent without one of the people i love most and i know i will never get used to that. a lot has stayed the same. im still lonely, still working at a job that feels like it's sucking out my soul, still struggling without the help i need, still forced to mask and for the most part stay in the closet, so yeah not a lot of good, a lot of hurt. ive been stuck for so long and i honestly expect the same of this year. BUT i don't want to give so much power to the bad that I can't acknowledge the good. i don't want it to get as bad as it did last night when i was contemplating doing something i can't take back. i gotta believe there's a way for things to get better and that i can get to that better. and in the meantime there's a lot im thankful for. my cats who bring me a comfort and companionship ive been missing for so long. my cousin who is hilarious and wild and makes me laugh no matter what. writing, something ive discovered brings me peace and happiness and helps me cope more than almost anything. i learned to bookbind which is fucking cool. i read so many fun books that changed my brain chemistry. i went to a concert for the first time in years and had so much fun. i went to a musical and it changed my life. ive already got tickets to more concerts and musicals to give me something to look forward to and just because if i don't decide to live my life it won't get lived which scares me more than anything. ive made friends here, true friends, who show me such care and understanding unlike anything ive known before. people who i can be honest and safe with, people who i can lose my mind with and talk about the wildest stuff and have such a good time with. i haven't had a lot of that in my life and im so grateful for it, for yall, for 911 because it made the creation of these relationships possible. there's a lot i still gotta work through, a lot i gotta learn to be open about and i guess this rambling mess of a post is my attempt at trying. so im glad im here, im glad it's a new year full of possibilities that im gonna take advantage of. and yeah i know sometimes there will be more days where i don't wanna be here at all but im well practiced at getting through those and i think i got a lot to stay for. ive kinda gone back and forth on whether to tag people or not, and honestly there's a bunch of you that i adore and am grateful for, but yknow my memory is shit and my brain is kind of shutting down from all this reflecting so i will leave this as is. BUT i do gotta acknowledge @spaceprincessem @shitouttabuck @hippolotamus @dr-shortsighted-owl @colonoscopys @giddyupbuck because yall have been some of the brightest spots of my year and have made each day easier and better and i love yall with all my heart (as well as everyone else not mentioned, my beloved moots, yall are precious to me) and i truly look forward to another year with all of you 💖

[autisticlalna]

okay ive managed to get some sleep, let's try and explain this in a way that makes sense outside of my brain

so Viking and Ruby both have like. extensive multiverse going on. and all of how it functions is established in a different series, but is still relevant to Skyblock Kingdoms because of whatever the beans Cherruby is up to.

the most basic gist is: they have shared lore where Viking is the manifestation of space and Ruby is the manifestation of time, although i guess only when they're in the same world together? there's also an infinite number of Vikings and Rubys throughout the multiverse, and we have this info because of a version of Viking that has space powers and a version of Ruby that has time powers on Twitch SMP. this is also all connected to the clock and compass that Ruby has on Skyblock Kingdoms, so that's why this is getting upgraded to "oh god this is relevant and i need to explain it" rather than me going "HEY THIS IS WHY I CALL THEM SPACETIME SIBLINGS BTW :D"

for the more complicated explanation, I HAVE DRAWN SOME DIAGRAMS.

behold: a basic Rubyco and a basic VikingPilot. they're siblings! they're also universal constants, seeing as you can't have a functioning world without time and space and these two dinguses represent those foundational aspects. we have no idea how this happened, and 99% of them dont know either, or even know what their roles are. they're just hanging out.

also, like, if one or both of them permadies, stuff presumably explodes. so far this hasn't been like, relevant, but it's been brought up so i should probably include that tidbit somewhere.

along with Ruby and Viking, there's also the Clock and Compass-- the Clock belongs to Ruby, and the Compass belongs to Viking. if neither of them are in a universe together, then the Clock and Compass show up as separate entities. (also they're labeled Tempus and Locus in galactic when we saw them in Twitch SMP, but there was also a bit where the fandom was nicknaming a Ruby and a Viking Tempus and Locus so it gets a bit confusing.)

however, if one of them is missing-- like, say, there's only Ruby and there was never a Viking in that universe-- then the other sibling gets demoted from "load-bearing pillar of the universe" to "normal guy" and the job of stabilizing space and time is instead done by the Clock and Compass, just like if they were both gone. i think.

for any situation where it's only Viking or only Ruby you can disregard this chunk of their lore as "not relevant" - they're a pair, do not separate. this was also the part i was confused on before, and to be honest im still not sure if im getting it right because the phrasing was vaguer than i remembered. we'll see what happens when i start transcribing tsmp lore again.

ANYWAY. we know this because of these dorks:

...specifically the bottom two, but tRuby and tViking are also important here.

Sapphire and Navigator are... sort of a matching pair? Navigator's a mess, let's pretend he's paired with Sapphire. (Sapphire's actual counterpart Viking is missing in action.) they're also the only two we know of so far that a) know about their roles and b) have the powers to prove it.

Sapphire can reset the timeline at-will (mainly to bring tRuby back to life, but has also used this to drag Navigator back when he swapped out), and has knowledge of past and future. Navigator can swap himself and other people between universes, and has knowledge of things going on in other universes involving his counterparts. Sapphire can't leave the universe he's trapped in, and Navigator is bad at anything involving time.

however, neither of them are native to the Twitch SMP universe! we don't know where they're from, but Sapphire got put there as gay baby jail and Navigator pops in to check in on her. tRuby and tViking are also not native to that universe; they were originally from TwitchCon SMP, but Nav felt bad that they're from a short-lived world and transplanted them into TSMP. they're also the only other matching set we know of besides Nav and Sapph, which might be why tRuby is able to remember past timelines and why tViking is aware of things other Vikings have done. also removing them from their home universe was probably a bad idea for that universe's continued survival but it was literally about to end anyways, so,

Nav and Sapph also can't manifest a body outside of their home universe (???), so for gay baby jail to work there needed to be a Ruby for him to possess and, uh, there kinda wasn't one in TSMP. before Nav's intervention, there was the Clock and Compass keeping things stable. (probably a good thing, because tRuby dies a lot and tViking exploded. he got better.)

but out of the Vikings and Rubys we've seen so far, Nav and Sapph are kinda the outliers in category of "actually knowing about and being able to do stuff with their powers". god wait shit fuck this raises even more questions about Navigator but im not going to get into that right now. ANYWAY

so now we've got a mismatched pair! Cherruby isn't from SBK, but we don't know how it got here or what the world it left behind was like. there's a possibility that Cherruby has a corresponding Viking back home (bc she did mention missing family), but there's also moments pointing towards her being solo. also somehow they found the Clock and Compass and has been holding onto them, and they're under observation for reasons probably related to that.

