#he needs love to grow up big and strong (and then trap us all in an endless dreamworld) (but that will come later)

[egophiliac]

I had to turn the boops off (sorry!), so here is a little Malleus for you all to boop instead! he has no thoughts in that little brain of his!

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: With the birth of your child looming, you and Aemond finally lay your cards on the table. A growing problem reaches a boiling point.

Warnings: more lying/manipulation (y’all know the drill by now), Aemond once again gaslighting, mentions of s*icide

A/N: it’s been such a fun time writing this. It is definitely different from most things I’ve written, so it have been a nice change. I’ve gotten so much support from it and I hope to keep making stuff you guys like. Also slight disclaimer that the way I write Alys is not really way I read her in the book. Much like Aemond in this. They both kind of suck lmao. I wanted this to be the last part but then I thought of more things so… we shall see how this goes 👍🏽. I wanted this chapter to be a build up to events in ep 8-10 mainly 9 and 10 of the show.

Fmo masterlist

You can’t remember the last time Aemond and you have had dinner, just the two of you. So, when he insisted you that you two do, you had a feeling it was about the talk Queen Alicent said she wanted to have with him. A private dinner with your husband would have been a dream moons ago.

Alicent did not make you privy to what they discussed. It only made you more weary. You know she is hurt and upset. But you also know she is more hurt that the son she propped up so much turned out to be just as unreliable as the man she made him with.

That is the painful part about love; the only place to go is down.

Nevertheless, his suffering is what you want; it does not matter if the ire stems from a place on genuine care for you. The uncomfortable nature in which he moves the castle makes the pain you have suffered a little bearable. It sounds deranged, but if you are to be trapped, he should be as well. You want him to wake with the same lump in his throat you do.

The letters had stopped. A constantly stream of communication abruptly ended. Lord Strong gave you a funny smile when he told you.

Ser Quinton rarely leaves your side when Aemond is around. He gave you a reluctant glance when you tell him about the dinner. While Aegon, already deep in his cups midday, tells you to keep a grip on your fervor.

The corridor was empty except for the two of you.

“I know how him and mother are,” he point his fingers at you emphatically. “They probably already concocted something to keep you quiet or make you look like the problem. Keep you…. Idle.”

Despite the slurring of his words, and clear bitterness towards the relationship Alicent and Aemond have, he may not be wrong. Alicent had already taken it upon herself to write to your father, suggesting he visits soon. She is proactive to a fault; her behavior simultaneously holding the Seven Kingdom together and enabling her family’s indecencies.

Everything can be hidden under the right tactics and false goodwill. You want to say she got that trait from her father, but you know it comes from years of being a woman in the Red Keep. From being the Queen.

The dinner begins uneventful. You wrinkle your nose at the meat pie in front of you. A dish you normally like making your stomach churn. It is hard not to feel sick or uncomfortable these days. You’re huge; feet swollen and belly protruding to a remarkable degree. The sheer thought of how big the babe will be plagues your mind most days.

It is unbearable having to engage in meaningless small talk with Aemond. Like he is insulting your intelligence by tip toeing around everything.

“Are you going to tell me why you wanted this dinner,” you want nothing more to leave his chambers and go take a bath.

“I think we need to talk.”

You can’t help but scoff at him. Aemond looks even more haunting in the dark lighting of room. Like the brutal knights the septas used to make you read about. He has a nasty look in his eye, like he wants a fight. You wonder if his Alys gets this look or if it just reserved for you. One special thing for his wife.

Despite all the formal swordsman training, Aemond plays dirty in personal affairs. Much like a feral cat backed into a corner. You’ve seen it to many times with Aegon. The only thing he responds to is equally cruel jabs.

“Yes dear husband,” you sigh out of boredom, rolling your neck.

His next words take you by surprise.

“Daella told me she is not excited about her egg hatching,” he huffs out. You stop rolling your neck, and blink blankly at him. The two of your stare at each other before you bark out a laugh.

“That is what this is about? You are pouting because a child is no longer enraptured by an egg.”

“It is not only about the egg, and you know it,” a nasty tone to match the look he gives you. “You fill her head with assumptions. You debase something that is her birthright. Something that is the birthright of her father, and her ancestors.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, if I disparaged the great Targaryen legacy or dragons in front of her it must have been a… mistake.”

You swear you see Aemond’s eye twitch a little at the word.

“Have you ever thought maybe it is not the dragons themselves, but the person she most associates them with?”

Daella’s change in behavior was notable. She never wanted to go to the dragon pit with her father, the few times she does work up the nerve to go it is always with her aunt to see Dreamfyre. She is no longer enthused to learn High Valyrian despite how quickly she picks it up.

You did try to keep your child out things, but kids are perceptive. The way from a young age Alicent kids picked on her strife with their father, maybe she picked up on yours with Aemond.

Aemond’s anger radiates off him. Once the truth finally comes out, the words begin to spill from your lips.

“And do not pretend this is just about Daella. That is an insult to her, and a waste of my time,” you lean forward, and lower your voice. “This about you losing your favor around here, and this about her.”

There is an uncomfortable hush comes over the room. The only sound is the crackling coming from the fireplace.

“She was pregnant,” it comes out like whisper. The spite that was laced through his voice is gone. All is left is confusion.

Your vision blurred red. There’s a painful twinge in your stomach, and you wince.

“What do mean was.”

There was always the possibility this could happen. As naive as it sounds, it was not a thought till ironically Aegon of all people brought it up. If anyone would know about possibly fathering bastards it would be him. Then he promptly told you that the two of you could hop on Sunfyre and burn her to a crisp. The offer that you quickly refused in the moment has never sounded so tempting now.

“I-I do not know where she is,” Aemond admits curtly. “One day she is telling me she is with child, and the next she’s…gone.”

He looks so small; his eye has a faraway look in it. It’s utterly pathetic. You never considered that a greater pain to him would be not only to be seen differently by his family, but also have to reason why he did it leave.

“So what now Aemond? She left you, and you want to just erase everything you have done. Pretend you care or love me,” you say coldly.

“No. I do not lo-“

He stops mid sentence, and an empty smile appears on your face. Neither of you have said it out loud but it is the plain truth.

“Go ahead and say it,” there is a deep pressure in your stomach that won’t go away. The pain only makes you even more upset. “Love requires respect. It requires give and take. You surely do not respect me, and all you ever do is take.”

Another twinge hits the underside of your belly. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, eyeing the door.

“You are not completely innocent in this,” your eyes go wide at his remark. “Do not give me that look. I see the way Ser Quinton looks at you. And now Alys is…”

He trails off. It is the first time you have heard him say her name out loud. Another surge of jealously runs through you. She is gone, and you are once again stuck with the carcass. Expected to uphold your end of the bargain while he frets over a child and mother that never should have been around to begin with.

You refuse to sit and let him turn the tables around on you. It is a struggle, but you manage to get up from the table, but only to have him rise and block your way.

“For someone who has such clear distain for my house. You sure do not hide your fire well… just like a dragon.” His eye flutter down to the scar on your arm, then back to your eyes. You see the blame in his.

“If I was that rash, or temperamental, your head would have been on a spike. Along with your whore’s,” you narrow your eyes. “And I would have made Ser Quinton sully his white cloak, because he would for me. Hells, I would have had your brother while I was at it. It’s not like he has not tried before.”

You are not sure you even want Ser Quinton in that way, let alone Aegon. Ser Quinton devotion is not something you know if you are willing to take that level. And Aegon’s cock has been in half the maidservants in the castle and most of the whores in Flea Bottom. Him wanting you is not special, it’s just Aegon being Aegon. But the deep look of rage in Aemond’s eye makes the statement all the more worth it.

You skirt past him quickly towards the door. His heavy footsteps behind you. Ser Quinton leaning against the wall opposite of the door does not surprise you.

“Are you alright,” he rushes over, concerned when you pause to in the hall and lean over in pain. His hand coming to rub your back.

“Oh well is this not sweet,” Aemond’s bitter tone cuts through the empty hall. “I can handle it from here Ser Quinton.”

Blood rushes to your ears, and you can barely hear the hushed disagreement that begins between the two. Your painful groans becoming background fader to their pissing match.

A familiar snap happens in the lower part of your abdomen, and a pool of liquid flows out of you. Both cease arguing, and you and Aemond share a knowing look.

“The babe is coming.”

Alaric Targaryen came into the world fast, and with a haughty disposition. As if he could tell the family dynamic he was coming into. His cries were piercing and sharp, matching the tears of relief you cried when he finally came out.

You had insisted to only have your lady in waiting and some septas in room, especially after the clear tension between Aemond and Quinton. Helaena and Alicent come in and out of the room sporadically, giving you words of encouragement and knowing glances at the pain you were in. Alicent had been shocked to see her son and Ser Quinton trying to get you back to chambers.

Lord Larys followed casually behind her. He gave that funny smile of his again. The smile he gives Queen Alicent when he thinks no one is watching… or maybe he hopes someone is watching.

She’s gone

Even while giving birth to your son, that woman plagued your thoughts. Aemond could be right; you two have more in common than you like. Bewitched by the same woman.

It took everything in you to look up when Aemond finally came into the room. Acknowledging his presence met remembering how he is half of Alaric. How so much of you belongs to Aemond. You live in his home, dress in his colors, your children will be in the history books as Targaryen’s. He will have ownership over your boy after calling him a mistake. No matter how much you try, you will be remembered as his wife.

If that fact did not make you sick enough. Alicent’s next words did the trick.

“Oh, he looks like how Aemond did when he was a babe.”

You look down at him in your arms. While Daella was a combination of Aemond and you, her brother is every bit of his father. Small tuff of straight blonde hair, lips town turned in a scowl. You did not know a babe could look so refined especially after just being born. The only resembles to yourself you see in his in his big glassy eyes looking up at you.

There’s an energy that gets sucked out you when Alicent hands him to Aemond. She sees the weary look on your face.

Opposed to the elation you felt after having Daella. Dread creeps in; dread that comes from a place of sadness and protectiveness. All you have is your children. Even with the bonds and alliances you may have made, only they are extensions of you. Daella, your sweet girl, a reminder of what could of been. You have Alaric, the flesh and blood reflection of what you have been through.

“Have you two thought of a name,” Alicent asks. Before Aemond, who is still looking down can answer, you beat him to it.

“Alaric. Ser Quinton told the sweetest story about a knight he admired as a child. I thought it would be fitting.”

Alicent’s brows raise but she does nothing but nod. “Handsome name for a handsome boy.”

Aemomd does not say anything about the name. He just quietly hums a melody when Alaric starts to fuss. He turns his back to you as he bounces him in his arms.

All you have is your children

All you have is your children

When you think about a sword to the throat. You don’t know which situation would be more satisfying. One to his or one to yours.

“I am sure you were… relieved to hear about your problem being gone.”

You do not see Lord Larys again till weeks after Alaric is born. The day of a feast Alicent insisted you have to celebrate his birth. Your father and mother writing you that they can not wait to see their second grandchild.

While Daella was a fussy, energetic baby, all Aleric does is sleep and eat. He stares at you with curious eyes. Always taking in the scene around him. He lays sweetly crib next to your bed. After his birth, you were all but forced to move back into the one you shared with Aemond.

“Do you know what happened to her,” it’s been on your mind for since Aemond uttered those words.

Larys tilts his head to the side with a wry look. “You and I both know it is hard to place the whims of a difficult woman, especially a supposed magical one.”

You know he is not just talking about Alys.

She is out there, possibly with Targaryen blood in her and no one knows where is. It does not make any sense. Larys can read the skepticism all over your face.

“It is quite suspicious, witch or not. A bastard woman with no means or worth to her name, gone in an instant. And right after the truth comes out within the family. Right after the Queen and the Prince talk.”

He gives you no help, only more questions. Makes you more suspicious of those you have to call family. In this moment you hate the way he speaks in riddles. He never states things plainly till he is ready to. As if he expects you to do something before he can reveal anymore.

“But look on the bright side princess, your family will be back at court soon enough.”

Alaric begins to coo, as if he trying to tell you something.

“Well, thank you for your time, Lord Larys,” you give him a fake smile. “I should start getting ready.”

Your lady in waiting, Jayne, comes in once Larys finally leaves.

“I quite like this one princess,” she holds up a green and black dress. It is old dress of Alicent’s, one she gave you when you first married Aemond.

A flash of satiny purple in the back of you wardrobe catches your eye. A smile appears on your face. It may be a bit snug as you have two children since wearing it but it worth the try.

“I think I might want to try something a bit different Jayne.”

Your father used to tell you that the strongest flowers grow even when there is little sun. In conjunction, your mother told you that flowers are meant to be admired. Prettiest ones will often be picked and disregarded when a new bloom happens. Wilting was never an option for you in their mind.

You are their lower. Planted, watered, and urged to grow. Even in the deep darkness that is King’s Landing. The darkness they said was critical to helping your house.

The looks you get when you walk into the Godswood, head high in your deep violet dress only spurs you on when in other times it would make you want to hide. Daella and Alaric both in darling lavender outfits. You three stand out against the various muted greens, blues, and greys amongst you. Except for the few specs of purple that you see on the side wooded area.

“My dear girl,” your father’s hug makes you want to cry. Seeing your parents put into perspective how young you feel… how young you are.

Already married, mother of two, and all you want is your parents to hug you and tell you everything will be ok. When your father pulls you to the side and asks you about the letter Queen Alicent sent him, you are surprised to hear what she put in it.

“She said you are having a hard time,” he runs his hand over your arm. “That it is affecting your marriage.”

It should not surprise you she failed to mention her son’s cheating. But the onus being placed on you only proves what you already felt. They will protect their own, so you must protect yours.

Before you can muster up an answer, an anxious looking maidservant comes over with Jayne in tow.

“My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt. I went back to grab Alaric’s sweater. I saw something you may want to see; it was left it your chambers.”

Your eyes go to a box Jayne is carrying.

You must hold back a scream when you open the box and see Alaric’s favorite blanket, the one always in his crib, soaked in blood.

You frantically look over to the opposite side of the garden, your mother happily holding Alaric, Daella by her side. You look over to catch Aemond and Alicent giving you a questioning looks from across the Godswood.

As your vision blurs, you notice box had a tripartite of pale blue, red, and green on it.

“Jayne, please go fetch me Lord Larys and Ser Quinton.”

All you have is your children

Tag list: ok I’m sooo sorry to anyone who does not get a tag. I swear I am not ignoring you. I am only allowed to do 50 which is so annoying bc I want to tag everyone that was kind enough to support and ask. Also sometimes tumblr won’t let me tag certain people idk. If y’all know a better way please let me know, so I can try it ❤️❤️.

@simp-is-what-i-am @rey26 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @crispmarshmallow @dc-marvel-girl96 @stargaryenx @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @neenieweenie @iwanttohitmyself @helloitsshitzulover @lazypinkpig @shisuchiha @leoramage @viperixsworld @luvremlu @this-is-a-bad-idea @landlockedmermaid77 @inpraizeof @blacpiink @carriellie @s0urmarvel @blackravena @bregarc @hvx @let-love-bleeds-red @fangirls94 @v7nt7 @m1ndbrand @highexpectationsgurl @m1tzifa1ry @spaceslutty @elleclairez @kitkat-writes-stuff @paprikaquinn @widemiffyhappy @poisonedsultana @what-is-your-wish @lilliansstuff @rebelfleur22 @aloneatpeace @alastorhazbin @alexa4040 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ensolleildelune @clora95 @yu3kkii @mischiefmanaged2 @its-sam-allgood @papery-maniac

[greyskyflowers]

The idea of Ace and Luffy being wild, feral things makes my own heart happy.

Honestly though, I picture them having a lot in common with animals.

Strong teeth, strong bones, tough skin, quick reflexes. The instincts that come from growing up wild.

An ability eat lot of things that other people maybe wouldn't or can't. Meat that's a little more rare than advisable and snapping bones to get to the marrow inside.

They walk quiet, soundless when they want to be, using shadows and blind spots to become basically invisible. They don't do it often because they both have terrible attention spans but they can sit still and silent for long periods of time if needed, waiting like predators for their prey.

Staring, the way animals stare and wait for the other one to back down, making themselves look bigger and baring teeth. They snarl and snap their teeth, flexing their hands like claws when they're not making fists, a low grumble in their chests that sounds like a odd growl.

How it's instinct to cover the throat and belly of themselves and their crews, vulnerable spots that must be protected.

Ace being one of the shorter of the Whitebeard crew, so he does that thing where he eases himself in front of the others to cover their throats and bellies. Curling his lip back to show teeth and keeping eye contact with anyone stupid enough to try.

Licking their wounds, literally.

I imagine them being incredible trackers, able to use their senses a little more than the average person. Ears a little sharper, scents being considered, eyes taking in all the little details. Maybe they're not aware of it, but I like to think they take it all in deeper than they possibly realize.

A sense for something wrong, like how some animals can pick up on the energy people give off, possible sicknesses, coming storms, being watched, etc.

Sleeping all tangled together, the way animals sleep together for safety and warmth in cooler times. Luffy and Ace are big cuddlers.

Not necessarily in the normal cuddle ways either, they like to either be sprawled out on top or covered by someone. They're either being protected or they're protecting.

Head butts and cheek rubs when happy. That extra emphasis on crew, like packs and herds. Crew.

A lot of touching. Playing with someone's hair or nuzzling into their neck or side, a lack of boundaries because animals don't have shame or concerns like that.

And everyone who regularly interacts with Ace or Luffy wants to know how two feral cats got trapped in human bodies.

Am I always down for poly crews? Yes

Platonic or otherwise? Yes

Do I think everyone is a little in love with Luffy? Yes

Do I think everyone is a little in love with Ace? Yes

The crews love their wild ones and spoil them rotten when they can and know how to.

And since this is already AU let's just roll with it.

♠️ Ace ♠️

Ace just despises Teach right off the bat. As soon as the ink has settled in his skin and he's got a claim on him that he's never had before, he's completely standoffish with Teach. No matter how much the others tell him that's his brother now and assure him, he's all teeth and fire when Teach is around.

The man makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise and the instincts pacing at the back of his mind spit out a hiss.

Threatthreatthreat

His teeth grind together in anger, muscles tense under his skin, and it's a vicious thing in his chest he hasn't felt so strongly since Sabo and Luffy were his.

It causes some tension. People torn between supporting Teach, who's been their own for awhile, or supporting Ace, who has a good sense for this type of thing and is so welcoming to everyone else. They don't know how Ace can be so sweet and well loved by everyone but does a complete 180 with Teach.

It's instincts that have gotten Ace this far in life though and one night, it's only those instinct that save Thatch.

Ace darting out of the shadows and landing like the wrath of a god in front of Thatch, the knife that would have gone into the man's back instead finds a home in Ace's shoulder.

A rumbling growl that gets louder and nastier as the seconds tick by, blood running down a bare chest before flames lick up a wound that only found flesh because letting it pass meant the possibility of it hitting someone else. Sharp teeth shining in the growing glow of the fire and the ends of his hair burning like the edge of paper.

The flames don't burn Thatch when the older turns around. His flames would never burn crew.

Thatch wraps an arm around his waist like he's going to pull him away, but it just stays there, heavy around him. Ace takes a moment to find comfort in the warm and very alive presence pressed up behind him, bigger than him and Thatch's own protective fury catching fire.

Marco is less restrained in his fury. As are most of the others when they rush to investigate. The only reasons it's not quick is because they want it to hurt.

Ace is a coiled threat the whole time, body tense but staying where he is because the original threat was to Thatch and he hasn't quite lowered his hackles from that yet. Still on his toes and ready to spring forward at a moments notice.

He gives a small warning growl to Marco when he gets close, who looks at him in both worry and fond exasperation.

The blood from the blade is black where it burned against his skin and the flesh is unmarked, but it doesn't stop everyone from fluttering nervously around him.

♠️

Ace is attractive, arguably pretty in a way most pirates aren't. Although this young generation is changing that quickly, have you seen some of these rookies?

He draws attention easily, everyone drawn in by his charming personality or freckled cheeks.

He's a flirt but he doesn't often let other people actually touch him. Leaning away from eager fingers or gracefully dodging arms, excusing himself when he feels to cornered. He doesn't want the feel of strangers on his skin, he just wants the crew. And Luffy of course, his heart giving a lonely pang for his brother.

Sometimes people don't get the hint though, and sometimes they do and they don't care.

Drugs don't effect Ace like they would someone who wasn't a devil fruit user but they still make him dizzy and weak before he burns through it.

It only takes once, outside a bar with someone's hands on his skin when they didn't belong there, on his lower stomach and the other up by his neck. He doesn't even get a chance to try to shake off the drug enough to do anything before the man is gone.

Familiar hands, Marco, running over his skin quick and firm like it could wipe away the foreign touch before he processed it was there. Like if he replaced the unknown touch with his own quick enough it will wipe away the lingering disgust and discomfort of the stranger.

The whole time he keeps Ace hidden between his larger body and the wall behind them. Ace's heart aches almost as much as his head with how thoughtful it was. How safe and grounding it was.

The only arms he lets grab him, the only hands that he presses in to, are crew.

♠️

Ace has a habit of sneaking into everyone's bed, they don't talk about how they all know it's on the nights where he can't sleep or has nightmares. He burrows between them and the mattress, until he's under them enough to feel covered, safe and protected.

