#I wrote this in like half an hour so…

[fancyraccoon]

I did a writing activity based on “7 or 8 things I know about her” by Michael Ondaatje, but about a sad circus guy or something

His mother's costumes

Dozens of dancing costumes, sequins that once glittered and shone under the lights of the stage, now sitting in bins under the stairs, dust gathering on top. He opens the door, six years old, and tries on the too-big red leotard and the shiny heels that make him stumble as he walks towards his mom. She smiles sadly as she is reminded of her days in the costumes, and she limps over to him to tell him about them.

All-boys boarding school   Dear Mr. And Mrs. [REDACTED] We regret to inform you that your son, [REDACTED] has received his third infraction and therefore will be required to leave our school. His infractions are as listed: 1: Being physically affectionate towards another male student 2: Attempting to participate in girl's dance classes without permission 3: Leaving school premises at night   Circus tent   His father had made it very clear that he wasn't welcome in the house anymore, so he packed a suitcase full of clothes. Before he left, his mother, as fast as her legs could carry her anymore, rushed to him and gave him her peacock-themed dancing outfit. Then he left and headed straight towards the big circus tent that had been set up in town the week before. From outside, he could hear the bright, welcoming music that lay behind the flap of the tent that was staked into the ground, and despite the tears streaking his cheeks, he smiled.   Afterparty   "Do you want to come to the afterparty? There'll be gin. I hear Bonnie makes it strong." His makeup was only partially washed off, and the colors still splashed across his handsome face matched his tailcoat, which was draped on the back of the chair he was leaning on.

Gin Both of their mouths tasted like the gin they had been drinking, which hadn't seemed very good at first, but now he couldn't get enough of it. The boys at the boarding school had never kissed him back like this.   Peacock   It's been four years, and a letter arrives for him. He opens it and reads it over, recognizing his father's handwriting with a spark of anger. He reads it again, but can only get so far before the tears blur his vision and the ink on the page blooms into a blueish-green, one that matches his costume that he's wearing. Somehow, he's at Bonnie's now, and his senses are so muddled by the gin in his stomach that he can almost forget the letter. He kisses his partner, but the peacock- colored ink of the letter still floods his mind, and the kiss becomes salty with tears. His mother is dead.   Needles   His partner's lips were blue, almost the same color as his usual makeup, but his costume wasn't on. Instead, he lay there on the floor, and the empty needles pointed towards him like tiny spotlight beams.   Music   April, 1934: He is still eight years old, and the music is loud. Although he covers his ears, he is transfixed by the performers, the ones who float above everyone as they swing on the trapeze, the ones who come tumbling out of the tiny car, and the ones who move with the music- the dancers that do impossibly marvelous tricks. They're all smiling.   The fall   When his mother was 20, she fell from the catwalk she had been dancing on, and her legs folded beneath her in a final, sickening crunch.

[crybaby-bkg]

I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.

“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.

“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.

you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.

you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.

he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.

“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.

“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.

[fluffylino]

hyunjin does something risky after christmas lunch

-contains mature themes

"shhh be quiet" hyunjin whispered in your ear.

you tried. you really tried to keep your mouth shut. your chest burning with embarassment.

your grandmother had invited the two of you for lunch. hyunjin was more than excited to join in on the family lunch. helping with the food.

he even attempted to cook some butter garlic shrimps for your grandmother.

it had been an hour since yall finished lunch. the two of you walking into your grandma's second bedroom.

you plopped down on the bed, face first. groaning at how nice it felt. hyunjin did the same.

except he chose to fall right on top of you. giggling as you tried to swat him off.

your laugh dying down. realising how heavy he was on your back.

basically pushing you into the mattress. his body covering yours. bulge perfectly slotted between. not to mention, the christmas dress you wore was flowy. and the material was thin.

allowing you to feel him.

all of him.

"should w-"

"doll if you need an extra pillow, help yourself" you shoved him off so hard, he plummeted into the pillows kept at the end. there was no way you could get caught in such a compromising position.

"yesss grandma, we'll sleep for sometime!" you let out in a sing song voice, assuring her that she could nap for a while as well. to which she nodded, smiling brightly when hyunjin thanked her for being so sweet.

and with that she shut the bedroom door. there was an other door as well. one that opened up to the hall. and the one she came in from led to the passage.

so when you turned around. hyunjin had a smirk on his face. he had layed himself across the bed in such a seductive pose, you couldn't resist.

and when you were close enough, he pounced on you. tackling you on the bed. both of you laughing and playing around.

.

you had fallen asleep. for maybe 20 minutes.

woken up to the feeling of wetness between your legs. you sighed out, pressing yourself closer to hyunjin. chest to chest. his arm thrown over your waist. your leg hitched over him. you were closer than ever. his hot breath on your neck. lips leaving slow wet kisses.

you opened your eyes. his nose almost touching yours. eyebrows furrowed.

"you're up" he mumbled, and then you felt something hard nudge against your entrance.

wait, when did your panties come off. well they weren't off completely. just pushed below your knees.

"hyunjin" you whisper yelled. every ounce of sleep leaving you at the realisation.

you couldn't be doing something like this at your grandmother's house.

all your thoughts evaporating. burying your face into his covered chest. fingers fisting his shirt as he pushed in.

completely. not giving you time to register anything.

"aahh" he sighed out, closing his eyes. you were tight. it had been almost three whole weeks since. the two of you being busy. and now that it was christmas, he had got to spend more time with you.

"hyun-nie not h-here" you murmured.

what if she walked in. you knew one of the doors couldn't lock. but you didn't know which one.

was it the first door?

or was it the second door?

"as long as we stay silent, no one will know" he reassured, pulling you against him. his hand hooking under the knee that was over his waist.

using it as a lever to thrust into you.

"missed being i-in you" his voice was soft. his hair tickling you when he kissed you. you moaned into his mouth.

dick filling you up so well, you wanted to cry.

"shouldn't be d-doing...here" he nodded, trying to soothe your anticipation.

"taking me so good" he praised, tongue grazing your bottom lip which he had already chewed up. relishing your lips like it was his candy.

your heart racing at the thought of being interrupted. the thought of being caught. even though his bedsheet covered you.

and he froze.

and you froze.

footsteps right near the door.

it was probably your grandmother walking outside the room. involuntarily you moved your hips, a choked moan leaving his parted lips.

but you were quick to cover his mouth with your hand.

.

"don't you feel dirty having me in you...on this bed" you shook your head. hyunjin, himself was panting softly. rutting into you at a slow pace.

"you started it" you let out, bringing your hand up to cup his face.

so pretty. so elegant. he really was ethereal. a single drop of sweat trickling down his chin.

"sorry doll, you looked so ravishing" he admitted. hand stroking your thigh that was hooked on his hip.