Summertime, meanwhile, presumably has No Fucking Idea. without there being a Ruby native to SBK*, he's been demoted to Normal Guy status and therefore doesn't have to deal with any of this. maybe. it's, uh, getting kinda fuzzier now that the whole "had a flashback to Dominion" thing happened. god i have no idea what's going on with him

(* Cloneby got brought up, but i don't think ze qualifies considering ze was created partway through. and also i don't know if Avid can, like, do that. especially with Cloneby being an imperfect replica, and cc!Ruby drawing attention to the fact that Cloneby doesn't have the clock despite it being part of Cherruby's design.)

you can now see why i decided to include drawings bc otherwise this is an absolute brick of text. TWITCH SMP IS A SERIES WHERE SO MUCH HAPPENS IN IT.

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E10 - The French Connection

The episode from which I found out that there are some islands close to Canada that belong to France somehow. And apparently now there's also a crime show set in those islands?

From Wikipedia: Saint-Pierre is a Canadian police procedural television series, slated to premiere in the 2024–25 season on CBC Television. The series stars Alan Hawco as Donny "Fitz" Fitzpatrick, a police officer with the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary; after one of his investigations gets uncomfortably close to the corruption of a powerful local politician, he is exiled to the French territory of Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, where he partners with local police officer Geneviève "Arch" Archambault (Joséphine Jobert) to to solve local crimes.

Now, wait a second. That's about half the plot of this Hudson and Rex episode!

Anyway, on to the episode.

A girl carrying baguettes on a bicycle???

"I hope he's not some pretentious Godard-quoting chain smoker." Just once, look around before you speak.

I got you now, mister Black Coffee. That's more milk than what I put in my latte.

We've already established some of the most popular stereotypes for French and Canadian people. Valerie is already snobbish and Charlie has already apologized once.

While on duty?

Oh my god his face when the dude spits out the gin in the spit bucket lmao

I like many kinds of drinks but I admit that gin leaves me uninterested. I don't know what it is about it.

Well, hello there, Aaron Ashmore, twin brother of Shawn Ashmore. For anyone who doesn't know, this not the guy who's on The Rookie, but he is the guy who was on Killjoys, with Mayko Nguyen.

People keep handing Valerie drinks and Charlie keeps saying "we're on duty". Just give up.

Why does he look so happy to be digging through trash???

Claire just said that there's no law against lying to the police. What?

Valerie, when you doubt Charlie, it's funny. When you doubt Sarah and Rex, you sound like a twat.

Well, don't sound so proud about it.

"You're more comfortable with dogs than people". Probably, but that's because people are often twats.

Charlie's face is pure comedy in this episode. So funny.

Sarah gets to go undercover AND drink gin. Well, if we call that drinking.

She says "you guys" but only looks at Charlie. You're not even subtle.

Charlie: Oh, hell to the no. This is a trap.

Valerie is not wrong here. That's gross, not to mention unsanitary. He'd put so much milk in it that it must have gone bad by now. And judging by his reaction when he takes a sip, it probably has. Never drink coffee with dairy that's been left out for more than two hours, folks.

I only wish I could capture the following scene with Sarah and Jesse competing on who's going to deliver the new evidence that they have found out. But I think Sarah's "I'll fucking murder that twink" face is very telling.

Now, cognac, I like. Although, according to google, the most expensive cognac is Henri IV, not V. I'm sure they've written that intentionally. The real cognac is worth up to 2 million dollars, by the way. People are crazy.

Charlie does not understand any of this and to be honest, neither am I. Any bottle of wine that costs more than 20 Euros is a scam. Any clear alcohol like whiskey, gin, rum, vodka, that costs more than 50 Euros is also a scam.

"No CCTV cameras anywhere. You might say that it's the perfect place for murder". I don't remember a lot of cases outdoors that were solved by watching CCTV cameras either way. Which makes sense. I mean, how many CCTV cameras does a city like St. John's need?

This is such a funny episode, really.

We must do this at least once in any Rex adaptation. I bet it's in the contracts lol

Joe: *counts* One [Valerie], two [Charlie], *skips Jesse* three of you [Rex] are going on a trip. lol poor Jesse.

*tries to speak French and gets guns pointed at him* Come on, it wasn't that bad, was it? (Yes, I'd have put that line in there if I could.)

That's why he'll move soon!

The chase scene was good too.

Ugh, Valerie has her finger on the trigger. No.

Joe: "Can anyone explain to me why I was asked to comp a 300 dollar cognac bill?" Justice isn't cheap, Superintendent. Although for that many bottles... I mean, I can't find cognac that cheap here.

We had whiskey glasses in S1, what the hell happened?

Well, I enjoyed that. I didn't remember it was such a funny episode. And I maxed out the image limit again.

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part VIII

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5950 Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of trauma, abuse and possible death, some borrowed in game dialogue, suggestive, slight NSFW, canonical warnings apply!

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here part V: here part VI: here VII: here

Summary: Set in end stages of Act III. Astarion spends the day alone to gather his thoughts and prepare himself on how to make yet another confession - his love for you.

Notes:

Hi folks ♡ This is my take on non-ascended Astarion's romance scene in Act III, where I've continued to give him some more scenes between the Cazador fight and the romance scene -- because this poor vampire needs some time to decompress and breath and think! I daydreamed about a few of these scenes, and the dialogue was stuck in my brain and played on a loop until I finally got to write it down! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the culmination of all the little, patient moments between Astarion and GN!Reader/Tav that lead to this scene for them. I think there will probably only be a few more chapters for this series too! Crazy!!!

Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are very very appreciated ♡♡♡

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Astarion’s pale fingers were twitching against the inside of his palms as he studied the busy cobblestone street.

Pairs — that’s all he could see. The pair holding hands as they weaved through the crowd. A man gently tugging a woman to his side, out of the way of an incoming carriage, before tipping their heads back and laughing. Two men flashing each other nervous, flirty smiles as they picked out rings together. His eyes had been drawn to pairs for months now — ever since he’s realized he done the unthinkable and actually fallen for you. But usually they were pairs that he could only assume the stories of. Couples that were long gone, dead and forgotten about. Skeletons with intertwined fingers, or love letters from decades ago long lost to the Shadowlands. He hadn’t seen couples with futures — honest to god living, breathing, hopeful pairs. Whispering and sneaking glances and kisses. Gentle casual touches as they picked out fresh fruit and matching jewelry. People so full of hope and love. It made his half-dead heart ache for you. Wherever you were right now. He had remained behind today, not quite ready to face the world as the supposed “heroes” you all had become to the city. No, he wanted more time to figure out what all this meant for him. For you.

You had offered to stay with him after his morning feeding, your voice low and gentle as the others still slept. But he insisted you go — as much as that little voice in his head argued to not let you go. Someone had to be there to make sure nobody took advantage of your kind, selfless heart.

But if he had another moment with you he would probably blurt out some rambling, befuddled love confession. Which isn’t the way Astarion wanted to do things.