Ace isn't a small guy but he's lean, always had a hard time bulking up with his metabolism being so high and his natural build. He feels small with them, especially the commanders like Jozu and Vista who completely cover him. Even Thatch and Marco are decently larger than him though, Izo and Haruta being the exceptions but they're large in everything that they are.

They all welcome him. He's warm and sweet, plus it's nice to know he's sleeping somewhere safe instead of falling asleep in strange places through the day.

Marco is usually his favorite though because he doesn't pretend to be asleep. He just props himself up enough so Ace can wiggle under him before settling back down, his chest to Ace's back.

Some nights when the pressure is too much and he's restless in a way that feels like it's deep in his bones, he paces the ship. He's coiled and tight, usually not sleeping for a few days before it catches up to him and he slinks away somewhere dark and hidden to finally rest.

Usually one of the other commanders can coax him into resting, all of them getting the hang of how to best help their wild, little one.

♠️

The crew getting used to Ace just crawling into their laps and making himself at home. He is also fond of appearing just long enough to rub his face into someone's neck or against their cheek before taking off again.

♠️

Ace sneaking off to literally lick his wounds in peace when he gets hurt, especially when he was still finding his place. Someone always having to go track him down because he stays curled away like an injured animal until he feels better if they don't.

Licking at his arm one time when he manages to get caught with seastone, blood staining his teeth and tongue rust colored. Marco trying to grab him and in full lecture mode as Ace tries to dig out the lingering seastone with his teeth.

♠️

An extra one to hurt just a little ♥️

Ace is wild. Already a problem before you factor in his devil fruit and raw power. He's got a reputation of biting, taking off fingers and catching throats between sharp teeth.

It seems like someone did their research though because the muzzle they wrangle him into has seastone. Everyone has finally caught on to the fact that he doesn't need his flames to bite.

It's a sharp, nasty thing. Probably thrown together quick in a desperate attempt to get him under control. The straps dig into his skin hard enough to draw blood and Ace can already picture Marco talking about infections.

It hurts and goes from a deep, dull discomfort to a sharp, active pain. The muzzle settles into his skin and rub the skin raw where it doesn't outright cut into it. He's been captured for a few days, the wounds clotting and trying to heal only to be ripped back open when moving a certain way.

It was only a matter of time until they came for him and when the guards start getting fidgety he wishes he could show his teeth in a grin. Everyone knows what happens to those stupid enough to mess with the Whitebeard pirates.

He always knew they'd find him, even when the guards whispered in his ear cruel taunts about being forgotten. Unloved.

His heart still goes heavy with affection when he hears the first sounds of death coming for his captors.

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 10

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13.4k

(CW: SMUT 18+, unprotected p in v sex, Astarion deserves to feel so good he cries during sex so I let him)

Summary:

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Read on ao3 here

There is no feeling in the world that could compare to the feeling of being wrapped in Astarion’s arms, even if you are still sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the desk Astarion just fucked you on. Your whole body is warm and relaxed and the moment could nearly be described as perfect.

Nearly, but not quite. 

Because when you had been baring your heart to Astarion earlier, there had been one teeny, tiny, miniscule, little detail that you had neglected to mention. And when he’s looking at you with soft, gooey eyes and you feel a guilty pit in your stomach, you realize that you probably need to be honest with him about everything. 

“Wait… I have something I need to show you, too.”

You push Astarion away from you so you can clamber off the desk. The cool air on your sweaty skin makes you shiver and you retrieve your chemise from the floor. It will take too long to redo your corset and you doubt Astarion will want to help you put it back on, so you settle for just the chemise. It’s not that long of a walk to your room and you’re sure Astarion will threaten to gouge out any servant’s eyes should someone happen to see you.

“Alas, I miss the sight of your perfect body already,” Astarion sighs, leaning against the desk as he watches you. 

Astarion’s pouting at you with big, sad eyes like you have just given him the worst news in the world and not as if you have simply covered yourself in a thin layer of cotton.

He’s already slipped his pants up back around his hips and shrugged his own shirt back on, though it’s loose and untucked. The flowing, open collar leaves the top of his chest on display and the combination of his pale skin coupled with the pink blush staining his cheeks leaves you breathless for a moment. No matter how long you look at him, study him, memorize his features, his beauty will never grow old. It will always continue to amaze you that this man exists and that he chose to love you.

“Come on, casanova,” you giggle, grabbing his hand to tug him in the direction of your room. 

Astarion digs his heels into the ground and tugs you back to him, anchoring you against the line of his body with an arm around your waist. He appears uncharacteristically shy as he looks down at your interlaced fingers and gently runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Does this mean you’re going to move back into our room now?” Astarion asks in a quiet voice. 

Our room. Your stomach flutters when you hear him call it that. 

Astarion rushes to explain when you don’t give him an immediate answer. “I mean, I know it’s not like we need to sleep or anything and you deserve to have your own space and I understand completely if you don’t want to yet. Or ever. I’m not-”

Astarion cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. 

“It’s your choice,” he says and for the first time it feels like he’s actually heard you. That he’s actually trying to do better. “But I will tell you that I miss holding you.”

“I miss holding you, too,” you confess to Astarion. “And thank you- for letting this be my decision, although I do believe our interests align on this issue. I’d love nothing more than to join you again in our room.”

You give Astarion’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“But I do like having my own space. Maybe we work on getting me a room like your study,” you offer up as an idea. So far, you had been rather neglectful of your duties as Lady Ancunin, so perhaps it was time to actually start attending to those now that your life was relatively stable. 

“Pick whatever room you’d like, and it’s yours,” Astarion says. “We can start buying new furniture as soon as tomorrow.”

“Maybe we could look at getting me a desk to match yours,” you tease Astarion, wrapping your arm around his neck and pulling him down closer to you. “Maybe next time you bend me over it instead.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Astarion chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

You sigh happily into the kiss, content to spend the rest of your day making up for all the sweet kisses you had missed out on while you and Astarion were spending time apart. Astarion pulls away from you far too soon.

“You had something to show me,” he reminds you, nudging his nose against yours.

“Right.” You detangle yourself from his arms and tug on his hand again, leading him out of his study and down the hallway to your room.

“Do I get a hint?” Astarion asks as you walk.

“Um…” you trail off, trying to think of a good answer. You never meant to spring the gems on Astarion, but it seems like it will be so much easier to explain if he just sees them and hears your full explanation at the same time. “It’s nothing bad. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Ominous.”

When you enter your room, you lead Astarion over to your bookshelf before dropping his hand. He watches you curiously as you take a deep breath and pluck the book off the shelf. You can’t help but worry that Astarion is going to feel betrayed that you haven’t told him about the gems yet. 

“Please don’t be mad at me?” you ask.

“You’re not off to a strong start, my love.” Astarion teases, but you can tell your words have made him uneasy by the way his brow creases and his whole body tenses. He glances down at the cover of the book in your hands. “A Study of Balduran Flowers? I believe you will find that I don’t have nearly as many opinions about gardening as you do. Not unless it involves those pretty bouquets you used to bring me.” 

“It’s inside the book,” you explain.

“Well, yes, that’s normally how books work.”

You’re both deflecting. It was always easier to fall back into teasing rather than sit in uncomfortable moments. You could play this off as some silly joke and slide the book back onto your shelf and keep these gems for yourself forever. But you and Astarion were equals now and he deserved to know information that involved him. 

You steel yourself for what you need to do, but you want to get your explanation out before Astarion sees the gems and either grows distracted or angry. 

“It’s never really felt like the right time to bring this up. I tried back in- Well, I didn’t really try that hard. I didn’t want to play our hand to Raphael. And after, I’ve just been a little preoccupied.”

You open the book. The inside is hollowed out and inside the paper edges sit the three gemstones. Astarion’s mouth hangs open in shock for a moment before he’s pulling the book from your hands, picking out each gem to hold them up to the candlelight for inspection. 

He looks at you in disbelief. “You- how did you get these?”

“When I was young, my mother had a necklace,” you explain. “I used to always think the green gem was so pretty. She gave it to me right before she died and I was lucky that my father never bothered himself enough with me to care what trivial possessions I owned. It was sent here with the rest of my belongings.”

“Your mother…” Astarion looks stunned.

“She was from Baldur’s Gate, you know,” you say. It had never occurred to you how little you had shared about her with Astarion. “She was a direct descendent from one of the original families that founded the city.”

Astarion finally tears his gaze away from the gems. “How did you get the other two?”

“Oh, that was easy.” You grin. “You left me alone for a bit. Do you remember? You went over to the inn to tell Shadowheart to draw me a bath and I just… slipped them into my skirt when no one was looking. They seemed too important to just leave there."

And then, still staring intently at gems, Astarion is just walking out of the room with a single-minded focus. 

“Where are you going?” You call out after him but he doesn’t slow down or turn around to answer you. 

You huff, grabbing your dressing robe from the chair at your vanity and chasing after Astarion, frantically trying to pull the robe over your arms as you try to catch up to him. 

Eventually, he comes to stop at the library. Gale is sitting at a table in the center of the room, surrounded by books, and Astarion drops your hollowed out book with the gems on the desk next to Gale with a loud thump. 

“What’s-” Gale sputters at the intrusion before he sees the gems hidden inside the book. “The gems! But there’s three of them? How?”

And Astarion just starts laughing- a full body, side-splitting laugh that has him wheezing and holding onto the table to support himself. Gale just looks at Astarion as if he’s lost his mind. 

“The whole time.” Astarion finally manages to choke out in between laughs. “She had the last gem this whole time.”

Gale’s mouth hangs open in shock as his attention turns to you. He spends another moment looking utterly perplexed before a wide smile fills his face and he starts chuckling, too. 

“Oh, that’s just too good,” Gale says. “I couldn’t have written that better myself.”

With two grown men giggling like children in front of you, you can’t help but succumb to the infectious mood, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, as well.

“If you would have just told me,” you wheeze out at Astarion, which sets all of you off laughing again. 

Gale bangs his fist down on the table while he tries to catch his breath in between fits of laughter and your sides are aching and you’re just so relieved that this weight has been lifted off your shoulders and that Astarion isn’t upset with you. 

It takes minutes for the laughter to finally die down. You think you catch Astarion wiping tears away from his eyes. 

“So, all three gems,” Gale says. He looks a bit awestruck as he examines each gemstones. “How did you have one?”

And as Gale looks up at you for an explanation, no longer distracted by the shiny gemstones or Astarion’s manic laughter, his eyes widen and his face turns bright red when he finally recognizes you are only dressed in your chemise and dressing robe. Gale awkwardly clears his throat and his eyes quickly dart back down to the gems and you pull the robe tighter around yourself. 

Astarion just shoots you a smirk and it occurs to you how disheveled you both look. Astarion’s shirt is hanging open and exposing half his chest. His normally meticulously styled hair is messy from where your hands had held tightly onto his curls as he’d eaten you out like you were his last meal. And you’re sure your own hair is a mess and wait- is that a bit of leftover blood that you feel drying on your chin?

It’s all rather damning evidence that the two of you had just had sex. Which, you had, but Gale didn’t need to know that. 

With your arms crossed tightly over your chest and Astarion staring at you with a smug grin, you quickly explain your mother’s necklace to Gale.

“Makes sense,” Gale hums, sliding the pair of glasses he is wearing down his nose as he closely inspects each gem. “When the gems were originally taken from the crown and split up, I believe they were given to three of the founding families of Baldur’s Gate as a safety precaution. The history behind the gem was probably lost with time as it was passed down, or as a strategic move so that people like Raphael would have a more difficult time finding them. I believe that’s how Cazador had one in his possession, as well, as heir to the Szarr family. The other was sold and stolen, several times over before we found it with Gortash.”

You recognize Gortash’s name. As a member of nobility, you were not completely unaware of the gossip coming from society in Baldur’s Gate. You had heard whispers of the man fighting to make a name for himself and about his subsequent untimely death.

“Ugh, Gortash,” Astarion groans, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “I hated him. He was too full of himself.”

You and Gale shoot each other little snickers because it’s a bit ridiculous to hear Astarion describe someone else as ‘too full of themselves.’ Pot, kettle, and all that. 

And Gale does not seem to be done having fun at Astarion’s expense.

“So, the two of you made up?” Gale asks.

Your face feels hot, but Astarion preens. 

“Yes, we did,” he says. “Though I believe we have a more pressing issue at hand. We have all three gems. Now the question is- what can we do with them?” 

An unfamiliar, hungry gleam has entered Astarion’s eye. You thought you had seen all types of hunger from Astarion, but this look is different. This is something far crueler. 

“I’d urge caution,” Gale says, his voice slow and calm, as if he is trying to talk Astarion from jumping off a ledge. “This is a powerful relic. It is not to be trifled with.”

Astarion ignores Gale’s warning, laser focused on an idea. “There was a ritual that Cazador was attempting before Raphael killed him. It was a sacrifice of spawn to Mephisopheles in order to become a higher being- the vampire ascendent. He would no longer be bound by the restrictions of a vampire- it would have allowed him to taste, to walk in the sun.” Astarion’s voice grows cold and unrecognizable. “It would have granted him unfathomable power.

“Why are you bringing this up?” You ask, weary. 

“What if Mephistopheles wants these gems to recreate the crown himself?” Astarion asks, like this is the logical conclusion that anyone would have drawn from his explanation. 

And you can’t lie, a part of you is tempted by the idea of this ritual. Of being able to see the light of day again and no longer being trapped in an eternal night. Of not constantly being burdened by this hunger and this incessant hyper-awareness of everyone’s blood rushing through their veins. 

But in your time married to Astarion, you knew intimately when Astarion was purposefully withholding details. There was no way that this level of power was granted without paying a price.

And you know Astarion. He looks out for himself, first and foremost. To a lesser extent, Astarion also looks out for you, though whether his actions are motivated by true love or his own selfish desire to stay in your good graces, you will never know. 

While in less dire circumstances, his disregard for consequences could be tolerated, the gleam in his eye betrays his hunger. You had hoped that he learned his lesson about dealing with devils, but evidently the power of ascension was too appealing to him. 

“What was the sacrifice?” You ask quietly.

“The souls of 7,007 vampires and spawn.” Astarion hurriedly answers without turning to look at you, as if the death of thousands of people was a mere pittance. “Or, well, 7,008 if you include the person performing the ritual since they would lose their soul, as well. But I don’t know if we would have to do that part since we already have something Mephistopheles wants.”

You’re mildly relieved that Astarion didn’t actually just propose murdering 7,000 people. 

Another question nags at you. “Would you still lose your soul?”

“Not just me, darling. We.” Astarion finally turns to you, cupping your face in his palms. “The vampire ascendants. King and Queen.”

You frown. “It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go around making deals with devils again.”

“This isn’t a deal, it’s a transaction,” Astarion says, voice hard and unimpressed. You don’t really understand the difference. He seems disappointed in your lack of an awed reaction at his idea. “It’s something given, something gained and we all part ways at the end with no contracts lingering over our heads.” 

“You don’t even know if it will work,” you say, treading lightly. Astarion seems fragile and a bit manic right now and you had to be careful not to push him into becoming defensive. You bring your hand up to wrap around his own, where he’s still cupping your face.

“But we can try,” Astarion practically begs you.

Why was he so insistent upon this idea? Surely, this couldn’t all just be about gaining power.  

“Maybe think about it a while longer. I’ll do some research,” Gale implores. 

“Fine,” Astarion drops his hand from your face. “I’ll be in my study. Come find me when you realize ascension is our best option.” 

You watch as Astarion storms off in a huff.

“I’ll talk to him once he’s calmed down,” you reassure Gale.

“You don’t want to do the ritual, right?” Gale asks you uneasily.

“No.” You laugh. “That whole thing sounds like a recipe for disaster. But we need to let Astarion realize that for himself. He gets argumentative and defensive when anyone tells him that he’s wrong.”

“So do you,” Gale points out.

“That’s why he and I work well together. I’m the only person more stubborn than he is.”

When you make your way to Astarion’s study, you find him pacing and muttering to himself, no doubt attempting to concoct the perfect, elaborate argument that will point out every flaw in the opposition’s argument and convince everyone that Astarion is right. 

He stops pacing when he sees you. 

“We have an ace up our sleeve and Gale isn’t letting us play our hand. He’s squandering this once in a lifetime opportunity for us,” Astarion gruffly complains.

“My love, he’s not squandering it,” you say, approaching Astarion and calmly running your hand soothingly down the length of his back. He’s too worked up right now, you’re not sure he will listen to you. “Gale is simply reminding us that we shouldn’t rush into a decision without thinking through all the potential consequences.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Oh, not you, too! Look, you two can sit in your moral superiority and accuse me of being power-hungry, but I am the one taking actionable steps to ensure our safety.”

“That’s not- Look, Astarion, you proposed one idea. Sometimes, the first idea is the best idea and sometimes, it isn’t. I want us to be thorough before we throw away such a powerful bargaining chip.”

You can feel the muscles in Astarion’s back relaxing when he realizes that you are not trying to argue with him. 

“You’ll come to see my side of things in time,” Astarion turns away from you as if the matter has been settled. 

“You do realize that you’re making choices without asking me what I’m thinking again, star,” you say, voice flat. 

Astarion’s whole body tenses. “But I haven’t actually made the choice yet.”

“No, but you’ve already made up your mind,” you tell him. “And you’re acting like you know what’s best for me better than I do. 

“That’s- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me,” Astarion stumbles over his words, rushing to apologize. His hand comes up to rest on your cheek. You are sure this is him seeking to ground himself, fighting to alleviate the panic that he has already committed a grave mistake so soon after the two of you had reunited. 

“I’m not angry.” You dip your head to press a quick kiss to the inside of his wrist. “We’re having a discussion. That’s what married couples do.”

Astarion nods and you catch the relieved sigh he releases. Evidently, there were still some insecurities you needed to reassure Astarion about if he was still concerned that you would flee at the first sign of an argument. 

“Can I ask why you seem so intent on using the gems for this purpose?” you ask him softly.

His thumb stokes along your cheekbone and he looks at you with wide, soft eyes.

“For us, little flower.” 

And then, because Astarion knows you better than anyone and knows exactly what arguments will pull at your heartstrings, he asks, “Don’t you miss the sunlight? Don’t you miss the gardens?”

Damn it all if that doesn’t give you pause for a moment. Because you do miss the sunlight. Desperately. When you had first been turned into a vampire, there was still snow on the ground and now, gentle summer breezes were beginning to roll in during the day. You had already missed the entire spring. You had missed stretching out in the sunlight in the gardens and reading, with Tara curled up next you and beautiful blooming flowers surrounding you. 

“Just think, my love, you could walk in the sun again. You wouldn’t be limited by your bloodlust. We’d be free. I’d-” Astarion cuts himself off, a slip of the tongue. “We’d finally be safe.”

So, there it is. That’s what he was so worried about. Safety. Freedom. 

Astarion has not had power over himself in a very long time and he believes that if he’s given this power, no one can ever hurt him again. 

It’s all about fear. It was always about fear. Fear of being too weak and becoming enslaved again, fear that he will never be able to escape from Cazador’s shadow, fear of not being worth more than what he can offer others.

He’s wrong, of course, but you can’t just tell him that. 

“I’m a bit worried about the whole maybe having to sell my soul thing,” you say, instead, bringing up one of your many valid concerns while also trying to infuse a tiny bit of humor into the situation. You knew Astarion did better in that space, that he didn't shut down quite so quickly. 

“I’ve done it before.” Astarion gives you an arrogant smirk. “It worked out all right in the end for me.”

“Because we killed Raphael. And he wasn’t even a full archdevil like his father,” you point out. “But a soul is not something you can carelessly toss aside. It’s a part of you.” You reach out, letting your fingers slip beneath the open collar of his loose shirt and trace over where his undead heart sits inside his chest. You look up at him under your lashes. “And I love you. All of you. I don’t want you to change.”

“All of me?” Astarion asks, a bit incredulous. 

“Even the parts of you that you don’t love. Though there aren’t many,” you tease, before you go back to being genuine. “I love that in spite of everything that has happened to you, you still love with the full force of your heart.”

“I don’t have a heart,” Astarion says, with a cheeky little grin.

You roll your eyes. “Metaphorical heart. Now, stop interrupting if you want me to keep saying sweet things to you.”

“I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Let’s see- what else do I love about you? Well, you’re certainly easy on the eyes,” you say and Astarion laughs. “And you’re surprisingly funny for someone who used to study law. You have me smiling or laughing at just about everything you say. And you’re cunning and shrewd, you don’t let people take advantage of you or get away with anything. And you’re so strong. You have lived through the worst tortures anyone could imagine and you survived. You were the one that came out of that situation victorious and fought to make a new life for yourself.”

With that, Astarion melts into your arms, tucking his face in the curve of your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

“But mostly, I love your hair,” you say with a grin, because you can’t resist. 

“Thank you,” Astarion says, but his voice cracks a bit, letting you know how much your little speech truly impacted him. “People don’t compliment me on my hair nearly as often as they should.”

You hug Astarion tighter. “Sounds like a job for your wife.”

You let Astarion sit in that comfort for as long as he needs, keeping your arms wrapped so, so, so tight around one another. Eventually, you turn your head a bit, whispering into his soft hair. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But that’s okay. We shouldn’t let ourselves be ruled by our fear.”

