#and THANK you to my beta readers

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

[nerdallwritey]

Just to Ruin Me

Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”

Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.

Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood. 

This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings. 

It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn. 

At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact. 

Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight. 

But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-

Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling. 

Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.

How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear. 

That… would not be pleasant. 

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.

Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.

Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on! 

You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering. 

You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.

“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 

Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?

You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”

Nothing.

Okay fine. 

“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.

“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you. 

You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”

You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. 

“Are you okay?”

“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead. 

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”

“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him. 

He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”

You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”

“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”

You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”

Astarion pursed his lips.

“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”

A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”

You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”

“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”

You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”

He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”

You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap. 

He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?

When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“Wait, no-”

You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”

He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.” 

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”

“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.

Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”

The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably. 

“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck. 

You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”

Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back. 

“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”

He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”

“I just thought of something,” you said.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.

“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure. 

“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.

“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.

“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked. 

“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.

“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do. 

Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion. 

“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder. 

“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”

After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.

“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”

Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.

His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”

“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder. 

You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it. 

“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.

You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening. 

Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh. 

“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”

You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.

“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair. 

“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.

“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?” 

You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.

Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix. 

You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.

Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more. 

“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.

“More of a question, really,” he clarified.

You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally. 

“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.

It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.

When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”

Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”

You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap. 

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”

“I did not!” You protested.

“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”

You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”

Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.

The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink. 

“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.

“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help. 

He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants. 

“Sorry,” you said.

Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”

You held up your hands innocently. 

He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.

“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”

You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?

Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.

“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.

“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.

“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.

“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”

“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.

You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.

Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee. 

He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.” 

You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next. 

“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly. 

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.” 

You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him. 

He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”

You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder. 

“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.” 

Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”

You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”

“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”

“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”

Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” 

You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”

“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.” 

Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.

Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky. 

“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”

Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”

Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”

“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke. 

“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’” 

You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.

“What a prick.”

He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”

“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”

The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.” 

You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”

You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.

“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”

“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.

Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.

You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield. 

When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”

You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”

“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”

“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.

He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.

“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow. 

“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”

That hurt. 

You said as much. “Ouch.”

“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”

Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid. 

“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”

You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.

“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”

A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.

He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”

“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.

Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”

“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”

He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on. 

“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.

You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace. 

His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”

Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”

You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?

Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.

Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”

You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”

“Then by all means.”

You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small. 

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you. 

Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now. 

“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”

Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.

“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 

Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”

You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.

Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”

Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.

“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”

That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”

Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”

You humphed.

“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”

“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”

“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 

“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”

“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”

That made you smile softly. 

He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out. 

Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”

“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”

“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”

You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 

You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.

“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”

You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.

“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”

You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”

Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”

You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 

“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow. 

“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”

Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”

You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.

“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.

“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards. 

He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply. 

“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”

You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right. 

You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.

He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.” 

You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.

He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”

“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again. 

He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.

“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed. 

He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.” 

You pursed your lips, disappointed. 

“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”

You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably. 

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.

You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”

You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”

Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”

You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”

You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side. 

“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”

You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.

Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

~~~~~

You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face. 

You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead. 

“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.

Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly. 

You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly. 

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 

He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.

“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.

“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.” 

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance. 

“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline. 

You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands. 

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 

“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?” 

“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”

“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you. 

Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged. 

“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look. 

“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly. 

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 

“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”

Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”

Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”

“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said. 

“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered. 

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.

“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”

Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

He shrugged. “What?”

You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions. 

“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”

“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”

“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 

“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.

“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly. 

“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended. 

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 

“Astarion,” you scolded. 

He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip. 

You went red as you watched your companions track his hand. 

“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious. 

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 

“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”

“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.

“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly. 

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 

You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly. 

“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.” 

“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll. 

“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.

You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said. 

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.

You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.

Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand. 

Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?” 

“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated. 

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 

“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”

Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered. 

“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”

“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale. 

“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.

“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby. 

She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck. 

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”

She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion. 

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”

Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”

“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”

“I got it,” he said flatly. 

“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”

“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly. 

When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone. 

You let out a heavy sigh.

“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.

“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.

“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.

You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”

“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”

You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”

He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.” 

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on. 

When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm. 

Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.

“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”

“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard. 

You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan. 

Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”

“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows. 

All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.

“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”

His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”

Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”

“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees. 

You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”

“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.

“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly. 

“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly. 

You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”

“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”

Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.

“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”

You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”

A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”

He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.

“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 

Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs. 

A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.

Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”

“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.

He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt. 

You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly. 

“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy. 

“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”

You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”

He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”

You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”

“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger. 

You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”

“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again. 

“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed. 

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 

He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”

Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”

Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”

You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”

“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear. 

“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”

“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax. 

You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”

A relieved sigh escaped you. 

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.

“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”

You inhaled. “Yes.”

Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”

“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass. 

“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable. 

“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.

He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”

“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile. 

He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night. 

You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.

He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard. 

“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly. 

“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat. 

“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.

“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.

“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”

He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.” 

He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed. 

The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy. 

Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state. 

“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”

Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”

“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck. 

“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”

“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin. 

His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well. 

“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.

“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.

“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing. 

“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”

You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more. 

“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you. 

The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily. 

“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm. 

After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.

“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.

Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.” 

You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.

“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth. 

Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”

Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”

“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”

“And that’s important because-?”

“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”

“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes. 

You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time. 

Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 

“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.

You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows. 

“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”

“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back. 

He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly. 

You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.

Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”

Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire. 

“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments. 

“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”

“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 

“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”

“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.

Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 

“I do not.”

“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.” 

“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.

“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”

He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”

You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”

Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.

If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together. 

You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.

Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire. 

You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”

He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 

And stepped into camp. 

[north-noire]

When the Marionette finds itself awake in a workshop room, she soon comes to a realization there was more going on to what had happened to the child she was assigned to protect.

Hidden Hands Chapter 6 is out! AO3 Fic Link Here Previous Chapter Beginning Chapter

Hey, I would appreciate it if you reblog this post! I try my hardest for this AU fic, so reblogging it and being able to share it goes a long way!

[fandomfloozy]

Classical Conditioning

Pairing: Kento Nanami x clingy!reader

C/W: reader's love language is physical touch, petnames (kento refers to reader as love, sweetheart, darling), sorcerer instructor!reader (students refer to reader as sensei), gn!reader, slightly nsfw, mdni

wc: 6.5k

~°•*~

You're on the way home from a particularly grueling training session with the second years. Your muscles burn, your limbs feel heavy, and you want nothing more than to treat yourself to a sweet dessert and head home.

Home to bed, home to sleep, home to Kento...

You weakly push open the door of the nearest cafe you could find and head in. No sooner does the entry bell chime that the exhaustion of the day dissipates from your aching body. From one moment to the next, you've gone from zombie walk to barely containing your excitement as you spot an unmistakably familiar head of blond hair.

You don't even hear the cashier greet you as you're halfway across the room, your feet moving on their own volition. The closer you get, the wider the stupid grin on your face grows until you've practically jumped your fiancée from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his.

"Kento!" You're nuzzling into him with your eyes closed, feeling yourself recharge to practically full capacity.

He doesn't seem the least bit startled or surprised to see you as he reaches a hand up to place on your arms. He moves his face away to get a good look at you. "Hi, sweetheart." He rubs his thumb on your forearm. "We were just talking about you."

In your haste, you failed to notice Takuma Ino sitting across from your lover.

You breathe out an awkward chortle, slinking your arms away from Kento and rounding his chair to pull out the one next to him. "All good things, I hope?" You slide a hand down his arm as you take a seat.

"Nothing but, sensei!"

"You're not one of my students, Takuma-kun." You give a semi-exasperated smile as you reach down the table to grab Kento's hand. "I already told you; you don't need to call me that."

Kento glances your way. "We were actually talking about potentially having him shadow you on one of your next missions." He gives a squeeze at your locked hands at the suggestion. "Have you give him a few pointers, show him how you do things."

"Oh!" You look over at Takuma. "I'm not sure what I could teach you that you don't know, you're plenty capable already!"

"But you're a first grade, sensei! I could pick up a lot from watching you work."

"You're pushing first grade yourself!" You argue.

"And you're pushing semi-special grade, darling," Kento chides, coolly sipping at his drink. "Don't sell yourself too short."

You frown. If you sold yourself too short, Kento upsold you too much.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you let out a hum as you think. "Well..."

You look up and Takuma is giving you the closest thing a young man his age can get to puppy eyes. And it's working.

You fiddle with Kento's fingers. "I trust you're capable enough not to slow me down..." Takuma visibly starts to brighten. "So I suppose it couldn't hurt to have you come on a mission and shadow me--"

"Yes!" Takuma pumps a fist and grabs your free hand to shake in earnest. "I won't slow you down at all, sensei! Promise!"

You giggle as he continues to shake. "There's no doubt in my mind."

Kento chuckles a bit and moves to stand up. "Now that that's squared away, why don't I get you something to eat?"

"Oh! Yes, please." You remember that the sweet treat you came for remains unordered. You lean away to let Kento stand. "You remember my order?"

"You need to ask?" He smiles and starts making his way towards the register. You hold his hand and then his fingers to the last moment as they slip away from you. You then watch him with your chin leaned into your hand and a dopey smile on your face as you watch him tell the cashier your order and pull out his wallet.

"Your two's relationship is so wild to me." Takuma's voice breaks you out of your lovelorn trance. You clear your throat.

"I guess it is atypical," you hum.

Romantic relationships in the jujutsu world, especially between jujutsu sorcerers, are few and far between. Not many sorcerers become old enough or secure enough to explore those kinds of relationships, let alone get to the point of planning to marry. You and Kento are lucky...

"Especially because you two are such an unlikely pair."

You hum in response again, before what he said kicks in. "Wait, what?"

Takuma responds casually while taking bites of his pastry. "Well, you know. Sensei and Nanami-san are so different. Don't get me wrong, he's a great man, but he's kind of a square."

You snort, recalling your jujutsu tech days with Kento. "He's always been a little standoffish. Been that way since we were students."