You both had done everything so backwards from the beginning. He wouldn’t mess this up too.

So, here he was — meandering through the busy market of Baldur’s Gate. Eyeing flowers and jewelry and goods as if they could adequately describe how he felt about you.

Roses and chocolates and dramatic passion in bed. That’s what he thought this was supposed to be. What he’d read it felt like, what he’d faked it to be.

But no.

You were sweet lilies and midnight orchids, honey and delicate pastries, the deep night sky and moonlight. You with your gentle, patient and maddening touches that turned everything he knew upside down.

Astarion never really got any of it — even with his broken concept of love. He didn’t understand the point of it.

Because it was never with you.

No, no flowers or chocolates or jewelry would really capture how he felt. None of it could dare come close to explaining the fluttering, buzzing, electric feeling that went through him at just the thought of you.

He wouldn’t rely on theatrics either — no perfectly placed blanket and bottle of wine in the middle of the woods. No practiced lines or trained movements that were practically a ritual at this point.

The vampire would speak from the heart. His cold, half-dead heart that was… well, feeling quite the opposite as of late.

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, the vampire took the long way back to the Elf Song Tavern — relishing the feeling of the sun heating his white hair, freckling the back of his neck. Memorizing the sights in the daytime colours, the different sounds of the busy streets.

Who knew how much longer he’d be able to take them in. That was part of what he gave away.

Another thing to come to terms with.

At least he got to make the decision for himself this time. Unlike most of his life.

The worn wooden stairs of the tavern creaked underneath Astarion as he went up to the group’s room. He marched through the ornate double doors before any nervousness or doubting thoughts slipped in at the prospect of seeing you.

But the room was quiet — the only sound a small crackling fire that must have been freshly set by housekeeping. There was no usual bustle of the dozen of you all — everyone still out in the city, doing whatever quest or do-good-ing someone insisted on today.

His pointed ear quirked slightly at a sound, and he turned his head towards it. The balcony doors were wide open, the sound of something lightly thumping the glass pane of the doors reached his ears. But he couldn’t see anything from here.

Moving heel to toe carefully to not announce himself, Astarion craned to see who it was before letting out a small sigh of relief. It was Karlach — her red tail hitting the glass softly as it swished back and forth. The rest of her was leaned up against the railing, with something hanging out of her mouth.

He let out a fake cough to get her attention, and she craned her head over her muscular shoulder to look at him. Her clawed fingers pulled a cigar out from her mouth, her lips pulling into a grin. “Hiya Fangs.”

Ugh, cigars. Astarion loathed the disgusting things — they reeked. “Karlach,” He greeted with a nod, leaning against the frame of the balcony door away from the smoke. “Back already?”

“Ah, never left.” She admitted a little sheepishly. “Wasn’t quite ready to face the world just yet.”

Right, Gortash. Gods, he’d been so wrapped up in everything that had happened to him that he’d almost forgotten. She’d asked for time to decompress after all of that too. Not that he blamed her.

The barbarian had even pulled herself together for his benefit — she was one of the first to jump to his defense when he announced to the group it was time to face his old Master.

He wondered if she got as much catharsis from killing Gortash as he did from killing the ancient vampire.

Probably not. Even with the lord dead she would still die. Not like him.

No, he'd get to live with that, like this, forever.

Sometimes he couldn’t decide what was worse. Cursed to die after finally seeing the sun and trees and ocean again. Or cursed to live forever with only fading memories of those things after longing for them for two hundred years.

It was a difficult question to answer. And now even more impossible with the added variable of his love for you — his very mortal, very breakable lover.

Astarion realized he had been silent for way too long then socially acceptable and blinked his red eyes back to reality.

Karlach had put the cigar out now thankfully, tossing her black and red hair over her shoulder as she braced her elbows on the metal railing. The rogue stepped forward to join her, pushing his hip against the railing as he looked down to the streets he had just been walking.

“I’m proud of you fangs, I hope you know that."

He raised a white brow at her as she continued. "I know it wasn’t easy… turning down what you did. But gods, are we glad you did.”

The vampire took a steadying breath, “I know… Now I just have to live with it. I’m not sure what will happen now, or once the tadpoles are gone.” He admitted with a twinge of fear in his voice.

Her amber eyes betrayed her, flickering down before she forced a smile on her face. “Whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

“For now. I’m sure everyone will be called off to their own business." He ignored the giant, waving red flag of her impending doom. "And besides, they’re bound to get sick of avoiding the sun just for me after sometime…”

“What, Giggles?" She scoffed, "You have to know they aren’t going anywhere by now, Fangs.”

His heart squeezed tightly, “How can you be so sure?”

“Astarion. They talk about you like you put the stars in the fuckin’ sky.”

He swallowed the lump crawling up his throat. Not only had he finally noticed you actually did love him, apparently he was one of the last ones to see it too.

Karlach said it with so much conviction, that even if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion last night… he certainly would have now.

“If you’ll have them, they’ll be there.” She smiled tenderly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling. She reached out her large red hand, squeezing his shoulder before she grimaced. “Oh fuck, sorry!” She wrenched her hand back, “Touching! I forgo—“

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind that.”

“Still, shoulda asked. Gods, I gotta get better at that. Just couldn’t do it for so long, heh—“

Astarion gave her a sad smile, nodding his head.

If he was honest he used to loathe Karlach. Not that she deserved it. But she was handed shit cards just like him, and she insisted on being so fucking bubbly and positive and optimistic. It drove him mental.

And the touching. Gods, the touching.

In the beginning how she moaned and mourned physical touch, all while Astarion felt like he was going to chip a molar if another person touched him again.

And then the pure elation on her face when she got her engine upgraded and could hug, kiss... grab people’s wrists and shoulders and fingers so casually. But Astarion’s face had to be a perfect, numb mask so he could hide the fact that bile was rising in his throat and his skin was on fire anytime someone grabbed him.

He hadn’t meant to hate her. And he knew he didn’t now. Actually, he felt like he was already mourning his friend a little bit. He would miss her.

“Thank you,” Astarion’s said softly.

Karlach’s eyebrows raised high on her forehead, a little stunned at the gratitude. “For what?”

“For being my friend. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserved it, Fangs. The whole time.” Her voice was unusually soft and low, like a whisper. “Every good thing that’s happened to you — including them. And there’s more to come, I know it.”

The smiles they shared after was bittersweet.

Hope in times like these was a dangerous thing.

• • •

Your shoulders instantly relaxed as your eyes settled on Astarion’s form. He was lounging near the fire in your room at the tavern, a a book face down over his leg with his knee acting as a placeholder. His striking red eyes watched your every step as you swayed on tired feet over to him.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The vampire said softly, looking up at you from the settee.

“May I?”

His pale hand tapped the spot next to him. Your legs all but gave out as you sat down on the soft cushions, your muscles finally finding some relief after your long day. Before you could you even think to ask him, Astarion was wrapping his arm around your side – pushing you into him.