 “You’re right, little flower.” Astarion finally pulls his face out of your neck to look at you, pushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I have been a slave to this fear for too long. It’s time to stop letting it control me.”

You smile at him. “So, no ritual? We’ll find something better to do with the gems?”

He sighs. “You’ve managed to convince me. No ascension.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Astarion threads his fingers through your hair and pulls you toward him for a kiss. 

“Besides,” you kiss along his neck to whisper in his ear. “If power is what you want, there are much easier ways to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobles are idiots. They’re practically begging for someone to lead them. And really,” you murmur, ghosting your lips over Astarion’s. “Who is better suited for the job than us? They can come and go. We’ll remain.”

Astarion groans. “There aren’t enough words for how deeply I love you.” 

He closes the distance and kisses you. 

—----------------

The nightmare happens when you least expect it. You and Astarion were lying in bed together and you were so comfortable and relaxed that before you noticed, you had just… drifted off to sleep. 

Suddenly Raphael’s cold, dead stare bores into you. His empty eyes are underlined by the ragged laceration where his throat had been slit. The congealed blood soaks the devil’s shirt and the air reeks of eternal, rotting damnation. Even in death, his face emotes- twisted in surprise, his mouth stretched in a silent scream.

But it’s the eyes. It’s always the eyes that rip the breath from your lungs and inject a horrible sense of dread into your veins. 

You don’t jolt yourself out of it or wake up screaming. It’s not like one of Astarion’s disorienting nightmares which leave him unable to tell the difference between memory and reality. There’s just the devil’s dead face and then suddenly, you’re blinking awake. You stare at the pale scars on Astarion’s back, trembling. The image of Raphael weighs too heavily in your mind.

You can tell by the sound of Astarion’s rhythmic breathing that he’s still asleep. Your arm is still slung over his waist and his fingers are still loosely entangled with yours. 

Good, let him sleep peacefully for once, you think.

The last thing you want to do is disturb him, but you need to do something. You can’t just let your mind sit in this image forever or it might wind up getting stuck there. Wrapping your arm tighter around Astarion’s midsection, you rest your forehead against his back, letting yourself sniffle as quiet tears leak from your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Astarion asks almost immediately, as if he has some supernatural ability to sense your distress. His voice is still soft and low with sleep as he turns around to gently brush away your tears.

“Raphael,” you choke out.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Astarion comforts you, pulling you tight against his chest and pressing a kiss to your forehead. His fingers run soothingly through your hair. “He’s dead. I promise you that he’s dead. We’re safe. He can never hurt either of us again.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize to Astarion. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

It felt like an intrusion- after all the chaos of the last few months, life had finally fallen into a rhythm again. You couldn’t have nightmares if you weren’t sleeping and now, there was always so much to do. Especially since Astarion had actually started performing the duties as Lord Ancunin that he had been neglecting while he was searching for the gem. 

No, now sleep was saved for the quiet moments like this, where you and Astarion were just so comfortable and relaxed that your eyes couldn’t help but shut.

Quiet moments that were ruined by your inability to just get over Raphael.

“Never apologize for waking me,” Astarion says. You open your mouth to point out that he always apologizes when he wakes you, but Astarion shushes you before you can speak. “That’s rather hypocritical coming from me, I know.”

“How do you get past it? Because the dreams seemingly come to me at random and I fear what I might see every time I try to sleep.”

“Baths… reading… writing… talking to someone…” Astarion slowly lists, as the answers come to him. “If you can get your mind out of the hole it’s dug itself into with a good distraction, I think you’ll find that the images aren’t quite so visceral when they come back to you later. I mean- it’s usually still bad, but it feels further away. The emotions feel removed.”

Nightmares were one of Astarion’s area of expertise, so you should probably listen to him. You choose to try to distract yourself while talking. 

“Would you ever want to be mortal again?” you ask Astarion, attempting to focus on tracing along the veins inside his wrist rather than the image of Raphael’s lifeless stare in your mind. 

It was a question which had been plaguing you a lot lately as Gale researched a way to use the gems to help you and Astarion walk in the sun again. The gems were tied to the magic of the gods, so you all agreed it only seemed natural that they should offer some solution to your predicament. 

But, as Gale worked and worked and worked and still came up with nothing, there was a part of you that was wondering why you didn’t just cut your losses and search for a cure to your vampirism as a whole. 

“Would you?” Astarion deflects by turning the question back on you. “I’d do anything that would make you happy, my love.”

You frown. “That’s not what I asked, star. I don’t want to know if you’d just go along with my desires. I want to know what you want.”

And Astarion looks confused, like he has never been asked to think about or plan for a future, like the concept is so foreign to him that he doesn’t even know where to begin. Astarion had been trapped in survival mode for so long, he didn’t know how to look further than a few days in front of him. Even marrying you had been an unplanned, spur of the moment idea. 

“You know what?” He sounds almost in disbelief of his own answer. “I don’t think I would want to be mortal again. I like being better than everybody- stronger, sharper, more powerful. And sure, some of the limitations can be a nuisance, but it’s not enough for me to want to throw away all the benefits.”

“And that’s not because of fear?” you check with him, studying his face. 

He shrugs. “Maybe part of it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. I just know that being a vampire is what feels right for me. I’m not the same man I was before. I like the man I am now, the man you’ve helped me become. I don’t want to do anything to change that.”

The man you’ve helped me become.

Oh, he was so sweet.

“Would you want to be human again?” Astarion asks you again. “I know that this transition has been… less than ideal for you.”

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it?” you ponder aloud. It would be the easy solution, but not the solution you truly desire. “But no. Even before I died, I knew that I would want this. I just… my death was a bit more traumatic than I hoped.”

Astarion must sense that you are beginning to stew in hazy memories of that unfortunate moment, growing dangerously close to those images of Raphael’s dead stare. Astarion distracts you again. “You know what my first thought was when you reawoke?”

You shake your head and Astarion grins, shifting his weight on top of you. His forearms frame either side of your head and he runs his nose along the artery in your throat that he always used to adore so much, back when you were alive.

“I thought you looked ravishing. I wanted nothing more than to be your first victim.” Astarion drags his fangs gently along the skin of your throat as he speaks in a low, rasping voice. “It drove me half mad to see you like that. And right away, you knew what to do. Pure instinct, no hesitation. Not all vampires are gifted with that capability. But you were made for this. My perfect vampire bride.”

Astarion bites lightly at your skin to accentuate his point and you moan. 

“You’re a good distraction,” you say, a bit breathless. 

“The best distraction.” 

Astarion’s hand snakes down, beginning to drag the hem of your dress further up your leg. You can feel his cock hardening where it rubs against your hip.

Insatiable, your husband. 

“We don’t need to rush, dear,” Astarion reminds you, though you catch the dual meaning in his words. You do not need to rush for answers. And he will not rush when he fucks you. He will take his time, enjoying every delicious moment of pleasure he can wring from your body. His lips brush along your jaw, back toward your mouth. “We’ll find the answers when they come to us.” 

You sigh. “I know, but I was just hoping they would come to us before all the flowers start dying. Halsin said the sunflowers are especially beautiful this year and they just aren’t the same at night.”

“It’s too bad we can’t just trade the gems to walk in the sunlight again. Two birds with one stone. Or, well, three stones. So, six birds?” Astarion jokes.

But that would be too easy, right?

… Right?

“You’re a genius!” You cry out and pull Astarion’s head down to press a big, wet kiss on his forehead. 

“What did I-” Astarion starts to ask before you watch the idea form in his own mind in real time. “It can’t be that easy, can it?”

“What if it is?” You ask, reinvigorated. “What if we don’t become mortal again or go through with that frankly insane Ascension ritual idea, but we just ask Mephistopheles to maybe…” 

“We change the rules!” Astarion finishes your thought with an excited cry. “We decide which parts of being a vampire we hate the most and we just… get rid of those parts.”

You both sit up in the bed, facing each other, giddy with the new idea.

“Okay, so, sunlight,” you say, attempting to start forming your list of requests. Though, Astarion probably has a better idea about which parts of being a vampire were the most insufferable after his centuries living as one. “And what else?”

Astarion thinks for a minute. 

“It’d be nice to at least be able to taste food again. We don’t even need it to sustain us or anything but just… not have everything taste like piss and vinegar.” His nose wrinkles in disgust. 

“That’s a good one,” you say when he looks at you for confirmation. 

“And mirrors. I know we have our portraits, but I’d like to be able to see myself again,” Astarion adds in a quiet voice, like he’s almost embarrassed at the admission. 

“So, sunlight, food, and reflections,” you count them all on your fingers. “That feels like a good list. Three gems, three requests. It seems fair.”

“Oh, Gale’s going to be devastated that we beat him to an answer,” Astarion teases and you can tell how genuinely gleeful he is at the idea of holding this over Gale’s head. 

You laugh and your dream about Raphael fades like a distant memory. For the first time in weeks, you let yourself have a little hope that together, the two of you might figure this out. 

—-----------------

“Stop pacing, it’s making me nervous,” you tell Astarion.

He just keeps walking along the patch of sand in front of you- back and forth, back and forth, back and forth- on a loop. It was almost making you dizzy.

“Sorry,” Astarion comes to sit on the rock beside you but he starts fidgeting nervously almost immediately. You hold out your hand for him and he grabs it greedily, tracing the lines in your hands over and over and over again just to give him something to focus on other than his nerves.

The chilly water brushes over your toes as the gentle sea waves roll in and out. You continue watching Gale as he crouches in the sand, drawing the summoning circle with an impressive stick he had found along the shore.

Apparently, the summoning circle was an intricate ritual which required all of Gale’s focus. It doesn’t really seem that hard. It kind of just looks like he’s playing in the sand. But whatever, you didn’t really want Mephistopheles breaking free and raining hellfire upon you, so you were choosing to listen to Gale and stay out of his way so he could concentrate.

Shadowheart holds up a lantern for Gale so that he can double check his work with the pattern in his book and she keeps shooting you annoyed looks that have you giggling. She was already huffy enough about the fact that you made her come out at night to participate in the summoning, but then you had the audacity to not even give her something exciting to do?

You and Astarion had actually dragged everyone out here, just in case. Best case scenario, this whole trade goes according to plan and everything works out perfectly. Worst case scenario… Well, you really didn’t want to fight another devil without some backup. 

Everyone else is scattered around the rest of the beach. You faintly hear Karlach and Wyll laughing in the distance. They had all been giving you and Astarion your space, as if they could sense how nervous you both were. And also possibly because Astarion had been pacing all afternoon as if with enough walking, he might just be able to wear down the surface of the earth and appear in the hells, himself. 

When you had first approached Gale with the idea of using the gems to rewrite the rules of vampirism, you knew immediately that you would need to summon Mephistopheles to perform the trade. The cottage by the sea had been suggested as an ideal location due to its remote landscape. And really, no one had been too excited about the idea of inviting a powerful archdevil inside the very opulent, very flammable Ancunin manor.

“You ready?” Gale interrupts your quiet reflection and Astarion’s nervous fidgeting. “I triple checked the summoning circle. Not like it was necessary. I had it right on the first go, of course, but I am nothing if not thorough.”

Astarion drops your hand and jumps up almost immediately. You stand up, as well, walking over toward Gale and the circle.

“You both remember the plan?” Gale asks.

“Yes, sir,” you salute him. You know Astarion is probably giggling behind you. 

“That’s- whatever,” Gale sighs. “If the two of you die now, it will be because you’re both annoying.”

You grin.

Gale speaks in the weird, chanting language that you had heard from Raphael and the circle appears to glow before a giant, winged man is materializing before you. The air reeks of sulfur and rotten eggs.

Mephistopheles looks down upon you. He shares an eerie similarity to Raphael, though his features are distinctly less human- his horns are bigger, his wingspan is wider, his eyes are black, burning holes. 

“Weak, pathetic mortals,” Mephistopheles growls and his voice sounds deep and ancient. “What do you want?”

“It’s not about us. We have something you want.” Astarion purrs as he saunters closer to the circle. It had been so long since you’d seen this persona, you had forgotten how charming he could truly be. “All we expect in return is a small finder’s fee.”

Mephistopheles laughs and it crackles like fire. “What could you possibly have that I would want besides your souls?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you pull one of the gems from the pocket in your skirt, laying it flat in your palm as you show it off to Mephistopheles. “Doesn’t everyone like pretty gems?”

You don’t miss the way Mephistopheles eyes blaze in recognition when he catches sight of the gem.

“One gem?” He spits out at you, trying to feign indifference. “That’s nothing.”

“Who said we only have one?” You tilt your head, passing the first gem off to Astarion as you pull the other two from your skirt.

Mephistopheles snarls at you but he’s practically drooling over the gems as he eyes them possessively. “And what stops me from simply killing you where you stand and taking them?”

“The circle?” Astarion flashes his gaze down to the intricate patterns at the devil’s feet. The way Astarion’s smiling is all dark and corrupt. Oh, you like watching him like this, especially if you know he’s on your side. “It was made by the foremost scholar in arcane arts and I can assure you, his work is correct.”

It’s weird to hear Astarion complimenting Gale. You’ll have to tease Astarion about that later. 

Mephistopheles pushes up against the edges of the summoning circle and is stopped by the invisible walls trapping him inside. He looks annoyed.

“So,” he says. “You have the Netherstones and you’re willing to give them to me. What could you possibly want in return? Immortality? Wealth? Power?” 

Astarion asks innocently, “You don’t believe we’re doing this out of the goodness of our undead hearts?”

Mephistopheles studies the both of you for a moment before he barks out another laugh. “Two vampires. Let me guess. You want to ascend.” He says the word like it’s magical, like it’s the solution to all your problems (you know it is not, even if Astarion might still partially believe it is). “You should know that the Ascension ritual is very specific. I’m not going to let you both ascend for just a couple of measly gems.”

It’s funny to hear him call them ‘measly gems’ when you know how desperately he wants them- he had been chasing after them for hundreds of years, ever since they were stolen away from him by the families who originally founded Baldur’s Gate. 

“We don’t want to ascend,” Astarion answers. The air of authority surrounding him nearly knocks you off your feet. You had gotten so used to soft, goofy Astarion that for a moment, you had forgotten how commanding, how chilling and utterly vampiric, he could truly be.

“Three requests from us. Three gems for you,” you say. “An even trade.”

Mephitsopheles looks less than impressed, as if he is going to leave before even hearing out your offer. And for a second, you lose hope. But then his gaze catches on the gems again. 

“What are the requests?” He asks, through gritted teeth, as if this whole affair is beneath him.

Astarion clears his throat, reciting the carefully practiced requests. The two of you had spent a lot of time ensuring that the archdevil could not trick you, that the wording could not be twisted into something unrecognizable. Astarion’s experience with contracts had been invaluable. “First, we want the ability to walk in the sun without damage, the same as we did before our turning. Second, we want the ability to taste food in the same way we had before our turning. And lastly, we would like the vampiric effects in regards to mirrors removed. We should be able to see our true reflection in any reflective surface.” 

Mephistopheles laughs again. “You’re asking for too much.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you attempt to not betray your very acute worry that Mephistopheles was going to turn down the deal completely. “Those are our conditions if you want the gems.”

“Fine. Gems first,” Mephistopheles holds out his giant hand expectantly.

“Uh uh uh,” Astarion tuts in disapproval and both you and Mephistopheles stare at Astarion in surprise. Astarion- arrogant, asshole Astarion- had the audacity to condescend a devil. You hate the fact that there’s a sweet heat of arousal pooling low in your stomach as you watch him. 

“That’s not fair, devil,” Astarion continues. “One gem for each ability. That seems more than reasonable of us, doesn’t it?”

Mephistopheles growls in anger. “Fine.”

You toss the first gem into the summoning circle and watch as Mephistopheles has to dig around in the sand to pick it up. That sight shouldn’t give you nearly as much twisted satisfaction as it does, but there’s something funny about seeing a supposedly all-powerful being drop to his knees in weakness for a silly gemstone.

Mephistopheles touches the gem and it lights up, disappearing back to the hells for him to collect later. He rises to his feet again and speaks in the weird chanting language, holding his hands out to you and Astarion. There’s a tingling in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Astarion awkwardly moving his tongue around in his mouth.

“There,” Mephistopheles says. “You can taste again. Now, my second gem.”

You toss the second gem and Mephistopheles catches it this time. He repeats the same process- gem disappearing, him chanting and waving his hands. 

“That granted you back your reflections. Now, your precious sunlight for the final gem.”

Astarion hesitates for just a second, as if he’s reluctant to pass over this final piece of power, before he tosses the gem to Mephistopheles.

This time, the chant seems to take longer and when Mephistopheles holds out his hands to Astarion, you watch as Astarion’s skin seems to glow for a moment.  

At least it seemed like everything was working. Mephistopheles repeats the spell for you and you are momentarily surrounded by a painful, searing heat. When you emerge from your cocoon of sunlight, Mephistopheles has melted back into the earth. The sand is glassy where Gale had carved the symbols earlier. 

“We did it,” you cry out, a gleeful smile on your face. 

“We did,” Astarion says. He laughs in disbelief before pulling you into his arms, burying his face into your hair.

Waiting for the sun to rise is the longest hour of your life. 

The rest of the group had departed from the beach after the deal was finished, content to let you and Astarion enjoy your moment in private. The two of you spread out a blanket on a large rock on the shoreline. Your shoulder presses against Astarion’s as you sit, the sea-breeze dancing against your skin. 

And there, on the horizon, the sun crests, and the dark of night gives way to the pale light of dawn. 

—------------

Astarion watches the sun rise with a lump in his throat, dangerously close to crying. The only thing that holds him back is that he knows the tears would spoil the beautiful view in front of him. He wants this memory to be crisp in his mind forever.

Not that it really matters, he supposes. Now, he could spend every day for the rest of eternity watching the sun rise if he wanted to. 

And with you by his side? Well, there’s really not much more Astarion could ask for. 

Astarion had been apprehensive at first. When the first rays had touched his skin, he had flinched. It was an instinctual reaction after centuries relegated to the darkness. But when his skin didn’t light up in flames, when he didn’t smell the horrible odor of burning flesh, he had to remind himself that this moment was real. 

He didn’t need to be afraid any longer.

No, there was only the lovely warmth of the sun and the line of your body pressed comfortably against Astarion’s side. Eventually, he brings his arm up to wrap around you, tucking you further into him. You lean your head against his shoulder and he rests his head on top of yours as the two of you continue watching the brilliant orange and reds on the horizon fade into a sunny, pale blue sky. 

Astarion cannot remember a time that he has ever been happier.

Maybe he got close the night that the two of you repeated your wedding vows on the floor of your bedroom, but that moment had still been covered in the darkness of night. The light of a fire is nothing compared to the full force of the blazing sun. 

And said sun continues to rise, completely unaware of this momentous occasion, as you and Astarion sit together in silence. 

Your soft voice shocks Astarion out of his contemplative silence. “You’re doing good, right?” 

Astarion’s arm drops from around your shoulders as you move away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Astarion can feel you studying his profile, likely checking for any signs of sadness or uncertainty. 

You will find none, of course. 

Astarion simply leans back on his palms and lets his eyes fall shut, basking in the feeling of the sun upon his skin.

“Astarion.” You press your knee into the side of Astarion’s leg, trying to get his attention. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that this is the happiest I’ve ever been,” Astarion confesses. “I never let myself dream of a moment like this and it still feels better than I could have possibly imagined.” 

He cannot hide the vulnerable shake in his voice. Nor does he feel the need to. There is no need to perform. Not around you. 

When Astarion opens his eyes, the way that you are smiling at him rivals the radiance of the sun itself. There’s a phantom fluttering in Astarion’s chest. His heart may not beat, but around you it suddenly feels as if it is fighting to come back to life.

You- his wife, his equal- with your strong will and your sarcasm and your compulsive need to have the final word.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” Astarion bumps your shoulder.

“Dunno, just happy.” You hurriedly reach out to wipe away the tears that have begun to collect on your lashes.  “That’s usually why people smile.”

Astarion huffs out a breath of laughter. 

He doesn’t mention that for centuries, his smile was nothing more than a strategic ploy used to disarm and charm others. That was the past. It was time to let go of those memories. He deserves to rewrite them with moments like this- moments of pure happiness, moments where he knows that if he tries to speak, he will surely weep with joy. 

“Come on,” you say, turning your back on the sun to face Astarion. “Let me get a good look at you.”

And it seems silly that you would choose to look at him over this beautiful sunrise, but Astarion won’t complain. It feels wonderful to be seen by someone. To be finally, truly seen by someone whose only motivations to look at him are love and appreciation. 

Astarion even shows off for you a bit, puffing out his chest a bit and shaking his head as if to move his hair out of his face even though the rather embarrassing amount of pomade he requires to tame his unruly curls ensured that his perfectly coiffed hair hardly moved with the motion. 

He had perfected this hairstyle long before he was turned. Even now that he could see his reflection again, he could still do his hair blindfolded, with one hand tied behind his back.

Astarion watches as your eyes trace along his face, down the column of his throat, over his chest and shoulders, down the line of his arms that he casually reclines back upon. 

He had already shrugged his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows before the two of you sat down. And Astarion fancies himself a bit of an expert on you. He knows you adore his forearms. He flexes them and is rewarded with your throat swallowing hungrily. 

“Well, how do I look?” Astarion smirks. “It’s no fun if you don’t tell me how beautiful I am.”