"It's just crazy. You're so bubbly and nice, and he's so..." He gestures vaguely. "I guess what they say is true: opposites attract."

"Well..." You fidget. "He is a little more reserved than I am, I suppose."

He takes in another fork full of his food. "I don't think I've ever even seen him hold your hand first."

That leaves you speechless.

Was that true? Has he never held your hand without you reaching out to grab his first? You've never thought about it before.

No, surely, it's just in public. Takuma has never seen Kento initiate because you're in public. Kento doesn't mind PDA, but you're just more prone to initiate in a public setting. Surely that's what he means.

Surely.

The weight of the day is suddenly returning to your body all at once.

Kento returns with your order, hand on the back of the chair. "Don't worry about the bill, it's covered." Takuma cheers to himself. Kento turns to face you. "Ready to head home? You look exhausted."

You nod and let out a little, "Mhm." You reach out a hand and Kento helps you up. Huh...

Initiated.

"We're heading out now. I'll see you tomorrow, Ino-kun."

"See you, Nanami-san. Sensei."

You offer a wave and lean into Kento's arm as you walk out of the cafe.

Initiated...

The ride home is quiet. You're on the verge of nodding off in the backseat as the driver takes you and Kento home. He holds onto your treat from the cafe, your craving now forgotten. Your hands are folded in your lap as you try to stay awake.

It's private enough in the car. Surely, he'll at least try to hold your hand...

You want him to hold your hand. Your thigh, your shoulders, your waist... Anything, really. But he could at least hold your hand.

Please, hold my hand...

The car coming to a stop wakes you. Your head lay in Kento's lap as he gently pets your head.

"We've arrived," the driver announces.

"Let's get you to the shower and then you can sleep all you want, alright?" Kento whispers as he tenderly lifts you from his lap and into a sitting position.

Falling asleep on him like that in front of the driver. You really forced his hand there. He had to hold you in his lap. He had no choice.

Initiated.

Arriving home is a bit relieving, though. It didn't get more private than that. More comfortable.

You were showering. He was undressing and going about his nightly routine. It didn't get more intimate than that.

So by the time you stepped out of the shower, water dripping off your form, you expected something--anything--as you creeped up behind him. Dressed in pajama pants and slippers, brushing his teeth in the mirror, he saw your naked form in his peripheral.

He smirked and spat out the toothpaste. "All done, beautiful?"

You nodded meekly, holding your arm behind your back. He turned to face you and you looked at him, alternating between looking at each eye.

Surely, he'd initiate. Nothing was stopping him. You'd initiated all day; it was his turn. Surely...

He reached out to you, and you waited with bated breath...

...as he reached behind you, grabbing the towel to place over your head and dry you off. He smiled softly. "Go put on some pajamas. I'll join you in bed soon."

He then wrapped the towel around your shoulders and turned to finish washing his face. You stood, dumbfounded for a moment, before scuttling to grab clothes to sleep in.

Maybe he just isn't in the mood tonight.

T-shirt.

I mean, you don't have sex every night.

Underwear.

But even when you do... does he initiate? You suddenly can't recall.

Something you do every night, though, is hold each other. That's a given. Cuddling is essential. It's how you get to sleep: relying on Kento's warmth to lull you into a sense of security and comfort.

You rush to the bed and under the covers. You wait.

Kento emerges from the bathroom, turning off lights on the way to you. Your anticipation is almost palpable at this point.

He situates himself in bed, sat up and looking down at you. "Long day, love?"

The top half of your face is peeking out from under the covers as you nod. "Very," you remark with a bit of a whine. "Glad to finally be home with you, Ken." You reach out to him instinctively then think better of it and stop short, your hand flopping on the bed with a thud.

You both look down at it for a beat.

He laughs. "Me too." He picks up your hand from the space between you and presses his lips to it, holding back a chuckle. "Sleep well. We've got an early start tomorrow."

He then drops your hand to turn off the bedside lamp. The darkness somehow makes the room feel significantly colder.

Kento shimmies down into the covers, lays down face-up, and closes his eyes. "Good night, love."

"Night, Ken," you whisper.

You close your eyes as you replay the exchange in your head.

Initiated.

~°•*~

You wake the next morning curled up by Kento's side. Through the course of the night, it seems like you ended up drifting closer to him. Your head is on his chest, your legs tangled up with his.

His form is the same as he fell asleep in. Supine. Completely relaxed.

You sigh. You tried to give him a wide berth last night and still ended up encroaching on his space.

You carefully untangle yourself from him. His alarm hasn't gone off yet and you don't want to wake him. Once out of bed, you pad down the hall and to the kitchen. With the extra time, you decide you might as well get some breakfast ready.

In the silence while you're cooking, however, you can't help the doubts that start creeping up in your mind... You probably make him uncomfortable with your constant need to be touching him in some way, shape, or form. You know physical touch isn't his love language, and yet you pester him constantly anyway, even in public. He didn't so much as touch you last night without you practically begging for him to. He probably only reciprocates out of obligation.

Maybe you should tone it down today.

You hear the rushing stream of water from down the hall as you finish plating the food. Seems like you have time to pack your lunches for the day as well.

As soon as that's done, you pick at your breakfast a bit. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is having adverse effects on your appetite. You sigh heavily to yourself and figure you should at the very least have a coffee.

You prep one for yourself and one for Kento, and as if on cue, he emerges from the bedroom. His hair is glistening from the water and product still drying in it. He's got his dress shirt on with his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He looks absolutely heaven-sent.

"Ooh, thanks for breakfast, love." He smiles as he takes his seat at the table and you hand him his mug. Your fingers brush as he grabs it, and you yank your hand away a little too forcefully. Kento raises a quizzical brow at you. "Careful, I'm sure it's hot." He blows on it a bit before taking a sip.

You hide your hands behind your back to avoid potential slip-ups. You resigned yourself to no touching him unprompted today. You were going to stick to it.

"How did you sleep? I missed you when I woke up this morning."

"Slept fine." You grab your own mug to give your hands something to do. "Just woke up a bit early. Lunch is packed and everything."

"Oh, wow. That's quite proactive of you," he teases. Oh, you wanna kiss him. He digs into his plate and gives a nod to yours. "Aren't you having breakfast?"

You shake your head. He scrunches his brows and his eyes soften. God, you want to rub at the lines between his brows. "I should actually start getting dressed, if anything. I'll go do that now."

You set down your mug on the counter and make a beeline to your bedroom. This is harder than you thought. He's irresistible. How are you meant to make it through the day?

Ugh, but this is for his sake. You don't want to make him uncomfortable. Show restraint, you're an adult.

You get dressed, do your hair, brush your teeth, and take a look at the clock to make sure you're good on time before your driver arrives. Once you're sure you're presentable, you grab your things and start making your way to the front door to put on your shoes.

"Hey, sweetheart--"

You stop in your tracks and look over at Kento, who is standing by the coat rack, jacket in hand and a weird look on his face. His tie is still loose. That's unlike him.

He gives you a crooked smile. "You seem frazzled this morning. I'm sure you're in a rush, but do you mind helping me get my jacket on?"

You hesitate, then you walk over to him. You don't have to touch him while putting on his coat. This is fine. He's asking you to do this anyway. "I've got you, Ken." You take the jacket from his hands, and he turns around to give you full access.

Oh, his back looks so good under his dress shirt. One arm in. It'd be so easy to just run a hand over it and cop a feel... Other arm in. Has he always had such a biteable neck?

You don't get a chance to think about it before it's covered by the collar of his jacket. You clasp your hands together in front of you as he turns around.

"Thank you, darling."

He looks you in the eye and you can't help your gaze from drifting down to his lips. You should kiss him. You want to kiss him. But he isn't leaning in. He's not initiating. You shouldn't. But you can't help gravitating towards him when he looks at you like that with so much love in his eyes and--

You lean in and tighten his tie up to the collar of his shirt.

He looks down in surprise. "Oh! Heh, thank you again." He lets out a chuckle.

You smile. "Anytime." Success. You restrained yourself. That was a close one.

Your phone chimes and you look down. "My driver's here. I'm heading out now." You turn around and put on your shoes at the doorstep. You open the door and spare a glance back at Kento, who is still standing right where you left him. "I'll see you tonight. Have a good day. Love you!"

"Love you, too..." He trails and adjusts his tie with one hand while the other waves a goodbye.

You give him a quick wave back and close the door behind you.

Phew, this shouldn't be that hard.

~°•*~

It's really not.

That hard, that is.

You spent the car ride to the school congratulating yourself on a job well done, coasting off the high of a win. By the time you arrived in the classroom, the whole ordeal took a backseat in your mind. As it stands, Maki, Toge, and Panda are enough of a handful in their own right.

You enter and all of your students seem to be here, sans Yuta. You close the sliding door and smile before walking to the front. "Alright, be seated," you announce as you set your things down. "Pop quiz today, so notes away and pencils out, please."

Your students' audible groans fill the mostly empty room.

"That's too cruel, sensei," Panda whines.

"Mustard leaf."

"Yeah, you didn't even prepare us for this," Maki complains.

The chorus of complaints keep ringing out. You sigh at the lack of order. You're not exactly in the mood with only your morning coffee sitting in your stomach, but you can't exactly blame them when it's so early in the morning and it's the last day of the week. However, that doesn't stop you from taking a deep breath and bringing your hands together in a forceful clap.

The sound reverberates through the floorboards and up the walls. Your students freeze.

The juxtaposition of your gentle smile and the tilt of your head lend to the immediate quiet. "I thought I asked you all very nicely to put your notes away and take a pencil out. I must have imagined the idle chatter, hm?"

They all sit up straight, desks cleared, pencil in hand. "Yes, sensei!"

A handful indeed.

It's what you need today, though. While Kento's off working, you're busy with the second years. There's no temptation this way. Not seeing him for the better part of the day helps. The rapid pace of training and lessons keeps you distracted... for the most part.

That is until, without warning, he's walking onto the training field where you're leading your class through combat drills. He has one Yuuji Itadori in tow, skipping along beside him.

You're kind of geeking, but you try not to let it show. This is Round 2. Second test of the day. You're in public this time. Your students are around. You can hold back.

You greet him with a smile. "You're back early. How did it go?"

Kento rolls the shoulder on his dominant side out. "It went well, all things considered." He looks a bit disheveled.

"It was so cool!" Yuuji cuts in. "Nanamin's cursed technique is always amazing to watch!"

You feel a swell of pride at that. Kento is very talented, you're glad Yuuji gets to learn from him. "How did you do today, Yuu-kun?"

"I think I did really well--"

"His form is still sloppy. He needs to get a better grasp on real-time battle strategy." Now that he's closer to you, you notice Kento's hair seems out of sorts. You want to run your fingers through it and fix it a bit...

"I thought I did a lot better today," Yuuji pouts. He leans his head onto the front of your shoulder and whines lowly so only you can hear. "Nanamin's been kinda mean today, sensei."

You laugh and wrap one arm around Yuuji, using the other to rub at his hair comfortingly. "He really wants you to improve. I'm sure it's nothing personal, Yuu-kun," you coo.

"I'll watch your students for you." You don't get a good look at Kento's face as he is already briskly making his way to where your kids are training.

Now that you mention it, that was a bit snappy. You wonder if something happened to Kento while he was out today.

You hum. You release Yuuji from your hold. "Why don't you tell me more about how today went?"

"Well." Yuuji starts prattling on about how he met with Gojo this morning who then let him know Kento would be instructing him again today, so they headed off to meet him, and Kento had seemed out of it this morning to begin with. Anyway, they went to exorcise some curses, but Kento seemed to be a little more aggressive with them today than usual. He mentioned how Kento had scolded him sternly more than a few times while they were working, but once they finished Kento still seemed unsatisfied and kept grumbling about this and that, stuff Yuuji couldn't make out. "And once we were done, I asked Nanamin if we could eat something and he said okay, but he just wanted to stop by here first to 'Check on the state of the instruction you students are being provided.' Whatever that means."

Huh. You should've guessed Gojo was at the source of this. He was probably pestering Kento into this morning. On top of that, Kento seems to be dissatisfied with how Gojo is teaching the first years and came to analyze the situation.

No wonder he seems a bit touchy.

Oh, Yuuji is still speaking to you.

"Sounds like a lot." You nod along to whatever he started talking about next. "I'm sure you and Kento had a long morning, Yuu-kun. How's about you take him to find Gojo-san and the other first years, okay?" You start guiding Yuuji back across the field to Kento.

It gives you pause to find that your second years are out of breath and hands-on-knees by the time you get back. You couldn't have been talking with Yuuji for more than a few minutes, what happened in that time?

"Really putting them through their paces there, huh, Ken?" You breathe out a laugh nervously. Kento is kind of scary when Gojo gets him riled up.

"They can handle this much," is all Kento offers, standing cross-armed, facing you students.

You pause. Your brows scrunch together in worry. "Okay, guys. Water break! Be back here in five minutes."

Your students let out a sigh of relief as they stagger towards the sidelines for some reprieve. Yuuji trails a safe distance behind you as you round Kento to face him fully. You soften your eyes as you meet his own, shielded from you by his round goggle sunglasses.

"Are you alright?"

The scrunch in his brow relaxes a bit at your scrutiny. "Yes, darling, I'm fine--"

"Are you sure?" You press. You take him in a bit more. His stance is relaxing some more. "Your hair's all fussed," you tease with a snort.

He looks at you. You look at him. You're mirroring his arm-crossed stance. You don't move to fuss over him, especially if it'll just make him more uncomfortable in this state, but you expect him to at least run a hand through his hair himself.

"Are you sure you're alri--"

"Yes, everything's fine. Yuuji, let's head over the first year classroom." He's already leaving before you can protest.

"Aww, but I thought we were going to eat first." Yuuji jogs to catch up with Kento and the two talk back and forth until their chatter becomes too quiet for you to hear.

You're left kind of unnerved by how he left things. Kento isn't one to beat around the bush. He'll usually tell you what's making him upset without mincing his words, especially when it comes to venting about Gojo. This recent transgression must have bothered him something fierce.

"Lover's quarrel?" You hear Maki comment behind you. You turn and realize all of your students have gathered to watch you watch your fiancée and Yuuji walk away.

"Pfft, no. Nothing that dramatic." You wave off their concern, or lack thereof. They're fishing for gossip, and you know it.