You relished in the feeling, losing yourself in his scent and the feel of the pads of his fingers on your soft waist. Then his strong nose was pressed into your neck, pressing the smallest of kisses to the sensitive skin that caused a wave of emotions to crash through you all at once. “You’re alright?” He asked quietly in your ear, before pulling away to look you over.

“Alright. Tired, glad to be back.” You gave him a meek smile, “And you, love?” You couldn’t help but study him, your eyes falling to his other hand that was not holding you – playing with the stitches on the sides of his pants. The anxious habit had made him go through a couple pairs of pants by now.

“Yes. No. Hmm… It’s hard to verbalize.” He finally admitted.

Your eyes locked and a silent conversation transpired in those seconds. His blinks and flash of his red eyes was confirmation enough. “I understand.”

He licked his pink lips as he slid his hand from around you, his fingertips dragging across the small of your back as he instead laced his pale fingers in yours. “I do feel guilty that I ended up lounging around here in the sun while the rest of you were out being heroes…” Then he swallowed, staring out to the windows just beginning to turn golden pink with the slowly setting sun. “I guess I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

You gave him a sad smile, feeling your chest tighten at the look on his face. “I think you did the right thing. Stopping it. Stopping him.”

Never again would you say that name. Never again would you give the bastard vampire master an ounce of power, even in death.

“I know. So do I. Though that doesn't mean it stings any less.” You felt your eyes burn as his voice broke slightly, getting thick with emotion. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands on your lap, “I'll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do,” Astarion said, his eyes turning soft and round as he looked over at you. Then he rolled his neck with attitude, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

You thought about your adventures today with your companions and couldn’t help but agree. “We do love to find trouble, don’t we?”

A small chuckle escaped him, shaking you both slightly on the settee. Then he took a steadying breath, his fingers tightening their hold on yours for a moment. “There's something I'd like to show you, if that's alright. Something out in the city.”

Your brows met in the middle, “What is it?”

“Something I haven't shown anyone else,” He admitted with an odd look on his face. “Tonight?”

“Tonight,” You agreed, squeezing his cold hand back gently.

• • •

“This way, it's not far.” Astarion said softly, his hand stretched back as he led you forward.

It took all of his willpower to stop his other hand from trembling as you both walked through the graveyard. The over-grown grass and long forgotten tombs were bathed in the moonlight from above, casting shadows across the space.

He risked a glance behind him to look at you, but you were as quiet and composed as ever as you took in the sights around you. The vampire had never seen you be so quiet as you had been in the last few days – he knew it was for his benefit. Usually his lovely moon was as sharp-tongued as he was, as eloquent and flowery as Wyll or Gale. But no, these past few days you had been listening and watching so patiently. You’d given him both comfort and space in a way he’d never thought possible.

He would have to add that to the never ending list of why he loved you.

His half-dead heart crawled up his throat as he approached the familiar sight of his own tombstone. It seemed so simple just sitting here in the overgrown grass – clearly untouched all these centuries later. It had held so much power over him for so long — this haunted place that was marked as the beginning of this existence.

This hole in the ground. This slab of stone.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.” He croaked, his fingers slipping from yours to form fists beside him. “Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting.”

His master’s name made his mouth feel wrong, his tongue heavy and swollen.

“From that day on I was his. Until yesterday.”

“You were never his.” You said quietly, “Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” His bottom lip trembled, before he steadied himself. Turning to the side, he moved his gaze from the tombstone to you. “For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was, lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

You took a deep breath, looking at him with your eyes wide, “And what do you want?”

Astarion’s heart stuttered, he was doing this. That’s what the whole point of all of this was, wasn’t it? Why he had that nervous fluttering in his stomach all day. “You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do!” His throat worked soundlessly, before he spoken again. “I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that.”

“You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you.” You said it so softly, but with so much conviction he couldn’t help but believe you.

Then your mouth spread into a radiant smile that he couldn’t help but match. “Thank you.”

It took all of him to tear his eyes away from you. “Well... I should probably fix this.” Kneeling down, he pulled a sheathed dagger from his boot. He took the tip of it, pushing it into the weathered stone as he added the current year. The year he woke up from the evil nightmare that was his life. The year he met you.

Sheathing the dagger, he fell back onto his heels and he admired his work. You dropped down beside him, close enough he could feel your warmth radiating around you. And you were so quiet again, giving him time to process.

“I've been dead in the ground for long enough, it's time to try living again. With everything that life has to offer.” Taking a deep breath, he swiveled on his knees until his was face to face with you. The moon was backlit behind your head, illuminating your silver hair with an ethereal halo. His fingertips couldn’t resist reaching out and tracing the soft line of your cheek.

Taking a steadying breath, he let his hand fall back onto his lap. His lashes casting a shadow down his face as he looked down for a moment before he spoke again. “Months ago, on that bed in the last light inn... you asked me how I saw you.”

You nodded as you remembered, “You told me you needed time.”

“Ask me again.”

You licked your lips, “How do you see me?”

“I look at you, and I see everything. The moon and stars. The world. A future.” His pale fingers reached out for yours, intertwining them carefully. “I was petrified when you asked me before… because I knew, even back then. But I’m not afraid anymore.

Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” Astarion confessed before his other hand pale grabbed the side of your face, holding you steady as he pressed his lips to yours gently — to give you time to pull away.

The vampire didn’t have to wait very long for you to kiss him back. Your lips meeting his almost instantly, your hands pressing tenderly into the lapels of his jacket to hold you steady as you both balanced on your knees. Your soft lips, your scent, the feeling of your fingers bunched on his clothes — you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever had.

You pulled away just long enough to whisper back in a husky voice, “I love you Astarion, irrevocably so.”

A feeling gripped his heart so tightly, spread through every pore and crevice of his half-dead body that he felt it bring him back to life. Astarion had been manipulated, coerced, abused and forced into acquiescence for over two hundred years. He had felt the physical control that his Master had over his body and soul. But this — you, you possessed him another way he had never felt. He could barely process it, let alone articulate the way you were making him feel right now. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to get the words out.

Instead silver lined the bottoms of his eyes and his bottom lip trembled, “What ever could I have done to deserve such a beautiful creature as you, my heart.”

But you shook your head, your silver hair bouncing with the movement, “I have never once questioned my love for you. You… you’ve never made me feel like I’m too loud, too much. You made me feel easy to love — and you did make me feel loved, long before you ever said the words. You make me feel like my blessing is something to be grateful for… not a thorn in your side. That I’m not a burden.”

“A burden? Never!” Anger flared through him at the people who made you feel this way. “A burden is something forced upon, against your will. I know that feeling. But you – you aren’t a burden. I choose you. Do not dilute yourself, or hide yourself away. Not from me.”

