#i could raise the stakes higher

[oofouchstovehot]

@ravthegrave if I hit 100 followers by Halloween I'll drop my wattpad account, put everything I've got saved on a public list, and give out some free commissions in the ask box

[soldier-poet-king]

Rlly wish i wasn't the kind of person who is needlessly sensitive and gets unreasonably bothered when I see Bad Posts and YET.....

I have dumb idiot baby emotion disease

[imloyaltoscoups]

first and last | kim mingyu

As you sit on the soft grass, the gentle breeze playing with your hair, you glance over at Mingyu, a warm smile on your lips. "Mingoo, remember our first meeting?" you ask, your voice filled with nostalgia. "It feels like we were in a K-drama," you continue, your eyes sparkling with fond memories. "I still get butterflies remembering that," you add, your heart fluttering at the thought of that magical moment when your paths first crossed.

You're standing in line for the Full Throttle at Six Flags, surrounded by the excited chatter of fellow thrill-seekers. Ahead of you, a group of guys catches your attention as they cheer on a towering figure, Mingyu, who stands at a formidable 6 feet tall. You overhear one of them, Minghao, encouraging Mingyu to conquer his fears.

"Come on, Mingyu, you've got this! Conquer those fears! You're a big man!" Minghao exclaims, his voice filled with determination.

But Mingyu's response surprises you, as he defiantly declares, "Fck the fears, I'm gonna die riding that," He points towards the looming roller coaster with a mixture of fear and determination.

A smile tugs at your lips as you observe Mingyu's resolve, wondering why someone of his stature would be afraid of heights. The banter continues among the group, with another guy chiming in, offering Mingyu $500 just to take on the roller coaster challenge.

"Hey, Gyu, I'll give you $500 if you ride it!" the guy exclaims, his offer adding a new layer of excitement to the atmosphere. Jeonghan, another member of the group, joins in with a playful grin, egging Mingyu on.

As you watch the scene unfold, you can't help but be amused by the mix of comradeship and friendly dares among the group. It's moments like these that make waiting in line at an amusement park just as memorable as the rides themselves.

You began ponder the tempting offer of $500 for conquering a fear, you can't help but imagine yourself in Mingyu's shoes. The allure of the cash prize seems almost irresistible, and you find yourself mentally calculating all the things you could do with the extra money.

Just as Mingyu hesitates, contemplating the proposition, another voice cuts in. It's Soonyoung, one of the guys in the group, offering up an alternative deal that raises the stakes even higher.

"I'll do all your chores for a whole year, and Seungkwan can be your personal slave for five months," Soonyoung declares confidently, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Seungkwan, caught off guard by the unexpected proposal, quickly interjects with a hint of displeasure, "What do you mean I'll be a slave?! Why am I even inserted to this conversation??!!"

The sudden turn in the conversation adds a new layer of amusement to the group's banter, as Seungkwan protests while Soonyoung looks on, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. Meanwhile, Mingyu is left contemplating his options, torn between the promise of financial reward and the entertaining offers being thrown his way.

With a resigned sigh and a hint of determination, Mingyu nods in agreement to Soonyoung's offer. However, before sealing the deal, he decides to play it safe and ensure there's solid proof of the promises made.

Pulling out his phone, he turns to his friends, a serious expression on his face. "Alright, guys, I need you to repeat all the words you just promised," he says, his tone firm yet fair.

One by one, Mingyu's friends oblige, reciting their pledges with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Soonyoung reaffirms his commitment to take on all of Mingyu's chores for a year, while Seungkwan reluctantly acknowledges his role as a "personal slave" for five months, though not without some grumbling. Jeonghan then showed his $500 stating he will give it to him after the ride.

Each promise is recorded on Mingyu's phone, a sense of accountability settles over the group, turning their lighthearted banter into a more official agreement. With the evidence safely captured, Mingyu nods in satisfaction, ready to face the challenge ahead with the added assurance that his friends will uphold their end of the bargain.

As the first batch of riders exits, the crew signals for the next group of eighteen to step forward. You eagerly join the line, deciding to sit at the front of the ride, convinced that the experience will be more thrilling there. As you take your seat, you notice Mingyu trembling in the front row, clearly anxious. Settling in beside him, you can hear him muttering under his breath, rethinking his life choices with every passing second.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Mingyu murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of dread and resolve. “Why did I let them talk me into this? $500 isn’t worth my life…I’m going to die," Mingyu whispers, his voice shaky.

You feel torn between laughing at the absurdity of the situation and feeling pity for him. Despite Mingyu being a stranger, you instinctively reach out your hand to offer some comfort. He looks at your hand, hesitant and unsure.

When the crew member approaches to check your safety belt, Mingyu finally decides to take your hand. His grip is cold as ice, and you can see his face growing paler by the moment, knowing the ride will start any second now.

"It’s going to be okay," you say softly, trying to reassure him, even though you’re not sure if your words will help.

Mingyu squeezes your hand tighter, his eyes shut tightly as the ride's mechanisms begin to clank and whir, signaling the imminent start. You both take a deep breath as the coaster jolts forward, ready to face the thrill together.

As the roller coaster starts its ascent, the excitement of Mingyu's friends in the other rows fills the air. You hear Dokyeom's panicked cries to be let out, his voice rising above the din of the crowd.

"Let me out! Let me out!" Dokyeom shouts desperately, his fear palpable.

Jeonghan tries to offer some reassurance, albeit in a slightly unconventional way. "Just close your eyes and pretend you're a pigeon," he suggests, though it doesn't seem to do much to calm Dokyeom, who's now screaming at the top of his lungs.

Glancing over at Mingyu, you see him holding onto your hand tightly, his knuckles turning white as he grips the lap bar with his other hand. Despite his own fear, he seems determined to weather the ride, finding comfort in your presence.

You give Mingyu's hand a reassuring squeeze, offering silent support as the coaster climbs higher and higher. As the roller coaster reaches its peak, the breathtaking view spreads out before you, captivating your senses with its beauty. You turn to Mingyu, a smile on your face as you encourage him to open his eyes and take in the magnificent panorama.

"Wow, look at that view," you exclaim, nudging Mingyu gently, hoping to share the moment of awe with him.

But as Mingyu reluctantly opens his eyes, the ride suddenly lurches forward, the ground dropping away beneath you with heart-stopping speed. A string of colorful curses spills from Mingyu's lips, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

"Son of a—! Oh, sh Why now?! Fu—ck!" Mingyu's voice cuts through the rush of wind as the coaster hurtles downward with grand acceleration.