"Seemed like something fishy was going on between you twooooo," Panda singsongs.

"Salmon."

"Hey, do you want to waste the last..." You check your watch. "Two minutes of your water break yapping? 'Cause you're going to need it for the next set."

"No, sensei!" They scatter off to finish drinking at their jugs.

"Mhm, that's what I thought," you declare to yourself.

You want to bask in this recent victory. You staved off another round of the grabby hands again, after all. But something about this win just doesn't sit right with you. You don't feel good as long as you know something is eating at Kento this much...

Hopefully he works out whatever he and Gojo have going on.

~°•*~

The rest of the day is a blur. Your students are eager to get a start on their weekend or on missions, so as soon as it's time to dismiss them, they are out the door.

No new assignments were offered to you as the day went on, and thankfully, it seems like there aren't any pressing matters for you to attend to with the higher ups. By all accounts, you're free, so you grab your things and make way out the door and to the campus gates.

You haven't had a proper meal all day, so you start contemplating what you could pick up on your way home. You had enough ingredients to make a big dinner tonight. Maybe a quick snack would be enough to stave off the hunger until then.

As you continue to ponder your options, who do you run into but Satoru Gojo himself.

He spots you before you can think of turning tail to avoid him.

"If it isn't my lovely coworker and counterpart!" He offers a childlike grin and waves as his lithe form approaches you. "How is the beloved second-year sensei today?"

"Just fine," you respond, walking past him without a second glance.

He doesn't miss a beat as he trails behind you and continues chatting. "Aww, c'mon. Give me more than that. I feel like I barely get to see you."

You sigh. "That's on purpose, Gojo-san."

He feigns offense, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. "You wound me. We've known each other for years. You can call me senpai when we're not around the students, or at the very least drop the honorifics."

"Would you rather I referred to you as 'hey, you,' or maybe as 'trash-kun'?" You tease. You didn't hate Gojo, per se. You just found him a mite unbearable sometimes.

"'Gojo-san' is fine, then..." He pouts. "You and Nanami are just the same." He brightens as he seems to remember something. "Speaking of! I got to speak to our resident ex-salaryman today! He was telling me all about how you--"

"How he thinks you're slacking on training the first years?" You interrupt.

"What? No! I'll have you know I am doing an amazing job, especially with Megumi and Yuuji. As a matter of fact, they're..."

You tune him out for the rest of the walk to the exit. The thought of Gojo defending himself in the face of a scolding Kento was amusing enough to get you through the rest of the walk out. At the gates, you find your driver waiting for you, the car idling and primed to take you far away from the school and this conversation.

"As much as I love our talks." You turn to look at Gojo with thinly veiled annoyance. "I should be getting home for the day, Gojo-san." Before you can reach for the door yourself, Gojo does it for you. He opens it widely and with a flourish, offering his hand to help you in.

"But of course, sorry to keep you. Get home safe. Get rested. I'm sure next week will be another doozy."

You accept his hand and roll your eyes half-heartedly as he goes on and on. You can't help the small smile on your face as you make your way into the car, though.

As soon as you're securely inside, Gojo peers in and looks you in the eye. "But if I could offer you a bit of advice, my dear kohai." His tone comes across a bit more serious. You attention falls securely on him at that. "I'd go about talking to our friend Nanami over... stimulus control."

Huh?

You give Gojo a look that you hope conveys your confusion, but any note of seriousness in his demeanor leaves him as fast as it came. He grins widely at you and closes the door before you have the chance to question him further. As soon as the door closes, the driver pulls off and Gojo becomes but a shrinking figure in the rear window.

Well, that was cryptic.

What the fuck did he mean "stimulus control"?

You don't think much of it after a while. Gojo is infamously too unserious for his own good. It would be a waste of brain power to read too much into what could very well just be him messing with you, so you don't. What you do continue pondering is what you could do for dinner.

By the time you get home, you've decided on snacking on yesterday's treat while cooking up a suitable feast to make up for missing breakfast. And to congratulate you on a job well done today.

You are in high spirits as you eat and cook at the same time. You could get used to this! Restraining yourself was far easier than you had anticipated. What had seemed like an impossible task this morning didn't seem so bad in hindsight. Maybe every day could be like this...

With no touching Kento at all...

And him not initiating any physical contact with you... at all.

This experience had really put Takuma's observation to the test, hadn't it? Kento really doesn't initiate physical affection with you at all, does he?

Your mood sours a bit.

But you attempt to pull yourself out of it just as quickly. He has other methods of showing he loves you. He shows you he loves you every day. Constant messages checking on how you're doing. Doing the chores whenever you're far too drained. Sitting down to watch your favorite show with you. Bringing back trinkets from missions outside the city that made him think of you. Not to mention that he says he loves you outright every day without fail.

Kento is an intensely loving man, and if you only had to sacrifice a bit of hugging and squeezing for his sake, that was completely fine with you. He just wasn't the type to receive love that way and that's okay.

That's fine.

There's a jingle of keys in the lock of the front door just as you're finishing up the last dish of tonight's spread. You turn off the stove and start transferring to a serving dish as Kento appears in view, dropping his briefcase and shedding his jacket at the front.

"Ken! You're home!" You turn to place the pot and spoon in your hands in the sink. "Dinner's just about ready, just gotta set the table and everything." You reach to grab a towel and wipe your hands as you turn around to face him. "Unless this is a have-dinner-standing-up-at-the-kitchen-island sort of da--"

Kento leaning on the kitchen island with a hand on his hip gives you pause. His head is hanging low as he reaches up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

You crane your neck to look him in the eye. "Long day?"

He sighs. "Like you wouldn't believe." He looks up at you, facing you head-on. An uncomfortable silence fills the space between you. He doesn't elaborate.

You scratch your head. "Well, at least dinner's ready!" You gesture to the courses for the meal. "One less thing to worry about."

"Mhm." He nods. You're not sure with the tinted lenses, but it almost seems like Kento is looking at you... expectantly? You don't know what to say. The silence stretches on. You twist at the towel in your hands.

You tilt your head and press your lips in a thin line. "You seem stressed."

He surprises you by letting out a dry chuckle and turning away. He takes off his goggles and places them on the counter. He runs a hand down his face as he leans on the other.

"Kento..." You approach him cautiously. You're not sure what to do. Usually you'd rub at his back, but you're not sure that's the right thing to do here. "If this is about the Gojo thing--"

"Gojo?" You're taken aback as he stands at full height and throws his hands up. He starts pacing and grumbles to himself, "Of all the things... Had to sit there and talk to Gojo about this, of all the people..."

"Are you alright?"

"Are you alright??" He turns quickly and faces you.

The outburst has you dropping the towel and bumping into the sink. You didn't realize you'd stepped back so far. Kento's right there with you, though. There's nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for him but to press a hand on either side of you, caging you in.

"Have I done something to upset you?" His bare eyes look into yours solemnly, almost pained.

You alternate between looking at both of his eyes for a moment. In your surprise at the seriousness of this exchange, laughter is suddenly bubbling up in your chest and bursts out before you can stop it. "What? Haha!"

Your fit of giggles seems to take Kento aback. He blinks. "Darling, I'm serious."

You try to stifle your laughter with the back of your hand. "Ken, honey, what do you mean?" You shake your head. "You haven't done anything to upset me. What made you think that?"

The warmth of a gentle hand on your cheek shocks you out of the hilarity of the moment.

Initiated.

Kento doesn't give you any choice but to look him in the eye. "I had to pull you in so you'd sleep in my arms last night." He emphasizes his words with a stroke of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. "I woke up without you this morning. You left today without a send-off kiss. God, I stopped by while you worked and didn't even fix my own appearance for the chance that you'd run your hands through my hair." Kento grows progressively more distressed as he speaks. You're speechless. "You haven't so much as brushed a hand against me all day. Have I done something that made you... uncomfortable with me?"

"Oh..." In the blink of an eye, all of the restraint you'd brute force trained into your disposition today is thrown out the window. "Oh, Kento." You reach up to place both hands on either side of his face. "You could never make me feel uncomfortable with you." You reach around his neck and squeeze him into you, rubbing your head into his cheek comfortingly. "The whole reason I pulled back today was because I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

"What?" He pulls away to look at you, placing his hands squarely on your shoulders, not moving them away. "What could possibly make you think that you make me uncomfortable?"

"Well..." You look down at your hands as they fiddle with his tie and dress shirt. "You have to admit the way I'm constantly touching and hugging and kissing you is a bit excessive, no?"

"No, actually. I don't have to admit that because it's not true. Look at me."

You peer at him through your eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, what made you feel this way?"

You glance away.

"Love, look at me."

You do. He's making full eye contact with you. Patiently waiting.

"Someone might have..." You trail off a bit. "Offhandedly pointed out...." Man, this is hard to admit now. "That you never hold my hand first?"

Kento blinks. Then blinks a few more times. "Surely, that's not true. Who told you that?"

"That's beside the point," you blurt. "The important thing is that that's what this whole thing was. Me making an effort to not touch you as much, only if you initiated first. And then it sort of turned out to also be a ploy to see if you'd even initiate at all... Which you didn't..."

Kento looks appalled.

"I just got really in my head about it!" You ramble on. "And then a little insecure. And then I was really just doing this all for your sake because I sort of got it in my head that you didn't like PDA--or physical affection in general--at all, because you never initiate any of it! And then I thought that maybe I was being too much and--"

In your panic, you failed to notice Kento slinking his hands down to your hips, towards the hem of your shirt. The feeling of the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your stomach makes you jump a bit. "How could you ever think you're too much..." His palms are warm as they join his fingertips. He's moved his head to lean beside yours and speaks lowly into the shell of your ear. His hands start wandering farther up to your bare waist. Unfettered. "When I can't get enough of you?"

You squirm in his grasp. "Kento..." you breathe. You're not used to him taking initiative like this.

"I'm sorry I got so used to receiving your affection without any effort on my part." He glides his nose from your ear down your neck. "I got so used to having your hands on me without trying-" He presses a kiss at your pulse point. You gasp. "That I made a real ass of myself as soon as you took that away." One of his hands moves from your waist to your bare spine. It makes you shiver and arch forward. "I took you for granted and for that I apologize."

Your breathing is picking up. "It's okay, Ken," you say unevenly.

Kento shakes his head. "No, it's not." He pulls back just enough so that he's practically nose to nose with you. "I love you very much. Let me be sorry." He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

You nod against him. "Okay."

"Surely," he continues. "I have to show you just how sorry I am." The sideways smile he gives you carries mischief. Your eyes widen before he leans down. You let out a yelp as he lifts you off the ground and onto the counter.

He sits between your legs, and you hold him by the neck as you try to keep your breath even. "The food'll get cold."

"You'll hear no complaints from me."

You giggle as he leans on one of his hands to smash his lips into yours and uses the other to start loosening his tie.

This is so unlike him, and you can't help thinking that you should deprive him of your touch more often just to illicit this response.

Somehow that reminds you of a certain someone's advice and you end up smiling deeper into the kiss.

"What?" Kento's laugh mixes with yours in the space between you.

You snort at the thought. "I can't believe I Pavlov'd you into expecting hugs and kisses from me."

"Oh, sweetheart." He leans down and gives your neck a playful nip. "You're one bell I'll just about always salivate for."

That makes you snicker and shriek even more as Kento continues trailing kisses down your neck and squeezing and touching wherever his hands can find purchase.

Dork.

For a love language Kento didn't start off with when you met him, physical touch sure seems to be something he can't go without. And that's all your influence.

You guess what they say is true, to be loved is to be changed.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via darkbluepassion01

[purplebehittindifferent]

Hope y’all have got some kromer or this call might be pretty short.

masterpost

prev (ch:3::2) / next (ch:3:4)

(a quick thanks to my beta reader @prunpplee)

[grimesgirll]

hands bound behind your back, you don’t know why you thought you could get away with trying to poison negan.

“you ready to apologize yet?”

you haven’t said a word to negan since he plucked you out of your house after discovering your plot, blindfolding you, tying your hands behind your back, and fucking deporting you to the sanctuary for an indefinite period of time. yeah, you’re not wasting your breath on an apology.

the salt and pepper haired man doesn’t break eye contact with you. it’s a shame. you’d never say it out loud but negan's pretty attractive.

“darlin’, you almost took me out. with a fucking quiche!"

lips poised in a permanent frown, you stay silent. negan's not having this.

he draws a breath, drumming his fingers on the metal table. "silent act. expected that." he reaches under the table to yield that damn baseball bat. "you remember lucille, right?" you give the bare minimum of a nod when he barks your name. "you also remember putting anthrax powder in a quiche and serving it up to me, huh?"

your stare hardens. you really hadn't expected to get caught - hadn't expected that you'd be in this position in your wildest dreams. all because you wanted your freedom back.

"i gotta ask, where did you get the anthrax? that shit is hard to come by."

like i'd tell you, you snark in your head. this was not the time to relay the story of how you'd snuck out of alexandria for a night to hoof it up to a government building complex and scour the shelves of their lab for whatever sinister bioweapons had been left behind once the dead started walking.

"because if that was you, that would make you an extremely valuable asset.” his hand lands on lucille again. "i wouldn't mind having someone around to procure hard to find things like that for me.”

you give him another blank stare. why the fuck would you come to live and procure for the sanctuary? who does he think you are? the flair of your frustration is saved once again by your taciturn lips.

before you know it lucille is below your chin and you’re tilting your head back.

“what the fuck, negan?” you mumble, doing your best to stay still with the bloodstained bat in front of you.

“there we go,” he croons, hazel eyes demanding eye contact. “knew lucille could get you talkin’. girl to girl.”