It was your turn to have happy tears fill your eyes now, your freckled nose crinkling as you smiled wide, “I love you.”

“Say it again.” He breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. His red eyes flickered down so he could watch your lips move and form around the words.

“I love you.”

A broken noise escaped from Astarion’s throat as he grabbed onto you. Euphoria and arousal and light flooded through him like never before. “Hells, the things you do to me. Just those words alone.” He hissed as his hand slid down the back of your neck, pulling you into him so he could kiss you more deeply then ever before.

Gods, did he want you. He wanted to taste every inch of you, re-discover your entire body. He wanted you breathy and panting as he swirled you with his mouth. He wanted his name on your lips and your hands on his body. He’d waited for this, waited for you for centuries.

Astarion gently pushed you into the long, soft grass and your eyes widened slightly with surprise. He lowered himself carefully on top of you, his hands bracketing either side of your head before asking in a whisper, “Is this okay?”

You nodded with a swallow, before opening your mouth. “Yes. And for you?”

“Gods, yes.” He purred into your ear before pressing his body flush to yours and capturing your lips again. Almost instantly one of your hands was at the nape of his neck, swirling his curls and massaging his scalp to the rhythm of your kisses.

The vampire slid his knee between your legs, stretching them apart so he could settle in between them deliciously — a hand moving underneath your shoulder to support you as you stretched your neck up to keep up with your kisses. He felt himself harden in his leather pants, rutting in the soft muscle of your thigh to get any kind of friction. Then his other pale hand slipped between the two of you and cupped between your own legs, feeling your arousal through the thin fabric of your trousers.

“Astarion,” You hummed in approval, bucking into his hand that sparked the fire in his belly to heat even more. He buried his face into your neck, nipping and sucking the delicate skin before pressing his tongue and lips to it in a soothing touch. If he didn’t stop here, he wasn’t sure if he could. The whole point of this was to do things the right way...

As if the cosmos heard his thoughts, the sounds of crunching steps nearby caused both of you to pull away in a flurry. You were both breathless, your chests heaving and skin flushed from your touch. Then quiet chuckles escaped you, shaking your bodies as your foreheads touched.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Astarion whispered, before detangling himself from you. You brushed each other off, before standing up and moving into the shadow of a nearby tree as incoming torch lights suddenly appeared.

“Hello?” A gruff voice called out, the clink of chained armor ringing as they walked closer to where you two were just laying.

“It was probably a ghost, Ryder.” Another voice teased from behind.

City guards. Well, that could have been awkward.

“OooOOOooo,” They mocked again.

“Eh! Stop it, you know this place gives me the creeps.” The first voiced huffed, before turning on their heel. “You owe me a pint for that.”

Astarion waited until their voices and footsteps faded away before peering around the large tree trunk. Another laugh escaped him, “What was it that I was just saying about you and trouble?”

You shook your head but joined his laughter, “That one is all your fault, you instigator.”

“Pardon me for finding you absolutely irresistible.” He licked his lips as he stared at yours, before blinking his red eyes back to reality. “Now what, my love?”

“Perhaps, now I can show you something I’ve never shown anyone else?”

He quirked a white eyebrow before letting a smirk spread, “Lead the way.”

Leaving the graveyard behind, you walked with your fingers intertwined and stepped in time with each other as you wandered down the cobblestones streets of Baldur’s Gate. You led the way confidently, a soft smile on your face as you snuck glances over to him. It made his heart thrum and stomach twist.

As you turned the corner onto a residential street, Astarion’s steps slowed. He looked around, blinking as he realized, “I know this street.”

You cocked your head as you kept walking, pulling him along with you, “Do you?”

“Quite well. I would use it to get to the little tavern nearby as a bit of a shortcut. But there’s this lovely little townhouse, tiny. It’s lavender with—”

“Flower boxes?” You finished for him.

“Yes, lilies.” Astarion walked forward before stopping in front of the townhouse. The narrow house was sandwiched between two others, painted a pastel lavender that shined brilliantly in the moonlight compared to the darker colours around it. “This one,” He pointed a long, pale finger at it.

You frowned slightly as you looked at the planter boxes, “The poor flowers.”

He followed your gaze, “They will bloom again, I’m sure of it.” Stepping closer to the little townhouse, he pointed up to the second floor window. “You know, there’s a piano in there.”

You perked up at that, your eyes darting from him to the window at back, “How do you know that?”

“I would hear it sometimes, faintly. Soft little melodies.”

“Really?”

A small smile spread across Astarion’s lips as he remembered the tunes — how sometimes he would stop underneath the window just out of sight in the dim light of the evening and listen. The harsh tug of his master’s orders would usually snap at him for the delay, but it was worth it to hear the joyful sounds.

“Every so often they would sing too. Such a lovely voice. I actually… l used to come this way when I was in the area — hoping I would hear them.” He admitted, wringing his hands together in front of him. “And I would try so hard to commit it to memory, so I could remember it when... Well, you know when.”

You looked over to him with the softest line between your brows. “Astarion, when was this?”

“Oh, time is so hard for me.” He tapped his chin as he thought, “Recently though— the last year or so I’d say.“

You worked your throat silently before pulling out a silver key out of your pocket, holding it out in front you. “When I realized I was going to stay in Baldur’s Gate, I started looking for a more permanent place to stay instead of the inns.”

You turned on your heel, and began to climb the narrow stairs on the side of the townhouse, “I saw an ad in the paper about a tiny room available at a discounted rate...” You slid the silver key into the painted wooden door that matched the rest of the house, and pushed it open. “Because the previous tenant had passed away and left behind a piano that was would cost them too much to move.”

Astarion followed you in wordlessly, his mouth falling open as you continued speaking. Until both of you stood inside the tiny lavender townhouse. It wasn’t very lavish — it was actually quite quaint, a little outdated. Some of the furniture looked well-loved and worn — a double bed pushed in the corner underneath the window to make space for the large upright piano taking up the majority of the room.

“I thought the piano was a selling feature, I loved it… I would play almost every night.” You said breathlessly, spinning around to face the vampire again.

His red eyes stayed on you, his voice thick with emotion. “It was you?”

“One year I’ve rented this room.” You admitted.

“It was you.” He breathed, crossing to you in a few steps and grabbing onto your fingers gently. The soft fingers that could play the piano so beautifully. “Play— play for me?” He asked, gesturing over to the dusty piano.

Your lips curled up as you nodded, pulling out the cracked leather piano bench and sitting before it. You stretched your fingers over the ivory keys, the dim light from the windows catching on the rings adorning them. Astarion could tell you must have taken lessons, your posture almost perfect as you straightened your back at the edge of your seat. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind of someone trying to teach him the same once, hundreds of years ago as a child.

But then your fingers pressed into the keys, and the emotion that crossed your face could not have been taught. You closed your eyes as you struck the first few chords, not needing to look as your hands glided between positions.