You both cling to the safety bars, the wind whipping past you as gravity pulls you faster and faster towards the ground below. Mingyu's curses mix with the exhilarated screams of your fellow riders, creating a chaotic symphony of sound that fills the air.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration as the coaster races along its twisting track, each twist and turn adding to the thrill of the ride.

As the roller coaster screeches to a halt, bringing the adrenaline-fueled ride to an end, you can't help but let out a laugh, the exhilaration still coursing through your veins.

"Well, that was fun!" you exclaim, turning to your seatmate with a grin. "Again!"

But as you glance at Mingyu, you notice that he seems to have melded with the seat, his body limp and drained from the intense experience. Concern washes over you, and you gently remove your hand from his and reach out to touch his cheek and forehead.

"Hey, you good?" you ask softly, your voice filled with genuine worry.

Mingyu lets out a tired murmur, his words barely audible amidst the post-ride chaos. "That… that'll be the first and last," he mumbles, his tone a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

You nod understandingly, realizing that the roller coaster may have been a bit too much for him. With a comforting pat on his shoulder, you reassure him that it's alright, grateful that you were able to experience the thrill together, even if it was just for this one time.

As the crew begins to unbuckle the seat restraints, you notice Mingyu struggling to stand, his legs feeling like jelly after the adrenaline rush. Nearby, Dokyeom looks equally wobbly, his friend Joshua supporting him on his shoulder.

"Whoa, easy there," Joshua says, steadying Dokyeom as he tries to regain his balance.

Seeing Mingyu in a similar state, some of his friends rush over to offer their support and encouragement.

"You did great, Mingyu! That was wild!" one of them exclaims, patting him on the back.

"Yeah, you conquered your fear like a champ!" another adds, offering a helping hand to help him stand.

With Mingyu surrounded by his friends, you realize that your role in comforting him is over. Excusing yourself politely, you decide to seek out your own friends.

As you make your way through the crowd, thoughts of the thrilling rides ahead fill you with excitement. It's time to involve your friends once again in your own extreme rides adventures.

__

Exhaustion begins to settle in, and some of your friends are busy dealing with the aftermath of the extreme rides—whether it's puking or cursing you—you can't help but feel your stomach rumble with hunger.

"Man, I'm getting hungry," you remark to your friends, the weariness evident in your voice.

Inspired by a sudden burst of generosity (or perhaps guilt for dragging them into this mess), you decide to treat your friends to a meal. After all, nothing soothes the soul like some good food, right?

After successfully treating your friends, you find yourself in line for food alongside Mingyu, who seems to share your craving.

"Hey there," you greet him with a friendly smile. "Hungry after all that excitement?"

Mingyu returns the smile, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah! All that adrenaline has left me starving."

As you wait in line together, a thought crosses your mind, and you decide to strike up a conversation.

"So, did you ever get that reward for your bravery?" you ask, curious about the outcome of Mingyu's daredevil feat.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he proudly displays the crisp bills in his hand, a wide grin spreading across his face. "$500, baby!" he exclaims, his excitement palpable.

You nod approvingly, impressed by his reward. "Congratulations, well deserve!" you congratulate him sincerely.

As you both reach the front of the line and collect your food, you excuse yourself politely. Mingyu nods in understanding, but before you can walk away, he speaks up.

"Hey, wait!" he calls out, causing you to pause and turn back to him.

"Yeah?" you respond, curious about what he wants to say.

Mingyu's expression is earnest as he asks, "What's your name?"

You chuckle at his sudden inquiry. "It's Y/N," you reply, raising your voice slightly so he can hear over the bustling crowd.

"Got it! Thanks, Y/N!" he calls back with a smile, waving as you continue on your way back to your friends.

As the day at the theme park unfolds, you and Mingyu continue to cross paths, it seems like fate keeps bringing you together, each encounter more unexpected than the last. Eventually, the groups decided to merge into one, seamlessly blending into a single entourage of lowkey party animals.

Suddenly, one of your friends spots a photobooth and suggests giving it a try. Excited by the idea, they start pairing up for photos. Just as you're about to join in, you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see Mingyu standing there, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Uhm, Y/N, do you want to take a picture with me?" he asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

A smile spreads across your face at the unexpected invitation. "Sure, I'd love to!" you reply enthusiastically, touched by Mingyu's gesture.

As you both step into the photobooth together, the anticipation builds. The photobooth flashes and captures each moment, you and Mingyu let loose, allowing your personalities to shine through in each snapshot. The photos turn out to be a delightful mix of candid and playful moments, portraying a sense of genuine connection and warmth between you.

In one picture, you both share a laugh, caught in a moment of pure joy as you exchange playful banter. In another, Mingyu wraps his arms around your shoulder (hugging you from behind), pulling you close as you flash matching grins at the camera. Each image exudes an undeniable sense of closeness and affection, making it seem as though you're more than just friends enjoying a day out at the theme park.

As you both step out of the photobooth, you can't help but admire the adorable pictures that now serve as a tangible reminder of the bond you share with him. With a smile, you tuck the photo strip into your pocket, knowing that these snapshots will be treasured for years to come, capturing a moment that felt like love in its purest form.

As the day draws to a close at the amusement park, Mingyu musters up the courage to ask for your number, his expression hopeful yet tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Hey, Y/N, can I have your number?" he asks, his voice soft but determined.

A warm feeling washes over you as you realize that this might be the beginning of something special. "Of course," you reply with a smile, eagerly sharing your contact information with him.

As you exchange numbers, a sense of excitement bubbles within you, and you can't help but wonder if this could be love at first sight for both of you.

__

Fast forward to the present, you find yourself holding the photobooth picture you took with Mingyu all those years ago. The memories come flooding back, and a pang of longing grips your heart as you realize just how much you miss him.

"I really miss you, my Mingoo," you murmur softly, your voice trembling with emotion. Tears gather in your eyes as you gaze at the picture, wishing desperately that he could still be with you.

Turning towards Mingyu's tombstone, you reach out a trembling hand to touch it, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I wish you were still here," you whisper, your words filled with sorrow and longing.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 8) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Angst; Arguing/Fighting; Some Crying; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake tell Bradley about the baby.

Series Master List

Master List

A.N. Two chapters in one week! Hope that you guys enjoy Bradley’s reaction!

A pin could have dropped in that moment and it would have sounded like a bomb went off in Maverick’s house. It was that silent. 

Bradley’s face was slowly growing red with anger, though he didn’t open his mouth. Yet. After a brief staring contest with your brother, you pulled Jake further into the house. Bradley was burning holes into Jake’s head and Jake was returning the sharp look with a sense of defiance that was not going to be productive in the long run.

You glanced up at Emma, who was staring at her husband with concern, and then Maverick, who was looking between Rooster and Hangman, like he was waiting for one of them to jump at each other. Holding in your emotions and trying to keep up a face of calm despite the tension, you turned back to your brother. 