you roll your eyes. “you caught me, negan. i’m not here to talk.”

“you wanna make me dinner every night, don’t ya’?”

you go tight lipped again.

“well, fat chance. i don’t trust your cooking anymore - no matter how delicious that quiche looked.”

exhaling, you squirm in your restraints. his antics are already tearing at your paper thin patience when he asks, “so, how are you gonna make it up to me, sweetheart?”

“send me home.” you plead. “i’ll go on supply runs for whatever you need - just don’t keep me here.”

“no, i want you here with me.” negan expresses, muscles tensing through his jacket. he drops lucille to the side. “you know, i think you’ll be a lot more useful here.”

you shake your head, confused as he leans down to begin undoing your restraints. “i don’t know how i could be here.”

a grin graces his lips. “don’t worry, doll, i know.”

your eyes widen at the implication when he adjusts his pants and the vitriol is coming back up again like word vomit.

“i wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, negan.”

you don’t expect him to burst into laughter.

“don’t lie to me, you’re not very good at it. i can tell you that.”

your face twists with a mixture of embarrassment and disgust. you’re disgusted with yourself for the eye contact you’re making with his groin.

“oh, i know you wanna, darlin’, don’t be shy.”

the binds that tied you to the chair fall away. you rub your wrists and observe as negan stalks across the room to the bed of all places. he sits on the plush mattress, legs spread.

“it’s up to you.” he shrugs. “you can deny yourself and stay in that chair and i can call for someone to take you down to the cells or….,”

all negan does is snicker when you begin working off his belt.

“i knew you would be a good girl for me,” negan confirms with a gentle hand guiding the back of your head as you take him into your hand and envelope him into your mouth.

filthy noises fill the air as negan takes his time fucking your mouth. at first he let you go at your own pace, lick up and down, devote time to the nerve endings at the tip of his cock, but one accidental gag from you and suddenly your nose is flush against his pelvis.

“yeah, baby, fuck i knew that mouth could do great things.”

you can only gag in response around him, doing your best to swallow and fight the burn but negan isn’t doing you any favors. he rolls his hips into your face, savoring the pure bliss that is your mouth.

“love seein’ those perfect fucking lips wrapped around my cock. wanted to see you like this from the first moment i saw you.” negan breathes with a hand dug into your hair.

his words shouldn’t be turning you on - not in the slightest. however, you start to feel a tingle beneath you and a pressure in your core. it doesn’t fade as you keep your jaw slack enough for the man to almost send his cock down your throat.

his thick length is cutting off your airway but for some reason your pussy is growing slicker beneath you. despite fighting off the coughing and trying to fit as much of negan’s larger - and girthier - dick into your mouth, you’re getting turned on by this farce.

you finally get into a rhythm and that’s when negan decides it’s time for the next course.

“‘kay, enough of that,” negan declares as he lets you up off of him.

before you know it, you’re sandwiched beside him on the plush, soft bed. you don’t have time to appreciate the satin pillowcase beneath your head because negan is yanking at your pant legs. “gotta get these off,” and soon he’s scraping down your panties. negan is on his elbows next to you and toying with your entrance when you squeeze your eyes shut.

you gasp when a finger’s inserted into you, then another with no warning.

“shit, baby. can’t believe you’re clenchin’ around just my fingers, babe.” negan remarks and curls his two digits, relishing in the way your face contorts at his every movement.

his firm fingers delve deeper into you, taking advantage of your exhales. every movement further screws you open and each wet noise paints your face an even deeper shade of red. the notion of caring gets lost when negan begins to play with your clit.

“gettin’ a lady boner, are ya’?” negan is sure to pay extra close attention to your sensitive nub. the pads of his fingers are instrumental in bringing on the wave of pleasure that overtakes you as you feel yourself let go in negan’s arms.

you’re so wrapped up in your orgasm that you barely notice his dick growing rock hard again between you.

your hands are on his chest, not banging against him like you should be but holding on for dear life as he edges his cock closer to your entrance. the breath leaves your chest when he begins to replace his fingers with his thick cock.

“negan!”

“oh, aren’t you a tight little thing.”

despite you being so “tight”, you still felt like you were being stretched out - no, impaled on his cock and he’s only a few inches in yet.

“you got a boyfriend, baby? not that it matters,” negan questions with an amused look as you struggle to contain your composure between him and his cock bullying into you.

“no,” you croak.

“good.” negan utters the word with a thrust. “couldn’t imagine sharin’ this pussy. not that i’d have to.”

you let out a tiny yelp and your breathing accelerates as he pushes in another inch further. it’s out of your control when he drives the rest of him into you and desperate for any kind of stability, you clutch at negan, not just with your hands on his broad shoulders.

“fuck! pussy feels like it was made for me, babe.”

if you were clearheaded, you would be mortified by the situation, but as long as negan resolves the pressure building up in your core again, he could tell you the two of you are moving to mars for all you care.

“please, negan.”

“what was that?”

“please!” you repeat and plead, over and over until his hips are flush with yours.

an accidental brush of his heavy head against your cervix has you whimpering into negan’s mouth when he takes a break from massaging your breast to kiss you. the heat is everywhere — it’s in your mouth, negan’s mouth, your core, all over.

“fuck, did you just come?”

you simply bury your face into his shoulder. thoughts fucked away, you struggle to register much else besides the mess you’ve made between your thighs.

“yeah, baby, you’re too horny not to have been thinking about this the entire ride here.”

your face lights up with shame - he‘s right. negan had wormed his way into your thoughts like a prion into your brain. every night since the handsome psycho first came around to collect your mattresses and firearms, you’d found yourself wishing he’d return your mattress to you personally just to fuck you into it.

“ugh, gonna have this sweet little pussy molded into the shape of my cock,” negan’s declaring between heavy swats to your rear.

“fuck,” you’re stuttering. “slow down!”

“how? this pussy’s just sucking me in.” negan exclaims, punctuating his words with another spank.

you’re white knuckling the bedsheets as your newest enemy pounds the thoughts out of you. you can’t even try to factor this encounter into your escape plan. the only thing on your mind should be the best way to manipulate the man jackhammering into you right now. but you can’t help but be affected by just how deep inside of you negan is; how he’s squeezing every filthy dumb whore noise out of you and hitting every nerve ending you have down there.

you guess this is better than your community being terrorized. maybe you can convince negan to give everyone their mattresses back.

glimpsing at him, negan is in ecstasy being balls deep in you right now.

and you’re no better.

disappearing in plain sight, you’re getting fucked from the inside out and being tipped into your third orgasm of the night. guilty pleasure coursing through you as you feel boneless. even more so when you feel a warmth pouring into you. barely recognizing the desperate whines that come out of you, you’re shifting your hips to meet his as negan fucks you through both of your orgasms.

coming back to earth, you gulp when you realize that he’s come inside of you. he has to be humane enough to allow you a plan b pill or something; this place is sordid enough, you know they have a stash pile of contraceptives somewhere.

the man slips out of you, spent after fucking your overloaded pussy senseless.

“want a cigarette? i think you deserve one after that.”

you glare at him. “no. i want to go back to alexandria and for you and your goons to fuck off.”

his hairy chest rises with laughter. he reaches for a pack of menthols and a lighter on the nightstand. “doll, you think you’re goin’ somewhere?” he shakes his salt and peppered head. “you and your people are gonna produce for me. got it?”

close lipped, you return his cocky grin with a death glare and crossed arms over your chest.

that doesn’t last long.

the man entraps you in his arms, wrapping them around you and bundling you up to his chest. he starts to ruffle your hair. “i really think you’re gonna wanna stay here.”

“fat chance, negan.”

“oh, honey,” he croons. “i’m not gonna give you a choice.” he whistles. “your grade a piece of ass isn’t walkin’ out of these gates anytime soon.”

[indelibleme]

Chapters: 1/7 

Fandom: Detective Conan                Rating: T

Relationships: Kudou Shinichi/Kuroba Kaito

Summary: Celebrities don’t interest Kudo Shinichi. He comes from a family of celebrities; in fact, he is a minor celebrity himself. But the one living next door seems to get into one too many shenanigans for his peace of mind. Which really wouldn’t be an issue, if the latest one didn’t happen to involve a dead body.

Or, in which Kaito goes from being darling of the entertainment media to scourge of the internet in no time at all, hounded by paparazzi, only to find solace in the utter indifference of his neighbour… until he gets involved in a murder.

...

Finally, here is chapter 1 of my fic for this year’s @kaishinbigbang 2024!!

The art from which this fic was inspired by was made by the wonderful artist @bakathief!! Please check it out HERE! Go show it some love!!

...

(Excerpt under the cut)

...

Kaito tried to protest—

“Hold on, you’ve got this wrong! I didn’t even know he was dead until you told me just now! Hey, hey—stop, it’s not me!”

—but they didn’t deter them at all. Kaito breathed in desperately, panic creeping into his voice as he looked around for help. Murder? Arrested? He didn’t need to know what the percentage of acquittals were in their country to guess the outcome! And for the police to make an arrest, for there to be evidence backing this up—

“Matsuoka-keibu? What’s going on?”

Kaito’s head snapped up at that voice. Turning the curb from where the patrol car was parked, like a beacon of light piercing through stormy clouds, was none other than Kudo Shinichi.

[koinotame]

bone and marrow; cut and served

word count: 2.4K content warnings: i think this one works better without too specific warnings, but general content warning for heavy yandere content and everything that comes with that, including kidnapping, torture, explicit physical abuse, drugging and so on. ← NOT kidding please heed the warnings

summary: you pay a visit to the captive in your basement.

a/n: wanted to try something a different style since i think my dialogue could use some improvement. so this is 100% dialogue and is meant to read like a dialogue script!

Ah, y-you're back… You're… finally back…

…Paid? You got… paid? Did you… are you selling me off to someone else? O-oh, you mean my ransom finally got paid… by my family…

Right, you did mention that…

…

…You're not going to hit me for disobeying you, or forgetting? N-no? Because you're… not that cruel?

Wait, does that mean that. That when you ripped off my nails o-on camera, it wasn't so you could… so you could rewatch the recording and enjoy my pathetic crying and wailing? O-oh… I see…

I… I guess that does make more sense. I mean, who would… who would want to record something like that for their own sick pleasure, right?

Hii— I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you! Of course it's—of course it's fine if you want to record something like that for yourself! Someone like me has no right to com—

Ah, a joke…

Of course I'm relieved. I'm just…

…

I'm not used to you not digging your nails into my cheeks every time I dare look away from you…

And, um, well. This doesn't. It doesn't feel real, you know? It's been five months since you, uh, p-placed me in… well, kidnapped me. B-being free again sound so… surreal…

This isn't… some sick joke, right? It's really not? You promise?

I-I'm glad. …Thank you.

…Huh? There's something seriously wrong with me if I thank you after everything you've done to me? W-well! You know!

…I don't sound very thankful? That's, um…

…

…Do you want me to get knees and kiss your shoes? You'd need to unbind me for that th—No! Of course I'm kidding! I'm—

O-oh, you're really… you're really doing it, you're really unbinding me. I, wow…

You must really trust me…

W-well, yeah, of course the handcuffs were really uncomfortable. You only ever let me out of them when you were, were t-tortu… I can't say it.

The… huh? No, rubbing them this harshly won't just make the scarring worse, l-like you're, um, saying. W-wait, please don't thro—ow!

Oh, this is… disinfectant…

Um, well, for all I know you could've put some cleaning product in here like the last time you… Even if you're insisting it safe because the ran… Right, the ransom got paid. I'm free now…

N-no! I'll use it, I'll use it! You're way too close!

Even if you put something else in here again, or it's really disinfectant and you're going to beat me again for using it because this really is just your idea of entertainment… I'll use it. You did give it to me, after all.

…Only on my wrists? Okay, only on my wrists…

…

So, uh, when's the exchange date? Or time? You're not usually this chatty. Normally you just dump food on the floor in front of me, or whip out the camera and then, well…

…Today? In… in a couple of hours? Oh… you're really early then?

You want me to… you want me to get cleaned up first? Y-you mean, in your bathroom? I'll get to… use your products? R-really?

Yeah, I'm… really happy to be clean again… I seem happier now than when you told me I'm to be free?

Well, it's just. It's just sinking in that this is for real now…

And the drive should be pretty far away from… I mean, what would I know. I was out cold for that. I just assumed… It would be kind of stupid to kidnap and hold someone close to where they live, right? You'd want to be a distance away and not get caught… right?

OW!

Ow, that really hurt! You didn't need to twist my arm like th—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I wasn't calling you stupid, I was complimenting y—ah!

You're pulling… holy shit, you're pulling my hair really hard. I won't run, so you don't have to—hng! I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to backtalk.

…I knew it.

You said, earlier, earlier you said you weren't that cruel, but you really do enjoy my tea—I mean, you really do enjoy hurting me.

Ah! Don't shove me that hard, you—

Because we've… arrived? At the—wait, wait, wait but you said that was still a couple hours away? You—oh, your… your bathroom…

Y-yeah, of course I knew that. I was just…

…

The bath looks really warm… Is it really okay for me to—I should just get in already and stop wasting your time? Y-yeah, um… sorry…

—H!

You made this scalding hot on purpose, didn't you?

N-no, I'm not complaining. I'll take it, I'll take it… This is better than no bath, s-so…

…I should put my hands out? Okay…

Is this your—your bath soap?

…

…I'm! It just feels really nice to smell something so mundane again…

No, wait, wait, I'll use it! I'll stop wasting your time, please don't take it away!

…I should… I should be thankful because I finally get to clean myself?

R-right… Um, t… thank you very much…

—H-huh? I should kiss your feet to r-really prove it l-like I offered to earlier?

That's… that's so… I'll—Okay, I'll do it..

Oh it was a, it was just a joke… I'm not eager! This is just—Of course you'll hurt me less if I do as you say, even if it's—

Even if it's something like this…

…

It's… it's already time to get out?

Um, right…

…

Actually, um, could I… could I stay a couple more minutes? I just… This is my first bath in so long, I don't want it to end…

OW! You really don't have to pull on my hair every time I—ow! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't—

Wh… what are you… doing with those scissors?

If I… if I misbehave again you're going to… No, no, nonono I'm sorry! Please, please, don't—I'll behave, just don't—Please! I'm really sorry, I don't, I won't—

Aah…

Okay, thank you, I'm sorry, thank you…

…

A-ah? Change into this? You even… you not only let me use your bathroom, you even got me new clothes…

Y-yes! Thank you! I'm sorry! I'll—

Eek!—I'll be quiet now. I'm sorry.

…

S-stick out my hands again? Okay…

…Handcuffs again? No, no of course I don't mind! It's okay! Please don't get mad…

Y-you're not? Okay…