One of your hands reaches out to run along the inside of his wrist.

“The sun makes your skin practically glow.” You bring your gaze back up to his face. “And your hair!” you say with glee, reaching out to touch it. “It’s so much whiter in the sun! You’ve nearly blinded me with how handsome you are.” 

You playfully shield your eyes.

“I do apologize,” Astarion pulls your hand away from your face and plants a tender kiss on the inside of your palm. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

You laugh and Astarion’s chest blooms with warmth. 

“And what else?” Astarion breathlessly begs you to continue. 

Who needs a mirror when he has you sitting in front of him, outlined against the backdrop of a sunny day, with beautiful words of praise dripping from your tongue, sweet as honey.

“And these,” you run the pad of your thumb along the lines around Astarion’s mouth. “These are lovely.”

Astarion holds your hand against his cheek and leans into your touch. 

“You know, I used to hate my smile lines,” he shyly admits to you. Your smoldering red eyes carefully study the way his muscles move under your thumb as he talks. “I mean, I couldn’t actually see them, but I had people point them out over the years and I always hated it. Before I was a spawn, I had a happy life and that happiness etched itself upon my face. And then after I was turned, happiness was nothing more than an act I put on to lure people back to Cazador. I had almost forgotten what a true smile felt like before I met you.”

“I’m selfish. Nowadays, you give them to me so readily and yet, I still crave more,” you say. “Though I hope you never feel the need to smile for my sake.”

“No,” Astarion assures you, tilting his head to press another quick kiss to the inside of your palm. “This is as real as it gets.”

The look of pure adoration on your face leaves Astarion speechless for a moment. 

“One more compliment?” Astarion requests and you roll your eyes affectionately.

“And your eyes,” you say dreamily, brushing your fingers along the ridge of Astarion’s cheekbone. “They sparkle in the sunlight like rubies.”

“You stole my line,” Astarion pouts.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tease. “I would have never dreamed of saying something so cheesy before I met you.”

“It’s not about the quality of the line, it’s about the delivery,” Astarion says. “Watch and learn, my dear.” 

Astarion clears his throat and looks up at you from under his pale lashes. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth. “My dearest heart, the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight puts even the most expensive of rubies to shame.”

He watches as your lashes flutter and you bite on your lower lip in an attempt to fight yourself from physically swooning. There’s a proud thrum in his chest that his words are causing you to react so viscerally.

“I already knew you were beautiful in the sun, but this,” Astarion continues, leaning forward and planting his hands on either side of your hips, caging your body between his arms. His eyes dart down to your lips before he drags them back up to your hungry red eyes. “This is better than I could have ever imagined. Far better than watching you in the gardens while I was locked away in my tower.”

“Oh, my poor damsel in distress. It’s a good thing I saved you,” you say in a playfully mocking tone, reaching out to curl one of your arms around Astarion’s neck. 

Astarion knows that your words are trying to guide him into offering you a kiss as a form of repayment and although he wants nothing more than to press his lips against yours, your words have struck a chord with him.

Astarion already feels so vulnerable, so seen in the sunlight- what more is ripping his heart out of his chest and placing it in your hands? He trusts you with it completely. 

“You did save me,” Astarion’s voice is serious and he watches your eyes soften and turn gooey. “I know you’re joking but you did. From myself, from Raphael, from a life in the darkness. You have shown me love and kindness when I believed they were all but gone from the world.”

“You saved me, too, you know.” Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Saved me from that horrible man that my father was trying to sell me off to. Saved me from a loveless, unhappy life. You have given me everything I could have ever wished for.”

And how wonderful it is, Astarion thinks, to have found someone who has given him hope for a future again. To know that he, in turn, stole a future for you that would be far happier than what you were originally destined for. 

He steals a quick kiss before he pulls away from you, standing up to pry off his boots. 

The water glistens in the sunlight and Astarion is struck by a memory of swimming in the sea when he was so much younger, when his family used to come to the cottage over summers and he would spend his days swimming with another boy his age. They would lay out on the rocks on the shoreline, swapping soft kisses as the sun dried their skin. 

And now, Astarion has the ability to do that again, to live like that again. To exist in that same carelessness as his youth and share that moment with the person he loves. 

“What are you doing?” you ask as he pries off his other boot.

“Going for a swim,” Astarion answers, pulling his shirt over his head. He shoots you a flirty smile, trying to tempt you. “Care to join me?”

You nod eagerly and Astarion stops pulling off his own clothes, entranced at the sight of you lifting up your skirt to roll a stocking down your leg. It faintly registers in his mind that you are putting on a show for him, taking your time to bare the skin of your calf inch by painstaking inch. 

It’s truly an award-worthy performance. 

Astarion’s mouth salivates as he pictures the soft skin of your inner thighs. It really had been too long since he’d treated himself to a bite there.

When you have set your shoes and rolled stockings off to the side, Astarion grieves as your dress falls down and covers the beautiful skin of your legs once more as you push yourself up to stand in front of him.  

“You’ll have to help me out of my clothes first,” you tease, turning around and moving your hair over one of your shoulders. 

“Oh, gods. Yes, please.” The words fall out of Astarion in a rush as he nearly trips over himself to stand behind you. He loosens the ties at the back of your dress. “You made it easy on me today. No buttons.”

You shoot Astarion a wink as you pull your dress and petticoat over your head, tossing them carelessly on the ground next to Astarion’s discarded shirt. You turn around again and Astarion dutifully begins helping you out of your corset, unlacing the pretty ribbon holding it in place as quickly as his dexterous fingers allow.

“You know,” you say, shrugging the corset off when Astarion finishes, “It’s a wonder why I even bother to wear clothes at all when you always seem determined to get me out of them.”

“I often wonder the same thing,” he sighs wistfully, leaning down to drop a kiss to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, practically draping himself over your back. He bites your ear lightly. “You should probably just stop wearing them altogether to save me time.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You turn your head to shoot him a coquettish smile.

“Very much so,” Astarion growls, his lips grazing down your neck, following along your collarbone. “Your body is a wonder, darling. It’s meant to be appreciated.” 

You kiss Astarion’s cheek and disentangle yourself from his arms. “I’ve got it from here, smooth talker.” 

“But I’m so helpful,” Astarion pouts.

You roll your eyes at him but you’re still smiling, so Astarion knows you are amused by his antics. “Just take off your pants.” 

“You’re just as incorrigible as me, darling,” Astarion jokingly scoffs as he slips out of his trousers.

You shoot him a flirtatious smile in response as you pull your chemise over your head, depositing it in the pile with the rest of your clothes. 

But Astarion does not miss your wary glance back in the direction of the cottage. He holds his hand out for you and you instinctively entwine your fingers with his. “It’s private out here, little flower. I assure you, no one will see us.”

“I know,” you say, uncharacteristically bashful. Your gaze falls down to where your fingers are laced with Astarion’s and you bring your other hand up to fidget with the ring on his finger. “Besides, you’d threaten to kill any unfortunate soul who did manage to wander down here and I think I’d rather enjoy that.”

It’s quite a bold confession from you. 

“Oh, you like that, do you, pet? You like when I’m possessive of you?” 

“Not possessive. Protective.” you correct him. “I like that you respect my boundaries and are willing to discipline anyone who is disrespective.” Your voice drops low and silky. “Plus, you have to know how attractive you look when you protect me.”

“Keep talking like that and we aren’t even going to make it into the water before I fuck you,” Astarion growls.

You just grin at him and tug on his hand, pulling him to the edge of the large rock the two of you had been sitting on. The tide had risen in the time that the two of you had spent watching the sunrise and the gentle waves now reach the rock. You both wade deeper and deeper into the water, letting it climb up- to your knees, to your hips, to your chests.

“The water’s colder than I remember but it feels good,” you say, closing your eyes and tilting your head up to the sun. “Sun feels nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Astarion agrees, but he keeps his eyes locked on you. He can’t help but admire you like this, all peaceful and content. 

And then, out of nowhere, an errant wave of water hits Astarion in the face. He sputters while you cackle next to him. 

“My hair!” he cries out. 

You continue laughing at him, raising your hand like you’re going to push another wave of water his way.

“Don’t.” He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not the type of man you want to mess with, darling.”

“Yes, you’re very scary,” you say sarcastically. 

Astarion reaches out like he’s going to grab you and you laugh and swim away from him. He tries to chase after you, but you’re graceful and quick like a mermaid. Somehow, you always manage to glide away from him just when his fingers are about to brush your skin.

“You’ll have to be sneakier than that.” You roll on your back to playfully kick water in Astarion’s direction. He strikes while you’re gloating- grabbing hold of your ankle and sharply dragging you back toward him. 

“Gross,” you complain when you resurface, spluttering and spitting water out of your mouth. “I hate the taste of saltwater.”

And Astarion just stares at you- at how the water drips down your skin and your wet hair sticks flat against your head and the way your nose scrunches up in disgust as you try to get rid of the taste of saltwater in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask when you turn and catch him staring at you. “Is there something in my hair?”

“This view is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen and still, I can’t pull my eyes away from you. Still, it is you that pulls the breath from the lungs and renders me speechless. Still, you are the siren that has bewitched me with her song.”

That beautiful soft smile returns to your face and you reach out, winding your arms around his neck and leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. 

Astarion lets out a content hum and smiles because he can taste it. He can actually taste the salt and seawater as your lips slide against his.

It’s a sweet, slow kiss that leads to a whole series of sweet, slow kisses that gradually deepen. Astarion hopes that kissing you more, kissing you deeper will quench his thirst. It doesn't. Each kiss only serves to stoke the raging inferno deep within him, the blaze set alight by the sun in his veins. 

His hands move over the soft skin of your belly, tracing down over the curve of your ass, giving the soft flesh a little squeeze that has you mewling into his mouth. His hands continue lower, wrapping around the back of your thighs as he lifts you up, wading back in the direction of the large rocks on the shoreline. Somehow, he manages not to trip and drop you, even when you do distract him by peppering kisses along the curve of his jaw. 

Thankfully, the blanket had not blown away in the wind, and Astarion eases you down onto it, carefully resting his weight on top of you. His hair is wet and surely a mess from where your fingers have threaded through it. So much for all his careful styling earlier. 

“See,” Astarion says, kissing down your sternum, “it’s a good thing we got those pesky clothes out of the way already.”

Astarion feels your laugh reverberating in your ribs as he licks away the drops of saltwater that run along your chest. He continues sliding his tongue along your skin, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him. It has his cock aching where it presses between your bodies. 

With a slow grind of his hips, Astarion tongue traces a wet line along the underside of your breast, moving upward to gently suck one of your hard nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it. 

You let out a happy sigh and Astarion’s feels your whole body relax beneath him.

“You really do have the most perfect bosom I’ve ever seen,” Astarion says, when he releases your nipple from his mouth with a lewd pop. One of his hands traces upward along your ribs to cup and knead at the flesh of your other breast. 

His mouth follows soon after, sucking at the skin of your chest while his fingers circle and tweak your nipples. His efforts to mark you are in vain, he knows, but he’s at least momentarily rewarded when he pulls away and gets to watch the angry, red mark fade from your skin. 

When Astarion finally looks up from his handiwork, you’re watching him with hooded eyes, pupils blown so wide that your red eyes nearly look black. Astarion presses up, catching your mouth in a kiss and sliding his tongue against the seam of your lips. You open eagerly for him and his tongue slides into the wet cavern of your mouth. 

Your fingertips ghost along Astarion’s arms, tracing lines over the muscles and inching their way upward until Astarion feels them slip over his shoulders, moving gently along the raised skin of the scar on his back. 

“Is that okay?” you murmur, pulling away from the kiss.

“Yes,” he answers, “but I don’t know why you’d ever want to touch it. That thing is hideous.”

Astarion would let you touch him anywhere, would let your soft fingertips glide and press upon any part of him that you wished. But why did you always insist upon finding all the ugly, hidden parts of him and holding them up to the light? Why did you always insist on loving the pieces that Astarion himself hated?

“No, not hideous. It’s a part of you and nothing about you could ever be described as hideous.” Your fingertips continue stroking and soothing along the circular pattern. “And you deserve to have some new memories associated with your scar. So now, when you feel its weight upon your back, you will not think of the night you received it. You will think instead of the day that the woman you love gave you the sun.”

“You gave me the sun long ago,” Astarion confesses, the pad of his own thumb moving to touch your soft lips. “When you smile… It feels like sunshine against my skin.”

You smile and it puts the sun to shame. 

“I was so scared to love you at first,” Astarion says softly. He hardly knows what sentiment he is trying to convey other than his earth-shattering love for you, but the words are burning at his throat, forcing their way out before he can think. “I was so scared that you would make me weak and powerless. I know better now. In truth, you are the one who encourages me to be strong. You are the one who showed me the light after so long being trapped in the darkness.”

“If I am your sun, then you are my moon,” you say. “There is not one without the other. All my beauty, all my love, reflects and shines off you. You are the stars themselves, Astarion, shining and shimmering against the blackness of night. Always recognizable, always able to guide me home.”

He dips down to press a slow kiss to your lips so you do not keep saying beautiful words that make him want to cry. 

Astarion gently sweeps the wisps of your drying hair away from your face.

“For once,” he pleads, “let me caress you with the sun, beloved wife, so you might know how it feels to be loved by you.”

“Then take me, husband.” You twine your fingers into Astarion’s hair and press his forehead against yours. “Take all of me. With all that I have and all that I am, I am yours.” 

Astarion lets his hand trail down your stomach in swirling, looping patterns, relishing in the way your skin tightens in anticipation beneath his fingertips. Today, he doesn't feel the need to rush. Today, he will enjoy every little thing that life has to offer him- sunlight and food and pleasure.

Astarion traces swooping cursive along your skin. ‘I love you’ and ‘little flower’ and ‘wife,’ over and over and over again. Surely, you are not following the words he has written, but Astarion believes that the meaning has bled through his fingers and landed straight in your heart.

When he finally grows too impatient, Astarion’s fingers lower between your legs to stroke along the soft heat of your cunt. You let out a shuddering breath, closing your eyes as you relax into his touch.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your stomach. 

Astarion will never grow used to this, to how your cunt begs for his every touch.

He knew he was able to inspire lust in people. He was a handsome man with a talented, silver tongue- lust was a given. But that had all been an act, a performance. None of them ever saw anything deeper. And here you were, dripping over his hand after having just touched his scars, the part of himself that Astarion hates the most. That someone would love all of him- hideous, ugly parts and all- was a fact that Astarion still finds unbelievable.

“Course I’m wet, we were just in the water,” you tease him, raising your leg to poke his ribs with your toes.

“I’ll leave if you’re going to be difficult.” Astarion pulls his hand away from you and sits up.

“No,” you whine, sitting up yourself so that your arms can lock around his neck and drag him back down on top of you.

“All bark and no bite, aren’t you, my cheeky little pup,” Astarion purrs.  

You pout for just a moment before you use the arms you have laced around Astarion’s neck as leverage to pull him down into a kiss, gently tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. One of your fangs scratches lightly against his skin.

“Some bite,” you murmur into his mouth, lips still grazing his.

“You keep stealing all my best lines,” Astarion nudges your nose with his own and he feels your lips pull up into a proud smile. 

“Still sounds better when you say it,” you sigh and Astarion’s cock throbs at your praise. He’s half out of his mind with how badly he needs to be buried inside you. 

“Your voice goes all low and husky,” you continue, dragging Astarion’s hand back down to your cunt. “You should feel what it does to me.”

You encourage Astarion to push a finger inside you as you wrap your hand around his hard length, swiping your thumb over the tip and sending white-hot pleasure radiating up his spine.

“Gods, pet, you’re going to be the death of me,” Astarion rasps and sure enough, he feels your cunt clench around his finger. He drags it out before pushing it back in and you arch into his touch, drawing his finger in deeper, as your hand languidly pumps up and down Astarion’s cock.

“That’s all for you, my star. Always for you.” You speak, quiet and breathless, and Astarion can hardly hear you over the obscene squelching of his finger sinking into you. He adds another and curls them and you shiver with delight beneath him.

Astarion groans, forehead pressed tightly against yours as you breathe into each other. With time, the two of you find a rhythm in your dance, your hand begins to move in time with Astarion’s fingers.

And when Astarion finally eases his cock into you, he is gentle and deliberate. He takes a moment to just stay fully seated inside you, letting the silken heat of your cunt hug him so, so tightly. He grinds his hips against yours slowly, barely pulling out before he’s thrusting back in, enraptured in the way your walls pulse and flutter around him. 

“Gods, look at you,” he says, punctuated by a roll of his hips. 

It feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. And perhaps, he is. Even candlelight and superior vampiric senses did not allow for the fine level of details of daylight. There’s so much to look at- the curve of your eyelashes, the faint lines around your eyes, the tiny scar right by your hairline.  

“You’re so beautiful,” Astarion says with awe. “You’re always so beautiful, but like this…” Another roll of his hips. “Spread out underneath me with your lips swollen from my kisses. The way your hair fans out.” He catches a piece of your damp hair between his fingers. “The way you look up at me with such love and adoration that I fear my heart may somehow return to life.”

“Astarion.”

His name falls from your lips with the reverence of a prayer.

“You say my name so beautifully, little flower. Please, say it again.”

“Astarion,” you whisper, over and over and over, until your tongue is tripping over the syllables and the only sounds that escape your mouth are strangled gasps. 

There is no sense of urgency, no rushing. Time melts away. There is only you and Astarion and the warmth of the sun drying your wet skin and the gentle sea breeze blowing salty air around you. 

“Do you like that?” Astarion asks, when a particularly deep thrust has your nails digging into his skin.

You nod vehemently.

“Use your words,” Astarion urges, repeating the same motion. The knowledge that he’s making you feel as good as he does right now somehow makes him impossibly harder. It has his cock twitching within you. 

“Star…” you pant. “S-so good.”

And Astarion just feels so warm and good and safe. 

There’s this wave of something that feels like relief washing over him as he realizes that the rest of his immortal life is going to be filled with this feeling. There will be no more darkness and agony. There will be no more fear of punishment or stewing in his hatred for Cazador. 

The muscles in your cunt tighten around Astarion, beckoning him closer, welcoming him deeper. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

It’s everything Astarion has ever wanted. A person who knows him, knows the real him- secretly romantic and sappy and a little bit wicked and vindictive, deep down. He had found someone who challenges him, who always has a quip to return to his jokes, who sees his flaws and encourages him to do better. 

Astarion continues thrusting into you, deep and hard, and the gasping whimpers you make are so lovely and your nails feel so wonderful where they lightly scratch his scalp and Astarion can’t fight back the tears any longer. He buries his face into your neck and closes his eyes, letting the tears dampen your skin as he loses himself in you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” you reassure Astarion, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw.

His whole body trembles as he comes.

There’s nothing but bliss and you as Astarion fucks into you, long after his orgasm has washed over him and left his cock so sensitive that it’s nearly painful. The whole time, you just keep running your fingers through Astarion’s hair, whispering soft, soothing praises as he continues to weep into your shoulder. 

“You didn’t come,” Astarion eventually sniffles, pressing a long kiss to the hollow of your throat in apology.

“S’okay,” you reassure, running your fingers along his face, chasing away any remaining wetness. “Felt good anyway. You always make me feel good. But let today be about you, for once. Just you.”

And Astarion knows you mean this- that his pleasure is just as enjoyable as your own. He knows this because he thinks the same. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You don’t need to,” you laugh softly. “We have an eternity together, little star. We don’t need to keep score.”

“If we did, I’d be winning,” Astarion teases and he feels your thumb trace along the line by his mouth again when his lips tilt up in a grin.

“Only because you normally insist on making me come at least once before you even dream of fucking me,” you say. “But it’s fine. Losing that competition still feels like winning to me.”

Astarion thinks that maybe it’s not fine, that maybe you’re a bit more competitive than you’re letting on. He laughs and finally pulls out of you, rolling on his back to face toward the sky again. The sun sits high in the middle of the sky. The two of you must have been out here for hours now. 

Astarion stretches out, muscles all loose and relaxed. His eyes flutter shut and his breath calms to a slow, rhythmic pattern. And with the bright, warm air surrounding him and you curled up next to him, watching over him, Astarion lets himself drift off to sleep.

--------------------

Notes:

As usual, this part started at 5k words and I just KEPT adding more words until it was yet another behemoth of a chapter. And deep down, this chapter was sponsored by my personal agenda to make Astarion feel so happy and safe that he cries. And I'm not gonna lie to you all, next week is just like… 90% smut (as any good epilogue should be).

Huge thank you to my beta-writer, AliensNSuch on ao3. Somehow, she manages to make what I am trying to say sound even better.

And as always, thank you to everyone who has read this far! I'll save my final sappy farewell and thank you's for the epilogue next week, but just know that all your love has meant the world to me. This is the first fic I've ever actually been brave enough to post and what a wonderful experience it has been!

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[little-diable]

Sins, desires, longings - Dean Winchester (smut)

A big thank you to @deathofpeaceofmind for inspiring this! This came to us as I shared the lyrics of the song "No Mercy" by Austin Giorgio. This could have a part two? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean thinks Sam is dead, hence why he tries to rip himself free from his old life, which means leaving (y/n) behind. But as he hides away in a church, slipping into the role of a priest, he keeps committing sins. Or: pwp

Warnings: 18+, piv smut, jerking off, religious connotations, priest!Dean, pretty much pwp

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

The sound of his boots meeting the ground echoed through the cold church, echoing off the walls like the cries of those burying Jesus had echoed through the afternoon air. With his forest green eyes focused on the altar, Dead dropped to his knees, making a cross sign with two fingers before he clasped his hands together.