"missed y-you"

he kissed your forehead, moving his head back on the pillow. eyed locked onto yours. that was one thing he loved. eye contact. it made everything more intimate.

"sweet baby are you gonna cum?" he asked, his own chest heaving as much as yours. you nodded.

"i-im cumming..in you" his thrusts growing erratic. filling you up in spurts. triggering your own release as you coated his dick.

.

pulling out carefully. he made sure to keep your dress out of the way.

your heart swelling at how passionate he was being. he got off the bed, crawling to the edge of the bed. you were surprised.

until his mouth made contact with your cunt. back arching as he wasted no time im eating you out. still dripping with a mixture of both of you.

covering your mouth with your hand at the feeling of his tongue in you. overstimulation kicking in. thighs closing around his head. but he didn't mind it.

slurping at your pussy with pure desire.

and he came up. climbing over you. hands on either side of your head. pressing his coated lips against yours.

kissing you. opening his mouth to let you have a taste. so filthy.

yet so unbearably hot.

.

.

.

[hwaitham]

𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓬𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

boothill x f!reader . nsfw — mdni . comfort ?? fluff ?? angst ?? i dunnoooo ! ! ! a bit of everything . established relationship ﾉ implicit mentions of oral sex ﾉ i am running with the idea that boothill doesn't have a human heart + cannot feel touch on any metal part of his body . . if this is not what is canon i am ! Sorry ! ! ﾉ things get rather prosy n perhaps pretentiously poetic near the end so i am sorry x 2 ꒱ྀི 855 wc

“so, you can’t feel anything when i touch you here?” 

your cheek is nestled comfortably atop of boothill’s shoulder as you sit straddling him, slip your fingers beneath the rolled sleeve of his vest and feel up the smooth contours and edges of his bicep.

it’s rather bittersweet how you ask, when you ask— seemingly every week now, as soon as the two of you can steal for yourselves a moment of reprieve. embracing him by the fire under the quiet of the dark night, holding your entire universe in your arms.

‘i don’t ask because it turns me off, or anything— nothing like that at all, really!’ you’d explained, when first you asked him some new moons ago. ‘i’m just curious, is all… you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.’

“nope, still can’t feel nothin’ below my neck.” he pops the ‘p’, then pops open an eye to gaze down at your frame settled on his lap. “don’t think i’ll ever be able to, for that matter.”

you look soft. sweet. supple. so warm. limbs flushed with blood, heart beating with love, life. and he remembers well how you feel of it, too. the custardy creaminess of your skin from all those times he’s kissed you to sleep— your cheek and neck and the hot swell of your breast— from all those times he’s devoured you out of your dreams with his tongue, your toes curling over his shoulders.

“not even here?” spreading your thighs further atop his hips, you lower your hand to the strong dip of his side, trace your touch along the various ports lining it, down, down, down, until you’re able to curl your fingertips past the waistband of his slacks, palms pressing into his groin.

“wow… first time you’ve been brave enough to touch me there, doll. what’re you playin’ at?” 

boothill’s eyes turn feverish and he smirks, sun-blood handsome and toothy and ineffably human. 

his hands leave their place behind his head to gently hold your waist, pull you closer into him. “you tryna bewitch me into bed?”

giggling softly, you shake your head, happy to see him smile. happy to see the face you trust, the face you love. “no… just, i was thinking…” you remove his hat, tame the wild tendrils of sleet and onyx hair with a tuck of them behind his ear.

then, you cradle his head within your palms, thumbs smoothing comforting lines over the lift of his cheeks, before you lean in to lay a tender, wet kiss there. 

“… thinking that i should probably give you lots of special attention here,” you kiss his cheek again, and again, and again. “also here,” you lay another to his forehead, upon pushing back his bangs, “can’t forget about here, too…” a third and final to the soft curve of his lips.

you melt into his broad frame when he kisses back, obedient as you open your mouth for him, let him lick over your teeth and gums and tongue and stake his claim, greedily take the burgeoning morsels of your heart that you so blithely offer him.

“mm, this special attention— ‘s real nice… do it more often, yeah?” he whispers between kisses, his hands wrapping further around your waist to effectively hug you against him.

when you’re left bereft of oxygen after a mere few moments of intimacy, nodding eagerly is the only thing you can bring yourself to do— because you just want to be good. 

wanna be so good, wanna be everything to you, wanna keep you safe, wanna make you happy, wanna be a home for you, wanna make you feel.

“when i kiss you, do you feel it here?” you’re breathless as you break free from boothill’s lips, unzipping his vest with haste and tugging it past his shoulders to expose his torso to you. your palm finds the metal plate of his chest and you press down gently over the spot where his heart is… or rather, where it should be.

your lover’s body is always cool, icy to the touch— an alloy of antimony and silicon and whatever other heavy metals his creators have deemed suitable enough to aid in the formation of an unbreakable shield, indomitable weapon. 

and truth be told, boothill does not feel it there— where you hope for a heart to be. 

but he does feel something, a jolt of electricity through the wires that take place of sinew, bolts that take place of joints. it may very well be the effect of a placebo on his mind, a wish for wanting to feel in his mechanical heart when you slather your love over him, though it’s all the same, really: the syntax of his binary language.

you don’t need to prove your humanity to me.

perhaps he is made of elemental scraps, but he is still organic, plum-hearted, throat lined with the warmth of the sun. because where do antimony and silicon come from…?

a planet’s crust that its ocean so tenderly covets and little homes in the sand for little sea creatures from millennia past that she keeps close, safe, happy; that she kisses with, well… warm lips.

“i feel it everywhere.”

[virescent-v]

“i don’t like being told what to do unless i’m naked” with em? 👀

Bossy

Summary: Emily's been a bitch. You fix her attitude. ;) Warnings: smutty smut smut, my normal tbh. quick and easy, like em Word count: 2.3k A/N: A little short thing to get me back into writing. Thanks Katt for the prompt :)

Emily was pissing you off. Ever since this case crossed JJ’s desk, Emily’s been uptight, more so than usual. You’ve seen her get overly invested in cases before, but something about this one was making her - for lack of a better word - crazy. She was hounding the local police more than normal, squashing peoples’ new ideas and theories before listening, and being short with anyone who tried to talk to her. 

She’s snapped at you multiple times today alone, glaring at you anytime you tried to talk about one of your theories. You’d take it personally, but she was acting like this with everyone on the team. It was causing everyone to give her a wide berth, finding excuses to not be in the same room with her. 

At the end of the day, Emily had frustrated every member of the BAU (including Penelope who was back in D.C.) and half of the local station to their limits. 

And, of course, you were the one who had to room with her this trip. Lucky you. 

The ride from the station to the hotel was tense, silence interspersed with the hum of tires on asphalt. The longer the quiet dragged on, the more angry you got at her behavior. 