…I talk a lot? Um, I think… Maybe, I'm just kind of lonely…

You, uh, you have been my only social contact for five months now…

Or, um, roughly five months now. I'm assuming. It's kind of hard to tell how much time has passed when you've been stuck in a basement for so long.

I just…

…

I'm not—I'm not just stalling for time!

It's just… Are you, are you sure this isn't some messed up joke? You're not dangling this hope in front of me just to take it away?

This would… this would be a good time to reveal that.

…No? My family really paid the entire amount?

…They've never really… cared about me, so it's kind of surprising… Honestly, when you first mentioned it, I thought you were joking. I mean, it's true they have the money…

I'm their son, so it's only natural? Well, yeah, I guess, but…

It's… That's cruel of you to say. You had to have known what our relationship was like before you…

…Anyway, this joke isn't funny anymore. Please take me back to the basement now.

…

…It really isn't. You've done it, you've completely dashed my hopes. I hope you're happy now. I… I'm never getting out of here, I know that, okay?

It's… really cruel of you to toy with me like that.

So just… just take me back.

That's what the handcuffs are for, too, right?

…

…No?

No, you're really just going to throw me away like this?

Actually, I… when you approached me that night and told me to get into your car or else, I didn't know what to do. It made me so, so happy when I realised you must've planned this months in advance.

To think you were spending that much time thinking about me…

I was so, so certain you were finally getting revenge on me…

…Yeah. I thought… I'd been stalking you for two years, and even before that—so I thought… I thought that you'd taken me home to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson.

The last couple of months have been the happiest in my life. It's like… I was in heaven.

I mean, getting tortured in real life is a totally different ballpark than fantasising about it, that's true, but! But! Even if it was just painful, I wouldn't mind, because it's you! I could never hate or dislike anything you do to me!

You're backing away, but I promise you don't have anything to fear! Even if you go through on your promise, I don't mind! I won't struggle.

I belong to you, so anything you do is justified! You have that right!

But seeing your expression, you really didn't know about any of that…

I thought—I thought!

I thought maybe for once I was something special to someone, even if you did just hate me! I thought that with hard work and a lot of time, maybe I could be someone special to you in more ways than just the toy you keep in your basement!

I thought that…

…I guess it makes sense that you just remembered me as that rich loser you shared a class with once. But I…

…

…Why don't you just keep me in your basement again?

You wouldn't even need to keep me in handcuffs; I'd never run away! Or—or, of course, you could keep me bound the entire time, if that would make you feel more at ease!

You can… you can keep doing whatever you want to me! At any time! I won't struggle anymore! I'll cry and look cute and pitiful and pretty and whatever else you want me to!

You don't need to feed me regularly, or at all, or—Please don't back away…

I actually… I actually really like it when you pull on my hair!

I… I really love looking at my reflection in the mirror you left up in the basement, because I get to see the permanent marks you left on my face, like when you broke my nose three weeks into being home with you!

My favourite is probably when you coo at me and call me cute and condescendingly wipe away my tears—it always seemed to please you when I cried even harder… Even if—even if that was just an act, you seemed to be having fun!

And—and you really liked forcing me to look directly into the camera and.. and making me degrade myself, and repeat all those embarrassing lines, and—

What about that time you suggested getting me a shock collar? Or, or what about all those times you threatened to carve your name into my skin so I'd be ruined for everyone who came after you? You were joking but, but you seemed really into the idea! We could do that!

Am I talking too much again? You can tape up my mouth if you want, or break my arm for scaring you, or for being so arrogant, or—

Don't you—don't you want that to continue?

Nothing has to change!

Just throw me into that chair and lock the door and don't give me anything to eat for a week in punishment and raise my price and things can go back to the way they were! Or however way you want them to be!

Ack—Y-you're really pulling again, I can feel your nails really digging into my scalp—No, that's not a complaint!

I'll be good! I'll do anything! Anything—just please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't throw me away!

Pl—

…Really?

You'll do it? You will?

Thank you!

Thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthank—

Mgh! I'm sorry, I'll be quiet now.

…Do you… do you want me to kiss your feet? Hehe, of course I'd be happy t—

Nngh! You're pulling my hair really hard…

You should… you should lead me around your house more like this. I have to bend at such an awkward angle when you pull like this…

Ah! Right, sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be good.

…

…Um.

We… just passed the basement?

…

…Why are you… unlocking the front door?

…Hey?

…

…Um, um that's the—that's your car. Why are you—

Aah! Wait, no, even if you shove me into your—You're just—You lied to me!

No—wait—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get mad and accuse you of anything! Please, don't throw me away! I'll be good! I can—I can be useful!

I'm obviously already yours, but I could really b—

Stop, wait, don't close the car door! I'll—UGH!

Ow, you really… you really hit my stomach hard…

…That's what I get for not cooperating? I'm sorry…

…

Nngh…

…

W-wait, don't start driving, I—ow—Wait! Don't you want this too?

I know it wasn't just my imagination! You—hng—you enjoyed this too, didn't you? You insist you're not like that, but you actually really like having someone at your mercy, d-don't you?

I can be that for you! You don't—you don't have to do this! I'd be really happy like this, so won't it work out for both of us if you—

You can, you can, keep extorting my parents for larger and larger sums of money! I know they've set aside a fund for my inheritance—even if it's smaller than my brothers', it's still enough for you to live a comfortable life! And then I can stay with you forever, so…

Aren't I talking too much again? Aren't you… going to punish me for this? I know you want to.

So won't you—Ahh, you really kicked me hard—Won't you please recon…

…Why are you stopping? Y-yeah, this place is pretty remote, but we're in the middle of the road… W-wouldn't it be better to turn arou—

Wait, no, nononononononono please don't bring out the chloroform, wait, please, don't throw me away like this, I can be good, wait wait no wait, please—

Please don't leave me like this!

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Relationship: Kaisa/Johanna

Category: Teen and up audiences

Word count: 27.3k

Chapters: 7/7

Tags: 5+1 Things (loosely); Misunderstandings; Lack of Communication; Romantic Comedy; Idiots in Love; Fairies; not a single braincell in sight

🧚🏻‍♀️🍄Read it on ao3✨🔮

Preview:

Kaisa knew what she was as soon as her eyes landed on her for the first time.

The woman, who at the time had been strolling aimlessly around the library, might have looked inconspicuous to the untrained eye. She presented herself with a fairly human constitution, aside from the fact that no ordinary person could be quite that beautiful. But, with the standard way she carried herself, and the clearly extensive knowledge on how humans should behave, someone who didn’t know better might have shrugged the woman off as just a uniquely gorgeous person.

But Kaisa knew better. The newest patron in her library, and there was simply no way around it, was a faerie.

It was a good thing the librarian saw her first; not that she was in any way under the illusion that the fae couldn’t sense her, didn’t know she was there and watching her. But the lack of visual contact gave Kaisa a chance to gather her bearings, to identify why the energy coming off of this “person” was so much stronger than she’d see from any human, why it made her think of a golden sunset on meadows and drizzle on the canopy of trees.

Her energy imprint wasn’t as strong as Kaisa had felt from faeries before; there was something tame about it, something domesticated. Something that, even if it hadn’t been originally human, had been sufficiently squeezed and bent into a shape resembling it. Out in the woods, when any witch had to call for help from the good folk for whatever practice they were hoping to work on, this was not the energy they felt; Kaisa had witnessed enough of such workings to recognize the wild and boundless spirit of most faeries, like a tsunami that each of those witches brought unto themselves and could easily drown in were they not careful.

Comparatively, the woman gently running her fingers across the wooden carvings on one of the ceiling high bookshelves, smiling at it with the same gentleness of someone greeting an old friend, felt positively docile. Not a monstrous wave. Not an avalanche after the breaking of a dam. Rather, a river that ran with enough strength to carve its path in the rocks, but one inviting enough that children would play near it during summer – only getting hurt if they were a little stupid.

Yes, Kaisa thought, there was something about this faerie that was distinctively human.

Which didn’t do a single thing to change the fact that this was a faerie. In her library.

[discoidal]

HI GUYS! High quality version of Baby Birds is now up on a brand-new kofi shop as a PDF! Pay-what-you-can, including free. If you can chip in, it'll go towards collage materials; if you can't chip in, I encourage you to get the PDF anyways! Baby Birds readers keep me warm at night.

If you don't know what Baby Birds is, it's a collage-novel-series-thing that I'm releasing part-by-part on Tumblr; you can find the posts collected via @lactation and read it chronologically via this link. It's about lactation and love triangles and transsexuality and depersonalization. It's told through the main character's diary entries and their attempts at working out their feelings through collage.

What's different about this version? I got better at editing and made higher quality pages but didn't want to go back to edit the previous posts. The text and collages are exactly the same. So, the posts are still accessible but you can now read it with ease in PDF form, now with consistent font sizes and numbered sections.

[hallowsden]

Devotion

Zevlor x G/N!Tav snippet

Author Notes: All I'm gonna say is this was originally supposed to be only about 500 words only for me to finally get to the part of Act 2 where I managed to save Zevlor and OH BOY- it evolved into 1.2k words. Just- I adore Zevlor. This came out having more angst than I initially thought, though, so... Anyways, hope you all enjoy it! [Not beta read]

He pretends not to see the relief in your eyes when you first go up to him after fighting the Mind Flayers and Intellect Devourers. After all, why would you give him such a look with what he's done? No, that's just all in his imagination. He knows you're aware of his sins. Then again, you always did have a habit of knowing things before anyone else does...

Even without the tadpole that now inhabits his head like you and the other saviors, Zevlor could see through your brave mask. In those mismatched eyes he had grown fond of long before your lot had done the impossible all those months ago, he sees a mirror image of himself.

The festering fear that haunts you and everyone else like the shadows that barely stood by in this damnable land. The neverending guilt that attempts to drown you to the depths of your mind as the blood refuses to wash away from your hands, your head chanting apologies as you think about the what ifs of you have done better.

Zevlor knows that look you wore well. He's seen it in himself every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection, as of an occurrence that was... Not to mention, it reminded him of the others... The younger Hellriders especially tend to wear it more publicly, not yet developing the skills to effectively hide their inner demons yet... So many gone, just like that-...

The exhaustion you practically wore like a second skin, with bags that cling to you with a vengeance, one that came along with you before he had even met you. The exhaustion that weighed your trembling shoulders and buckling knees had it not been the adrenaline that roared through your ears-. Hell, he swears he could see some new scars marking your delicate face, even.

Has it been that long ago since he last saw you? You haven't appeared to have changed much, and yet...

And yet, as he goes on to blink, he senses it immediately as he explains himself to you. What once was the hollow void in your chest when he first met you, the one that mirrored his own so brokenly is now replaced with a bright, burning radiance of celestial strength and blessing, one that pulses to the beat of your heart.

A not so mirror image. But it was still you, nonetheless...

No longer were you a fellow oathbreaker who was ever so lost in the world and of yourself. You had what he once had, an Oath of Devotions that glowed in you but more, filling up your broken cracks like the way the false God had shown him if he just gave them his broken faith and devotion and followed what they said...

It was nothing but a lie, as his people got hunted down and slaughtered. The people he swore to protect... He betrayed them all and failed them once more.

But you're here, giving him a look of understanding... And admittedly, it confused him...

Why do you care for him, he's so tempted to ask. The moment you met him, you practically acted as if you were drawn to him like a Moth to a flame... He doesn't understand it. Why care for an old, decrepit man like him? And why did your eyes shine with familiarity when you two first met?

You saved him. And no doubt you saved the others. He just knows you did. From all that he knows about you, from word of mouth and the times you decided to hang around in his little area back in the Druid's Grove, you'd never let anyone suffer under your watch.

You were always so compassionate. He at first thought it was due to being a fellow Tiefling. Goodness, how the world already hated their kinds existence. It wasn't uncommon for Tieflings to stand up for one another. After all, who would if not themselves in the world they lived in? But no... He's seen how you work. Your heart was far bigger than the body that holds it. It was something he appreciated about you.

You were the person he once was. You were a person he wished to be once more. Brave and strong despite it all. Kind and passionate and protective even to the low lives like him.

He adored you more than he could ever realize up until now.

Maybe that's why he didn't hesitate when he hastily said "I want to help- if you let me" even when his throat burned with dryness and guilt as he spoke. Even when anxiety shot high in his blood, his tail pinned itself between his legs, feeling just how drained his body was.

He knows you have already done so much for him, for his people. But... Maybe he'll find salvation and forgiveness if he goes with you. Find redemption. At the very least, he could repay you with his services, even if it's being a meat shield as he goes to try and help out the others. He'd deserved that if anything...

Death was too good for someone like him. He deserved to be tortured for all his failures... Yet, when his eyes met yours...

... Maybe you were the angel he had prayed to the Gods for from before... Who knows? Not him. Not when he was surprised you even listened to any of his words. Not when you gave him such a gentle look, eyes full of empathy that he didn't deserve, as you asked him to join your party, another blade in the fight to come.

You... Want him by your side?*

And even when he had his doubts, not wanting to be a backstabber twice over, your glowing eyes met his as you said, "I trust you." You had said it with such earnestness, how could he deny you like that?

He could never turn you down, not with those eyes of yours... And distantly, he remembers how the other refugees would tease him upon meeting you back before everything went to shit... Admittedly, they were right. Just as you were drawn to him, he was drawn to you... Maybe that's why he cared for you more than others...

"... On the condition that if I ever freeze like that again, do not hesitate to strike me down. Better me gone than being a traitor once more." That was his only condition. And he sees you nodding, ignoring the slight hesitation you had at first.