His eyes fluttered close, speaking a prayer he had learned a few days ago, trying to swallow down the thoughts welling up in his mind, wanting to drown him like the waves Moses had parted had tried to do. Dean had to focus on the words that left him, rolling off his tongue all too easily.

It was a strange sight, a sight so foreign that those who have once crossed paths with the hunter wouldn’t believe their own eyes. Without opening his eyes, Dean’s hand began to move up his chest, finding the rosary dangling from his neck. Slowly he grasped the pearls, wooden beads that took his mind off the prayer he should focus on.

“Dean.” She whispered his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his tongue found its way to her inner thighs, smirking against her skin. Once again (y/n) called out his name, arching her back off the mattress, giving into the strong feeling. With his tongue pressing against her arousal covered folds, his fingers started moving, circling her pulsing bundle. 

“Mhm, tastes so sweet, darling.” The praise made her gasp, unable to bite down her moans. He had her trapped, was still wearing the collar around his neck, was still wearing the rosary dangling from his neck - perfectly taking on the role of a priest. 

Another hunt had lured them into this town, forcing the two to act as people they have never wanted to be. And yet the two of them found their joy in tricking those that were too oblivious for their own good. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Dean, there you are!” John’s voice ripped Dean out of his flashback, having to clear his throat as he tried to forget the memory he had just been forced to live through once again. The elderly priest came to a halt next to Dean’s kneeling frame, waiting for the younger man to rise to his feet. “How are we feeling today? Are you ready for our service?”

“I’m getting there, thank you, John.” Dean had lost count on the days flashing past ever since Sam’s death, days that had a dark touch to them, forcing the older Winchester brother to leave his old life behind, to leave his memories behind, to leave her behind. Her. The woman who owned his heart, the woman he had unleashed his anger upon as he worked through Sam’s death. 

Dean had decided to run, had left all his things behind – besides Baby – had decided to join a church he had known for years, begging the priest that knew him better than others to take him in. And now he was here, living a life he had once made fun of, a calm life that focused on prayers, on services, on those in need. But perhaps this life wasn’t as different as the one he had lead weeks ago, set on helping those that needed him. 

“It always takes its time, and that is alright, Dean. God is good, he wants to give you time to grieve.” John’s words forced tears to well up in Dean’s green eyes, forced to choke on the knot growing in his throat, unable to reply. His body was trembling, forced into another memory he had tried to bury six feet under. 

“Fuck, I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Dean’s pants filled Baby, eyes set on (y/n)‘s pleasure drunken features. He fucked her into the backseat, no longer caring if his tight grasp was leaving marks on the leather fabric. She was everything Dean could focus on, the sweetest temptation known to humankind. 

"Never let me go, Dean, promise me.” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes momentarily focusing on Dean’s wide ones. She saw him swallow, collecting enough air to murmur a soft though clear “I promise”.

“I don’t know John, it feels like I’m clinging to things I can’t let go. I don’t have the strength to.” Dean averted his gaze in shame, fumbling with the fingers that have once searched for her, needing to feel her close. He could still hear the angry words she had spoken, the fight the two had been trapped in, a fight that had given Dean the final push, disappearing in the middle of the night.

He had left behind a note for her to find, a simple “I’m sorry, I will always love you”. Nothing more, nothing less. By now he deeply regretted the way they’ve parted, or at least how he had parted from her, Dean could only hope that she’d be able to make her peace with it, someday at least. 

“Time will heal your wounds, Dean. Allow God to guide you, put your trust in him.”

……

Dean’s gasps and moans echoed through his small room, he had his head thrown back against the thin pillow, hand wrapped around his twitching cock. Her name rolled off his tongue, a sound so strong, a sound so emotional, Dean could only hope the others living in the rooms close by won’t hear him. 

His hand moved with quick strokes, needing to chase the high he had been aching for for days. It was wrong - at least that’s what he’s been told - he was committing another sin, and yet Dean couldn’t care about the punishment that may eventually follow. In this very moment Dean couldn’t care about crossing paths with the Devil, or at least the one those surrounding him were fearing, he had played this game for too long, he knew what was awaiting him, eventually. 

“Dean, look at me.” He was forced to lift his gaze, bloodshot eyes meeting her worried ones. (Y/n) sat down next to him, reaching for the bottle of beer he kept clinging to as if he was scared to lose yet another thing. Dean tried to protest, but he was interrupted by the clicking of her tongue, eyes snapping close once again. “Look at me, please.” 

No words left him as he finally looked at her, (y/n), the one who owned his heart, his closest friend, his most trustworthy companion. Slowly she cupped his cheek, thumb running over his skin, tracing the freckles that reminded her of stars covering the night sky, a sight so beautiful she’d always stop to marvel at him. 

“What can I do? Anything you want, you need.” His teeth sank into his lower lip, eyes once again fluttering close as he reached for her wrist, pulling her into his lap. (Y/n) didn’t dare speak up, allowing Dean to take what he needed, lips finding hers all too forcefully, leaving her gasping. He tasted of beer, of sadness, of pain. Dean rose to his feet with (y/n) clinging to him, forcing her down on the table, pushing her back. 

Her gasps drowned out Dean’s low groans, undoing his belt, freeing his hardening cock. No further warning was spoken as he shuffled her shirt up to her waist, pulling her panties aside. Their eyes met again, a silent question being shared between them, waiting for her consent. 

(Y/n) pulled him in for another teeth-clashing kiss, freeing yet another groan bubbling out of them. He parted from her to spit into his hand, lubing his cock up before he pushed into her. Both moaned in unison, set on chasing their highs, set on pushing one another over the edge with no mercy. 

Dean ripped his eyes wide open seconds before he came, ripped from the flashback like those that have grieved for Jesus’ death, reliving their last moments with their saviour. Sweat pearled on Dean’s forehead, sweat that rolled down his forehead like the red blood that had once dripped from four nails, forced through skin and wood. He choked on (y/n)’s name, painting his hands and stomach white as he came, lazily pumping his cock a few more times. 

“Fuck,” Dean murmured the curse, forcing a few deep breaths into his lungs before he rose to his feet, slowly cleaning himself up. He was heavily breathing, still hung up on the memories that have forced themselves into his brain, flashing before his eyes like lightning striking the dark sky. 

His eyes found the wooden rosary placed on his desk, next to the white collar he was now wearing on a daily basis. Dean moved closer, slowly picking up the rosary as his doubts came flooding back through his system. He should have spoken to her, should have explained his every fear to (y/n), but he hadn’t, he had kept his mouth shut – like a scared boy. 

The sound of somebody knocking on the wooden door leading to his room forced his green eyes to snap towards the door. He cleared his throat, reaching for a shirt before he walked closer. Slowly Dean pulled the door open, freezing as his eyes fell onto two pairs of all too familiar eyes. 

“Sam? (Y/n)?”

[wellofdean]

So in my ongoing efforts to say nice things about Supernatural and, as @luckshiptoshore said yesterday, "reclaim this nice, gay show" together, and also probably because I listened to Bruce Springsteen earlier today while I was thinking: why is it that this particular love story has me like it does? Why can't I let this Destiel thing go? I mean... I watched all the recent queer love stories and as much as I enjoyed Good Omens and OFMD, they just don't take up real estate in my soul like Supernatural does -- and that's not a decision I made, it just is. I don't know about you guys, but my little rages choose me.

Anyway, I was thinking -- it's probably not just because of queer representation or whatever, and I don't think it's because I want to see dudes be tender -- I think I ran out of that form of interest in the life of dudes awhile ago, but yeah, Bruce Springsteen. Born to Run. He says "I want to know love is wild, I want to know love is real" and I felt like it pretty much hit the nail on the head for me, somehow.

It's been a long time since I have felt moved by a het romance story. I feel like I can no longer believe it when the roles are so pre-packaged in the tropes and trappings of what was sold to me as idealised love in my younger days. And, like, I am Gen X, so it was pretty gruesome out there when I was learning how to want love -- the power of compulsory heterosexuality was strong, and the shit that was sold to us all as ways to love and be loved were pretty gross, just watch any romantic comedy from the 80's or 90's.

I think I love Supernatural so much because of the way Dean plays the role of a standard issue dude, and postures like he is a stereotypical red-blooded American dude, but it's so transparent that it isn't him. I don't know if it's just Jensen things, or if it was consciously done, but I love how unconvincing Dean's act is, and how clear it is that he is a wounded child whose own real desires and needs have been beaten out of him somehow, and I just love the way the real Dean and what that guy wants slow rises out of him as the story goes on, until he's choking on it, and visibly swallowing it down. For me, the queerest thing about Dean is his pain, his aching loneliness, and his sense of failure at being what he thinks he is -- a violent man who only knows how to kill, and I love Dean's moments of clarity, moments when he speaks from his own soul -- when he tells Cas he's sorry, tells John he has a family, tells Chuck "that's not who I am" are just everything to me.

Both Dean and Cas are victims of conditioning and coersion -- Dean trying to be his Daddy's perfect son, and being manipulated by Chuck, and Cas horribly violated and brainwashed repeatedly for millennia in heaven -- and they love each other in defiance of conditioning, because love is wild, and it's the product of their freedom.

I feel like ALL actual love eschews force and arises out of freedom. All real love is specific and weird, and is co-created in the space between lovers from what is most real in them and in that sense, all real love is queer in some way in that it is not part of the big social project of subjugating what doesn't comply. I feel like a lot of people lead lives of mindless compliance and that a thing that's wonderful about queer people and queer community is that we work against the grain to honor what is truest in us, whatever that is.

I guess I just love that, on Supernatural, the kind of love that saves the day is the kind that grows wild, like a weed you can't kill, out of more than a decade of choosing each other, again and again, and choosing to fight coercion and conditioning. Love that just fucking refuses to comply, and in fact, cannot comply, because non-compliance is it's very nature. There's something so hopeful and beautiful about that to me. I want to believe in it, and I do.

It's also why, after ALL THIS, in the context of that narrative, Dean is incontrovertibly queered, and anything else is just straight up narrative malpractice.

[delopsia]

Bestie i need more headcanons on cuddle bug rhett 😭🐛

I feel like I could go on about Rhett being a cuddle bug for HOURS

When you first get together, Rhett is very, very hesitant to touch you. Not out of a dislike for it but because he tends to forget how strong he is, and he's mortified that he'll hurt you. He's had a lot of instances in the past where he's hugged someone a little too hard or otherwise caused some sort of accidental harm.

But once you establish that you're not breakable! and that he isn't going to break your spine simply from hugging you from behind; all bets are off.

He used to always argue that he's not touch starved, saying something about lack of physical touch not bugging him in the slightest, but in reality, he's just grown so used to it that he doesn't see the signs anymore.

That argument went out the window when one day, you reached up and cradled his cheeks in your palms, and his face softened with a realization that he'd never had before.

Touch is a very intimate thing for him. He never had a lot of it growing up, and for a while there, it was only a thing he could find in his weekend hookups. It's something that makes him feel safe, feel real, like he's not just an invisible being whose only purpose is to work.

Rhett's favorite thing is to have you lying on his chest. There's just something so comforting in having you on top of him, safely secured in his big, strong arms. He could lay like that for hours if you'd let him.

There is a designated kiss for every occasion. Hello and goodbye kisses, just picked you up in his truck kisses, cheer-me-up forehead kisses, bedtime kisses, I didn't expect to run into you here kisses, giggly nose kisses because it's cold out and our noses feel like they're made of ice. For everything you do, there is a reason for a kiss or two.

Kisses your injuries, too. From bruises to cuts to old scars, they all deserve kisses!

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. He's never really paid much attention to it until you started doing that, and now its become one of his favorite scars.

Autumn and Spring are his favorite seasons. Not because of the weather but because sometimes you misjudge the weather and wind up snuggling into him for warmth.

Laces your pinkies together when you walk. It's subtle, just a loose little link that doesn't result in hot, sweaty hands after a few minutes.

Drops everything to cuddle with you if you ask. It doesn't matter what he was doing beforehand; he's already halfway across the room with his arms open wide. Do you want to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie? Go to bed and take a nap together? Hell, he'll even carry you there!

Recently, Rhett's been introduced to the theaters with big couches instead of tiny seats, and he's been hooked. A movie with his sweetheart, in a comfy loveseat where he can cuddle with you and not spill the popcorn?? Sign him the fuck up.

It's a bit of a drive, considering Wabang is close to nothing, nothing, and more, nothing, but he doesn't mind it. That just means he gets to spend more time with you!

He won't admit it, but he really enjoys being the little spoon. Especially if you let him tuck his head up under your chin and go to sleep there. It's nice to feel small and delicate every once in a while.

Turns into a damn glue trap when he's drunk. Once you let him touch you, he's not coming off.

The good thing is, that means he's the last person to go missing in a bar. The bad thing is, you literally cannot get him off of you. He's hugging you from behind, sleepily kissing your cheek as he fusses about how he's sleepy and wants to go home.

And what do you mean that he can't snuggle into you in this booth because you're in public? That couple over there might as well be having sex against the wall at this point, and they're not bothered! So why can't he cuddle you??

"Just one kiss?" Rhett pleads, batting those pretty, long lashes of his, "please?"

"Rhett, I've already given you one," you regret the words the very second they come out of your mouth because his eyes drop to his lap, disappointed. You might as well have just backhanded him.

What's worse is you know he's not doing it intentionally. He just doesn't know how to control his expressions when he's drunk. If he's feeling it, you can see it written all over his scruffy face.

Reaching over, you take hold of his jaw and tilt it up, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he giggles.

It even works to get him out of those petty bar fights. All you have to do is run your hand up his back, speaking gently, and he's backing out of it. Might have a few more choice words for who he's angry with, but it works. Perry calls it the Magic Touch.

In the event that you tell him no, he does one of three things, he either pouts, accepts it, and moves on, OR he turns it into a game of 'who's gonna crack first.'

He always cracks first.

All you have to do is cozy up somewhere, open up your arms, and he's gone.

It's rare that he gets to join you, but bubble baths are his favorite way to wind down with you. It always starts out with him sitting across from you, legs tangled up as you talk about everything under the sun, but as the water starts to grow cold, he scoots over to sit next to you.

Play! With! His! Hair! There is no quicker way to make the man nearly purr. Sleepily blinks at you and smiles all big and wide while you do it.

Shamelessly loves the sparkly bath bombs you use every once in a while. he gets a real kick out of seeing the glitter on his skin the next day, and you usually get a picture of his shimmering hand with the caption, "darlin', I'm sparkling in the light again."

This past summer, Rhett got the big idea of putting a hammock behind the house, tucked safely into the shade of the trees. Really went all out and got one of the bigger ones because, hey! Potential cuddle spot!

Sometimes you'll find him out there, knocked out cold with his hat flat on his face, and you'll climb in and join him in his afternoon cat nap. He's too deep of a sleeper to notice your arrival, but he's always grinning like an idiot when you wake up. "Didn't expect to wake up with an angel in my arms."

Does that thing where he places his hand on your lower back as you step past him. He doesn't even intend for it to happen; it just winds up there, gently pressing into you until you're out of reach.

Nuzzles you with his nose like he's a dog. It's the first thing he does once he's got you in his arms, nose wiggling against you as he finds himself a nice, comfortable spot. It tickles, and your giggles only make him do it even more.

Who would have thought a cowboy could be so cuddly?

[dark-elf-writes]

I have no clue anything about ff but where is the ‘Harry gets adopted by FF7 characters and finds out what a family should be” au

No one is more surprised than me that I haven’t written this yet tbh like who am I????

ANYWAY

Little Harry who has heard a woman’s voice from a young age telling him that he is not alone, that he is not a freak, that he will be loved and cared for more than he could ever know. He always hears her more when he is working in his Aunt Petunia’s garden. Can practically feel her in the way the plants bloom more beautifully than anywhere else on their street. His invisible friend that helps him find what little beauty he can in his world.

And sometimes she talks about her friends. About a woman who is as strong as she is kind, who loves freely but took no shit, who welcomed those with good intentions with open arms and threw anyone without them out on their arse. About a ninja with sticky fingers and the blood of a princess who would give anything for her people and have fun every step of the way. About a father who demanded the world to change for his little girl and decided to be the push that set it all in motion. About an inventor trapped in the place he should have been able to do good but unable to make anyone listen so he sent his inventions out to make change for him. About a pilot who was grounded against his will and decided to make those that would clip his wings choke on that decision. About a man who was only doing his job and was hurt over and over again for doing the right thing and who learned slowly that the things done to him did not make him a monster.

About a hero that led them all, each of them broken and shattered in their own ways, into a better world.

Harry liked the stories of the hero the best.

Then one day things get bad and Uncle Vernon gets far more angry than he normally is. Harry runs to the garden, hoping somehow that his friend, his only friend, could save him, and she does.

In a space that is more light and glowing green energy than any “world” should be, he sees her for the first time, softly smiling and reaching out to rub her fingers through his hair. She is the prettiest lady he has ever seen. Another voice laughs when he tells her so and a big man with kind eyes, a scar on his face, and hair just as wild as Harry’s grins at him as he announces that “this kid knows what he’s talking about.”

She smiles though there is something sad in her eyes when she speaks.“I can send you somewhere that will help for a time, but eventually you will have to come back. This planet is quite certain that it needs you in the future.”

Harry wants to cry, wants to scream. How does he have to go back! He doesn’t want to.

But something else sticks with him, something that makes him hurt before he even realizes what it was.

“Send me somewhere. Not us?” Not his friend who had told him so many stories and helped him grow flowers? Not this pretty lady and the man with such a kind smile? After everything he would still be alone?

It’s the man’s hand that lands in his hair this time, a comforting weight as he ruffles the tangled locks. “Spike and the others will be waiting for you on the other side. They’ll take good care of you. SOLDIER’s honor.”

Harry doesn’t understand, can’t understand really but “You’re my friend,” he tells the woman, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes. He doesn’t have the words to say anything more. To name the swirling mass of hurt and yearning in his stomach.

She seems to understand smiling sadly at him again before she leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll still be able to hear me. More clearly than most I think. I will not leave you Harry Potter.”

Harry Potter is seven years old when he goes missing from the backyard of his Aunt’s house in a swirl of green light. He is seven years old when he wakes up in a shallow pool of water in a church that has seen better days with a man with wild blond hair and shining blue eyes watching him in stunned silence. He is seven years old when his first friend sends him to his hero for safety.

[megalony]

It’s not safe

This is my first Ed Warren imagine (The Conjuring) I love all the movies from this franchise and this character just seems to stick in my head atm. I hope you all like it, feedback would be amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​​ @sj-thefan​​ @omgitsearly​​ @luckytrashgooprebel​​ @scarsout​​ @deaky-with-a-c​​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​​ @vousmemanqueez-blog​​ @jonesyaddiction​​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​​ @saint-hardy​​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​​ @mrsalwayswritex​​ @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​ @crazylittlethingg​​ @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod​​ @ceres27​​ @thereisa8ella​​ @qardasngan​

Masterlist

Summary: Ed and (Y/n) go to investigate a seemingly haunted farmhouse but when (Y/n) ends up trapped, Ed needs to get to his wife before she drowns.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hun, you okay?" Ed whispered the words against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear before his arm softly curved around her waist, keeping her protectively tucked against his side as they walked into the house.

His dark chocolate brown eyes focused on his wife, searching for the little telltale signs he could always pick up on. Ed knew every little action, movement and word that showed if (Y/n) was comfortable or if there was something wrong and right now, it felt wrong.

It had been over two months since the couple had last come to help a family in need and from the desperation in the wife, they knew this wasn't going to be a hoax.

The house was a lovely painted white farm house with a lot of land, a lake and a big swell of privacy surrounding it. (Y/n) was drawn to the scene it created and the swell of joy it caused to bubble in her chest at the thought of living somewhere like this with Ed. A house out the way of everyone, somewhere with space to plant and grow and nurture and an old enticing house.

Stepping inside the house was a different matter entirely.

"It's not safe."

A small, tight-lipped smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips but her words sent a shiver running down her husband's spine. If she said those words it meant that there was a malevolent presence in the house that she could either see or feel.

(Y/n) knew this was her calling, to help people and make them feel safe and secure and out of harms way, but it took a toll on her that Ed was becoming increasingly worried about. He knew how anxious his wife could get and he knew that despite her sixth-sense, (Y/n) was afraid.

An exorcism or a séance would frighten her, the unknowing, the things she saw, they left marks, shock effects and they increased her fear with each one they saw.

"Okay, stay by my side hun, you'll be fine."

She could feel his hand becoming firmer on her hip and his body pressing up against her back like a coat of armour surrounding her for protection. If she was beside Ed then she would be and feel safe, nothing would harm her if he was with her.

It was in Ed's nature to be protective and this line of work only amplified that feeling, but after their last exorcism he was reluctant to move even an inch away from his wife.

(Y/n) had been backed into a corner, her chanting, her Latin, her prayers had all done nothing to keep the spirit at bay. When Ed had found her she was curled up beside the door, hands covering her ears and her eyes tightly closed as she chanted a prayer through sobs.

He wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Rob, would you like to show us round, explain where things have happened?" Ed slowly rubbed his hand up and down (Y/n)'s waist, his steady breathing comforting her and pushing her to keep calm and steady too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft breath parted through (Y/n)'s lips an her body started to lose the tension it held when she felt two strong arms caging around her waist before Ed's chin was then perched on her shoulder. She could feel the way he had to stoop down to lean down to her since his height towered above her own but it only made her feel more protected.

When his lips pressed against her exposed neck (Y/n) couldn't help but smile at the butterflies that it caused to errupt throughout her system. Any touch from Ed could cause fireworks in (Y/n)'s system just like the first moment they met.

"How do you feel, hun?" Ed's voice was soft and quiet, the words muffled against (Y/n)'s neck causing vibrations to run through her muscles and up her jaw.

"I feel okay... the house feels alive, in the wrong sort of way though."

Part of Ed had wondered if he was going to be able to get (Y/n) up the stairs with the way she had clung to the bannister earlier and took very slow steps. The presence of whatever spirit or evil was in this house was harbouring the most up on the first floor.

Now that the sun was very slowly setting behind the fields, the house was starting to come alive. Fear manifested at night when people were scared and vulnerable and the evil seemed to know this no matter where they were.

But (Y/n) felt calmer with Ed by her side and with her in this room, she felt a lot more at ease than she did when they arrived this morning.

"I'll help Drew finish up setting the cameras and thermal imaging soon and then we're all set for tonight."

When all the cameras, imaging machines and wires were set up, everyone would settle to their rooms, the family would try and sleep and Ed, (Y/n) and Drew, plus the police officer would see what happened. They would listen to the audio set up in each room and watch the house come alive.

"I'll get a shower then I'll help... stay here, please?"

(Y/n)'s voice drowned off at the end but her eyes said everything that was going through her mind.

The tension in her body briefly came back until Ed slowly turned her around in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll wait in here for you." Ed didn't need to ask nor did he want to upset his wife by making her tell him what he could already see. She didn't want to be left upstairs alone, even with the family pottering about, it didn't feel safe. Especially with the family roaming around, anyone could wander in the bathroom and find her by mistake.

Leaning up on her toes, (Y/n) pressed a kiss to Ed's lips, her palms gently caressing his face with her fingertips brushing patterns against his skin before they reluctantly parted. She felt Ed's hand wander down to feel her bum before he moved to sit on the double bed pressed up against the wall.

The family had all decided to sleep downstairs in the living room together when the strange occurences started to happen. Ed and (Y/n) would be camping out in the kitchen with the equipment tonight but for now they could get changed or rest upstairs in this room which had an adjoining bathroom they could use to freshen up in.

His eyes watched (Y/n) slowly pad into the bathroom, leaving the door half open as they always did. (Y/n) wasn't a fan of locking bathroom or toilet doors, especially in a house that was full of the unknown like this. The couple had a routine of leaving the door halfway open whenever they were in the bathroom separately just to be and feel safe.

Ed started to rummage through one of the rucksacks on the bed to get out the tape recorder so he could go over the tape they had recorded earlier with the family. The thick brown leather headphones sat easily on his head and he crossed his legs beneath him, drifting off into his own little world.

The moment (Y/n) stepped into the small, enclosed shower separate from the bath, she could feel her muscles relaxing. The hot water sprayed down on her skin like it was trying to help, trying to massage the terror from her system. It was comforting from the bitter cold sweeping through the wind outside and the steam from the heat made her lungs feel clear and open.

A feeling of contentment passed through (Y/n) as she slowly began to sway, something Ed always noticed and smiled at whenever they shared a shower. He loved watching her suddenly lean her thighs to each side and moved like the slow ticking of a metronome to silent music only she could hear.

(Y/n) knew she couldn't live in the shower tonight, as much as it would feel easier for her and feel safe, she had to get washed and get ready.

Her eyes remained closed from the moment she stepped under the water and her fingers methodically stroked through her hair, brushing it back on her head.

The contentment swelling through her didn't last long and (Y/n) felt like crying when it disappeared. It was a feeling that she didn't get very often when she was alone, only Ed could make her feel that way.

Unsafe.

The feeling was back again but it came with such a sudden shock that (Y/n) wobbled and had to find her centre again. It was like darkness seeping into her chest and swelling until she was about to burst. If she wasn't under the water she could have started to sweat and her skin would begin to prickle.

As if coming out of a trance, (Y/n) slowly opened her eyes, she should get out now and get ready before the feeling got any worse. She was just getting nervous about tonight, that was all. She needed to get to work, focus on a task and work through the night to rid this feeling and help the family rid this evil from their home.

A frown etched onto her face though, when her eyes cast down and she realised what she hadn't noticed a moment ago. The water was pooling around her ankles.

The shower wasn't very large, it was six by six foot if that, in a small square shape since the bathroom wasn't very big and the shower was clearly a new adaptation. But the water shouldn't be clogging around her like this, the stream from the shower head wasn't so forceful that it would take this long to drain the water.

Kicking her foot out, (Y/n) tapped her toe around the plug to see if the drain was getting blocked, but it felt like there was something just under the drain rim. All she could see was blackness down the drain. She hadn't shed that much hair or been covered in dirt or grime to block the shower this quickly and suddenly.

A startled yet quiet squeak left her lips when her hand pulled at the tap but it didn't work. She pulled the tap forward, pushed it back again, tried to twist it each way but the water stayed the same, the tap could have done a summersault but the water continued to flow.

This wasn't a coincidence.

"Ed... Ed..." She'd just have to get out and water log the bathroom until Ed could find a way to stop the water.

Why wasn't the door opening?

No, no please!

There was a handle on the outside of the glass door to the shower but to get out from the inside it just needed to be nudged. It wasn't working. The glass wasn't budging anywhere, not even an inch, it was as if (Y/n) had been put inside a glass box to be viewed and someone had glued the sides up.

Her slippery palms bashed against the glass causing droplets to fly all around her and steam marks to heat up around her imprint but it did nothing.

"Ed! Ed I'm stuck! Oh, God get me out please." Tears started to fall against her already sodden cheeks and her fingers curled into fists that smashed against the door but it did nothing.

The water was starting to reach her knees and travel up to her thighs already, she was going to drown.

The evil in this house knew, it was feeding off of everyone's fears and it knew that drowning was the one thing (Y/n) couldn't get over. A childhood accident had scarred her for life and now her fears were being listened to and played upon like an evil trick. She couldn't die this way, she couldn't drown, submerged in hot water stinging at her eyes and flooding down her lungs when they were burned and starved of oxygen.

A scream left her lips that rattled through the house before she curled her arms to her chest and thrust her body into the side of the shower.

Ed felt like the bed had rattled beneath him when a distant but audible scream hit his ears through the thick headphones. He tore them from his head, flinging the wire out of his way so he could be on red alert. His ears strained to find out what was going on and where the noise was coming from before his name pounded through his ears. He knew that voice; that was his wife.

As if a rocket had been set off in his system, Ed bounded off the bed and scrambled for the bathroom but the door was abruptly shut in his face. He couldn't stop himself from colliding with the door when it locked itself and a string of pain bolted through his chest but it was overruled by rage.

Something in this house was trying to hurt his wife and it was stopping him from getting to her.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n) what's happening? Talk to me baby."

Ed rammed his fists against the door, elbowing the lock before he turned to the side and started jolting his frame into the wooden door that was proving hard to beat down.

"The door- the shower door it won't open! I'm gonna drown," A guttural sob followed (Y/n)'s hiccupped words before she let out a whining cry. "Ed please!" Her shrivelled up hands clamoured against the door but the water was getting higher by the second. The more she bashed her fists on the glass, the more the water sprayed around her.

When she tried to ram into the sides to break through, she didn't have any momentum because the water was surrounding her and taking away her force.

"I'm coming baby, I'll get you out I swear. Keep talking to me baby." He didn't quite know what he was going to be facing on the other side of the door but whatever it was couldn't be good. He didn't see how (Y/n) could drown in the shower but he also knew that this wasn't her panicking about her fear of water. Something was happening because of the malevolent presence in this house.

Ed took to kicking the door instead until it finally swung open and he flung himself inside, turning right to try and see the shower before his eyes widened out of their sockets.

Now he could see what she meant.

Ed ran over to the shower, his eyes full of horror and his heart full of anguish for his wife. The water was almost up to her neck which caused her to plant her hands on either side of the glass surrounding her and her toes weren't touching the floor anymore to try and keep her afloat and keep her breathing.

He curled his fist around the door handle and tried yanking on it but the door wouldn't budge. (Y/n)'s screams and cries of terror were cutting through Ed right to his heart.

His face was beet red from anger and exertion, the buttons on his shirt were starting to become undone and pop from how he was flexing and moving drastically and the sleeves were clinging to his biceps. His hair was ruffled around his face, clinging to his forehead with sweat.

"Ed..."

"I'm getting you out baby, just look at me." Ed's voice was full of panic as he pointed to his eyes, he needed her to focus on him while he slammed the heel of his boot into the door causing her to shudder with the vibrations.

He grabbed and threw anything he could find at the shower but when his movements slowed for a brief moment, (Y/n) saw something change in his eyes. They narrowed slightly, his pupils shrunk and his nose and lips curled in distaste.

What was he looking at?

It looked like there was a shadow behind (Y/n) in the soapy water but Ed couldn't get a proper look at it before (Y/n) gurgled and screamed. Something unholy grabbed her ankle and yanked so fast and hard that she went below the surface of the water.

Her nails scratched against the glass, her palms trying to glue to the sides to push herself up but she barely got any air before she started to kick and fling about. Something was trying to drown her.

Tears left her red, burning eyes and Ed's name along with many prayers left her lips that were dribbling bubbles and water.

Ed whipped the cross from around his neck and tangled it between his fingers, words of Latin spewing from his lips as he tried to recite the quotes he remembered for any emergency exorcism. With rabid eyes and harsh breaths, Ed continued to pray whilst he shimmied the toilet seat from side to side before he wrenched it free and turned towards the shower.

The silent but deadly look in his eyes caused (Y/n) to push towards the back of the relatively small shower, coiling her legs and arms to her chest just as the word 'banish' escaped Ed's lips.

His arms heaved the seat over his head but he didn't have to slam it into the glass before the shower suddenly turned off and the door swung wide open.

A cloud of grey hurdled into the air, swirling around their heads before it disappeared out of sight.

The seat dropped from Ed's hands, crashing to the floor behind him before his knees buckled and he went down from the tidal wave of water that consumed every inch of him. He held his breath in his burning, starving lungs but kept his arms held out until he felt (Y/n)'s weight pummel into him and they skidded on the floor towards the other side of the room near the bathtub.

A growl left Ed's lips when the back of his head collided with the wall and his shoulders hunched and hit the wall, stopping him from sliding anywhere else and making (Y/n) waver in his soaked arms.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

Her eyes remained closed, her lungs burned and her chest heaved as she tried to catch a single bit of oxygen whilst coughing and spluttering the water she had accidentally inhaled. The cold, crisp air started to prickle at her skin until it felt like it was seeping into her bones making her tremble.

Her head was laid heavy on Ed's shoulder and her body was curled up against him like a child wanting comfort and reassurance. (Y/n) didn't realise she was crying and hiccupping until she felt Ed's chest vibrating when he began to quietly hum.

"Shh, baby I'm here. You're safe, you're safe I promise you." Ed pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head, feeling the water soaking up into his shirt and making him feel like he was bound in tape.

(Y/n)'s fingers started to dig into Ed's arms but he didn't care, he simply tightened his hold around her. He needed to hold her to assure them both that she was okay and safe with him. He had gotten to her in time, he didn't let her drown. If he hadn't of heard her screams he might not be sat holding her right now.

"I'll never let anything hurt you again, hun."

(Y/n) was the one thing in Ed's life that he feared losing, he didn't care about his own life or safety but he would break his neck to keep her safe. She was his world, and she was back safe and sound in his arms.

[collidescopeeyes]

Random Relationship Headcanons: Viego

- Wants to be near you literally all the time. Loves physical contact and will find any excuse to get it.

- He physically can't blush, which is a tragedy because otherwise you could see how flustered you make him :( you still catch him just staring at you with open adoration so it's ok though

- Gives you privacy if you ask for it but his default state is wanting to be around you. Kind of guy who would be thrilled to watch paint dry with you cuz it means you get to spend time together. Will follow you around until you pay attention to him, 100% sulks if neglected for too long but can't stay mad at you for long.

- Gets jealous easily but is working on not being so possessive, so he just gets clingy(er) if he's feeling insecure. It's kinda cute.

- Low key gets freaked out if he doesn't know where you are. His last love died painfully in front of him ok he's got Trauma

- Can tell immediately if there's something up with you, pls talk to him about it, he worries and he just wants to help

- Likes to read, from romance novels to historical texts. Goes through surviving texts from Camavor frequently, trying to jog his memory. Keeps a journal now, in case the mist takes any more memories. A lot of it is prose about how pretty you were today, a fair hand at sketching too.

- Likes animals, especially dogs and horses–royal hunts were a big family event growing up. Animals do not like him anymore, the mist makes them uneasy. It makes him sad sometimes :(

- Has strong opinions on wine and ballroom music. Will talk about the composition of a symphony for hours if you let him. Would love to teach you to dance.

- Used to care a lot about how he dressed, but those memories are still pretty fuzzy and he doesn't really think about it anymore–dying kinda puts vanity into perspective. Likes dressing you up though, and will definitely dress to match if you're going somewhere. He likes the idea of coordinated outfits.

- Gets moody occasionally, it all gets a bit much for him sometimes and he starts thinking about all his fuck ups. Alternates between sad and self-blaming to frustrated and kinda bitchy, but does his best not to take it out on anyone. Instantly feels bad and apologizes if he says anything out of line. Give him time, cuddles and reassurance and he'll start feeling better.

- Can't sleep without you in his arms. Doesn't choose to sleep often anyway (he gets bad nightmares), but will happily lay there all night watching you sleep. Doesn't like to admit that though bc he knows it's kinda weird.

- Doesn't need to eat or sleep or drink, but likes doing it anyway. The other wraiths in the isles are shadowy mist creatures because they're souls the mists have taken, and the bodies are somewhere else. Viego’s situation is closer to him ACTUALLY being the crown and just possessing his own body constantly, sort of like he'd possess anyone else’s. He's still technically undead though so his only real bodily need is the magic that's keeping him walking around

- The crown can't be moved, his head just moves with it. It's sort of like horns, except they're not actually attached to his head. Yank him around by it ;). He can demanifest it if he tries but it makes him feel numb and weirdly claustrophobic

- Speaking of, is claustrophobic. Man was trapped in a sword for like a thousand years; he was only quasi aware that whole time, kind of like having a nightmare or sleep paralysis, but it still makes him uncomfortable. Doesn't come up much since he just kinda mist teleports out if he starts feeling cramped. If it's ever for some reason necessary he will be holding you like an emotional support stuffy and you won't get a choice about it.

- His tears are black and dissipate into mist after a bit. It's very goth. Can control the amount of mist pouring from his heart; at its thickest it's almost like a small waterfall.

- Lets you put your fingers in his chest hole exactly one time. It was so cold you couldn't actually feel anything. He described it as akin to someone squeezing his heart.

- He can float but it takes concentration and he honestly prefers just walking. Also, he's tall asf. You need something off a high shelf, he's your man.

- His sense of temperature is fucked. He can tell if something's hot, but if you hand him an ice cube and a piece of wood he can't tell which ones colder without looking. Worries his hands are too cold for you since you always feel warm to him (they're not)

- Looking at his reflection weirds him out, and sometimes you catch him staring at his hands. Man doesn't have an introspective bone in his body though so he couldn't tell you why, but really he only sort of remembers what he used to look like and sometimes the dissonance gets to him.

- In the far far future of TIARW some of the restored shades will choose to stay in the kingdom, since apparently Viego was beloved by the people before his wife died and he went fully off the deep end. Viego gets the opportunity to redeem himself to his people and kingdom, and another shot at being king but older and wiser now. With you as his queen, he swears not to make the mistakes of his past and to rule with the best interests of Camavor in mind. Maybe I'll write an epilogue along those lines at some point.

NSFW (under cut)

- Look he's perma stuck in honeymoon phase he's Thirsty

- High libido. A menace if you let him be but 100% respects if you aren't feeling like it, he knows he can be a bit much. Does need lot of physical intimacy but that doesn't need to be sex necessarily, he just likes making you both feel good

- Despite this, doesn't jerk off much. It's being with you that gets him going, not that he specifically wants to get off

- He doesn't get tired. Like ever. 0 refractory, will just go until either you tap out or he's so overstimulated he can't anymore. Watching his cum drip out of you just gets him so worked up though so it's a vicious cycle

- He's got a filthy mind and will have you every which way he can think of, in every room you'll let him. Fav position is probably you riding him cowgirl though; he likes the view

- Likes leaving lovebites, but he lowkey feels bad if he bruises you by accident. He gets carried away and forgets his strength sometimes, you'll have to convince him you're fine. He heals too fast for you to leave marks on though, it's tragic :(

- He's touch starved, we all know this, he was trapped in a sword for a thousand years. In particular though, his neck is very sensitive, as well as his thighs and lower back. Doesn't like the area around his chest cavity being touched. Loves having his hair pulled.

- He's got experience. He was a heartbreaker in his youth and he figures out exactly what you like uncannily quickly

- Love love loves going down on you, he loves watching you and he gets to make you feel good, doesn't even care if he cums as long as he gets to eat you out

- Boss him around, he loves it when you take charge. Loves being both praised and degraded, will try so so hard to be good for you. Edge him until he cries, make him cum over and over, yank him around by the crown and tell him what a pathetic cum drunk slut he is, he'll take it all and beg for more <3

- Not specifically dommy so if you aren't taking the reigns he's the perfect combination of loving and so horny he can't think straight. Tells you how pretty and perfect you are while he makes a fucking mess of you.

- He's so loud. If he's not telling you how good you feel or how perfect you are, he's moaning and whimpering and swearing. Ask him a question and watch him struggle to put a coherent sentence together in real time.

- If you want to give him a task you know he'll fail, tell him to keep quiet. Fucks it up immediately and he gets SO upset, full tears in eyes begging to make it up to you.

- Will happily do whatever makes you both feel good, willing to try most things you want to. Hard limits, wouldn't like saying mean things or hurting you even as part of a scene (receiving tho, yes pls). Also, very mixed feelings about doing it anywhere anyone could ostensibly see you–on one hand everyone should know you're his and he's yours, on the other he'd have to kill them. It would be the only way, they gotta die.

- Aftercare is a must, whole nine yards, hot scented bath and cuddles and affirmations all around.

[literallyjustanerd]

Could you do Cody or Fox for the music thing? Thank you 💖

Thanks for the ask!! And for the two excellent choices. I ended up doing both :) I'll list the songs first then share some details below the cut:

Cody:

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Shelter - Porter Robsinson

Way Out There - Lord Huron

Fox:

Typhoons - Royal Blood

Uprising - Muse

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

Anyone else who wants a 3 song playlist on a character of their choice, please feel free to drop a name in my inbox!

My favourite lyrics from each song and some character rambling below:

Cody:

I love Cody so goddamn much okay he's such a good character for the little we see of him. He's strong but gentle and so scarily competent but he doesn't ask for glory. He's absolutely lethal in a fight but he still tries to end conflict with peace and negotiation wherever he can. He falls so easily into the "big brother" role and gives so much of himself to his brothers without hesitation.

He knows the clones' lot in life and instead of fighting against the inevitable, he puts his strength into fighting for his brothers. The songs I chose (it wasn't an easy choice lol) ended up having a common thread of fighting on despite knowing you'll never have a place in history or be remembered like you should. Because I love to make myself sad about Cody.

Holy Grail - Hunters and Collectors

Started out seeking fortune and glory It's a short song, but it's a hell of a story When you spend your lifetime Trying to get your hands on the holy grail ... I followed orders, God knows where I’ve been But I woke up alone, all my wounds were clean I’m still here I’m still a fool for the holy grail

Shelter - Porter Robinson

When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you I know words won't be enough And they won't need to know our names or our faces But they will carry on for us ... And it's a long way forward, so trust in me I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me

Way Out There - Lord Huron

I'm a long way from the land that I left I've been running through life and cruising toward death If you think that I'm scared, you've got me wrong If you don't know my name, you know it now I belong bodily to the earth I’m just wearing old bones from those who came first There are many more flames when mine is gone They will build me no shrines and sing me no songs

Fox:

Okay I've never really been a Fox girlie but the more I think about him the more I do love exploring his whole deal with being closest to the Chancellor during the war.

Typhoons - Royal Blood

These songs ended up being incredibly angsty and mostly about having your own mind turned against you, inspired by the idea that Fox always had his inhibitor chip slightly active to keep him compliant with Palpatine's orders. Especially when Fox's own free will ran explicitly counter to what he was ordered to do - i.e. shooting down his own brother. I still haven't forgiven him for Fives

The last song is actually about the US, it was released in 2020 about Trump's presidency, but oddly enough I think it fits pretty well in this scenario too lol...