Emily and you had become fast friends when you joined the BAU a few months ago. You had meshed well with every member of the team, but your dark humor and sarcasm bonded you with the raven-haired woman. You’ve spent countless hours with each other, both at work and outside of Quantico. 

You felt your phone buzz in your lap. 

JJ: You have GOT to talk to her. She’s driving everyone insane!! 

You: Why does it have to be me??? It’s bad enough we share a room! 

JJ: Because she likes you most! 

You: You’ve known her longer! 

JJ: Nose goes! 

You looked up to see JJ holding her pointer finger on her nose, sticking her tongue out at her. You rolled your eyes at her before typing out another message. 

You: Fine! But you owe me coffee and lunch tomorrow! 

JJ: Deal! Just make her Emily again! 

You locked your phone, glancing up at Emily driving. Her jaw was tense, as if she was grinding her teeth. Both of her hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel. You bit your lip, trying to think of a way to bring up her behavior over the last few days. 

*** 

Entering your shared room, Emily started pacing in front of the beds, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her hands fidgeting.

You sighed. “Em, are you okay?” 

Her eyes shot to you. “I’m fine,” she gritted out. 

You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly, making sure she saw. “No, you’re not. You’re frustrated about something. And it’s driving everyone crazy. So, again, what’s wrong?” 

Emily stopped pacing, glaring at you. “What do you mean it’s driving everyone crazy? I’m fine.” 

You huffed, shaking your head. “You’re not. Look at you,” you said, your hand gesturing at her body, every muscle tense, her hands picking at her nails. “You’ve been short with everyone, shutting down theories for stupid reasons. You’ve yelled at every single one of us today and you’ve managed to alienate half of the local cops. Whatever’s wrong needs to stop, Em, I swear, or it’s going to make this case even harder to solve.” 

Emily scoffed, not liking being told off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Now it was your turn to gape at the brunette, your eyebrows twisted in annoyed confusion. “Em, I have spent the last few months getting to know you. Late nights in the office, movie nights on our couches, shopping trips. I don’t know what it is about this case that’s getting to you, but it needs to stop. You need to get your head out of your ass, Prentiss, before it causes you to get benched.” 

You watched as Emily stomped across the room to you, her nostrils flaring, her eyes darkening in anger. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she angrily whispered, “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, so you better watch what you say to me.” 

Emily had moved closer to you than she ever has before, her outrage and annoyance palpable in the air. You could feel her huffed breaths on your cheek. 

You shook your head, chuckling darkly, barely audible. Emily had never intimidated you before and it wasn’t going to start now. “If all you needed to calm down and be yourself again was a good, hard fuck, all you had to do was ask, Em,” you said, smirking as her eyes grew wide. 

You watched as she took in a shuttered breath, her throat bobbing from the nervous swallow. 

You could see the indecision in her eyes, the want and the nerves. How she wanted it, needed it, but didn’t want to cross that line with you for fear of wrecking your friendship, your work life. 

You brought your hand up, pushing some of her hair behind her ear, taking note of the small shiver that ran through her. “Let me help you, Em. We’ll cross tomorrow when it gets here.” 

Emily closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they somehow had gotten darker, her pupils blown. She’d made her decision. “Fuck it out of me, please.” 

You tilted your chin up a little, settling into the role Emily needed you to fill. “Strip. Slowly.” 

Emily exhaled slowly, her hands grasping at the hem of her shirt, lifting it inch by inch. She watched you, but your eyes never strayed from her face. When she dragged the material over her head, your eyes never left her face. It furthered your in charge position, making Emily’s breath quicken in anticipation. 

The brunette slowly dragged her bra straps down her shoulders, slowly exposing her modest chest. It took a lot of self control on your part, but you still refused to look at her body. You could tell that it was starting to get to Emily, but she wasn’t going to say anything, excited to see what you were up to. 

As she drug her pants and underwear down her legs and stood back up, you made another few seconds of intense eye contact with her before letting your gaze slowly glide over her body. 

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about her like this. She was beautiful, striking in a way that made your breath catch the first time you met her. As your relationship with her grew, you were conflicted about thinking of her like this. You’ve come to cherish your connection with her, but you couldn’t help but want more. 

You took your time looking her over, trying to memorize every inch of her in case this was the only time you’d be able to see her like this. 

Emily’s toes started to dig into the carpet, her anticipation growing to a head, the nerves starting to creep up. 

“On the bed, on your back.” 

Emily didn’t need a second to think this time, eagerly moving to the mattress and laying herself across it. She settled her head on a pillow in the middle of the bed, awaiting further instructions. It was something that was exhilarating for you, unexpected. You didn’t think she would be this compliant, but you weren’t going to question it. 

Your eyes dragged across her body again, watching the way that her skin started to flush at your attention. “You’ve been a bitch the past few days.” 

Emily went to open her mouth, to argue. 

“No, no. That wasn’t up for debate. You have been. You’ve let this case get to you.” You started to crawl across the bed, your body between her legs. You remained clothed, the fabric of your pants sliding across her bare skin and causing goosebumps to erupt across her skin. You held eye contact, loving the way Emily’s dark eyes seemed to get darker, deeper. You could feel yourself getting lost in them. “I don’t know why, and to be frank, I don’t care.” You let your hands trail across her shins, up to her knees, pushing her legs further apart. You could feel your own heartbeat speeding up, fluttering inside your chest. “I’m going to fuck your attitude out of you and then we’re going to solve this case and go home. Understood?” 

Emily swallowed, her head nodding briefly. 

“Good,” you said, letting your eyes fall to her bare body. You licked your lips as you looked at her exposed pussy. Through her coarse curls you could tell she was wet, wetter than you expected her to be since you’ve not even touched her yet. 

You leaned down, your eyes back on her face as you gently blew across her sodden lower lips. Emily’s eyes closed, her back arching slightly, her hips trying to push further into the sensation. She was sensitive, something you were going to enjoy. 

Before her back could make contact with the bed again, your tongue made contact, licking quickly from her entrance to her clit, loving the way her voice got stuck in her throat. You decided you didn’t want to tease her, wanting her to get off and relax. Your tongue made a few more passes up and down, enjoying each sound you could pull from her. When she got used to the movement, her body expecting the up and down licks, you switched to swirls around her clit, sucking lightly, before moving down to her hole, entering her with your tongue. 

You paid attention to the sounds she made, the way she whimpered when your tongue made quick circles around her clit, how a moan would get caught deep in her chest every time your tongue entered her. You ate her out passionately, intensely, taking out your frustrations from the past few days on her. 

You could tell she was getting close, the way her leg muscles started to tense, how her hands started to fist in the sheet beneath her. With each swipe of your tongue against her, you could feel her get closer and closer to the edge, the both of you desperate to push her over. As she started to moan more often, gaining volume, you reached up your hands, grasping a breast in each. With perfectly timed pinches to her nipples, Emily came undone against your mouth. You continued to lap at her pussy, swallowing down everything she had to give you. 