He couldn't bear the idea of hurting you.

"Let's get you checked up and rested first, yeah? You've already been through a lot. And I need to go check for others trapped... Just follow me closely, alright?"

You care so much... He didn't deserve it.

Oh, how he didn't deserve you, but obediently, he followed you with his hand clasped in yours. For you, he'll give you his devotion and faith. His everything, even. After all, you never broke his trust. You never broke his faith. If anything, you gave him what he had lost for so long. Hope.

You have given hope to him just as you gave hope to others. Maybe that's what caused you to stand out from even your group.

You deserve the world with all the good you've done. Of how you saved his people. Of how you saved him. For that, he is grateful, and he'll make sure, as long as he sides with you, he'll help with any endeavors and goals you put your mind to, knowing it would always align with that good nature you carry in your heart. To the end, he will follow.

'So he swears, so mote it be.'

[tangledinink]

heyyy guys. is this a bad time? srry i know its the autism contest today (go vote for donnie) but uhmmm second chapter of my i'm sorry, teenage mutant what now? fic is out. read it on a03 or below the cut!

[ previous chapter ]

Out of the three of them, Leo was the fastest. Donnie was a close second, and Raph brought up the rear, but none of them were slow by any means. Donnie knew, in the back of his mind, that their Dad was more than capable of some shocking speed when the situation called for it, though he was typically more inclined to amble.

 But goddamn. He always kind of forgot just how fast their dad could move when he heard one of his children scream. 

 They could already hear him opening Mikey's door and demanding to know what happened by the time Leo, Raph and he were even breaking the top of the basement stairs, their hearts thudding in their ears because oh my god. Mikey was either just attacked by one of those shady alley cats that Dad told him not to feed, or he had finally managed to stab himself through the hand with a pencil while trying to do that flip-trick thing he liked to do-- one of the two. 

 "What's going on!?" Leo demanded as the trio skidded to a halt in front of Mikey's door, with Raph crying, "Are you hurt?!" At almost the exact same time, all three of them bunched up around the doorway to see what was going on.

 The good news was there were no maniacal tabbies in sight, nor any writing utensils sticking out of his little brother's palm. A good start. The bad news was the smoldering scrap of paper and wire sitting on his baby brother's burnt desk.

 "I don't know!" Mikey wailed, his eyes wide and beaded with tears. Their father kneeled down next to him, placing a hand over Mikey's trembling shoulder in what was likely an attempt at comfort. "I was just sitting here working on a sketch and my notebook caught on fire!"

 Donnie blinked slowly.

 "It caught on fire?" Leo echoed, his voice cautious.

 "Yeah! It just-- it just went up in flames!" Mikey sobbed. "All-- all of my sketches are ruined...!"

 Raph visibly hesitated, exchanging a look with their father before he spoke, "Uh. Well. The important thing is you weren't hurt--"

 "Your notebook just spontaneously burst into flames? On its own? With no outside intervention?" Donnie deadpanned, his lips pursed. He stumbled slightly when Raph smacked him on the shoulder, glaring at his brother. What!? Like he was the only one thinking it! Come on, were they seriously not wondering the same thing?

 "It did! I swear!" Mikey pressed, tearing up all over again. "I really– I wasn't doing anything--"

 Donnie glanced wildly between his brothers and father, gesturing at the youngest slightly. They didn't seriously – There was no way– 

 "Science doesn't work like that!" He squawked. "You can't have fire without heat and fuel, it's literally basic physics! They're the main ingredients of an exothermic reaction-- does nobody else in this household respect the sanctity of the fire tetrahedron?!"

 "Donatello." 

 "Oh, but when I cause an explosion, it's a problem--"

 "Donatello." His father's voice was a bit harder this time, and immediately effective at stopping Donnie mid-tirade, his frame freezing in place and his lips still curved into a slight scowl. "Why don't you and your brothers go back downstairs? I have this under control." 

 Donnie scowled, his brows bunched together and his lips set in a deep frown, and he really thought about protesting or even refusing for a moment, not wanting to be so easily chased away. But, after a moment longer, he relented, turning to trudge back the way he came with a dramatic huff. "This is so unfair." He muttered as he went, his two brothers right behind him. The three retreated back to the basement, and Donnie's foot had barely even passed the bottom step before Leo turned on his heels to face the other two, giving a wild wave of his hands.

 "What the hell was that?!"

 "Hey," Raph muttered, as if he actually cared about any of his brothers swearing nowadays-- it was just reflex.

 "No, I agree with Leo." Donnie immediately declared, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's no way his notebook actually just burst into flames. I mean, you could maybe convince me that some electrical equipment overheated, but there's no way there would be that dramatic of an effect, and I see no reason why it would center on a notebook of all places, unless Michelangelo was sitting there with a high-powered magnifying glass and directing a sunbeam, in which case he definitely went into my room--"

  "Yeah, what Donnie said. But the, like, the sane bits." Leo interrupted. "I'm pretty sure homework doesn't just set itself on fire."

 "What, you think he's lyin'?" Raph questioned.

 "Well either that or he's finally lost it. Like, this isn't just Mikey weird, this is, like. Weird weird ." Leo insisted.

 "Why would he lie though?" Donnie questioned, a brow quirked. "Surely he's not that desperate to get out of doing schoolwork. He's been doing really well as of late-- And if he needed to destroy evidence, I can think of about thirty-seven other, much more effective methods just off the top of my head that he could have employed. And none of them involve him physically endangering himself nor scaring the absolute living atoms out of the rest of us."

 Raph kept quiet, seeming to consider this for a moment, before his eyes got wide, his face paling a bit.

 "You don't-- you guys don't think he's smokin', do ya?" 

 "What?! No way! Come on, Raph, don't be crazy." Leo scoffed. "First of all-- What, and throw away his whole athletic career? You know how much he loves skateboarding and dancing and 'razzing his tazz' and all that. He's not that stupid. Second of all, there are about eight million other places he could go if he wanted to smoke in secret besides here. Like… literally all of New York City. Or even just, I dunno, the balcony?! Not his own room? I'm pretty sure we would have noticed by now if he was smoking in his room!" 

 "But why else would he be lighting stuff on fire!?" Raph cried.

 "I dunno. Maybe just for fun or something? Donnie lights stuff on fire all the time."

 "HEY!"

 "You do, don't try to deny it."

 "That's DIFFERENT, it's science--"

 "Anyway. What teenage boy doesn't go through a 'lighting stuff on fire' phase? I'm pretty sure I read that in one of Dad's parenting books one time." Leo concludes, planting his hands firmly on his hips as if that were the end of it. Donnie rolled his eyes.

 "You didn't. Raph didn't." He pointed out.

 "Which means, statistically, Mikey definitely has to!" Leo replied.

 "That's not how statistics work--"

 "Bup-bup-bup-bup. Both of you, chill. Look, Dad said he's handling it, so he's handling it! We don't gotta sweat it. Just let them work it out, come on. I bet they'll be done before we finish even one round of Smash Bros."

---

 "Michelangelo."

 Even when he spoke, prodding him gently with his words, working so hard to keep his voice steady and even and calm, his youngest son wouldn't look up at him. Wouldn't meet his eyes. He kept his head down, sniffling weakly and making soft, hiccupy sounds that sank wetly to the floor around them. Yoshi was no stranger to his children's tears, but that didn't mean it ever got easier to hear. It made his chest twist.

 "Mikey." He tried again, idly rubbing the teenager's shoulder. "Tell me again exactly what happened--"

 "I promise I'm not making it up!" Mikey immediately cried, his head bobbing up, the little rainbow beads in his hair clicking softly against one another. "I swear, Dad, it really did just catch on fire! I swear I'm not lying or anything! Why would I-- I-- I mean, my, my sketches, all my homework, my notes, you know I wouldn't--"

 "I know." Yoshi assured quickly. And he did. Michelangelo was certainly no angel, contrary to what his name might suggest, and he was just as capable of getting into trouble as the rest of his boys were. Did he really think Yoshi was dumb enough to not be aware of that tagging thing he was doing with his Posca's? And how many parent-teacher conferences had he been called to over the years? And which one of his sons was the only one who had ever gotten suspended for fighting? 

  But a liar, Michelangelo was not. As much as he tried, he just didn't have it in him-- he always cracked with even the barest amount of pressure, much to his brothers' chagrin. It had taken years off his life when they first moved up here into the city. He had spent weeks and weeks driving their cover story into the four of them and subtly teaching Michelangelo in particular how to divert and distract and dodge. 

 Without meaning to, his eyes flickered down to the small golden bracelet encircling his son's wrist, the tiny orange gem inlaid in it catching the light for a moment. One of a matching set of five-- one of which was on his own arm at this very moment.

 "Remember, my son, what do you do when people start asking too many questions?" 

 "CRY!"

 "That's right! Good boy!"

 (Wait, was it his fault he cried so easily now? He's getting distracted. Focus on the now.)

"I know you're not lying to me, Mikey. You are not a very good liar." He teased, smiling the tiniest bit. He wasn't rewarded with the smile he was hoping for, so he pressed on. "I'm sure that whatever happened, it was an accident... And that there's a reasonable explanation! I'm sure. Perhaps there was just a short circuit somewhere, and a spark caught your paper. I will have your brother look into it. I'm simply glad you weren't hurt." 

 Mikey paused, frowning a bit, his eyes searching and unsure. Yoshi fought to keep his face as calm and reassuring as he possibly could.

 "I'm sure your teacher will understand, I will... write her a note. And, uh... we will get you a new desk..."

 "You believe me?" Mikey said, brows knit together in a crease. "And...you’re not mad? I'm not in trouble?"

 "No, you're not in trouble."

 "But-- My desk is burnt-- I mean, when Donnie--"

 "You're not in trouble," Yoshi repeated. "Just… be careful, my son. I do not want you to get hurt." 

 Mikey stayed quiet for a moment, staring their father down before they finally gave a very slow nod.

 "Okay..."

 "Good boy." He said, offering him a small, albeit forced smile, rubbing his son's shoulder in reassurance one more time before he got back up to his feet (with an exaggerated groan of effort.) "It is late. Go get ready for bed. We'll worry about the desk later."

 Watching his son's muted nod, Yoshi made his exit, closing the door firmly behind him and inhaling deeply--frozen for just a moment now that his son's eyes were not on him.

 Michelangelo was not a liar.

 That was what worried him. 

---

“I’m just saying—“

“Raph.”

“That if you were—“

“Raph.”

“We would help you! We just want you to be safe!”

“Raph! For the last time! I don’t smoke! I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my entire life!”

“I’m saying, I mean, if you DID, I mean, Raph wouldn’t be angry! I just.” 

He sniffled loudly.

“I JUST REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU AND—“

“Okay well, now I am gonna start smoking.”

“NO!!!”

---

Yoshi floated through the next few days, muscle memory, thankfully, filling in for him while his brain was occupied elsewhere. It was a good thing that his family had been to approximately eight-million martial arts tournaments over the past decade, or he may have been in trouble. Luckily, everything was, by now, second nature-- ensuring everything needed was accounted for, getting everyone to the gymnasium on time, signing in to each event and finding a seat... 

 He wanted to be present. He wanted to be aware of what was happening around him, to pay attention to the tournament, but it was a struggle to even keep his eyes open. The act of ‘sleeping’ had recently been superseded by that of ‘pouring over Hamato Clan scrolls,’ searching desperately for some sort of an answer or explanation, or even better, a solution.

 Yoshi had never regretted his choice to turn his back on his ‘destiny’ before. He had never regretted choosing not to finish his training, and failing to unlock his ninpo. What use did he have for such things? And what benefit could he possibly find in throwing his life away for the sake of a 'what if,' a what if that had never come to pass in his clan's history? Perhaps life had not turned out exactly as he had planned, and all his choices as a young adult had not exactly been the wisest, but... 

 This choice? No. He had never regretted it.

 Until now.

 Now, his bones ached with remorse. Perhaps if he had learned it himself, he would be more useful now in ensuring his son's safety. He had lit his notebook on fire for god's sake-- What if he had hurt himself? What if the fire had spread?! And how was he supposed to keep his children safe when this power wasn't something that he understood, nor something that they were even aware of themselves?

 He grumbled softly to himself, squinting a bit and hunching over in his seat on the bleachers. Uncomfortable-- these always hurt his back. Thinking about this, it hurt his head. For the thousandth time in his life, he wondered if he was making the right choice as a parent. As a person. He didn't want to deceive his sons. It was never his intention-- It wasn't his plan-- But--

  "Yoshi."

 Yoshi Hamato started slightly in response to his own name, momentarily distracted from the rather consuming task of pushing two small children on swings in tandem. He had tried to negotiate taking turns, but Raph and Mikey had insisted they wanted to swing together...

 He grit his teeth a bit at being interrupted in the middle of an outing with his children by what was, he assumed, a fan or reporter, but when he turned to face the voice, he froze in place. Ice climbed up his throat and lodged itself there.

 "... Hinata."

 They looked different from the last time he saw them-- older, certainly-- but he still recognized the face of his cousin right away. Not dragging his eyes away from the other, he slowed the two children's swings to a stop, leaning down to speak to them.

 "Why don't you boys go and play with your brothers in the sandbox for a little bit? My arms need a break, and then we can swing some more."

 "I don't wanna play in the sandbox!" Mikey immediately protested, his eyes wide. 

 "Mikey--"

 "Come on, Mikey. It'll be fun." Raph interrupted, taking his little brother's hand in his own. "I'll let ya bury me!" 

 The four-year-old immediately lit up at that, wasting no time at all in throwing himself off the swing and sprinting in the direction of the sandbox, where Donnie and Leo were already gathered. Raph followed after, but not after just a moment of hesitation, glancing at their father for just a second before running off.

 As helpful as his eldest’s reaction was, it made Yoshi’s heart twist to think on it too hard. He wasn’t the eldest by much. He was still a child as well. 

 This was why they had moved to the surface. This was why Yoshi had chosen to risk exactly this scenario. But he had still hoped it would not happen. And he did not think it would happen this quickly.

 Rising up to his full height once more, he narrowed his eyes at his cousin, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest or plant his hands on his hips. He was not a teenager anymore.

 "Why are you here, Hinata." He slipped easily into his native tongue, knowing that Hinata would do the same. He would never forget the language he spent the first eighteen years of his life speaking, but now, after all this time, he would admit, Japanese almost felt foreign in his mouth.

 "Yoshi! It is so good to see you again-- After all this time, we all thought-- I mean--"

 "We both know perfectly well you are not here for pleasantries, Hinata." He snapped, his temper flaring for a moment, getting the better of him. "You did not travel all the way to New York to say ‘hello’. Why did you come?"