Flashbacks, I’m not letting go Tear me up, cast a shadow I got game face, but it’s all for show Can’t give it up, blow my cover ... My thoughts becoming parasites They live to keep me terrified I tell myself I’ll be alright Typhoons keep on raging, and I don’t know why

Uprising - Muse

Paranoia is in bloom The PR transmissions will resume They’ll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down And hope that we will never see the truth around Another promise, another scene Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed And all the green belts wrapped around our minds And endless red tape to keep the truth confined

Normalisation Blues - AJJ

I can feel my brain a-changin’, acclimating to the madness I can feel my ourrage shifting into a dull, despondent sadness I can feel a crust growing over my eyes like a falcon hood I’ve got the normalisation blues This isn’t normal, this isn’t good I’m detached and I’m distracted, all keyed up but unproductive Vacillating between being all excited and disgusted And then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I’ve made my mental home Connection’s more important now than it ever was, but I’d rather be alone

[dumping-ideas]

I'M DONE READING CURTAIN CALL!!

Warning!Spoilers for the event story

So apparently while it's painful around the latter half, it ends on a hopeful note. And I like that Rui's internal conflict happened not right from the beginning. But man, that Asahi is so shameless lol. You don't just steal a guy you're working with from another troupe to join yours, I'm sure that's a bad manner.

Also Rui loves WxS more than he realizes... that's so sweet. Rui chose to take the logical, obvious choice, but I'm glad Asahi made him realize that it's not what Rui wanted. But it's true, now that I think about if, Rui is the type of person who is unexpectedly moved by his feelings more than his logic, kinda the opposite of Tsukasa and more in line with Toya. Also, Asahi is just a little bit insensitive, but he's genuinely a great guy! And a great actor!! I want to see more of him!! Also, why does he low-key sound like Nakamura Yuichi lol??

I'm glad that Rui now have people he doesn't want to let go. Now I get reminded of SekaHaji's 'the greedy alchemist' line and 88 lyrics--'be greedy for your hopes and dreams'. Glad that Rui is still going strong in his greediness. Take Wonderlands x Showtime all for yourself and realize your dream to make a show that can cross over any walls, Rui!!

And now I realized why in his card, although looked like he was inside the hourglass, Rui was actually outside of it. It showed that he wasn't bound by time just like Nene and Tsukasa. He wasn't trapped, but free to do what he wanted with his time. The illusion of being trapped was his conflict in this event, but now that he decided to help everyone to pursue their dreams while holding on to them for now, he could breath without being constricted by time.

And this event kinda reminds me of Wonder Halloween because Rui worked through his conflict with the plushies as they had more or less the same worries/troubles. Are these occasions just coincidences or does Tsukasa have something to do with it? Also, other than the main story, I don't remember if Wonderland Sekai at night appears in stories other than the main one, so I wonder if the sky in that Sekai corresponds to the real world?

Also, I like this trend of Tsukasa having his own internal conflict going on in other WxS members' focus event lol. Not only his self-confidence took another big hit because he realized his lack of skills again (especially compared to the genius Asahi), but he also had a moment of insecurity when he saw how easily Arc Land casts could keep up with Rui in knowledge and directing. He's frustrated with himself a lot in this event. But Tsukasa is nothing but resilient, and he used said frustration to be even better.

But compared to Asahi, the story is obvious in showing that while Tsukasa is no genius, he's an actor that can cross over any walls through his dedication--the actor that Rui needs to realize his dream. I mean, Asahi had experienced war first hand, and yet he was captivated by Tsukasa's performance as Miles (a mage who brings happiness to a war-torn land) all the same. Tsukasa probably reminded him of Tom Gray at that time. So while WxS never knew war, I got reminded yet again of how strong and genuine Tsukasa's (and WxS of course) wish to make others smile through their shows. And again, Tsukasa wants to make everyone with no exception smile, so that tracks too.

And also, a kinda confirmation that WxS!Luka does share a trait with Tsukasa--they have a hard time sleeping if something's bothering them. It's nice to see the trust between Tsukasa and Rui goes beyond shows, as Tsukasa allowed himself to be reassured by Rui (and how he unknowingly did the same for Rui before lol).

[edit: I just realized something--Tsukasa lowkey thinks he can't stand on his own two feet yet, so that's why he wants to grow outside WxS, but in this event Rui decides to help his friends reach their dreams while not letting them go... They kinda clash, don't they? Tsukasa almost prioritized WxS, but with Rui telling him to cherish both his goal and WxS, I wonder what stance Tsukasa will take...]

And hm... judging from the few hints(??) I can see, is it Emu's focus event next? They highlighted Emu's reaction when Asahi said 'I didn't want to live alone like this'... And more than that, while this event card set show Rui's, Nene's, Tsukasa's, and WxS!Miku's (and probs Tsukasa's subconscious) stances about the time they have, Emu is the only one where we can't get a read on. But unlike the Holy Night card when she looked like she's holding something back, this time she looks refreshed, so I wonder what her focus story will be...

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 25

Hiii.

Note: This chapter contains SMUT. We are all adults so it's okay, but if you are a MINOR, or someone who's name is Elle and has to watch me in the eyes after this day for example, or you simply don't enjoy it, you can skip it. It doesn't change anything for the plot. It begins with the bold "He pins" and it ends with the bold "Kisses you".

MASTERLIST

taglist: @crimsonincursive

25. The offer

When you wake up two hours later Haymitch is in the shower, using his minutes of hot water per day. You close your eyes, feeling the sheets on your skin. The headache is gone, but you don’t want to get up and face the world right now. 

When Haymitch comes to the door, dressed only in a towel around his hips, you watch him with doe eyes. He has a surprisingly fit body for a forty year old who has not done a single physical activity for years except for… worrying, you suppose. His shoulders are strong and firm and while he does not have a six pack, his chest is solid. His arms are shaped and muscular. He has scars all over his body, but you don’t mind, you have yours. It proves he is a fighter, a victor.

Your mouth is watering. He is too handsome for his own good and you think you should celebrate your victory in the trial and suppress your mind from thinking about the people in the mission and your job.

«I say you noticed the toothbrush I sneaked out for you. You are here all the time, it’s only… Hey, like what you see, Sweetheart?» He smirks, noticing your ogling. You giggle and then pout a little when he doesn’t stop.

«Drop the towel and return to bed with me, Sir.» You order. To convince him better, you start to lower the zip in the uniform, slowly revealing your black bra and your underwear. His eyes widen and you just love his reaction.

«The drug in your system…» He begins, but you throw the uniform out of the bed and you practically toss him under you. He won’t be under you for much, you already know. 

«Is gone. I’m your Daisy now.» You reassure him with a kiss, and then another, and another one, until you start peppering kisses on his neck and chest.

«My Daisy…» He closes his eyes in complete pleasure under your caresses and for a minute you think you won this contest, but he starts talking again. «If Coin wants me, I have to go.»

«She has to get in line.» Your pout deepens. 

«Daisy.» He tries to laugh and to kiss your pout away - the very reason you have one, actually - but now you grow annoyed.

«If you don’t want me you can just tell me.»

«I think you noticed how much I want you, Gorgeous.» It’s your turn to smirk at his confession, «But I have to check on the mission. What if they have news?» 

«Nothing happened. Don’t you have a beeping thing? They beep if they need you, and you can’t go in otherwise.» You lean for another peck. «You can just as well stay with me.» You bite his lobe. «I can make you forget. Just a little pause from worrying.»  

He closes his eyes again and his hands are roaming through your body now, checking your thighs first and then keading your breasts, your ass, with so much strength you let out a moan. «You are so beautiful.» He whispers. «What did I do to have you?»

«I’m sure your life was full of sins and somebody chose me as the right torture.» You murmur against his ears, and offhanded with a pelvis hit he is obviously on top again.

«The sweetest torture.» 

He pins his knees to hover over you, tracing a line of wet kisses against your skin. He nuzzles your breasts and then your shoulders with his callous hands and you trap his thumb into your mouth. You bite him a little, letting him go with an outrageous “pop”. 

«Good girls don’t bite.» He reminds you. You look at him with big wide doe eyes, the most innocent look you have.

«And bad girls, sir?» You whisper, and you immediately feel how the word affects him. He’s got a thing for control in bed, he is the one who gives orders. You don’t always follow him blindly.

«Bad girls get punished.» He murmurs in your ear and you gasp in delight when he closes his hands around your neck, adding a bit of pressure. He would never do that without your consent, but you just adore it. He never hurts you, he knows how much he can press. 

«Say that you are mine.» He commands, his eyes are almost predatory, he is a wild animal right now. He looks at you like you are a delicious meal and he is about to eat you, to devour you. It’s intoxicating.

«Am I?» You ask, enjoying the weight on your body and the pressure on your throat. «But you don’t want me.» 

«Daisy…» He warns you, one of his hands going down between your legs to caress you before daring to give you a spank. «Is this mine?»

«I’m all yours.» You cry out, tears in your eyes from the sensitive spot. «My soul, my body, my lips.» 

He smiles, a real smile because your words are real, and he claims your mouth in a passionate and burning kiss, lips crashing onto each other. He frees your neck, kissing it and nuzzling his nose against it for a moment as an apology to your sore skin.

«Good girl.» He praises you, and you let out a moan. You admit you like a lot to be his precious good girl.

He goes down to give attention to your neglected breasts. He kisses the bra’s cleavage with care, cupping and touching them, until he grows bored and decides the brasserie is in the middle of him and his pleasure. He clasps it with a prowess you don’t really want to investigate, tossing it over the bed. 

«Do you promise you’ll never wear clothes again?» He begs between kisses over your flesh, and sometimes he bites. He traces circles with his tongue against your nipple.

«Everyone would see me.» You remind him, and immediately his grip tightens. You know your man. 

«Never.» He confirms and he finally is on his knees to take proper care of you. He slips a finger in you without any warning, and you just know he is about to rip your panties. You can’t afford it now.

«No! Toss them away.» You order, making him laugh. He chuckles and obeys nonetheless. 

«My beautiful, beautiful girl.» He licks and bites and kisses your core and you bite your lip trying not to scream. This man has talent with his tongue. He takes you to the culmination three times and just before the climax he draws back, with a smirk on his infuriating face. The third time you think you’ll have a heart attack. «So delicious, my favourite meal. I would eat you forever.»

«Please, Haymitch…» You beg, and you take his hair in a fist. 

«Please what, Princess?» He asks, playing dumb, a satisfied expression painted on him. He has never been so handsome, with his shining blue eyes, naked in his glory and ready for your beatitude.

«Please make me yours.» 

He suddenly is in you and dear heavens this is where he belongs. Between your legs, pumping into you like his life depends on it, while you break apart and you suppress a scream against his neck. He is not gentle, you’ll have bruises on your back and your ass because he squeezes too much, but it’s a good squeeze, oh so good, and you are not that kind yourself, scratching his back with your nails like you are a wild animal. 

«Let me see you, Sweetheart.» He searches your eyes and when you come with a cry, he follows you with his climax while he kisses you.

You watch him with such fondness he raises an eyebrow.

«What?»

«Nothing.» You dismiss it. «It’s just, even with this mess and the mission and the war, even if our life is in danger… when I look at you I feel like everything will be okay.»

He places a kiss on your shoulder. «Ain’t sure of many things but I’m damn sure I’ll protect you, Gorgeous.»

After the bliss, you lay on the bed again, your hair spread over the pillow and your body… you are not sure you can use your body right now, especially to walk. You have a dumb smile on your face, you already know, and you trace circles around his arm. 

«Are you sure you have to go?» You whine a little. You are aware a twenty something year old does not behave like that, this is a spoiled brat behaviour and you have not been raised like this, and yet you want him to stay at your commands. He doesn’t need to go outside, not when his hot girlfriend is willing to do whatever he wants. Other people would kill for something like that, wouldn’t they? 

…You are being irrational. You know he can’t. Especially when Coin hates you so much and Katniss is on the loose. She is begging for a reason to ground you again or even banish you, and she grows tired of Haymitch every day a little more. 

«Quite sure.» He leans for another kiss while he tries to zip his uniform, which is very hard if you are stopping his hands. «Sweetheart. C’mon.»

«Okay, then I guess I’ll wait for you.» You shrug. You can clean a little, your man is many things but “tidy” is not one of them and you used to be a housekeeper after all. A pretty good one, even.

«Don’t you have a job to do?» He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Not anymore.

«I start tomorrow, they didn’t want any side effects of the drug.» You are assigned to your mother, as an assistant. The thought makes you want to puke, there is a specific reason why you didn’t choose that career and it’s because you don’t like births, or any indication of it. Still you know the herbs and it seemed the logical solution for your lack of job. You can’t have a day or two to think about your career, in District Thirteen. You don’t need a career, you need to be useful to the group.

«Okay, but don’t wait for me. Go to Effie or somewhere else.»

«Maybe.» You can’t even bear to think about it. The corridor between this room and yours is too long.

«Gorgeous, I really don’t mind being used as a stress-relief… in fact, please do it, but would you tell me what’s wrong?»

You don’t look him in the eyes, very busy staring at the grey sheets. It’s humiliating. «I’m scared.»

«Of the guards? Because I talked to them and-» The guards are another thing you don’t want to think about. The guard who dragged you is out there, and the others, the ones with the lizards, are too.

«Of the people. They will look at me and they will know I killed a boy from their home.» 

He stops getting dressed and climbs in the bed to cuddle you. Which is rare. «You don’t know that.»

«But I know. If… I never had to deal with this before. I didn’t meet the Capitol guy’s family. Clark’s family was dead when I landed in Thirteen, but here? I can come into the cafeteria and bump into Caius’s mom. And she has every right to hate me. He was a shitty person but he had a mother, he had a father… Maybe brothers and sisters and I killed him. And the kids at school! They will ask questions. They will think I’m not their teacher because I don’t love them anymore.» Your eyes are tearing and your lips are trembling, and you know you are acting like a child but you are weak in front of the man you love. You can bear being weak in front of someone who’ll never use it against you.

Haymitch kisses your cheek and strokes your hair. «Okay then, stay here forever.»

«You are very funny.» 

«We can share the toilet, share the bed, share the meals, share the clothes, share the underwear…»

«Haymitch! Gross!» You laugh a little but that fades soon. «I can’t go out. Please don’t make me go out. Just for today.»

«Don’t be a baby. I’ll come with you. To Effie, and then to Finnick because you will want to know how he is when you are in your right mind. I have to go to the nursery anyway, Marjorie wants to talk to me.»

You make a face. «I bet she does.»

«Jealousy is not a good look on you. She confirmed your story with Plutarch, you know?» Oh yeah, she did. She’s the one who lost, so you have to be good with her. The jealousy still stings. She may have lost now, but she has been in his mind for twenty four years. The other woman. 

Or, well, you are the other woman.

«Yeah, she is a perfect angel above us all. I saved her life, I can hate her as much as I want.» 

He rolls his eyes. «Get dressed.»

«Funny how men usually tell me the contrary.» You deadpan.

«Usually? Am I not the only man who slept with you?» He knows too much. Effie specifically told you one time not to reveal anything, because a mystery is sexier than the truth. And Effie Trinket is always right.

You wrap a lock of hair over your finger. «Doesn’t mean they didn’t try.» 

«I really don’t think I want to have this conversation.»

You flash him a smirk but you don’t deny him a kiss when in a blink he’s all over you again. «Oh, jealousy is such a good look on you.»

 

You manage to go to your room alone, at the end. Haymitch is with President Coin, discussing something you really want to know - because the people you love are still in the Capitol - but you are forbidden to go with him.

«Sweet darling girl!» You are barely in the room when Effie hugs you tight. «I missed you so much! I was so worried!»

She doesn’t look different, because in your mind you know you saw her three days ago. 

Time has been weird since this spring. Your Games feel ancient, and yet it didn’t pass a year. You are changed so much so quickly. 

«We were so worried.» Portia adds. «And we’re sorry about the school.»

You try not to think about it. If you think about it you start to cry, and you can’t cry right now because Effie would be crushed. You have to protect Effie. 

«It’s still better than prison.» You try to smile. Portia takes your hand and you frown, because Effie is the touchy one.

«Listen, I don’t know if you want to do something like that, but I have an offer.» She reveals. She is excited, you sense.

«For me?»

«Yeah, I mean… you have a good eye for looks and fashion, we’ve seen it in the Games and Effie told me you stole a curtain to make a dress, so you can sew. I know you wanted to be a teacher, but now that's not a possibility anymore, if everything goes well and the war ends you can come working with me.»

«With you?» You are well aware you sound like a parrot right now, repeating every word.

«Well, for me, not exactly with me. An internship, six months, and then you can decide if you want to stay with me or to do something with the things you will learn. So?» 

You are speechless. You did confess to them you wanted to be a tailor when you were in the Games, but now everything is different. For once, you are not really sure there is going to be a better tomorrow. And Portia is a Capitol citizen, she would want to return there. As much as you like Capitol City - your fellow citizens hate the city, you actually like it - Haymitch won’t ever move out of District Twelve. 

«It’s unexpected, I have to… I have to think about it.» 

«You have all the time in the world right now. And of course you can stay at my place or’ Effie’s, if… if we still have a place to live, of course.» 

Do you want it? Yes. The immediate answer is yes. You want to work, you want to be successful under your name and you want money. You can picture yourself, you have so many ideas, so many dresses you can create and so many styles you will learn. Portia is a genius, your dresses for the Games made you feel like a princess and you are smiling right now.

But Haymitch. He would never say no to you, but he hates Capitol City and with a fair reason. You could never do that to him.

«Thank you, Portia. Really.» 

Here, in Effie’s arms chatting with her and Portia, you feel at peace.

It does not last long. After a moment, you hear a scream. You open the door and you see a lot of people in the corridor, looking lost. 

When you spot Marjorie you take her wrist to stop her. 

«What happened?» You ask her. She’s shaken, upset, she’s so pale she could faint any minute.

You start to worry. 

«The Capitol, they bombed, they… they dropped bombs on kids.» She whispers. 

You don’t understand. What kind of move is that?! «On kids?»

«Our kids too.» 

You freeze as your whole world collapses. «M-my kids? The kids in my class?» 

You can see their faces. Some are ten, some are even thirteen, like Prim Everdeen. So grown up. You are so proud of them. 

She’s answering you - she doesn’t know more than you do, you know that, you know and you just want someone else but nobody understands a thing now - when a scream breaks the corridor in two. 

A woman is screaming loudly, she’s desperate. 

And you recognise that voice.

It’s Katniss’s mom, Mrs. Everdeen.

[catiuapavel]

which tactics ogre characters would have cats as pets, and which ones would have dogs?

Unfortunately I've already pondered this question for several characters so I will place them in different categories: in the dichotomy of cats vs dogs and outside of it for a myriad of reasons ranging from (simply prefers other animals or "would kick puppies and cuts a cat's whiskers" type). I only wanted to list the ones I had strong opinions about but then I realized there were so many that I might as well list the entire cast.

Cats:

Catiua: It's in the name 😩 Catiua loves cats because she thinks they're misunderstood creatures, she needs one specifically that's just a nasty little to anyone but her so she can make excuses for their behaviour. Maybe Catiua is a little bit of a cat herself... Beside why would she need a dog when she has Vyce.

Prancet: He is the local stray cats of Golyat feeder but don't be mistaken: he loves dogs nonetheless.

Lanselot Tartaros: Controversial take that I am completely right about but Lanselot is a cat person. I don't see him interested in taking care of a pet but he'd believe that all cats are low-maintenance animals, and would have a cat (but only if they're actually low-maintenance). Giving them a chin scritch every now and then is as much love as he'd manage to show.

Donnalto: Proud owner of the countless cats his children have insisted on adopting across the years.

Olivya: She feeds stray kittens scraps daily, she also traps and rehomes feral cat like it's a hobby.

Hobyrim: As much as I believe that he has had many dogs growing up, and that he truly does like dogs, in his heart... He knows he's a cat person.

Sherri: She's a cat person, no other animal will do. But she also won't let the cat climb on her lap because she doesn't like that the hair sticks to her clothes. She likes (not loves) cats, at a distance.

Xaebos: Persian cat person

Warren: This is a cat-man. He has a cat back in Xenobia, I'm sure of it.

Gildas: Cat person in dog person disguise

Dogs:

Vyce: The game doesn't place all these canine words for fun, he is a dog person. He could use a pet he can do plenty with like going on a long jog with, and playing enthusiastically with. Plus I think he needs to argue with Catiua about how dogs are much better than cats while Denam spaces out for his own well-being. That being said, I do believe Vyce doesn't hate cats, he only pretends otherwise to argue with Catiua. He likes them just fine.

Jeunan: Extremely dog person. In a modern AU, you'd see this man in your local park at 7:30am, 11:45am, 2:45m, 5:30pm and 8:45pm diligently walking his dog (dreamy sigh)

Oz: Everything about Oz screams "cat" me (he's my little meow meow for a start) but Oz absolutely is the type of person who'd own the most impeccable purebred hunting dogs. Not that he would take care of them (he has servants for this, of course). He would mostly enjoy the prestige of having them. Maybe this doesn't make him someone who loves dog but rather sees them as a display of wealth... Let's say he's a nuanced dog person.

Balxephon: Unsufferable owner of only the most award-winning purebred competition dog. He scoffs at lowly strays. That's one more thing for him and Oz to bond over.

Volaq: To Volaq, dogs are the model of loyalty. And Volaq values loyalty above all else (whatever definition of this he may have). So he's a proud dog person.