He was transfixed watching you, listening to you. Somehow you picked the tune that he remembered most clearly — the one that would slip into his mind the most when he was desperately looking for any kind of reprieve. It was more beautiful then he remembered, his memory of it was really a disservice to how exquisite it truly was.

Your posture laxed slightly as you began to hum, harmonizing with the melody you played on the piano and your voice drew Astarion in. He stood behind you, his fingers trailing the ends of your silver hair as he listened, brushing down the nape of your neck before squeezing it tenderly as you played the last note.

“I can’t believe it was you, this whole time. Your tunes, your voice kept me from madness some nights. Staring up at the moon, and you—” His voice broke, as tears broke free so instead he bent over to place a kiss on the crown of your head.

You turned to face him, standing up to reach his height. You gave him a sad smile, before asking, “May I?” He nodded with eyes closed, unsure of what he was even agreeing to. But then he felt the pads of your fingertips wipe his tears away, as gracefully and practiced as you had just touched the piano keys.

Astarion opened his eyes and grabbed your hand before you could pull it away. He held onto it before kissing your fingertips closely, tasting his own salty tears. “Just when I thought there was no possibility of loving you more.”

You mewed at the statement, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen spreading across your lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“About what?” He whispered.

“Fate.”

A breathy laugh escaped him as his heart lurched forward like it would thump right out of his chest, “Yes, my moon. I think I do.”

Leaning his face down, Astarion kissed you softly as he moved his arms to wrap around you. You matched his movements, circling your arms around his waist as your fingers grabbed onto the fabric of his jacket. Even with the long, drawn-out kisses, without requiring air like a mortal did, Astarion felt like he could finally breathe – fully and deeply for the first time in centuries. The darkness of his eternal immortal suffering suspending for a moment as his heart thundered alongside yours.

His lips became fervent on yours, kissing you harder and deeper than ever before. Your fingers moved to the front of shirt, knotting in fists as you pulled him into you. He groaned at the sensation of your chest pushed into his.

The vampire was sure he had never wanted anything so bad in his life — no other person, or blood, or freedom. Everything about this, about you, was making his mind swirl and heart pound like he had never experienced. Your scent — the sweet aroma of your bouquet, and the soap from last night. Your taste, like the richest wine and sweet honey pastries. The dichotomy of your gentle, tender kisses and the powerful, all-consuming ones you bestowed to him now. The little lavender house with the soft melodies and songs that had quite literally saved him for the past year, belonging to you.

“Starry,” You moaned out breathlessly as he trailed his kisses down your chest and throat, collarbones and sternum.

“Mmm, I can’t decide.” He purred into your skin, keeping up his touches with his lips and hands between his words.

“Decide what?” You panted slightly above him.

“Where I want you. The bed. This piano. Right here on the floor.”

You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing softly, “Astarion, we don’t have to do anything you don’t—”

But he grabbed your chin with his thumb, catching your bottom lip slightly, as he made you look at him. “Are you going to make me beg?”

“What?”

“I want you — desperately. I ache for you, darling. And you are so sweet and considerate and have been so, so very patient. But I will beg if you want me to. Will that get the point across?” He sank to his knees in front of you, kneeling on the worn wooden floorboards of your rented townhouse. The tips of his fingers trailed down the back of your thighs delicately as he steadied himself for balance. “I love you. I need you. Please—”

You stopped his rambling as you bent over to kiss him, cutting off his words before pulling him off of the floor. “You don’t beg or kneel anymore, not to anyone and especially not to me.” You held either side of his face, staring intensely at him. “Do you truly want this?”

“Yes,” He said simply, his red eyes round and soft. Putting his hand on the outside of yours, stilling holding his cheek. His voice dropped an octave, barely more than a whisper as the building sensation of arousal and bliss started to form all over again. “Yes, my moon.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He knew they were a mirror to his own, shining with deep, true emotion. “Anything for you, my love. I am yours.”

The sound that escaped him was cut off as you pushed your lips back onto his.

Read the next part here

[aerodaltonimperial]

hello katy. i had just the most fucked up thought about your split jack au and ive never used tumblr before but im learning how to send an ask right now because i NEED to know what you think of this.

does julia… tell jungle boy that he’s going to forget? those five years that he goes back and changes for the better— surely julia knows that when the time comes, the jungle boy that got sent back to 2019 and changed jack’s world for the better will become nothing but a memory that everyone but jack himself will be aware of. and if julia tells him… lets him know that his time is limited… does jungle boy not do it all anyways?

does he make every decision in this new timeline knowing that he’s setting up a life for the jack who deserves it most and not himself? when the days tick down and he knows he’s running out of time… does he leave notes for jack? does he leave notes for darby? how do you explain to the person that matters most in your life that one day you’re going to wake up and be replaced with someone a thousand times more scared and broken, and you need to love him just as much as you love me now, because he’s me, and i love him too?

im sorry you fucked my whole world up and i hate you and ive been crying about it for days. im sending you an edible arrangements. fucking god damn it man

Yo, you just fucking CHANGED MY WORLD with this ask. Like, this.... this is the stuff I legitimately DID NOT LET MYSELF THINK ABOUT when I was writing that because this is so much. Jesus CHRIST. I am... I am sitting with this because I am going to be really honest with you, I don't know the answers. The only thing I can say that I leaned on during this was the traveler's immunity concept: that essentially, the person doing the changing is immune from shifting when everything else does. And it's that immunity that all of this hinges upon. 2024 Jack has the immunity, and he is the original remnant that will remain.

Would Julia tell Jack, the Jack that is going to become nothing once the timelines merge? I presume that, eventually, she would. But what he DOES with that information? Oh my god. I don't even know. This ask has fundamentally changed me as a person LOL. I imagine... in a perfect world, that Jack does leave notes for himself. Because in the end, that's who he is doing this for: a better future, even though he won't be there to experience it once the right time hits. He got a gift. And he is giving one back. A huge, monumental gift that he will never get to see through to the end. But that's what so much of that fic really ended up being about, in the end: forgiving and loving yourself. He would want himself to have SOMETHING to figure his way around, even if it's just important dates. Anniversaries. When events happened. When things DIDN'T happen.

Would he warn Darby? Honestly, I'm less clear on that one. Because at his core, Jack knows that would change them, in his present. And if he had limited time, I don’t know. Would he be able to tell Darby, knowing that it would fundamentally change everything? Would he be able to say, hey, I'm not going to be here anymore, at least not the way you knew me? Man. I don't know. How do you warn someone that you are going to disappear, but that part of you will remain? And that part isn't going to understand that love should be soft? Or that you don't have to fear letting someone in? Or that people, deep down, care about you? How do you prepare someone for that?