 "... We heard in the news, that you have children. What a surprise for all of us, after how adamant you were growing up...!"

"And what business is that of yours?"

 "Yoshi," Hinata said, a sigh weighing down their voice. "I know that you never completed your training, but--"

 "And they will never start."

 "Yoshi, please, be reasonable."

 "I am being reasonable!"

 "You are the last direct descendant of the Hamato Clan, Yoshi! You, and now them! We have a duty! A responsibility to the world!"

 "Them!?" Yoshi hissed, gesturing violently to the sandbox across the playground, where his three children excitedly worked to try to bury their older brother. He struggled to keep his voice down. " They have a responsibility to the world?! A duty to fulfill?! They are children!"

 "You think I am not fully aware that it is a great burden to bare!? Do you think the rest of us have reveled in it?!" Hinata spat. "Just because a task is difficult does not mean you can abandon it, Yoshi!"

 "Why!? What is stopping us!?" Yoshi threw up his arms. "If you are content wasting your life preparing for the return of a scary story, be my guest! But you will not drag my children into it. I will not send them away to be raised without a parent. I will not sacrifice them for some supposed greater good. And I will not be convinced otherwise." He hissed, each word burning his lips from how cold they came out-- a surprise each time. 

"Yoshi. Please. We are your family. We cannot do this without you."

"Listen to me carefully, Hinata," Yoshi said, his eyes narrowed into slits. "The Hamato Clan will have no part in my sons' lives. They will not train them. They will not speak to them. They will not attempt to make any form of contact with them. And if any of you do, then you will be hearing from my lawyers. None of you will touch a single hair on their heads."

 He leaned in a bit closer. 

 "And if anyone attempts to, then I will break all of the fingers on their hands, and worry about the lawyers later. Do you understand?"

 Hinata kept quiet for a moment, their eyes searching the other, as though they were trying to decide whether or not their cousin was serious. Eventually, their shoulders slumped. 

 "... Your grandpa missed you, Yoshi."

 "Stop."

 "He was devastated when we heard you had gone missing."

 "Hinata."

 "Until his dying breath--"

 Every muscle in Yoshi's body jerked and tensed, coiled tight and hot. His lips curled into a snarl, and he clenched his hands into fists.

He walked away. Hinata did not follow him.

He sat with his children in the sandbox until he was sure Hinata was gone. He pushed Raph and Mikey on the swings for five minutes longer, as he had promised, and then he let Leo and Donnie have a turn, to be fair.

 Raph asked him who the person from before was. Yoshi told him it was an old friend. Mikey asked him if he was sad because he seemed sad. Yoshi smiled and said that Mikey should not worry about it, and he was fine. They did not ask any further questions, and Yoshi was relieved.

 He brought his sons home, parked them in front of the television, and locked himself in his room to weep as softly as he could.   

 He laid in bed and he wept until his eyes were swollen and his head ached. He felt stupid for being so upset. Hadn’t he renounced the Hamato Clan ages ago? Nothing had changed— He always knew that this would be his response if his family sought him out again. Hadn’t he known that his Jiji was surely gone by now, given the time that had passed? But still, it was different for it to be confirmed. It was different for everything to be spoken out loud and real and definite and unable to be taken back.

 The term ‘uncontrollable sobbing’ had never really meant anything to him before. He had cried before, sure, but this was different. He hadn’t thought it could be so literal. This was horrendous.

 When he finally ran out of tears, he curled up on his side, hidden beneath sheets and blankets, feeling rather pitiful and unsure of what to do with himself. His chest was all hollow and empty now, like something had been carved out of him. And all that was left was this deep, terrible frustration.

 The world felt so hideously unfair in this moment. He thought of every other human on the planet who didn’t have the same problems as him, who had families without destinies or sacrifices, and he resented each and every one of them. He thought, “How could they do this to me?” He thought about his mother, and his jaw set. He thought about the hours of training he had endured as a child, and his face flushed with anger, heady and dark. He thought of Hinata, who he had grown up alongside, played with, shared secrets with, and he wished they were here— or anyone, truly anyone in the world was here in their place— so he could kick their teeth out of their skull and stomp on their throats. 

 How dare they try to take his children from him? 

 Seething, lit up red in every part of his soul, simmering like oil, he slowly sat up, inhaling long and slow before letting it out again. No. The Hamato Clan and their traditions would never touch his children. They would not so much as graze the silhouettes of their lives. His children would never be kept awake at night learning lore and stories from fabricated scrolls. They would never be informed of their purpose in life, nor told that they had no say in it. They would never be taught to fight, never endure hours of martial arts lessons, never cry or beg for their training to finally be finished for the day— 

For the second time that day, a sudden noise startled Yoshi from his thoughts, and his head bobbed about at the low thud and scrabble from the living room.

 Ah. Mmm… Yes. Of course. His beloved and innocent sons. One of his eyes twitched a bit, and he debated his next action for a moment. He didn’t especially want to interact with any of his children given his current… whole emotional situation, but, after a bit of hemming and hawwing, relented that he probably should go and check that no one was injured. Grumbling a bit to himself, he dragged himself to his feet, shuffling down the hall to peer around the corner and into the living room.

“Give up now! You’re no match for me and my super rad skills!” Leo shrieked from in front of the TV, his mouth set in a mischievous grin. 

“Oh yeah?” Raph echoed his younger brother’s smile before leaping at his brother. “Watch this! POMPADOUR PUNCH!”

Yoshi noted dimly that whatever cartoons he had left them with had long been exchanged for one of his many films, which was now flickering across the screen. Donatello’s doing, he assumed. 

“Mikey! Cover me! We gotta get to higher ground!” Leo yelped through laughter, throwing himself at the couch and attempting to climb up the back of it. Michelangelo, as instructed, koala-hugged his oldest brother’s legs in an attempt to slow him down. 

“Donnie! Raph’s been got! You gotta stop Leo!” Raph barked, very obviously trying to rope the purple one into the shenanigans and include him in the fun. 

 Donnie gave a determined chirp and a nod in reply, his expression turning very serious in such a way that Yoshi had to smile a tiny bit. 

 “HA! I’d like to see you try! No one can stop a NINJA!” Leo crowed, striking a pose to mirror Yoshi’s own younger self on the television. It certainly wasn’t CORRECT, but… It wasn’t bad, either. His boys were still young, but Yoshi had, admittedly, taught them some of the basics of stances and things of the like when he needed something to keep them busy in the sewers… He was a bit surprised that his children had retained any of those lessons, but it was evident in how they held themselves that they did. 

 And… letting them watch Kung-Fu movies probably had an influence as well, admittedly.

 Sighing softly, Yoshi leaned against the wall, resting his cheek against the cool drywall. He thought, absently, of how he and his cousins would play this way when they were small and met at family gatherings, and his shoulders slumped slightly, the tight muscles unwinding. He thought of how they would train together, coaching one another through difficult stances or sequences and celebrating when they finally got it down, and the heat in his cheeks slowly tempered and faded. He thought of the pride he wore so brazenly as a child— proud of his destiny, proud of his heritage, proud of the abilities he had built for himself. Proud to be a Hamato. He silently wiped at his face, brushing some of his hair from his face. He had thought he had run out of tears, but perhaps he hadn’t.

 The frustration and anger were gone now. The hollow was simply hollow now— empty and worn. Yes, something had been carved out. He recognized the grief. And he was still completely sure of himself when he said that the Hamato Clan would never touch his children.

 … But he supposed that, perhaps, he didn’t have to abandon every part of his past.

 It might be okay if they dipped their toes into some of the traditions. Perhaps they could still be Hamatos on their own.

“Point!”

 Had he fallen asleep for a moment there?… Yoshi cursed himself internally when he realized that he had missed the entire match in favor of old memories. His eyes refocused on the scene before him— his son standing over a somewhat shaken-looking opponent on the mat, the referee gesturing to Donatello in victory.

 He was too busy lost in his thoughts to pay attention. He wrinkled his nose a bit, but he could see Donnie’s head turn, glancing to the stands to search for him in the crowd. As soon as he was able to catch his eyes, Yoshi offered a small smile and an appraising nod, which earned him a barely-contained beam in response.

 As soon as the eyes had been removed from him, Yoshi let out a breath, slumping against the wall. A close one… Now was not the time to be worrying about such things. Given the family’s hectic schedule, Yoshi was not able to be present for nearly every competition his sons participated in… He owed it to them, at least, to be present when he did. 

 Though, truth be told, he doubted he had missed too much. He had known before the match had even started that Donatello would win. At an event this size, there would be very few other competitors who would pose any real challenge to any of his boys.

 They were quite good. After all, he was the one who had taught them to fight in the first place.

---

Donnie caught sight of their father in the doorway just a moment later, pausing in his climb up the back of the couch to try to tackle his twin brother. The other three caught on quickly, glancing back around at Yoshi with wide eyes. The transition to the surface had been an adjustment for all of them, and they still sometimes had a bit of trouble remembering what was OK for the sewers VS OK for polite society— But generally speaking, their Dad didn’t always appreciate roughhousing and shouting, nor climbing on top of furniture.

 Yoshi gave a soft exhale of laughter through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure that, eventually, they would all figure out that freezing upon eye contact would immediately clue him in that they knew they were breaking the rules, but… not yet.

 Not yet.

“You changed the movie.” He remarked, wandering into the living room to join them.

“We wanted to be ninjas.” Mikey volunteered from the floor, his little head popping up from behind the cushions. “Like you, Daddy!"

Of course. Ninjas like him.

 He bit the insides of his cheeks. That? Maybe not… today. But…

 “ … How would you boys like to learn to talk like ninjas do?"

[ next chapter ]

[bifairywife]

[grips your shoulders] your unpublished fic isn't bad, it just lived in your wip folder for a while and you've reread it 15 times over

being insecure about your writing/ wanting it to come out well is totally normal but i do like to share that showing it to a friend helps ease the nerves and having a beta-reader is a huge help with knowing what works with the fic and what can be improved

[thatonefandomjumper]

My fanfic A Lifetime from the Hunt is officially completed!

I have been posting these drawings one-by-one as the arcs came out but now that the fic is done might as well slap them all in one post!

It'd mean a lot if any Leo Valdez fan checked out the fic. I put a lot into it. And if anyone is reading this after completing the fic, thank you for sticking around! It really is appreciated :)))

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

I'm back with more MLC excerpts!! (sorry I missed the last 2 weeks!)

In honor of it being the 1 year anniversary of my neurosurgery and of my finally being over the sinus infection from hell enough to write, here's an extra long excerpt (. . . and an extra evil cliffhanger? #sorrynotsorry. It will all work out, I promise)!

This is more from the (difanghua) MLC fic where DFS and FDB rescued LLH from the donghai beach after his shiniang tried to sacrifice herself to cure him and he shattered his own heart meridian to stop her.

For anyone who's interested in seeing how I put my analysis from the CPTSD meta into practice via fic writing, enjoy!

(To read earlier excerpts–although it’s not necessary!– you can follow these links to read part 1 (LLH), part 2 (FDB), part 3 (DFS), part 4 (DFS), or part 5 (FDB), or part 6 (LLH). Oh, and another excerpt from a WIP ask (LLH))

TW: panic attack, medical emergency, flashback (nonconsensual medical procedure)

**

He shivered as familiar icy tendrils tore through him, chilling him to the bone.

Damn it.

“Xiaohua? What’s wrong? Is–is this a trick?”

“Xiangyi, what do you need?”

He tapped the three points on his chest that had always controlled these attacks before and slid his hand down.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. A wet cough ripped itself free and black spots started to crowd in front of his eyes.

Firm hands gripped his shoulder and spun him 90 degrees. 

A large palm pressed against his back, radiating a slow, creeping warmth. Familiar callouses returned to his wrist, pushing down far harder than before.

“He needs Yangzhouman into his zhong fu,” a-Fei said, from somewhere close behind his ear. “Now!”

A shaking finger poked his lung meridian, and a sharp pain flared along his collarbone. 

“Less than that! Calm your qi if you want him to live,” a-Fei snapped. 

“Sorry,” Xiaobao murmured, his breath brushing against his face. 

Time crawled like qi through his meridians.

After a few breaths, the chokehold on his lungs began to relax, and the icicles that had replaced his bones began to thaw.

He let his shoulders fall from their perch by his ears, used some of the Yangzhouman to force the Bicha flare back to more manageable levels, and circulated some of the newly introduced Yangzhouman through what remained of his lung meridian, and through his newly reconstructed heart meridian. It did feel sturdier, didn’t it? Thicker than it used to be. As though it had been reinforced–

–his qi battering against the walls of his meridians, desperately trying to–

“Xiangyi? What is it?”

The room suddenly felt far too small. He needed more space, more air, needed this transfer to be done. Immediately. “That’s plenty. You can stop now.”

The thin stream of qi from his back cut out, but the one on his chest pulsed on. 

His skin crawled with the need to get up, this instant. “Xiaobao, I said stop. Save some for yourself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve barely given you any yet.”

Li Lianhua’s hands started to shake. “It’s more than enough.”

“Will you quit lying? I can still see the Bicha lines on your neck.”

That was it. Another second of this and he’d make a break for the door, legs willing or no. “Brat, listen to your shifu.” He flung his arm up to bat Xiaobao’s away.

“Shifu?” His wrist was grabbed before his arm could make contact. “I’m not falling for that again, you old fox. So don’t–” a hard jab to an acupoint,

“even–” a second hit, and he forgot how to breathe,

“try it!” 

***

“–Stop fighting it, Xiangyi. Listen to Shiniang. Please, let me save you!”

“I said, let me GO.” He lashed his qi against his acupoints again, with more force than any blow he’d leveled before, even at his shixiong at the end. The reinforced structures started to shake. Just one more hit, that’s all it would take, and then–

“–Fang Duobing! What did you do?” “N-nothing! I just–”

“Undo it! Now!”

“But he was about to–”

“NOW!”

Li Xiangyi blasted his qi against the obstruction with all his strength.

There was a loud crash, the sound of splintering wood.

A wet, pained gasp from somewhere far in front of him.

“Fang Duobing!” 

“I’m fine. Xiaohua, are you ok? Say something!”

Why did Xiaobao sound so pained?

Li Lianhua blinked his eyes open to a blurry haze. 

But he didn’t need clear vision to recognize Xiaobao’s silhouette–

–slammed against the cabinets–

–with red spreading around him.

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, and tried to stumble out of bed.

“A-Fei, don’t let him–”

The world tilted wildly.

A hand pressed against his chest.

“Xiangyi, don’t you fucking dare di–”