Before her body had a chance to relax, you pushed in two fingers, enjoying the way Emily choked out a harsh gasp at the fast pace you set immediately. “You’ve got one more for me, Em. Give it to me,” you commanded, surprised at the strength of your own voice. 

Emily’s bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she struggled to keep up with the thrusting of your fingers. You pushed up her body, using the thumb of your other hand to pull her lip free. “Uh uh, baby. Let me hear those pretty noises.” 

Emily whimpered, her eyes catching yours, a million words being shared between you two. Respect, thanks, lust, love. 

Your wrist was starting to cramp at the position, but there was no way you were going to stop. Not with the sounds she was making, not with the way that Emily was looking at you. With each thrust in, Emily grunted, with each thrust out, a moan. On one particularly hard thrust, Emily’s back arched, her hands fisting into the shirt on your back. Figuring you had found her sweet spot, you focused there, watching with almost primal glee as her head tossed back in pleasure. 

With her throat exposed, your lips made contact to the skin there, kissing and biting at the tender flesh. You trailed your lips up to her ear. “Do you think two orgasms is enough, or should I fuck you into a third?” 

Emily’s only response was a garbled moan, her hands trying to scratch at your back through your shirt. 

You smirked against her skin. “We’ll see if your cunt can take another one after you cum hard on my fingers.” You curled your fingers at that, feeling the spongy spot inside her that caused her to sob in ecstasy, her legs tightening against your hips. On each thrust you made sure to hit that spot. You moved your head back, wanting to watch her come undone. 

You could feel her walls tightening around your fingers, it becoming harder and harder to move within her. You brought your other hand up, wrapping it around her throat, squeezing enough to send a euphoric rush through her. 

“Cum for me, Em, now.” 

She hadn’t disobeyed you yet. 

Emily moaned your name loudly as her walls clamped down on your fingers, forcing you to stay within her as she rode out her orgasm. Her hips undulated against you, riding each wave, reveling in the high.

You worked her through it, easing as her body started to come down. Gently, you removed your fingers, taking satisfaction in the whimper she let out at being empty. You brushed some of her hair out of her face, smiling a little to yourself at the blissed out look on her face. “Feeling better?” 

Emily started laughing, a true belly laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hey, you don’t get to be sassy to the person who just fucked you back into a good mood.” 

Emily rolled her eyes, her hands caressing your shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes expressing even more gratitude. 

You lightly kissed her, the first of many. “Don’t mention it. Next time, don’t wait until you’re a raging bitch before asking for what you need,” you smirked. 

Emily pushed at your shoulder, shaking her head lightly at your antics. She pulled you down, relaxing under the weight of you, feeling herself drift off to sleep. 

If anyone noticed Emily’s improved mood the next day, or the hickies on her neck, they didn’t mention it. The fact that you two solved the case before the day was over was good enough for them. 

[loserdiaz]

you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

buck/eddie | teen and up | 2.1k words

“W-what are you doing here?” Buck’s eyes are so wide that Eddie thinks they’ll burst out of his face at any second, but his face quivers between curious and hopeful and maybe it’s wishful thinking but Eddie will take it anyway. He glances at the big banner hanging above Buck that says “Kiss a Firefighter, help save lives!” in big, fancy and intricate letters that are a bright pink with a pattern of crimson red hearts in them, and then his eyes flicker to the tip jar next to Buck’s arm, filled almost to the brim with dollar bills, coins and even a few phone numbers scrabbled in paper napkins. His gaze finally falls back on Buck. “What does it look like I’m doing here?” or: The LAFD throws a Valentine's Day charity event, there's a kissing booth and Eddie is definitely not going insane with jealousy.

read on ao3

[orpheuslament]

Autumnal, Dante Émile

[rotyolk]

нoiнoiнoiнoi-san

[neversetyoufree]

Every time I think about it too much, I go utterly insane over Noé's little "I'm glad you're the person you are now" speech.

Like, no matter how you read their relationship, it's undeniable that by that point, Noé cares about Vanitas so much. He's clearly quite upset by Vanitas's "as if anyone could fall for a person like me" line. And because of that, he goes out of his way to try and reassure Vanitas that he's good and worthy of love, and he specifically crafts his reassurance in a way that he thinks Vanitas will be able to accept.

He prefaces his kind words with "I still don't like you," because he knows that Vanitas reacts poorly to outright being liked. He adds on the line about his statement being "arbitrary" in an effort to pretend that his speech wasn't prompted by hearing Vanitas spill his self-hatred. He goes to lengths to make things look as much as possible like Noé's just sharing a thought, not trying to comfort Vani, but his intent comes through crystal clear.

Yet at the same time, the way he ties his speech to his thoughts on having met Astolpho shows that he really is being genuine. He goes out of his way to say all this because he wants to reassure Vanitas, but he doesn't say a word that isn't from the heart. Regardless of whether he “likes” the way he is or not, he’s genuinely grateful to have the Vanitas that he has.

It's so telling that Noé's reaction to hearing Vanitas speak self-hatingly is to go out of his way to contradict that hatred with affection. And that he tries to go about it so delicately. It speaks so much to his depth of feeling and his emotional intelligence. It’s just such a good scene.

[smoosnoom]

corollary

“Okay,” Mike echoes. “So, I was – thinking. We should sleep together." Will, for some reason, still looks lost, but he looks cute – sweet, like that, pink cheeks and eyes wide and glossy and the slight furrow of his eyebrows like Mike has given him something outlandish. “I,” he starts, “don’t understand.”

Mike proposes a sleepover.

Unsurprisingly, no sleeping is done.

[thrilling-oneway]

i'm not sure if this is me overthinking things or my media gcse is actually paying off but i wanted to talk about this detail from pandemonium that i haven't seen anyone else point out.

(this kinda unravels into a character study halfway through don't question it)

in chapter 5 (subs here), Shizuku talks about a childhood memory where Tsukasa intervened in an argument her friend group was having. She adds that this interaction made her realise that Tsukasa is the kind of person who really values his friends. Fast forward a second and Shizuku has complimented Tsukasa to the point of embarrassment, Rui teases him over it and Tsukasa gets annoyed and asks what kind of person he takes him for.

Specifically what I want to talk about is Rui's response to that, or lack of response, since he never gets the opportunity before the group moves on to their next tour spot. Internally we see that he agrees with Shizuku's take that Tsukasa is the kind of person who loves his friends a lot, remembering that Tsukasa had been looking out for him and encouraging him to make friends during the trip. He ends up coming to the conclusion that Tsukasa's happiness comes from seeing his friends happy, which makes sense, since we already knew it works the same with Saki. As I said though, he never gets to actually say that out loud.

Kind of.

While I wouldn't question it if only Shizuku had mentioned this detail about Tsukasa and the scene had moved on, the fact that they added that little bit on the end with Rui realising that statement is true makes me go into delusional media student mode.