This is the most fucking horrible and amazing ask I have ever received. I'm going to frame it on my wall. I'm going to be thinking about this for days. Holy shit, man. As for the notes that Jack could leave for himself, for when he's gone? Let him cook for you, it makes him happy. When you argue, he'll need to go blow off steam before he comes back. I never told him about what happened in that jump, but I also didn't lie when I told him he was all of the firsts.

You told me that love wasn't real. Well, he loves you, and it's the realest fucking thing in the world.

[meowchela]

heyy, tumblr. its been a bit of a while since youve last seen me huh...a lot has changed over the past month and a half that ive been gone.

that's the general theme of my time away, i think. change. i've been going through a lot of big changes and realizations and i just havent had the strength to bring myself back to the wider world through it all. i needed time to process, but with the air of finality i feel now...i finally feel well enough to take that plunge. i can say with confidence that i'm officially back!

when i went into this hiatus, i expected for it to be quick. just two or three days to play the new installments of a game i've loved and been obsessed with for years, hooray! a moment ive waited for for so long! i thought it would be easy, and that things would go back to normal as soon as those few short days were over. i would join in on the hype train for a while and then settle back into life as i knew it.

but something was...different, from the last few chapter releases. something felt wrong about it all. after all, i had JUST gotten into a new hyperfixation, and since my interest in deltarune has been dormant for years now, it was kind of hard to break out of. and so i fretted over what the new release could mean for me, would i have to give either interest up? would i need to sacrifice a new love so soon, or deal with the idea that things just weren't the same with an old friend? it tore me apart, before and after the release. soon it settled that my newer interest was here to stay, and now i feel...differently about deltarune than i thought. i've made peace with it since, but it still kind of overwhelms me on principle. deltarune just isn't something i'm excited for anymore, and seeing everyone else indulge in the hype and obsession makes me feel a bit left out. but forcing it wouldn't be fun either, and i'd rather be true to myself than try and stick to popular opinion. that's what i've always done, after all, my own thing away from everyone else. this time, it just hurts because the thing i'm shying away from used to be something i proudly made part of me.

people grow though, people change. people move on. it was hard to accept that i'm not obsessed anymore, but i'm not. i'm really not. and now that i've accepted that i can still love the game without it consuming my every waking thought, it's left room for other interests, other hyperfixations, other ways of enjoying myself without guilt attached. it isn't sacred, after all, it's just a game. i can enjoy it however i want, and that's how i'll be going about it. slowly, at my own pace, letting it come to me when i'm ready.

talking to a dear friend of mine has also made me realize this whole crisis was...kind of emblematic of larger problems in my life, if im being honest. expectations i'm putting on myself, shackles i didn't even realize were there. holding myself to standards i didn't know i could break out of, fearing obligations and avoiding them only to feel worse about it not getting done.

i was having a major crisis. and that was just the first half of june.

then an absolute avalanche of family stuff started happening, and i couldn't even begin to pull myself out of my own head for long enough to calm myself down. ill be honest, i'm doing pretty shit! i'm not doing well even now! but when i was in the throes of it, all i could feel was guilt and shame and a sense of longing. wishing i could just take my head out of my ass and rejoin the crowds, have the same fun they were having, go back to the internet i knew and loved. but that was the exact problem. things are different now, in my world and everyone elses, and i was struggling big time to accept it. all i was doing was bedrotting and barely scraping by with coping mechanisms and my newest fandom (accessed via discord) to keep me afloat.

then, my partner and i made a huge decision that cemented the fact that things would never be the same in my life ever again.

we finally solidified the move.

i'm going to be out of this abusive household by the end of the month. i have a day that i'm leaving. there are boxes in my room as we speak, right now, behind me leaned against my closet door. i'll start packing soon.

literally everything about my life is going to change, and after the streak of changes i've been struggling through, i finally feel relief. i finally feel calm. i've finally accepted how different things will be.

i just got done with my final appointment with the therapist i've picked up during this time. the air is heavy with grief, with hope, with uncertainty. i'm nervous and excited. nothing will ever be the same, and i'm finally at a point where i can accept that and embrace it with open arms.

...so, uh, it's safe to say that i feel well enough to come back after everything. also i still havent finished chapter four so im gonna be blocking tags for the game still :P

[cynicalone94]

Wes hasn’t seen his biological father since he was fifteen years old. As far as he’s concerned Sean Mitchell is the only dad that he needs.

Paul Martin isn’t so sure about that.

Chapter 22 now available.

Read on AO3 here or below the cut.

She should maybe try opening the door before resorting to kicking it down.

But if she’s honest, she doesn’t really care.

Paul is standing over the bed, shaking his motionless son and yelling at him to wake up.

Wes isn’t responding.

Cam doesn’t hesitate to shift her weapon to her left hand, reaching out to grab the man by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back.

He staggers back, crashing to the floor and Ty and Smitty race to check on Wes.

She can hear him mumbling something but from here, she’s not sure exactly what.

She’s just reaching out to get Paul in cuffs when she hears Smitty curse.

And then Ty is starting compressions.

For a moment her training fails and she turns toward them, eyes wide with horror.

Paul takes advantage of her distraction to start to get to his feet and she starts to turn back but suddenly Sean is there, slamming the man back to the floor.

“You son of a bitch.” he roars. “You had one job, the easiest job in the world, love your damn kid. What the hell is the matter with you?”

He gets one punch, a solid blow to the face that snaps Paul’s head back, before Andre is there.

“Sean.” he says, reaching for him without hesitation. “I know you’re pissed man but the paramedics can’t come in and help Wes until we get him secured.”

Sean’s rage settles instantly.

He’s still obviously seething but he backs off, letting Cam and Andre get Paul in cuffs and then drag the man to his feet.

“He’s the best kid in the world.” Sean says, looking lost as Andre drags Paul out of the room and the paramedics rush in. “Why couldn’t he just love him?”

Part of her wants to point out that if Paul Martin had just been a decent father, Sean would never have had the chance to be Wes’s dad but she knows that Sean would have given that up in a heartbeat if it would have spared Wes even a little of the pain he’s suffered.

“Some people just aren’t meant to be parents.” she says instead, watching as the paramedics set up the AED.

He shakes his head in disgust she squeezes his shoulder.

It takes three jolts from the AED to get Wes’s heart going again and the urgency doesn’t fade once they have.

The pads are left in place as they start an IV in his right arm, removing the one in his left that has already caused significant bruising, and then transfer him onto the stretcher.

“Someone riding with us?” one of them asks as they start pushing him toward the door.

Nobody gets in the way as Sean steps forward, taking his son’s hand.

“I’m here now, kiddo.” he promises.

“Smitty, Ty.” she says once they’re gone. “Can you guys stay here until the HNP crime lab gets the room processed?”

They nod quickly.

She has phone calls to make, superiors to update, broad strokes of paperwork to finish.

They’ll all probably spend plenty of time at the hospital working on reports.

Andre will stay with Paul until he gets processed and booked.