“Bradley,” you started off with carefully, “you can stop glaring at Jake now.”

“So, the whole ‘nothing is going on between us’ was a big fat lie then?” Bradley asked rhetorically, turning to look at you. 

“Maybe we were worried that you would be hostile to the news,” you commented in return, staring down your brother for a moment. When he scoffed at your answer, you added, “Clearly we were wrong.” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Bradley continued, causing you to purse your lips together. 

“No, it’s not. It’s real.” 

Bradley turned to Maverick, who turned to him with a rather stoic expression. Maverick glanced over at you and Jake, not judging but not necessarily overly supportive either, before turning back to Bradley. Frowning, Bradley turned back to you and Jake, who hadn’t moved to release your hand. 

“And when the hell did this start?”

“Around the time that you guys got back from your last deployment,” you lied, taking the lead on the questions. 

“You’ve been hiding this for five months?” 

“More or less.” 

“More or less?” Bradley repeated with an attitude. 

“Should we start dinner then?” Emma cut in, grabbing her husband’s shoulder with a sharp squeeze. “Before it gets cold?”

“Yes,” you agreed with Emma. 

“Great,” she replied, walking around and quickly grabbing all of the knives off of the table in quick succession. “We won’t be needing these today.”

The five of you sat down at the table and passed around dinner. Rooster continued to glare at Jake and Jake was very happy to return the glare. Maverick kept an eye on them as he was sitting in between them, but you weren’t fully convinced that nothing would happen.

Jake and Bradley had a history of being volatile around each other, and you just raised the stakes. And you were only going to raise them even higher. 

“Aren’t you going to ask us how we met, Brad?” you questioned, causing your brother to turn to shoot you a look.

“Of all of my teammates, of all of my squads, of all the guys in the fucking world, you had to pick him?” Bradley scoffed, gesturing to Jake, who narrowed his eyes at Rooster’s comment. “The only one that I specifically told you to stay away from.” 

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” you replied, returning your brother’s look. 

“Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason why I told you to stay away from him?”

“Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Am I not allowed to have my own opinions on people?” you scoffed, leaning forward in your seat. “And just because someone has a problem with you, that doesn’t mean that they have a problem with me too.” 

“Fine, then I’ll ask you, Seresin,” Bradley stated, turning to Jake, “Why, out of all of the girls in Miramar, were you going after my sister?”

“Why did you go after Emma?” Jake asked rhetorically. “We found each other attractive and we had some stuff in common.”

“What the hell could you possibly have in common?”

“We both think that you’re overreacting right now, to start off with,” Jake replied, causing Maverick to sigh and reach for his beer. 

“And what’s your favorite trait of my sister?” Bradley asked, narrowing his eyes. “Since you know her so well.”

“She takes what life throws at her and keeps moving forward with her chin up. She doesn’t let anyone or anything slow her down for too long.” 

Emma nodded, quite honestly looking impressed with Jake’s answer, while Bradley only continued to glare at Jake. You quietly let your heart flutter a bit in your chest but you kept your gaze on the ground. Maverick, glancing between Jake and Bradley, decided to take the lead for a moment. 

“When did you two actually meet and get together then?”

“We met for the first time at Brad and Emma’s wedding,” you started off with, sharing a look with Jake as you reached for your water. “But we didn’t really talk too much.” It wasn’t too big of a lie, but maybe a stretch of the truth. “Then we talked a lot the night that you guys came back from your last deployment and started going out a little while after that.”

“Well, I have to ask,” Rooster drawled sarcastically, “who made the first move?”

“I did,” you replied simply. 

“You did?” Bradley and Maverick asked at the same time, both looking surprised. 

“Yes.”

“You did?” Bradley repeated. 

“Are you going deaf?” you countered, straightening up more. “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Bradley,” Emma sighed, rubbing her face. 

“Because I was attracted to him,” you explained, not quite having the courage to look over at Jake while you spoke. “Is that a crime?”

“No, it’s not,” Emma replied to your defense. 

“It’s a concern,” Bradley stated, earning a look from his wife. 

“Anyways,” you cut in, “we’re dating and we’re going to move in together.”

You hoped that breaking it piece by piece would help ease Bradley’s reaction and avoid an explosion. And you really just hoped that your calculations weren’t too far off. 

“You’re moving—do you even know him!?” Bradley snapped, causing you to roll your eyes at him and lean back in your seat. “You can’t just move in with a guy you just met!”

“We’ve known each other for over a year and we’ve been dating for a few months,” you replied calmly. “It’s not like we’re teenagers who don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” you snapped back defensively.

“Who’s apartment?” Maverick asked, causing you to turn to him.

“Jake’s for now,” you stated, glancing at Jake from the corner of your eye. 

“Why?” Bradley scoffed.

“It’s nicer and my lease is up first.”

“Why the rush?” Bradley pressed on, feeling that something was off with the whole situation.

“When you know, you know,” you replied, dodging the question.

“That's a bullshit answer.”

“It’s still an answer,” you scoffed right back at your brother.

“Who’s idea was that then? The whole moving in together one?”

“Mine,” Jake answered honestly. 

“Of course, it was,” Bradley replied, finding some new ammunition against Jake. “And why did you—the guy who told me at Coyote’s bachelor party that he wasn’t the type to settle down and have the ‘white picket fence’ life—suggest that the two of you should move in together after dating for five months?”

“Bradley,” you snapped, though it lacked substantial force behind it. 

You weren’t sure if the comment that Bradley was referring to actually came out of Jake’s mouth or if he actually meant it, but either way it was taking you a moment to process. You did the math and remembered that Coyote’s bachelor party was during the time where you were ignoring Jake. Maybe that had a role in it? But you didn’t want to dwell on it in front of your brother and Mav. You had to stay focused. 

“And how long was your most serious relationship again, Hangman? Last you told me, it wasn’t even a year.”

“Stop being a dick, Bradley,” you replied, this time with more force. 

“Honestly, do you really think that this is going to last?” Bradley directed at you, causing you to narrow your eyes. “Where do you see this relationship actually going?”

“Why don’t you just wait and see, Rooster?” Jake drawled, drawing Bradley’s glare to him. “Because I’m pretty sure that she can figure out what’s right for her.”

“Or what’s right for you?” Bradley countered. “Because those are two different things, Seresin.”

“Bradley,” Emma called, trying to ease the tension a bit more, “let her make her own choices. You telling her that it’s a bad idea isn’t going to lead to the result that you want.”

“Thank you, Emma,” Jake spoke up, causing Bradley to roll his eyes dramatically.

“You seriously think that you see a long-term future with him? Like marriage? Kids? All of that shit?” Bradley questioned you again. 