Point #1: HOLY SHIT the Rui character development in this event was insane. That deserves its own post which I will write some other time but I was genuinely not expecting this to be the end of his first character arc. I mean, we still haven't got the last WxS event of the season yet so they might throw in an epilogue, but this felt like a proper conclusion to his character arc. Rui started out as someone who didn't have any close friends, he was lonely, and in this event he's finally starting to make friends outside of other MCs and actually coming to terms with the fact that, yes, his friends do care about him and his wellbeing. To put it shortly, he feels loved.

Point #2 slash Point #1.5: I said kind of. Does he answer Tsukasa's question out loud at the time? No. It was kinda rhetorical anyway but shhhh. But. Does he answer it later? Yes absolutely. Chapter 8 specifically (no fan TL yet so I'm running off DeepL and wiktionary as normal). You see what I said above, about how they could've just left it with Shizuku saying that Tsukasa is someone who cares about his friends and then just moved on? Yeah this is what I mean. The whole event still works if you remove the part with Rui. But including it does add a little set up for chapter 8. What kind of person does Rui think Tsukasa is?

Chapter 8 is where Rui outright admits that Tsukasa changed his life. Without Tsukasa inviting him to join WxS, he never would've gotten close with Nene again, never would've met Emu, never would've had friends. And thanks to that, he's now able to keep making new friends. He's happy. Thanks to Tsukasa, he can be happy now. Ship or not, Tsukasa impacted Rui's life a lot. Going back to chapter 5 of the event, that's where Rui realises that his friends, or Tsukasa specifically, actually cares about his wellbeing and his happiness, something which he wouldn't have been able to say a few months prior in-universe. Again, ship or not, Tsukasa is like. the most important person in his life right now.

Point #3 slash 2 / 1.5 part 2: This one's less media student and more overthinking it but still a media student. But whatever. Anyway, maybe I'm thinking too hard about the fact that Rui specifically outlines that Tsukasa's happiness comes from seeing his friends happy, but like. I wonder if that realisation is part of the reason why he even told Tsukasa all of that. Like. He's not normally very honest about his feelings, hell he doesn't even realise them half of the time. Even in his last WxS event, he never told the other members about the job offer Asahi gave him, he doesn't even realise how much the prospect of leaving WxS was hurting him until Asahi had to take back the offer for him because of how sad and pained he looked when he accepted it. So the fact that he's fully aware that yes, Tsukasa had an impact on his life, yes, he feels like he's loved and cared for by the people around him, yes, he actually wants to make friends, yes, he's truly happy - it really sticks out, the fact that for like the first time, someone didn't have to tell him this to his face. It sticks out that he even admitted it out loud to the person his feelings revolve around.

But trail back up again to where I mentioned chapter 5. Tsukasa's happiness comes from his friends' happiness. Rui is a much kinder character than people give him credit for. I don't think it would be out of the question for him to want to give back some of the genuine happiness Tsukasa gave him. I mean he says it, right? He thanks Tsukasa for giving him the chance to change his life. And it does make Tsukasa happy to hear that Rui is happy; he says he's welcome, but still points out that Rui came to this point by his own will as well. He's happy that Rui was able to turn his life around.

Like literally the very last thing said in the event. Rui finally has friends, people who love and care for him. He's finally genuinely happy.

Fufu. I'm sorry Tsukasa-kun, but …… this is also going to be a fun memory for me! You really make me smile a lot, Tsukasa-kun! And with those smiles, I will make new friends and new relationships.

Bye I'm gonna go cry in a corner I love this event sm.

[flymmsy]

Inspired by my earlier post.

Wrong Muse (Durgetash, ~450 words, cw violence)

“I suppose I cannot convince you to close your eyes.”

“Smart man.”

“Very well,” Gortash opened the doors to his bedchamber and gestured for Lyra to enter.  

Eyes narrowed, she proceeded in. She hardly had a chance to begin her sweep of the room before she saw it.

There – propped against the wall – was a large painting. A blonde, pale woman, draped in the finest gossamer silk and adorned with silver chains, stood at the center holding a barbed whip above her head. At her feet, several servants knelt in submission, their skin raw from her ministrations.

The woman was wearing Lyra’s face.

“A gesture towards our continuing alliance.” Gortash’s voice sounded far off, and she barely registered his arms wrapping around her waist.

A whip. A whip where a dagger should have been. Silk, not her hearty leathers – ones she created herself with pride. Chains – chains. Loviatar, The Maiden of Pain. Loviatar, Bane’s Queen.

The Urge rose so quickly she did not even feel it, and later, she would be thankful that Gortash still wore his golden sleeves – a thin barrier that prevented his arms from shredding. Her dagger flashed as it made its first slice into the painting, beheading one of the servants. She did not deliver pain, she delivered death.

When the painting had all but been torn to shreds, she freed her face from Loviatar’s body, grasping the canvas in her trembling fist. Her heart pounded in her ears, rage coursing through her veins. How dare he, how dare he, how dare he.

She turned, her eyes finding him quickly, delighting in the panic she could register in his own. Gortash was slumped against the far wall, having been thrown back by her outburst. She advanced quickly, dagger drawn, and he pushed himself to his feet to stop her. It was futile, she was on him in an instant and much stronger, one forceful hand shoving him right back to the ground.

Her dagger sliced halfway through the air before coming to a halt just inches from his face. Her arm began to tremble, a tremor quickly spreading throughout her entire body. She dropped to her knees, knife arm still extended, the other clinging to her own torn face. She threw the painting’s fragment into the small distance separating her from Gortash.

“This,” Lyra hissed, eyes wildly locking onto Gortash’s own.

He did not dare to say a word, but slowly raised his hand to lower her dagger from his face.

“This,” Lyra repeated with the same violent tone, slamming her other hand onto the painting of her face below. Gortash nodded, holding her gaze, his eyes now fighting to call her back.

“This,” her voice cracked the third time, her head slumping forward, “I can never be this.”

The canvas ran wet beneath her.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

No, see, now I'm thinking about Iris teaching Phoenix how to plait hair and getting emotional about it because like. The first person who ever plaited her hair was probably her mother, right? And I think Morgan's the kind of mum who's rather strict with hair, meaning that it'd be drawn very tight and be a rather painful affair. After they leave Kurain, I'm guessing that Iris still may not have known how to braid her hair but Dahlia did, and so Dahlia was the one who used to do it for her before eventually teaching Iris to do it herself; and, while I don't think Dahlia was as rough as Morgan was, she did learn how to plait from her, and she has nails, so it still hurt a little. But that's how Iris learns to plait her hair: with a touch of force and an emphasis on bridled control. It's necessary, when you're working up in the mountains since it keeps strands out of the way.