Ravness: I have no argument to back up my belief she's a dog person. It's just a vibe.

Lanselot Hamilton: is a dog person, I will accept no criticism. (Plus he is Tartaros' narrative foil after all...)

Balbatos: The worst kind of dog owner.

Cerya: BIG dog kind of person. Small dogs will not do, she will not aknowledge their existence. No, Cerya needs the greatest of hounds, the most imposing beast.

Cistina: Small dog kind of person and will not let her big sister know.

Mirdyn: Dog person in cat person disguise

Hektor: Proud dog person.

Neither a dog nor a cat person... but a third option entirely:

Denam: Denam is ambivalent on the matter. He'd probably have both at the same time. (all things remain balanced within the Golyat trio)

Ganpp: Canonly a bird person. In fact Ganpp is one of the only two Tactics Ogre character who canonly loves any animal at all.

Ocionne: She is the second character who canonly loves any animal at all. Not a cat person, not a dog person, not even a bird person... A reptile person this time (dragons count as such for the purpose of this post).

Dorgalua: The game implies he may very well be a bird person.

Canopus: Bird person (ah). He will never admit to it because people (Gildas) will run the joke into the ground.

Dievold & Oelias: I am sure they are both animal lovers. I think Oelias deserves to have a pet like a macaw who will stay with her for a very long time... 😶

Barbas & Martym: These two HATE animals.

Ronwey: He doesn't hate animals. He simply does not like them.

Brantyn: After debating Brantyn being a cat person, then debating Brantyn being a dog person, I have concluded that he isn't interested in animals.

Ozma: I am ambivalent about Ozma, she is either a cat person or a dog person, not both at once, not anything else. I can see Ozma loving her beautiful angora cat and spoiling her like no one else. Unlike Balxephon and Oz, the cat would even be allowed on the bed. On the other hand, Ozma could be the most dedicated dog-owner of all time and I would believe it. She's a riddle.

Leonar: This is a Horse Girl.

Andoras: In my heart, Andoras is a cat person... I don't have any justifications for this, it's just based on a vibe. Realistically, I think he'd be outside of the dichotomy. Maybe he's a fish or a reptile kind of person.

Iuria: She loves all animals but clearly... Iuria loves fish the most.

Azelstan: Dolphins and whales connoisseur.

Cressida: Insects. Most specifically: moths.

Xapan: Cannot be trusted with animals.

Nybeth: I will -personally- take any pet away from him, just like I will take his children away from him.

Deneb: You might be inclined to think that Deneb is a cat person because... Well, witch aesthetics. But the truth is... Deneb is a reptile kind of person. Which is why you have to sell her so many. How she shows her love and if it's beneficial to the reptile is another matter entirely.

Arycelle: She needs someone loyal who won't lie to her and use her... So any animal will do, I suppose.

Bayin, Folcurt, Mannaflora, Vernotta, Lindl, Rudlum, and any other minor villain and character I may be forgetting atm: Insufficient data to be categorized (although my partner is protesting, stating that Folcurt is a dog person and I'm inclined to go along with this).

(Apologies to any character I may have forgotten.)

[buniyaad]

just thinking about clark’s dark crisis dream where he and lois actually get to raise jon, and it’s so cookie cutter perfect bc jon’s NOT clark, but he does have a big head and he’s not afraid to flex it, and clark’s cool with it cuz his kid grows up half kryptonian, but he’s not growing up abused and neglected whereas real!jon is like….

if i say something outta left field, my father might not love me anymore. if i come out of the closet, there might be a distance between us we can never recover from. if i make too much noise, my parents may outwardly grieve losing their ten year old. i can’t tell them ultraman kept me as a therapy dog, bc i’m both afraid and somewhat ashamed and i can’t explain why. im not ten but im supposed to be. i have siblings who i dont know but now live with who’ve experienced violence i won’t understand, yet i grew up in captivity and was expected to cater to the needs of a clinically insane manchild. my dad’s superman so i have to be strong and perform as superman would. if i falter, then am i my father’s son? if im not resilient, then what am i?

and it’s fucking SAD bc for clark and lois, the mourning is rooted in loosing years with their child that don’t exist, whereas jon lived through every minute of that hell, only to come home and realize seven years in hell translated into three weeks of summer vacation. the dark crisis supes story is so bleak bc that jon can NEVER exist. they’ll never walk him through puberty or handling his first date or managing his first mental breakdown. dream jon had the luxury of turning eighteen with his heart and mind and soul intact. our jon still has all his physical capabilities, but he’s so mentally broken that he does shit and you KNOW he means well, but he’s so broken up about it that he makes mistakes even with the best intentions. he comes off as aggressive. he traps a city in a bottle. he doesn’t throatpunch people when he can. he has the grief, but he can’t SHOW it. he has the anger but he can’t express it unless he wants to be locked up in a red sun room. it’s so freakin tragic. they did this to my boy.

[little-diable]

The Professor - Prof!Aaron Hotchner (smut)

We all know I adore professor fics, hence why it was finally time for a Hotch one. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader works as Hotch's TA, helping him with his course work while falling more and more for the professor.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m), p in v, mild choking, age gap, professorxTA, some flluff

Pairing: Prof!Aaron Hotchner x fem!TA!reader (3.7k words)

“This one?” His dark eyes flickered up from the paper he was reading, taking in the book (y/n) held in her hands. A hum rumbled through the man, nodding his head before his gaze wandered back down to the paper. “Alright, I’ll get the copies ready. Coffee?” 

“Please.” Professor Hotchner’s voice dripped with desperation, coaxing a few chuckles out of (y/n). Once again their eyes met, making it harder for her to rip herself free from the grasp the man had on her. With her heart racing and her hands trembling, she almost stumbled out of his office, needing to get some distance between them before she’d say or do something she’d regret later on.

(Y/n) had been working for the man for the past weeks, getting adjusted to his schedule, trying to help him balance between the university and his tasks at the BAU. Professor Hotchner had joined the university to teach a few profiling classes, and ever since (y/n) had been recommended by another professor as a teaching assistant, the relationship between them had evolved into something that almost felt like a friendship.

There was no doubt that (y/n) admired the handsome man, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, as if he was a siren’s call she had chosen to follow, accepting her fatal end in the depth of the ocean. But she’d always sink for him, one with the endless darkness she found herself trapped in, a darkness only Aaron Hotchner could alight. 

At first it had felt like a schoolgirl crush, fascinated by his demeanour, the way he carried himself. Aaron Hotchner was undoubtedly handsome, the dark eyes that told stories not made for faint-hearted students, the big hands that have killed more people than one would assume, the low voice (y/n) heard late at night when she was dreaming of him. 

It had taken her a while to accept her crush on the man she was working for, but somewhere along the way she had found herself growing rather excited to see him almost every single day of the week. She found pride in the way he praised her work, how his eyes lingered on her frame for a tad bit too long. 

“(Y/n)?” His gruff voice forced her closer, making her way back into his office with two cups of hot coffee. “Come here, can you read this?” 

She moved slowly, eyes taking in the frown tugging on his features, the slightly confused glance of his. The professor watched her move towards him, coming to a halt next to his frame to read the scribbling of the student. Heat flushed through her as she felt his eyes on her features, she was standing close enough to smell his cologne – mixed with the scent of coffee, a deadly mixture she found herself addicted to. 

“Mhm, no I can’t. Do you want me to email him?” Their eyes met, she was a bit taller than him, standing next to his sitting frame, and yet she still felt intimidated by the man, by the power he held over her. He had to clear his throat before he spoke up, eyes flickering back down to the paper as if he had to remind himself of his task at hand. 

“No, it’s alright. But thank you, (y/n).” Shudders ran down her spine, still not used to the way he spoke her name, quiet like a confession, though strong enough to remind one of a poem written for those not leaving one's mind even in the depth of the night. With a small nod and a smile sent his way, she chased the distance once again, going back to her copies with a racing heart and her teeth buried in her lower lip. 

***

“No case is the same, of course we find patterns, it’s our job to make these out and to highlight them, but don’t make the mistake of giving into old patterns, just because it’s comfortable. We-” The ringing noise interrupted the professor, gaze wandering down to his phone. With a short “Go through the questions” shot (y/n)’s way he excused himself, disappearing from the room. 

“Alright, we’ll go through the weekly reading now, any questions we should focus on?” Adrenaline shot through her system, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. It wasn’t the first time professor Hotchner had asked her to take over, and yet she still wasn’t used to standing in front of so many students. 

It didn’t take long for the professor to reappear, murmuring a small “Sorry” (y/n)’s way before he took over once again. She loved watching him teach, and found herself admiring the man even more whenever he spoke to curious students, pulling them further into the course work they were revising, leaving them begging for more. 

Aaron Hotchner carried himself with something dark lingering inside of him, something dark (y/n) wanted to uncover, pushing through the layers one by one. Deep down she was yearning for something she shouldn’t even think of, breaking one too many rules with the longing she felt for her boss, a man far older than she was. 

“We have to cut this one short today, I’m sorry. Please prepare next week’s reading and email (y/n) if you have any questions.” (Y/n) started packing the professor’s documents and notes, following him out of the classroom with hurried steps. He kept typing away on his phone, barely sparing attention to the students they walked past, too focused on whatever was keeping him busy. 

“I know we were supposed to put together next week's lecture, but I got called in for a meeting at the BAU. But if you have enough time I can take you with me and we’ll get to work once the meeting is over.” (Y/n) couldn’t help but excitedly chuckle, giving in way too quickly. She had wanted to visit the BAU ever since meeting the professor, wondering where he was spending his time when he wasn’t around her. 

(Y/n) allowed herself to take in his frame as he drove them through the dark city, too concentrated to notice her wandering gaze. With every passing week she grew bolder, no longer caring about the curious glance he’d shoot her when he noticed her staring, no longer caring about the smirk tugging on his lips whenever he returned the curious gazes. 

“It shouldn’t take long, you can wait in my office.” (Y/n) followed the man through the office building, into the elevator and finally towards his work space. She found a few faces she recognised from the pictures professor Hotchner had hung up in his office, finally able to connect the stories he’d share to the ones that had experienced them with him. “(Y/n), this is Emily Prentiss, please feel free to find her if you need anything. My office is right up there.”

He shot her one last smile before he disappeared down the hallway, leaving (y/n) alone with the ones that took in her frame with curious glances. A nervous “Hello” rumbled through her, looking towards Emily for help, hoping that the woman would help her navigate around the unfamiliar surroundings. 

One by one the team members introduced themselves to (y/n), making her feel more at ease with every passing second. Slowly she grew more relaxed around the new faces, sharing a few details about herself, her work as professor Hotchner’s TA – smiling at their chuckles as she called him professor – and answering a few questions about his lectures. 

“I should probably start on my tasks, but it was nice to finally meet you all.” (Y/n) slowly pulled away from the team, moving towards the professor’s office with a smile etched onto her lips. It had been a long day so far, tiredness lingered inside her system, but the team had managed to distract her at least for a few minutes, feeling at ease even though she’d have to push through some more course work. 

Time kept passing by as (y/n) went through her tasks, yawning whenever another wave of tiredness flushed through her, hoping that the professor would find his way back to her soon. His office awfully reminded her of his office at the university, and yet it had somewhat of a homey feel to it, a more personal touch she loved to see. 

(Y/n) could only imagine how the professor’s life looked like outside of his work, the things he’d do on free weekends, who he’d meet up with and where he’d go. She longed to experience him like that – carefree, without the frown etched onto his features. 

***

“(Y/n)?” A soft voice called her name, forcing her to wake with a small gasp. Her eyes shot open, finding a pair of dark ones studying her frame. It took her a few moments to remember where she was, the unfamiliar surroundings and the all too comfortable couch she had been sleeping on. 

“Oh god, I'm so sorry.” An amused chuckle rumbled through the professor as he let go of her shoulder, only to sit down next to her. No longer was he wearing his suit jacket nor his tie, he had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up, exposing parts of his muscular forearms. 

“Don’t apologise, I’m sorry for leaving you alone for so long, it took longer than expected.” An exhausted huff left the man who was still looking at her, making her awfully aware of his closeness. Her limbs were tingling, forcing her to give into the pull she felt, straightening her posture, only to end up with her leg pressed against his. “It’s late, we can go through the lecture tomorrow if you want.” 

“Are you sure? I know how busy your schedule is on Wednesday, professor.” A yawn rumbled through (y/n), followed by a sheepish chuckle rumbling through her. She was too tired to notice the amused gaze he was shooting her, big hand cupping her warm cheek before she could move away. Energy buzzed through (y/n)’s system, the unfamiliar touch was alighting a fire inside of her, fighting against the ever growing tiredness. 

“Please, Aaron’s just fine and as much as I want to keep you around, you need your sleep.” He murmured the words, thumb stroking her skin. If she hadn’t been as tired, (y/n) probably would have frozen, unsure how to react to his words, but now she only leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering close once again. His thumb stroked along her lower lip, feeling the marks her teeth had left behind on the skin, and all (y/n) could do in her tired state was hope that he’d give in and close the small distance between them. 

The world around her could end, burn to the ground like Troy had, infiltrated by enemy forces, and yet (y/n) wouldn’t dare to run, one with the growing heat that would melt her skin. Nothing would ever be strong enough to free her from the grasp the professor had on her body and soul, captured by every part of his scheme like the pirate Lykabas had taken over Akoites ship. 

“Hotch.” Emily’s voice echoed through the night, forcing him to let go of (y/n), calling out a soft “Come in”. (Y/n) watched them with curious eyes, barely able to listen to the words they exchanged, mind still occupied with the thought of Aaron moving closer, about to kiss her. 

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Emily hurriedly left the office, forcing (y/n) to focus on the professor once again. “We have a new case. One of the agents will drive you home, I’ll call you once we’re back.” He squeezed her hand, forcing her to stand up with him, watching the man with tired eyes. 

And with a small “Be careful” murmured his way, the two parted ways.

***

It took Aaron four days to make it back home, texting (y/n) small updates every now and then. Heat filled her whenever his messages found her, forcing a smile to widen on her lips. 

“Come in, please.” The professor had called her on his way home, inviting (y/n) over to finally work on their to-do list together. It was the first time he had invited her over, somehow making her feel awfully nervous with her new surroundings. “Jack’s still with Jessica, but I was ordered to tell you that he misses you.”

“Please hug him tightly and tell him I miss him too.” (Y/n) had met Aaron’s son a couple of times, taking care of him whenever his father had been called in for sudden meetings or when Jessica didn’t have any time. An almost unfamiliar warmth filled her system at the thought of Jack missing her, hoping that she’d soon be able to spend time with him again. 

“Will do, do you want anything to drink?” The sun was about to set, drenching the kitchen in a deep orange, alighting Aaron’s calm features. He had something awfully intriguing to him, a need to uncover the thoughts racing through his mind filled (y/n), a need she had to push away before it could consume every part of her body. 

“Water’s fine, thank you.” She followed him around, taking the water with a grateful smile before he led her to his office. And even though (y/n) found herself distracted by his shelves filled with books she wanted to explore, the pictures hung up on the walls, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel excited about being around the professor once again. 

Aaron started going through their list, asking questions here and there, clearly valuing her thoughts and opinions. But all (y/n)’s mind could think of was the way he had touched her back at the BAU, how he had caressed her skin, moving closer so that she could feel his warmth radiating off him. 

“All there’s left to do is upload the scan, I will do that tomorrow morning.” (Y/n) murmured, scribbling down her notes as he closed his laptop. For a few moments they were engulfed by nothing but silence, a calming silence her heart clung to, appreciating the moments they spent together. Aaron was already looking at her when she lifted her gaze, taking in the small smile he wore on his thin lips. “But I don’t want to take up any more of your time, you must be exhausted.”

“You don’t need to leave just yet, you can stay for dinner, if you want.” His voice didn’t carry much strength – as if he was scared of her rejection, wondering if he was making her feel uncomfortable with his offer, and yet all she could do was smile, giving in once again.

The two made some smalltalk as Aaron got to cooking, telling her about his case, the things he picked up on and what they should highlight for their students. All while she was sitting on his kitchen island, not allowed to help even though she had offered to take over a handful of times. (Y/n) enjoyed seeing him this relaxed, like a new version of a character she was getting to know, desperate to uncover what the author had kept hidden from her till now. A certain kind of curiosity that could get her killed, if she wasn’t careful. 

“Here, try this.” He moved closer with a spoon, resting between her thighs as he watched her taste the sauce. Their eyes didn’t break contact once, giving the gesture an awfully intimate touch to it. The professor didn’t move from (y/n), not as she praised his cooking, not as he placed the spoon down, gaze flickering back to her lips and up to her eyes. 

With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) felt him move closer, slow enough to give her enough time to stop him should she want him to – not like she’d ever dare to. His warm hand found its way to her cheek, momentarily making her feel as if she was stuck in a deja-vu, eyes fluttering close to give into the soft kiss. 

A kiss like this one was something she had always imagined experiencing, soft without any rush, though with enough pressure to reassure her that this wasn’t just a dream. This was very much real, allowing her to live through something she had been praying for to happen. Aaron didn’t let go of her, keeping her close as his free hand found her neck, trying to move her even closer towards him. 

They parted with a deep sigh, desperate for air to fill their aching lungs, and yet cursing their bodies for interrupting this intimate moment. For a few moments all they did was look at one another, taking in their slightly swollen lips and wide eyes, before a chuckle rumbled through him, kissing her once again. 

“Let’s get some food into your system before I tire you out.” 

***

“Fuck, look at you, so greedy for me.” (Y/n) was kneeling on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the professor with wide eyes. She wasn’t wearing anything but her panties, lips parted for his cock, ready to swallow as much of him as she could take.

After trying to eat some of their food, she had found herself pressed against his chest, kissing him breathless as he carried her into his bedroom, not daring to let go of her. Even though he had asked her a few times if she truly wanted this, (y/n) still had a hard time processing that this was about to happen, that she finally got to touch the man she had been longing for. 

A moan rumbled through Aaron as she swallowed around his cock, gagging the second he reached the back of her throat. Her glassy eyes didn’t dare leave his pleasure-drunken features, staring at him as if he was explaining the secrets of their world to her. He held a dark magic over her, a spell guiding her through the uneasy paths he was leading her on. 

With his hand placed on the back of her head, he guided the bobbing motion of her head, forcing her to take more of him with every movement. Tears dripped from her eyes, a sight that left the tall man groaning, high on her. He was corrupting her, blemishing her body and soul, but neither the professor nor (y/n) dared to part from one another. They had tasted the forbidden fruit, finding comfort in the wrongs they were doing, in the laws they were breaking. 

“Atta girl, doing so well for me.” Her trembling hands pumped the parts her mouth had a hard time reaching, tracing the pulsing veins, tasting his precum on her rough tongue. God, she never wanted this moment to end, wanting to pleasure him till she’d pass out from her lack of air. It felt like she had been made for him, for him only. 

She felt him twitch in her mouth, about to release himself in her mouth, painting her warm cheeks white with his cum. (Y/n) kept bobbing her head, not daring to slow down as he teetered on the brink of the abyss, about to be consumed by his orgasm. But Aaron pulled away seconds before his release could rock through him, wanting to feel her tightness wrapped around him. 

“Onto the bed, spread your legs for me.” The authoritative tone of his voice made her walls clench around nothing, desperate to be filled by him. (Y/n) wordlessly followed his command, resting on his comfortable mattress, allowing him to pull her panties down her legs, groaning at the sight of her cunt. She was dripping for him, body clearly calling out to the man, begging him to give in. 

Aaron’s thumb found her clit, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before he reached for a condom, rolling it down on his cock. Their eyes searched one another as he aligned himself with her entrance, slowly pushing into her. They moaned in unison, needing to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation, already high on the feeling of one another. Both were addicted, and would forever be haunted by this very moment, not daring to leave their minds. 

“Don’t stop, fuck, please.” (Y/n) barely spared her words a thought, not wasting her energy on the things she spoke, could only focus on the feeling of his cock nudging her swollen spot with every ferocious thrust. No longer was he taking his time, allowing her to get used to his size, no, by now Aaron was set on leaving marks on her body, marks left behind like presents for her to unwrap in the upcoming days. 

Soft praises rumbled through him, slowly losing himself in the emotions thumping through his veins, guiding him closer to the high he had almost given into minutes ago. He kept circling her bundle of nerves with one hand, while the other found her throat, lightly squeezing. Her wide eyes stayed focused on his features, moaning for the professor and the possessive grasp he had on her. 

Her walls fluttered around his cock, soon she’d give in, letting go for the man that had claimed her months ago. He made her feel things one could only dream of, marvelling at her as if she was some ancient goddess no other human being had ever laid eyes on. 

(Y/n)’s eyes fluttered close as her orgasm rocked through her, choking on his name. Aaron kept fucking her through her high, not daring to let go before she slowly relaxed beneath him. He followed her down the edge a few moments later, releasing himself into the condom with a soft groan rumbling through his fleshcage. 

“This was much better than in my dreams.” (Y/n) mumbled against his lips, chuckling as he pinched her side, trying to get used to feeling her this close. A breathless kiss was shared between them before Aaron slowly let go, staring down on her for a moment or two. 

“Trust me, I dreamt about this numerous times, but nothing will feel as good as the real you.”