“Yes, I do,” you spoke so quietly that no one really heard you. 

“What?”

“Yes, I do,” you said louder despite the fact that your leg was starting to nervously bounce. 

“You’re serious?” Bradley demanded of you, almost scoffing in disbelief. “You didn’t marry Connor and you were with him for five years and you’re telling me that you’ve spent what? A couple of months with Hangman? And you can already see a long-term future with him?  That you’re already moving in with him? Really?”

“Bradley,” Emma warned him. 

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” you snapped, getting to your feet. 

Maverick called your name, trying to keep the peace, but you ignored him. Tossing your napkin down onto the table with a huff, you rounded on your brother. 

“And you wonder why I don’t tell you shit! Stop acting like you’re a goddamn saint, Bradley! You’re not! You never have been! I’m not the only one who can mess up! We’re both screw ups! We’re both fucked in the head! And Mom would be so proud of us and how we turned out, wouldn’t she!?”

Letting the tension roll off of your shoulders, you slowly sank down into your seat, the reality of your words hitting you. Not because you felt bad about what you yelled at your brother, but because of where your thoughts suddenly landed. 

Staring down at your hands for a second, you tried to discreetly wipe the tears that leaked from your eye before they got too far. Rubbing a tear between your finger and thumb, you felt Jake’s hand on your thigh, silently reminding you that he was there. 

You hadn’t really dwelled on how your mom would have reacted to the news about the baby, if she was still alive. You didn’t let yourself, actually.

After your mom died and definitely after Bradley left you behind with Maverick while he figured out his own life, you really buried all of that. You didn’t let yourself think about what your mom would have said or thought in these situations. You locked it all up and buried the key.

She would have had an opinion, certainly. She probably would have had some sharp words with a sweet Southern coating that would have struck far more fear into Jake than anything that Bradley could throw at him. But she was the type to give a hug out as quickly as a threat, so you assumed that all would have been forgiven once she knew he was serious.

And you realized with a shaking hand that you desperately wanted your mom there with you. She didn’t even get to see you in a prom dress or have a crush, for hell’s sake. 

Sharing a glance with Jake, who looked concerned for you, you slowly turned back to Bradley. Your brother’s anger was gone for now, his expression mirroring Jake’s own concerned one. But you had a feeling that you would see the anger slowly seep into his gaze again shortly. 

“You want to know what’s really going on?” you asked, staring down at your hands.

“Of course, I do,” Bradley replied immediately. 

“Alright,” you began. Picking up your head, you locked eyes with your brother. “I’m pregnant.”

“You . . .” Bradley paused, looking like his brain short circuited for a moment. “You’re . . .”

“Yes,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. 

You got up from the table and grabbed your purse. Rifling around, you pulled out your ultrasound photo and moved to hand it over to Bradley. He took it carefully, still stunned, and when he saw your name stamped in the margin of the photo, he knew that it was true. 

It wasn’t a joke—you were pregnant with Jake’s baby.

You held your breath a bit, waiting for him to react and gripped the back of the seat tightly as you stayed standing. You could also see Maverick and Jake on the edges of their seats, waiting for his reaction. Bradley silently held out the ultrasound photo to Emma, who took it from him carefully, before turning back to Jake. 

And then you saw the flash. 

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley roared, leaping to his feet. 

Chairs clattered and scratched against the floor as Jake and Maverick jumped to their feet too. Emma was yelling after her husband and you were calling after Jake, though when you moved to grab him, Emma pulled you back a step. Maverick put himself in between Bradley and Jake, keeping them separated with a hand on each of their chests. 

Rooster was boiling with rage, looking madder than a bull, and Jake appeared firm in the fact that he wasn’t going to back down. Maverick certainly had his work cut out for him. 

“You got my little sister pregnant, Seresin!?”

“And your little tantrum doesn’t change that!”

“I don’t care, you fucking bastard!”

“Bradley, stop!”

“Do you even love her!?” Bradley demanded from Jake. “Do you even care about her!?”

“Of course, I care about her!”

“Then why did you get her pregnant!?”

“I didn’t mean to do it, it was just something that happened!” 

“Bradley, stop it!” you shouted at your brother. “Jake!” 

“Are you even going to stay around to meet the kid or are you going to leave them hanging?” 

“Bradley!” 

“Both of you need to sit down now,” Maverick snapped, somehow managing to hold them apart. “You’re stressing her out!”

“He’s the one stressing her out!” Jake scoffed, glaring at Bradley. “She’s been worried about you reacting like a toddler for weeks!”

“Jake!” 

“She’s stressed because you knocked her up, you moron!”

“Bradley, stop it!”

“Sit down!” Maverick snapped, but neither Bradley nor Jake seemed to be willing to back down. 

“You’re not her fucking protector! She’s an adult, Rooster, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know her and I know that I’ll be the one consoling her when your ass gets cold feet, Seresin!”

“ENOUGH!”

The argument stopped immediately and everyone turned to where Emma was standing at the other end of the table. She certainly wasn’t the most imposing woman, but she had the ability to make her voice thunder across the room. And if her voice didn’t strike fear in them, her glare definitely did. 

“Now!”

Though he didn’t look happy about it, Bradley stepped back from Maverick and begrudgingly retook his seat. When Jake didn’t move from where he was standing, Emma pointed aggressively at his chair and wore an expression that screamed ‘try me bitch.’ Letting out a quiet mutter, Jake sat back down in his chair. 

“Now, the two of you are going to sit down and have a conversation like adults because you’re two grown ass men and not children.” Turning to Rooster first, Emma asked, “Is your support for your sister or your niece or nephew going to change depending on who the baby’s dad is?”

“Of course not,” Rooster replied defensively. “In this case, it’s only increasing it actually.”

“And Hangman, are you going to let what Bradley thinks about you change how you feel about her or the baby?”

“Absolutely not,” Jake stated, staring down Rooster with a challenging expression. 

“Good, so you can both agree that your first priority is making sure that she and the baby are happy and healthy?” With sharp nods from Jake and Bradley, Emma continued, “Good. Now figure your shit out like adults.” 

“Thank you,” you breathed out, pulling her in for a tight hug that she quickly returned. 

“Anytime.”

Emma gave you a tight hug, shooting both Bradley and Jake a look to be on their best behavior. Jake eventually let out a quiet chuckle as he turned back to Rooster. 

“Guess we know who wears the pants in your relationship,” Jake commented with a smirk, causing Maverick to shake his head. 

“I’d look to your right there, Hangman.”

Jake turned his head to find you shooting him a sharp look. Emma laughed to herself when Jake suddenly appeared sheepish about his comment.