But then she goes to Ivy-U and meets the kindest, gentlest man she's ever known, and he gets curious as to how she does her hair, so she shows him. It's the first time anyone's ever touched her hair and truly cared about not hurting her -- he's hesitant to even comb his fingers through it because he's afraid of tugging on her scalp -- and she has to change the way she moves as they slowly, carefully work their way through the two braids together. Yes, it takes longer than it normally would, and the braids are looser than she would usually wear them, but they stay, and it's the first she's ever tried plaiting them in a way that's different from her mother and sister -- the first she's ever considered it, even -- and it shows her, irrevocably, that kindness and gentleness can be just as effective as the harsh strength her family has always prided and possessed. It's the first time that Iris has used her hands in a way that feels truly natural to her and not been ashamed for her own weakness.

And she carries that with her for the rest of her life; just as he carries what her hands showed him as he brushes his fingers through her younger sister's fairer brown locks, while she sits in jail and does the same to her own long, dark hair, now black as it should be instead of red.

[feliville]

PLEASE TALK ABOUT STEVE AND ZOMBIE'S RELATIONSHIP OH MY GOD THEY'RE AMAZING

i oweu my life

---

RN IM LIKE, wanting to draw a small series of drawings abt how in my litle gay story they Met n stuff, its sillay but im mostly doing it 4 myself, so i think its ok;;

I have this One painting I made, which is . the first encounter heart emoji, p self explanatory; Steve is out exploring a cave, n he finds a zombie who doesnt attack him on sight, which he finds Odd, theres moss growing around and on him, so it looks like he's been there for a long time, they exchange no words, n Steve walks past him, but he cant stop thinking about him afterwards

After a day or two of mining alone, Steve decides to go back to the zombie and try to talk to him, at first he doesnt respond. Steve keeps coming back to try to talk, and one day he does, he hasnt spoken in so long, undead but not alive. He tells Steve tht the only thing he ever has known is to be violent towards any human he sees, no matter what, but any other zombie hes ever met has been killed by this "purpouse", so he decided he'd ignore his violent urges, till they were no more; but now, there's nothing for him to do, no more purpouse, no reason to stay alive, but he doesnt want to stop existing.

Steve had never been so close to a zombie, while they stay sitting peaceful, its a shock to hear such a rare story from such a rare source; he wants to be of help, offer companionship and friendship. Steve has many more stories to tell than the zombie, but neither mind this, the zombie is fascinated by Steve's adventures, and hes happy to be able to get the zombie to smile.

The zombie leaves his sitting spot to go with Steve to his makeshift base, he's a little awkward and slow, but Steve doesnt mind waiting.

After having bonded in the mines for a while, Steve decides its time to leave, but he doesnt want to abandon his new friend, so he offers him to keep traveling with him. Steve was expecting hesitation, but is surprised to see the zombie's excitement n enthusiasm at the idea; with an iron helmet and boots, they finally leave the cave, the zombie is enamored by the sunset tht he had long forgotten about, moon and night sky making him feel wonder and love he hadnt felt ever in his existence, he holds steve's hand as they walk along

---

thts what i. can manage rn i hope its readable . crying n sobbing

[ender1821]

(The brainrot got to me again so: woe galaxy duo be upon ye)

— — —

The first time, there was winter, and there was you.

Though, I didn’t feel half the bite of winter’s cold when you were around. You and the cottage you built for us. Us and our scattered bases, hidden underground for safety, as those cursed would hunt for us not long after.

Soon enough, I’ll grow used to the cold. I’d crawl my way back to the snow, but the heat overtakes me.

Next time, I cling to winter. I cling to winter because it’s all I knew. I cling to winter because it was you.

Spring came, yet you feel the gnaw of ice in your veins. Do you feel it? When I plunge myself in the powdered snow? When I sleep alone high up in my tower? Will it be enough for you to come back to my arms?

You don’t return the sentiment. You bask in the arrival of spring, and you end me with a blaze, as the string between us becomes the ignition.

Then, there’s summer. We’re well away from snowy woods and winter’s bite, this I know. I know, but my heart yearns for breezy nights.

Before I knew it, I’m in the tower again. The heat haze is far beyond my reach when I’m on top of it all. I’ll catch a glimpse of you every now and then, I’ll retreat to my tower and question if winter is still on your mind.

You answer. You answer with the slash of a sword as air leaves my punctured lungs in a final scream. The cool water rushes in me, but it doesn’t remind me of winter, it reminds me of the spring you left me.

Autumn will arrive with its yellow hues. Cold seeps in, but I think that summer lingers. I walk through the sunflower fields, with summer on my mind.

For the first time, I build a home rooted to the earth. For the first time, I try to catch the escaping heat. For the first time, I don’t think about you, or ruined cottages, or snapped strings, or stolen items.

You pass by one day, offering me warmth. You say the words I’ve begged to hear for so long. You want to show me what it’s like past winter.

But I won’t say it back. I’ve discovered warmth without you. You came back expecting a tower, but it’s not here.

I will think back to you someday. Maybe I should’ve said it back. Maybe I should leave you in the past.

Maybe there can be a winter without you.

[brewstersbru]

Im back for a bit I'm getting writers block on my wrimo; have some really bad galehalstarion (?) bloodbearweave (?)

“Goodnight darling.” Astarion purrs, pressing a gentle kiss to Gale’s forehead as he pulls away for the night. Of course, he had been chivalrous enough to clean everything up, Gale included, but not chivalrous enough to stay the night, it seems.

For the past few nights he’s been making his rounds, first to Halsin, now, Gale. Gale suspects it has something to do with their most recent encounter with the drow woman with the vampire fetish where they had both refused to order him to do anything, and instead reinforced his personhood, which, evidently, he hadn’t been anticipating.

Leaving early also likely has something to do with the fact that no one else in camp has any idea that the three of them are in any way… involved. To be fair, they’ve each got quite a bit else going on, outside of petty camp matters. Wyll has his whole complicated thing with Mizora, Karlach’s got her engine to worry about, Shadowheart with her budding religious crisis and Lae’zel with her ongoing religious crisis, after what happened at the monastery.

Which, Gale had thought that would be all the more reason to not have to be as careful as they usually were- preoccupied minds are less perceptive and all- but evidently Astarion is not of the same mind.

He leaves with a roguish grin and cheeky fingers dragging across Gale’s ankle before the tent flap closes behind him. Gale has to take another moment to himself in order to prevent any further blood circulation to unwanted areas before he can fully process what has just happened.

Falling into bed with Astarion is nothing new, really. He, Astarion, and more recently, Halsin have been tangling in the sheets for a good while. Gale can say with certainty that he knows which spots to kiss around to make Astarion flush, to make Halsin groan in contentment, and that the other two know just as much about what makes him tick.