He’ll eventually be extradited back to the States but a few days in Hungarian jail will do him some good.

She lets out a breath and then makes a call.

Amanda had met them at the hospital.

At first, he’d thought that she was just worried about her boss but it hadn’t taken long to realize that she’s also worried about him.

That she doesn’t want him to be sitting in the waiting room alone while his son is in surgery.

Wes talks about all of his team when he calls home but Sean’s definitely heard quite a bit about the blonde lead analyst.

The team mom who looks out for all of them.

Who has a nine year old daughter that Wes always smiles when he tells him stories about.

He’s not surprised that she’s showed up here to look out for him while he anxiously waits for news.

Can’t help but hope that she’s here for herself too.

That she’s waiting just as anxiously as he is to know if Wes is going to be alright.

The revelation that Ella Driscoll hadn’t been his son’s only past girlfriend who’d been in contact with his biological father without seeing fit to mention it to him hadn’t really surprised Sean.

He’s never thought much of most of the women that Wes dates.

But Amanda Tate?

Wes deserves someone like her.

Someone who would tell the others off when their curiosity about Wes’s past had started to push beyond what they needed to know in order to find him.

Who is kind and thoughtful but capable of frightening fierceness in the protection of the people that she cares about.

Who is funny as hell though he hasn’t really been able to appreciate the rare jokes she’s made the last few days.

The doors swing open, interrupting his train of thought, and he jumps out of his chair.

“Next of kin for Wes Mitchell?” the doctor asks.

“I’m his father.” he says, hands clenching and unclenching.

“It was straightforward enough to identify the source of the bleeding.” the doctor explains. “There was a relatively minor laceration to his liver that had been left bleeding for an extended time period.”

“Is he going to be okay then?” Sean asks.

“I’m hopeful.” the doctor tells him. “He was in shock for quite a period of time which can be a complicating factor but he’s stable for the moment and receiving transfusions to replace the blood we had to suction out of his abdominal cavity. Based on his medical record I suspect you may have heard this before but the next twelve hours will be critical. If he remains stable that long, we’ll be in good shape.”

“What about his other injuries?” Sean asks.

“The concussion is healing well.” the doctor tells him. “What I’ve heard suggests a little more exertion in the first twenty four hours than I would have liked but the CT doesn’t suggest any complications. A handful of broken ribs but nothing displaced. Along with a myriad of bruising the two injuries will be painful but he should make a full recovery.”

“Can we see him?” Amanda asks quietly.

“He’ll be settled in the ICU soon and I’ll have a nurse come get you then.” he promises.

“Thank you.” they both say and then he disappears.

“Are you okay?” Amanda asks softly as he sinks back into his chair.

“Minor bleeding.” he mutters. “And it nearly killed him – did kill him – because of that asshole.”

“He’s going away for a long time.” she tells him. “He’ll never get another chance to hurt him.”

“He shouldn’t have gotten this chance.”

“I’m sorry.” she tells him. “I know that feeling. I wish we’d been able to protect him better.”

“Shoulda written a questionnaire for potential girlfriends.” he tries to joke. “If your boyfriend has a restraining order against his biological father does that mean that a. he doesn’t want anything to do with the man and if you see him you should tell him to get lost or b. that he’s too sensitive and you should talk to the guy behind his back?”

“If your boyfriend says his biological father was abusive do you automatically assume that he’s just mad that he was grounded for getting a B or trust that a cop actually knows what he’s talking about?” Amanda chimes in. “You’d think the nightmares would have clued her in.”

Sean tilts his head.

“He’s been in the hospital several times.” she points out drily. “We take turns keeping him company. Or, ya know, making sure he doesn’t go AWOL.”

“A dad can dream.” he says, shrugging.

“I have a kid.” she protests.

“Who he adores.” he retorts.

She frowns slightly.

“I won’t tell you what to do.” he says, pushing out of his chair as a nurse approaches. “Just… think about it. I guess.”

She nods thoughtfully.

“I should call Cam.” she says, as the nurse leads them toward a door. “Let the others know he’s out of surgery and stable.”

[vigilant-cleric]

Five times visited. @undyingmedium

Fives times visited - prompt still open!

I.

Anika was as honest as anyone he knew. That was the conclusion Ashen had pulled after meeting her; she had more reasons to be frightened of him than he was of her, after finding her in such a precarious position. But mutual trust was acquired, nonetheless. Still, something about her was disturbing him.

But in what way? Did it strike his divine sense, the cleric's talent at spotting what was out of alignment, but not necessarily evil? Or was it hitting his sense for danger acquired after many years in the field?

It lurked in the background, never completely gone. "May your health improve very soon," the Helmite cheered, his tankard in the air - but suspicion still behind his pleasant smile.

II.

It was itching his mind like never before. She had spoken of possibilities he had only ever heard in necromancy, of speaking to the dead. There were others who could claim that power, of course, but Ashen had not met them before. He had not considered it.

But at the last second, he opted for the coward's way. Like he would have been touching unholy matters, defiling the will of the Gods. Elturel was meant to have been burned to pieces, and its soldiers with it, and that was that.

He apologised to the medium for disturbing her, and retired to the dead of the night.

III.

"All sorts of eerie happenings go on here. Deities answering their followers, worshippers in the corner of your eye one second and gone the next. I've stopped asking questions."

There was a glimmer in his eye as he gave her a tour of one of the temples he officiated in. There were more stories than he could tell, more tales than he could remember. He barely needed to exaggerate them to make the place more mystical than it may have looked at first.

"Helm is a constant. He never speaks. I doubt he ever will, save for death do us part."

She would live. He would not. He did not envy immortality. Unspoken, the words were clear in his expression; I cannot withstand grief a thousand more times.

IV.

"It's true. I have sworn chastity when I became a cleric. It takes away from the focus on theological studies, you see, if we long after somebody else."

A blatant lie, of course, and the barely disguised smirk told as much. But not entirely fabricated; he had made such vows as an apprentice, after all, though they no longer applied.

"I could not as much as kiss anyone. I save myself for... for... you see, it's much like a spiritual union with Helm..."

He shook his head and laughter eventually broke through his lips. He could not uphold any more credible misguidance around his office as a cleric.

"Don't look at me like that. Of course it's not true."

V.

Somber as he had ever been, the soldier stood motionless. Droplets of rainwater slid down his helmet, and for a split second, he appeared to be much like a hound of war, who had seen so much cruelty that its bark had gone silent in stupor.

"I need to speak to him, Anika."

The tone was polite, gentle even, but its slow pace uncovered much of his mind, the haunting of memories that crawled up his spine and broke him in more ways than he could tell.

"Tell your price and I'll pay it."

Somewhere, a headstone lay undisturbed since a young man set it down in the ground long ago, his side singed off like roasting meat by the flames of Avernus. But should the warlock entertain his demand, it would not remain so.