Rooster rolled his eyes again and looked at his hands, actually taking the time to process the news. He turned to share a look with Maverick before looking over at you, to find that you were looking at him with a quietly terrified expression as you clung to Emma for a moment. Letting out a breath, he slowly got to his feet. He walked around the table towards you, completely ignoring Jake, and stopped a few steps away from you. 

Emma released you and moved to put herself in between Bradley and Jake, just in case. Bradley gave you a moment before he swallowed his annoyance and his pride and focused on your happiness for the first time since he found out about the whole situation. Though he also didn’t want to completely lie and pretend like he was overjoyed with the news.

“The storage unit,” Bradley began, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“What about it?”

“It has the old paintings that Mom made,” Bradley continued, earning a slow nod in return from you. “From our old nursery.” 

“I remember,” you agreed quietly. “I triple wrapped them myself so that they’d be preserved.” 

“Did you want them? For you and . . . your baby?” Bradley offered after a few more moments of silence and tension. 

You nodded slowly, starting to tear up again, when Bradley reached forward. Pulling you into a hug, Bradley rested his head on top of your own as you let out a few tears into his shirt. It reminded him of when you were little and he’d comfort you when a storm struck or when you were scared for your mom. He gave you a squeeze that you returned silently. 

“You’re going to be a mom,” he replied quietly.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” you returned in the same tone. 

“You know I’m here if you need anything. Emma too. We’re both here for you and the baby. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m not.”

Bradley opened his mouth, but when he saw Emma’s look, he closed it. While your face was still tucked into Bradley’s shoulder, he looked over at where Jake was still sitting at the table. Did Jake look thrilled? No, definitely not. But he didn’t look completely irate when he met Bradley’s gaze. Bradley, however, did not hide the fact that he still wanted to punch Jake in the face for what he did. 

“Whatever you need,” Bradley repeated as he and Jake glared at each other.

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Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question. 

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts. 

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

__

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions. 

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort. 

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart. 

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this? 

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

– 

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

__

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

[savannahsdeath]

SOCCER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X CHEERLEADER!READER

PART 2TWO

part 3three

part 1one

mdni please<3

summary: effects of the match seem simple - ellie either wins and gets what she wanted, or not. but even the score doesnt make things less complicated, as the past wont leave you

warnings: minors safe🩷

writers note: the start is shitty because i was writing it in a rush but it gets better after first goal i promise!! also this ones shorter because i had to stop right there cus i dont know wether to make it ellie x reader or change it to vi....

'that's right, put your pom-poms down

getting everybody fired up'

you were excited for the match. not only did it mean that ellie was going to try her best to win your kiss, but the stakes were higher than that. you'd been excited for the rematch between your team and vi's team - your ex's team - all year, and now the time had come.

soon, the match was about to start, and you and the other cheerleaders took your positions on the sideline to cheer for your team. ellie and other players took their positions on the field, looking confident as well.

you cheered, watching ellie play against vi. the match was close, and the score was tied for a while. then, ellie managed to score a goal, turning the score to 1-0 in favor of their team.

you cheered as loud as you could for ellie, feeling a bit torn between wanting your team to win and not wanting to see ellie get her reward so easily. but just like you, vi had also noticed the connection between the two of you, and had to do something about it - she had no intention of letting the flirting continue. as the leader of her team, she made sure that they were playing aggressively, and they managed to tie up the score again, making it 1-1.

you watched as vi celebrated her team's goal with her team's cheerleaders, and you frowned, not at all happy to see her happy.

first 45 minutes ended, making all players spread out. some drank water, some stretched or practiced, but most of them just rested. ellie walked into your direction before suddenly stopping and turning around. just then, vi appeared in front of you.

"we need to talk." she demanded and you knew you have no choice.

you followed her as she led you away from the field. the two of you walked silently for a bit, until she finally turned to you.

"i've noticed you flirting with ellie." she said, her expression dead serious.

you couldn't help but stare at vi, trying to process what she was saying.

"what makes you think that?" you asked.

"don't play dumb. i've seen the way you look at her." she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"what's the big deal anyway?" you inquired, trying to keep the conversation calm. you shrugged and added; "we broke up months ago."

"you're flirting with her right in front of me!" vi crossed her arms, glaring at you. "do your feelings towards me mean nothing to you anymore?" she asked.

you hestitated for a moment, not sure wether it's a good idea to bring this sensitive topic to the conversation. but you couldn't stand it anymore. "my feelings for you disappeared as soon as you cheated on me."

vi's eyes widened. she seemed genuinely surprised by your response - maybe she hadn't expected you to be so candid with her. "i never did. it would be different if you'd just- listen to me back there instead of believing what people say!"

you raised an eyebrow at the girl. "believe what people say?" you scoffed. "people don't just make something like that up."

you couldn't believe that she was actually trying to deny her betrayal.

"i don't want to hear it." you said, glaring at her. "i'm moving on, and you should too."

vi looked hurt. she clearly wasn't expecting such a bold response from you, and wasn't sure what to say.

"i should go." you said, turning to walk away.

"hey, wait a minute." vi exclaimed.

you defensively put your hands in the air. "no, that's it. the break ends soon, you should get ready." you nodded towards the field. "now, excuse me, i have to go cheer on ellie, so i don't miss her second goal." you said with a smirk.

vi rolled her eyes, so you could tell that you had hit a nerve. it wasn't necessary, but she deserved it. unless she wasn't lying...

you rolled your eyes back in retaliation, enjoying the little victory you had over her. you didn't even realize how intrigued you were by the match- no, by ellie, until this talk.

you didn't want to waste time chatting with vi, so you started walking towards the field. you saw ellie talking to her team on the field.

the second half of the match started, and the wave of cheers from the crowd got louder.

the last twenty minutes.

you watched as ellie started running towards the opposing team's goal, dribbling and dodging opponents with exceptional skill.

as ellie approached the goal, she noticed you in the crowd. she winked at you, and you couldn't help but grin back. as if she knew that she was going to score another goal, ellie took the shot, and it went in.