It’s just, usually, he gets a chance to reciprocate. To funnel the pleasure that has been given to him back into his partner(s), often in excess. He enjoys the feeling, having done something- or in this case, someone- so well and thoroughly that there is no room for discontent or unease. Astarion, especially, usually revels in it. Writhes and gasps, grinning still, as he takes what he is given. Halsin always enjoys a good show.

Today, though, the vampire had entered his tent with a mission. His movements were purposeful, his voice practiced and purring as he brought Gale to the edge and over time and time again. He was not to be contented until the wizard had spent himself thrice at least. And Gale is in no way ungrateful for this gift, in fact it’s the most well fucked he thinks he’s been in a good long while. It just hadn’t really seemed like it was Astarion, that he was fucking. Rather someone with his face, attempting to act out what he thought Gale’s greatest fantasies were, in order to elicit the best reaction. To be exactly what he thought Gale needed. When all Gale has ever really needed or wanted these past few weeks was to see his lover(s) happy and sated.

He was robbed of that tonight. And Astarion had seemed pleased with himself when he looked down upon Gale and saw the pleasure he had wrought, but he had also seemed a thousand miles away. Gale doesn’t like to speculate on what might have caused that, but the thought is as horrible and inevitable as the man who caused it. Cazador.

Even just an inkling that lying with him had been, in any way, close to what Astarion had experienced with his old, cruel master, was enough to make Gale sick to his stomach. He wonders if Halsin had had a similar experience. He resolves to talk to him tomorrow, without Astarion present, just in case his theory is correct, and they need to stage an intervention.

***

Halsin is expecting him, when he ducks through the flap of the other man’s tent early the next morning. The sun has not even risen yet, but Halsin is fiddling with a knife and a small piece of wood, a pensive tilt to his eyebrows as he works. He sets his tools aside as soon as Gale makes himself known and pats the ground beside him.

“Good morning, my heart. Please, have a seat.” Gale complies, dropping a fond peck to his temple as he does so. Halsin, in turn, wraps an oak-thick arm around his waist and pulls him into his side. Gale cannot help the startled chuckle that this elicits, and smacks his arm, halfheartedly.

“Good morning, love. Stop trying to be mushy I have serious business with you this morning!” At this, Halsin pauses his tender ministrations, then shakes his head.

“First Astarion, and now you. My heart, can we not have a moment solely for the sake of joy and pleasure?”

Gale perks up at the sound of their other lover’s name. “Astarion was here?” He asks, then, realizing that this is a stupid question, amends, “I mean, he did that thing where he came in and set himself to servicing you with a- frankly, quite intense- single-minded focus? Without allowing you breath or movement enough to reciprocate?” Halsin’s head jerks in his direction and Gale knows he’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Yes…” Halsin admits, “Although it was significantly more difficult to restrain me, I would surmise.” Gale allows a short chuckle at this, nodding. Halsin smiles indulgently down at him.

“He’s quite strong, when he is fed. And I am quite weak, after being fed upon.” Halsin seems to find this rather amusing but Gale’s stomach churns a little at the thought of their lover using his nature against them like that, in order to deprive himself of their love, yes, but also Halsin of his autonomy. They definitely need to have a chat.

“We should talk to him about this, right? I disliked not being able to reciprocate.” Gale asks, tentative. Halsin has always been the more level-headed of the three of them, almost to a fault. He allows much that Gale himself wouldn’t stand for. Thankfully he nods his agreement. They decide it best to attempt to corner him the next time Tav leaves them in camp together. It’s their best shot at being anywhere close to alone anytime soon, and he won’t be able to use adventuring as an excuse to not address the problem.

In the relatively short amount of time they’ve all spent in a relationship, that’s one thing Gale’s noticed. Astarion is especially flighty when it comes to talking about his thoughts and/or feelings. They have strategies for that, thankfully. It just takes a tactful hand.

***

It’s not too long after his and Halsin’s conversation that they have the opportunity to act upon their plan.  This was to be expected, of course, given that they- save Halsin- are not incredibly physically strong, and are, in fact, quite easy to hit and maim, if cornered. That, and Halsin is a walking signal of betrayal, if Tav had taken him to Moonrise with them, their cover would be immediately blown. Of course, Gale had accounted for all of this when he’d put forth the plan.

Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart and Tav leave together, towards Moonrise. Lae’zel takes one look at the three of them, makes a face as if she’s just smelt something rotten, and fucks off to sharpen the stash of weapons Tav has been slowly but surely building next to her tent. Everything works out perfectly; with the rest of the camp gone, and Lae’zel otherwise occupied, Halsin and Gale make a beeline toward Astarion’s tent.

The vampire is flipping leisurely through a thick tome just in front of it, settled luxuriously on top of a mess of ornate pillows as he bathes in the sunlight. As they approach, he glances up, and pastes a devilish grin over whatever expression he had been sporting previously. Gale frowns.

“Good morning, my heart! How fortuitous that we are all, as you say, ‘off the hook’ for today.” Halsin decides to greet him first, crouching down and scooping him into his arms as he speaks. Gale reaches a hand to card through his hair.

“Yes, love, we thought it only natural to pay you a visit. We’d also like to talk to you about something, if that’s alright. Could we step into your tent?” Gale is usually the one to beat around the bush, to weave his words in such a complex and convoluted way so as to confuse and disorient everyone not intimately aware of the way he usually speaks. Something about this situation unsettles him, though, puts him on edge. He feels a compulsion to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.

Halsin does not pull away from Astarion for another few seconds but he nods when they do finally separate. There’s something iron and unreadable in Astarion’s expression.

“Of course, darlings. Please.” He steps into his tent and gestures for them to follow after him. It’s just as immaculately well-kept and organized as Gale remembers it being. Now that he thinks about it, though, it’s been a while since they’ve all been in his tent. Usually they gather in Halsin’s tent, with all of the warm pelts and useful oils he has stocked. Astarion has added quite a few new books to his collection- likely from all of the abandoned houses and towers they keep rummaging through- his shelves are beginning to rival gale’s own. Gale cannot help but grin as he casts a look around.

Astarion’s sharp voice snaps him from his reverie. “So? Out with it, you’re breaking up with me. The throuple stuff was fun while it lasted but you’ve found that it’s just so much better when it’s just the two of you, right?”

His words drip like venom from his lips, biting and cold in ways he hasn’t been with the two of them for quite some time. Gale finds himself wrong-footed for a minute or so, of all the things he’d been expecting walking into Astarion’s tent, that hadn’t been one of them. Still, he can’t say it’s unfounded, he probably should have been more careful with the way he worded his invitation to talk. Thinking back on it, it had kind of sounded like a preface to a breakup. He cringes at himself and looks to Halsin for support.

The other man seems similarly taken aback, but recovers himself more quickly than Gale can. He steps forward, hand outstretched to grasp at Astarion’s shoulder, but he jerks- flinches, really, and oh doesn’t that sting- away. Halsin slowly retracts his hand, expression attempting to hide how crestfallen he truly is and failing, quite miserably. He’s always been a rather straightforward fellow.