2-1 in favor of your team.

your ears were deafened by clapping, some people even stood up and jumped around. the game went on but ellie let herself rest for a moment, her players carrying the situation. even now, on her sweaty and tired face, you could see the same smirk she always has. she was proud, simply proud.

vi didn't like that, though. she saw the smile on ellie's face, and she knew that ellie was doing this for you. she kept yelling at her players, telling them to try harder.

soon, one of vi's teammates managed to push through your team's defense and scored a goal, making it 2-2.

vi smiled, looking right at you as she celebrated, encouraging her team to hold their position.

as the match neared its end, both teams tried their absolute best to score a third goal, but to no avail. time was running out quickly, and it seemed that the match would end in a tie.

you glanced over at ellie, watching as she ran back and forth on the field, sweating profusely and looking exhausted. she had given her all for the match and almost scored another goal, but it just wasn't enough.

the ref blew his whistle, as the match had officially ended.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW ARE YOU GUYS TEAM ELLIE OR TEAM VI??? i need yalls opinion🧎🏼‍♀️

TAGS: @wandasromanova @bellaramslover @aouiaa @glennns-blog @elliewilliamsfuckbuddy @iheartsadiesink @ximtiredx @coff1nn @jowdann @simpforellie @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @skylerwhitwyo @pinkigirl @islalips @ratdungeon @okayyesbutno and some more i cant tag for unknown reasons:(

[weenwrites]

*Crawls out of the sewers to make a request*

Yoo! Hope you're having a good day, make sure to drink lots of water!

As for the request, would do you mind doing a romance pining headcanons Transformers Prime Bumbleee and Optimus Prime (separately, of course) for a human charge? The bots would develop a crush on the reader, and how would they're pining be-? Most of their time pining, he human charge would be oblivious to their advances (if there are any) and would just brush it off as them being friendly? Despote the human charge having mutual feelings for the bot as well.

Apologies for my bad english, and I'm not really good at describing stuff, so pardon if it seemed weird or something-

Anyways, thank you for your time!

A/N: Your english is great! I think you were able to communicate your idea just fine.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

It's not that he's afraid of expressing his true feelings to you, it's that he's hesitant on whether he should. You already have such a massive target painted on your back just by being under his watch, to start dating you would raise the stakes higher than you'd ever know. Of course that isn't to mention whether he'd have the time and energy to be your partner.

Yes, he sees you every day because you're his charge, but if you were to make your relationship romantic, he would need to be present and available in your life outside of decepticon-related issues. He is uncertain whether he has the time to, though he understands that he has a capable team who are well willing to break their own backs just to give him some time off, he doesn't want them to go to such lengths.

So while there's no verbal confession right away, or for any time soon, he's much more talkative with you and attentive to your every need—not overly so, but enough that it's noticeable. And however you spend patrols with him—whether it be listening to music as you drive, or just sitting in silence—words are what fill the silence as you meander down the road.

At times he'd dream about life with you, and in those dreams the war is the least of his concerns. In those dreams he thinks about how he could make his schedule align with yours, he thinks about how you might enjoy this one activity, or this one place on Cybertron. And at times he finds bits of his dreams even seeping into his waking thoughts as he finds himself wondering about your well-being on a day you're elsewhere.

Bumblebee

Surprisingly it's rather difficult to tell that he likes you because he's already so friendly towards you, but it's not inherently impossible if you can read the signs. Firstly, he's a lot more expressive around you—and while that may be surprising to hear given the fact he's already a very expressive person, I mean "more expressive" as in he seems even more enthusiastic and happy around you (even more than either of you knew was possible).

You can see it in the way he tries to keep you around, and the way that he admires stares at you for a bit longer than is considered acceptable by your societal norms. Especially whenever you go out on patrol with him, it almost feels like the seat belt around you is hugging you in a way, but you could also pass that off as he's just trying to make sure you're nice and secure.

His confession is very shy, yet there's something so endearing when it comes to seeing him offer you a hand-made Valentine's day card. The cover of the card is simple, yet the inside is what really stands out to you the most. The inside details his feelings for you—not in any showy or verbose way, but in a few straightforward and simple sentences. Yet each word is teeming with his unexpressed adoration for you, and his hesitance barely conceals the fear of your rejection, and yet he's still brave enough to look at you as if to ask "well, what do you say?"

[adricthemindnimon]

One more of the millions of things I love about Mulder and Scully. There's never any competition over who's had it worst. Like, in the Anasazi storyline, the only reason Scully tells Mulder she was shot at is to explain why he can't go home. And then, having been extensively drugged, shot, and being about to head into danger, Mulder looks at Scully who skipped a meeting with their boss, and tells her that she's taken a big risk for him and that he's grateful. Yes, the stakes are always higher with those two, and skipping a meeting with Skinner could lead to something life or death, but also Mulder just knows how much Scully's career means to her, and how much it matters to her to do things properly, by the book, and he acknowledges that breaking from that is hard for her, never mentioning the shit he's been through. Likewise in Tunguska/Terma, Mulder is tortured in a Russian prison camp, and Scully allows herself to be held in contempt of congress and jailed in order to protect him. These things are not on anywhere near the same level of severity, but there's no one-upmanship, just appreciation that Scully would do that for him, understanding that that was a hard stand for her to take, especially as the raised to respect governmental authority military kid she was. Both of them respect the sacrifices the other makes and the suffering the other goes through, without any kind of score keeping.

[meidui]

as you know, i am absolutely obsessed with 'seven years in heaven'. do you have any recommendations for similar fics where they teeter on the edge of a breakup or divorce, or where exes get back together? i'm looking for stories where the tension is all based on miscommunications and assumptions, and nobody is genuinely angry/there's no hate between them. i need that stupid yearning and longing when, in fact, they both still want each other. i've read a few but i can't get enough 😩✨

DO I EVER!! 🥰

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

a *slightly* twisted, darker spin on meidui's "frequencies of sea and space"

frequencies of sea and space by meidui

“One mil,” a voice says, firmly, and Steve would recognise that voice anywhere. Like thick amber honey, like smoke from a fire, lighting him up and burning him down.

There are no higher bids.

Steve looks across the room and gazing back at him is the face he’s spent two years squeezing his eyes shut at night trying to block out, but those eyes meet his and it’s all over.

From the Ground Up by @omg-just-peachy

Tony and Steve broke up years ago and Tony never quite got over it. When they finally see each other again at Pepper's wedding, Rhodey convinces Tony this might just be his second chance.

Paint the Town Blue by @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

I'll keep your brittle heart warm by @omg-just-peachy

They got married when they were young, just twenty-four years old, despite the arguments from their friends that they should wait, that neither of them were ready for a commitment like marriage so young. Steve distinctly remembered Sam pointing out that the male brain isn’t even fully developed until age twenty-five. But they were young and passionate, so sure they’d found their perfect person that they could overcome anything and everything life threw at them. 

And it was true.

For six months. 

it always leads to you by @arabellamonkey

Slowly at first, and then all of a sudden, everything made sense: the way Tony had looked at him that first time when Pepper had introduced them, the way his eyes were always searching for him everywhere they went, and how Tony had asked him about his suit, voice clearly flirty now that he thought about it again. And that smile, oh God, that smile… it had been the same he had given him all those years ago when they flirted in their kitchen. “Wait, you… you recognized me?” Steve asked, eyes wide and voice incredulous. Tony scoffed, expression still bemused, “don’t insult my intelligence, of course I did.” Steve stared at him, both eyebrows raised. “Okay, it might have taken me a few days to figure it out,” Tony ended up admitting.