“Astarion,” His voice is low, soft, “of course not. We love you. We wanted to talk about the other night with us.” He gestures between the two of them, “And then the night you shared with Gale, recently.” Gale nods, finally finding his voice.

“Love, no. No, he’s right, we love you so much. I- we- were just worried about how… Distant you seemed the last few times we were intimate.” Gale steps forward but keeps his distance, hoping that his eyes can convey the swirl of love and concern he feels.

Astarion bristles and holds the tension within himself for a moment before crumbling. He sighs, shakes his head and sits heavily on the nest of pillows he’s built on the floor. Halsin and Gale give him a moment, hovering, until he waves his hand for them to sit. At the signal, they rush to his side and- with another slight hesitation before laying any hands on him- nestle themselves into all of his favorite spots.

This seems to make him feel marginally better- his head is still in his hands, but his shoulders relax slightly- and that knowledge alone is enough of a comfort to relax Gale’s own shoulders.

There are another few minutes of tense, suspended silence before Astarion decides to speak again, voice quieter and less stable than ever before.

“I’m sorry… I just-“ He laughs, a little, broken thing, “hells you probably already know- but I just… You were so kind to me, about me, with the drow. I wanted to thank you properly. I wanted to show you that treating me that way would be fruitful, so that you would keep doing it.” He cringes at himself, “Now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds so manipulative. I’m sorry. I just- I wanted to make it worth it.”

Another near minute of silence. Halsin glances over Astarion’s head over at Gale who has furrowed his brows.

“My heart… We would have done that either way. Anyone here would have. We don’t have to be sleeping with you to care about you.” Astarion shakes his head at this.

“But I liked it! I think. I didn’t need to go away from myself like I did. It felt good, and I was having fun, and, more importantly, you were having fun-“ Gale scoffs and cuts him off.

“Not more importantly, love. Never ‘more importantly’. Come now. And I don’t think it matters if it felt good, if you were so focused on making it good for us. Making sure we enjoyed it so much that you couldn’t let yourself be in the moment.” It seems impossible, but Gale presses himself closer to his lover, skating a comforting hand under his shirt and up his chest.

“Is this okay?” Astarion nods. “Words, please, love.”

He chokes out a wet, “Yes, darling.”

“Good boy. Thank you.” A long shudder works its way through Astarion at the words, but Gale knew that would happen. He’s too keyed up right now, too stressed and worried; Gale couldn’t stand it. Halsin smiles and thumbs at the juncture between his neck and jaw. Astarion hums, content, and blinks sluggishly as he leans into their hands.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, more slurred, and sluggish this time.

Halsin hushes him, moving one of his hands to his lips to dip a gentle finger in and tug at one of his fangs. Astarion’s eyes flutter.

“And we’re sorry, my heart. We should have seen the signs of this much earlier than we did. Next time, let’s just talk to each other, hm?” Both Gale and Astarion hum affirmatives at this.

Gale has climbed more fully into Astarion’s lap, setting himself to work unbuttoning his shirt as Halsin continues to thumb at his sensitive fangs. The vampire pants and drools onto his collarbone, and Gale coos at him.

“Oh, sweetheart. Halsin, let up, would you? Look at him, already half-ruined just from that.” Halsin complies, but not before a final short tug on the fang and a kiss pressed to the area right underneath Astarion’s ear. “Gorgeous.”

He whispers, as he pulls away, eliciting another heavy shudder. Gale, finally having successfully removed Astarion’s shirt, hums to himself.

“Look at you. So beautiful, and to think, you tried to deprive us of this breathtaking sight.” The words are punctuated by a short press of the wizard’s fingernail into the soft flesh of his nipple. Astarion whines high in his throat. Halsin noses at his neck.

“I-ggh- I’m sorry.” He hiccups. Gale hushes him, hand trailing through the soft white hair on his navel. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. We can see you now. Isn’t that right?” Gale, himself, isn’t quite sure who he’s talking to, but both of his lovers nod fervently at the question.

“That’s right, baby. Can I get your pants? Or do you want them on this time?” This is something that happens sometimes, where Astarion will want to partake in sexual activities, without having to bare himself to them completely. Gale actually often prefers these times, because it means he gets to be creative with how he attempts to get him off. Also, being able to focus on the gorgeous look on his face as he comes… Nothing compares. Halsin, of course, prefers it all-natural, but is extremely accommodating when Astarion finds himself at a mental block. As long as his lovers are happy, he’s happy.

It seems today is one of those days, as Astarion slowly and hesitantly shakes his head, then opens his mouth around what Gale is almost certain is another apology.

“Hey.” He kisses him before he can get the chance, “That’s alright, that’s perfect. You’re perfect. You want my hand?” Astarion nods, closing his eyes and throwing his head back onto Halsin’s shoulder.

Halsin rumbles against his back and brings his own hands to his hips, guiding him in his grind against the firm pressure Gale is applying from above. Trapped from both sides, completely out of control and loving it, Astarion lets out a long and wrung out moan. Halsin grins against his neck.

“That’s it, little star. Let it wash over you. Feel our love.”

It’s coming in waves, little shocks of pleasure washing over and over themselves into a slowly building tide as he remembers that it’s Gale’s hand against him, and Halsin who is guiding his hips.

“I-hng- I love you. Ngh!” Astarion gasps, he needs them to know that he feels the same. Needs them to know he’s not just taking from them. Gale is smiling down at him, palm slowly circling the bulge in his trousers.

“We know, my love. Now, I remember how gorgeous you are when you come. Do you think you can show us, again?” It’s a question without a real answer, they all know that he can, and will. So help him, if Gale asked for the very sun in this moment, he would find a way to bottle it for him.

Astarion nods, frantic and eager to please, “I can, I can. Gale- Halsin-“ He pauses, brows knit together in concentration, evidently stuck at the crest of his orgasm. It takes Halsin mouthing against his ear and whispering, “Now, gorgeous boy.” To fully push him over.

He shakes through it, jerking in his lovers’ hold and shaking his head as wave after wave of pure ecstasy rolls through him. Gale does not stop moving his hand until he begins to shy away from overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says, and pulls Astarion into a cuddle pile when he attempts to return the favor. “Not today, love. This was about you.”

Halsin rumbles his agreement, always slightly nonverbal after a good round in the sack, and wraps himself safely around the two of them. He presses a kiss to each of their heads before falling almost immediately asleep. He really is a bear that one; Gale can’t really blame him, though. It is getting rather cold and dark outside.

Gale makes a few gestures with his hand, imbuing magic into a few words so that Astarion’s pants dry and clean themselves. Astarion hums what sounds like a thank you against his neck and cuddles closer. Gale smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

That was quite a bit easier than he’d thought it’d be.

Huh.