*** Or, after breaking up five years ago because of heavy miscommunication, Steve gets assigned to be Tony's personal bodyguard.

dreamt of you all summer long by @ifmywishescametrue

Steve spends months after the breakup trying to forget Tony, but it never seems to work. That's alright, though, because Tony can't forget him either.

all I ever knew of love by @stovetuna

For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating.   Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by @sabrecmc

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

Modern Love by @captainneverever

Tony drifts into a relationship with Steve after a one night stand. He thinks that Steve is modern and well adjusted to the 21st century but finds that Steve is old-fashioned in unexpected ways.

Captain Coffee by @captainneverever

Steve is content managing his own coffee shop and life is full with friends and neighbors. But an owner of big coffee chain pressures him to sell and someone from his past reappears. And now Steve needs to fight a bully, an ex, and himself to get his happy ending.

Never Worlds Apart by @kandisheek

It's been six years since he's seen Tony when he walks into his favorite diner and sees him sitting in their old booth, as if nothing ever happened. Steve can't believe the nerve of Tony to just show up out of the blue after the way he ended things.

Turns out Tony has a reason for wanting to make amends. And Steve doesn't appreciate only finding out about it after Tony has already almost died.

Plausible Deniability by nowalee

Tony and Steve broke up a month ago. Now, Tony is back because Fury wants him for an undercover mission. Only catch? Steve has to go with him, because the public doesn't know they broke up yet. It's a perfect cover.

And Tony can totally be alone on a mission with his ex who he isn't over yet. What could possibly go wrong?

You, Me and the Christmas Tree by @wikketkrikket

Steve thinks Tony is drinking. Tony thinks Steve is cheating. They both think their marriage is over. They are just going to give Peter one last family Christmas because he thinks everything is fine.

None of them are wrong, but none of them are right either. When Steve and Tony get snowed in together 3 days before Christmas, will the enforced proximity be the time they need to figure things out?

(Spoilers: yes, yes it will)

[avoidthings]

shoot it up | c. tejada

About: You have been dating Cane for months and have grown tired of being in the dark about his elusive lifestyle. Inspired by Shoot It Up by Teyana Taylor. [word count: 2.4k] Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of gang violence, alcohol use, unprotected PIV, oral (female receiving), dash of breeding kink

It was unlike Cane to not speak to you for days, and you were approaching a week of no contact. You had been texting and calling to no avail after the first morning without word from him. By day three, you considered driving up to the Tejada home, but with the heat on their family, you did not want to take that risk. Tonight, you were in your apartment enjoying your pick of medical dramas on Netflix, ‘your stories’ he once called them affectionately, and drinking sugary wine. 

“You sure you don’t want me to come over there?” Your friend Shaunie could be heard on the other side of your video call. She had a right to be concerned, saying that you were coping similarly to when you broke up with your last boyfriend, Tyrell. Except Cane wasn’t officially your boyfriend, and if he was, he’s not acting the part right now. 

“One-hundred-percent sure,” you hiccuped. Shaunie cocked an eyebrow at you. “I got my girls…Stella,” you lifted the peach moscato to the camera, “...and Shonda. I’ll be just fine. I don’t need a man.” You both knew that a man was never a need, but your feelings for him wouldn’t depart so easily. 

“Try not to worry about him too much. He’s probably crashing out on some black Soprano bullshit. I heard they whole family ain’t been right since—”

“Too far, Shaunie,” even if he was being an ass, you knew grief all too well. You could only pray that this was not what his disappearing act was about. Cane didn’t open up himself often, but he had expressed his desires for vengeance, specifically against some college kid that weaseled his way into his family affairs. When he would speak like that his eyes would darken, and just a glimpse of that side of him was enough to send a chill up your spine.

Where you grew up in Queens, it was commonplace to encounter your share of dealers and scammers. Your parents raised you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble, focusing on your studies to stay busy. Unfortunately, that did not stop trouble from coming across your very doorstep. The casualties of a gang war claimed the life of your brother before your sixteenth birthday, he, only five years your junior, while playing on your front yard.

Shaunie quickly realized her misstep and apologized, “I’m so sorry, honey. Just tryna cheer you up is all.” You nodded, trying to brush off any thoughts of Cane being in danger. It wasn’t that easy for him, he was the oldest son, a junior, and the lifestyle was his birthright. Opting out meant putting his livelihood at stake.

“I know, and I love you for that,” you assured your friend, holding the phone just a tad higher so she can see you clearly. You wore your favorite robe, a floral satin number, and adorned a pore strip on your nose. As someone who knew you best, both were among your greatest comforts.

“I love you too, girl. I guess I’ll let you go,” Shaunie bid you a goodnight before leaving you to your own devices. It did not take long before your thoughts returned to your absent lover.

When you first started fooling around with him you knew the risks. Cane meant late nights and clouds of indica on your couch where he’d take you, bent over at its arm and crying for more. He wasn’t scrambled eggs or lounging around for the morning after, when you would yearn for his attention the most. Cane showed his care for you in other ways, like leaving stacks of money on your dresser and buying you your first rifle. For protection, he reasoned, since you refused to let go of your rent-stabilized apartment.

He wouldn’t answer when you’d question him about the scars you noticed when he came over, nor his whereabouts beyond his family home that most knew not to cross. Not knowing whether he was honestly trying to shield you from his life or keep you hidden in it, hurt. You sought to release the burden from your mind, so you tried to start by clearing all traces of him from your phone. Your thumb swiped open the screen to your text thread with Cane, a lone black heart next to his name.

Your heart skipped seeing three gray bubbles hop on your screen, letting you know he was typing a message. Caught between relief and annoyance, you anxiously waited for his text to appear.

I’m outside

The bittersweet feeling in the pit of your stomach had soured completely. He had a key, so the message was just a formality on his end. As soon as the door opened, a scowl greeted him at the entryway.

“What are you doing here, Lorenzo?” Cane winced at your use of his government name. Your eyes, still scolding, scanned him for any signs of injury. To your own disadvantage, you’d come to discover that he was still as fine as the day you met him, cloaked in a jacket you knew cost a few bills.

“I came to see you. Baby, look I know it’s been a couple days—” he stepped forward, and you took one back. He knew he fucked up, but he was not at all prepared for your cold shoulder.

“Five. It’s been five days since I heard from you, and I had no clue where the hell you been,” You snapped, his own expression unchanging. Scoffing, you had little expectation for him to reasonably explain his absence.

“I had to handle some business, a’ight? It wasn’t nothin’ you need to worry yourself with,” you felt dismissed by his ambiguity. It was always business with Cane.

“You’re right, I don’t need to be worried about this shit anymore,” you gestured between the two of you petulantly. He scoffed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Nah…nah,” he muttered to himself at first, “What’re you saying to me?”

Filling the space between you in a few measured steps, you met his gaze. “You can see yourself out. And leave my key on the hook.” His stature was solid against your own, standing close enough to count the rise and fall of his chest.

“So you can give it to some other nigga? Fuck that.” You rolled your eyes at the notion of you being so quick to do so.  Cane would be lying if he didn’t think you looked sexier when you were mad. The days without your touch were not easy on him either.

Crossing the lapel of your robe tightly over your chest, you started to walk away from him, and he caught your elbow in one swift motion.

“Tell me to leave again,” it was his turn to stare as you spun back to his view. He tucked his bottom lip in to his teeth, waiting on your response. You wanted to hold yourself to what you started, but your resolve was cracking. “Cane…” you whispered.

He leant in closer, and his stubble kissed your cheek. “Tell me to go and I’ll go,” his mouth was at the shell of your ear now, knowing a single touch to the skin just below it was enough to make your knees buckle. Cane was calling your bluff, and you knew it. His hands took purchase on your full hips, squeezing at the flesh that stretched the fabric. He was testing his limits with soft kisses along the crook of your neck. You found yourself sighing into the embrace.

He backed away, for you to pull him right in, connecting your lips with fervor. Cane’s mouth was one of your favorite parts of him, sucking you in with sweet nothings and coaxing orgasms out of you with ease. His fingers tugged at the thin belt that marked the barrier between him and your bare skin. A hand spread beneath to hold the curve just above your ass, drawing you closer to feel just how much he’s missed you.

You moaned, allowing his tongue to meld into yours. You didn’t even realize the two of you were moving until the back of your knees met your bed frame. He withdrew from you with a soft pop of your lips parting. You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, shirt and jeans to follow.

Pillowy lips found your neck again, nipping at your collar and jawline. “I need you, Cane,” you whined.

“You gon’ let me take care of you?” he asked with a kiss to the column of your throat.

Your robe fell to a pool of satin at your feet, exposing you to him completely. Cane bit back a noise at the sight as if he hadn’t seen it many times. He followed you up bedding beneath you, fixating on the ways he could make you fall apart.

Cane took your breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue with each kiss until your nipple stiffened. He repeated his motions with the other side and let his hand venture between your thighs. You were leaking on his fingers, busy massaging a dizzying pattern on your clit. Your legs were growing weaker as they spread for more. “So fuckin’ wet for me, so perfect,” he praised you, slipping two digits inside of your hole.

A pleased sigh left your lips as he pumped them in and out of you. He was mesmerized by how you clamped around him, ruining your sheets already. Your thigh twitched when the heel of his palm bumped against your clit. Cane made sure to do it again and sped up his pace, adding a crook to his fingertips with every thrust.

Butterflies frenzied inside of your stomach as he watched you intently. You could barely make out curses between shattered breaths. He swallowed your sounds in a kiss that turned you in to mush. Cane didn’t let up between your thighs when you came, only waiting until you barely caught your breath to taste you. Your mouth dropped watching him bring his fingers to his mouth, a delightfully obscene sight.

“Ass up,” was his command, tapping the swell of your bare hip. You flipped over and braced yourself with your hands on the mattress.

“Arch that shit for me, baby, yeah…just like that.” You teased him with a wiggle of your waist, earning a stinging slap.

Cane lay a kiss on one of your cheeks, spreading them apart for a better view of your pussy, slick and weeping for him. His nose nudged your second hole as he sucked kisses to along your slit, already clenching around nothing.  You scrambled for the sheets above you as he ate you sloppily. “Oh my fuckin’ God,” The sound of his lips smattering made your body eager to drip more on his awaiting tongue. He managed to keep you still beneath his grip until your back bowed forward, the overwhelm of another orgasm sweeping over you.

His name left your mouth in a mantra, tongue still drawing circles around your clit, stopping only to taste what spilled at your entrance. Your knees dug deeper into the mattress as you burst from the pressure.

“Mmm…mhm,” he grumbled, still lapping at your folds. “Please…p-please, Cane!” He finally let up and you mustered any might you had to look where he stood behind you. He had taken off his briefs, and his dick stood tall, jerking against his abdomen.

“How you want it?” Cane kneaded your hips lightly, pressing thumbs at your lower back. You reached underneath to cup him at his balls, and whined, “Fuck me baby, right here.” The grunt that left him prickled goosebumps on your spine.  The first stretch of him seared through you, leaving you gasping for air as he did exactly what you asked.

He pulled out slowly, “This pussy too fuckin’ good, so pretty gripping me,” Cane thrusted back in and bottomed out completely. With his hands on your waist, he helped guide you until you could meet his thrusts on your own. Skin slapped against each other as he sunk in and out, watching you gush atop of him.

Sweat sheeted the dip of your back and dampened the sheets you sprawled on. You were dripping everywhere, chasing your high with each grind of your hips. “You gon’ let me take care of you?” he asks again, hooking a hand around your throat. You blinked back tears and shook your head up and down.

“Yeah? Put you up in that big penthouse downtown,” he gritted by your ear.

You couldn’t tell him no like you have in the past in this position, waves of pleasure caging you in with the snap of his pelvis against yours. Cane’s hold tightened at your neck. “You gonna have my babies too,” he could feel you throbbing around him at the thought.

“How many?” His hand struck you to speak. “F-four baby, I want four...” you couldn’t believe your own ears, he had fucked you delirious. He took control when your hips stuttered, the force knocking you flat against the bed. “...ooh, you’re gonna make me cum,” you huffed.

“Cum on daddy’s dick, let me see you make a mess,” he groaned.

“Oh fuck!” Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you. You could feel his pulse inside, knowing he wasn’t far behind. Quickly losing his momentum, Cane lost himself in the feel of you losing control.

 “I’m cumming…I’m cumming,” he groaned. “Shit, ma,” his eyes crossed as you milked him, unable to move as bliss claimed his body.

He slipped out and turned you over, limbs pliant and spent. The sheets were strewn waywardly, and you managed to knock a few pillows to the floor. With your eyes still fluttered closed, you could sense Cane hovering over you. He dropped a lingering kiss to your lips that dared to ignite more. “Baby…” you panted.

“I meant what I said.” Your eyes peeled open, and his face was solemn. “I never mean to scare you baby, I’m sorry,” your breath caught in your throat at his apology. “It’s enough hell in this world I go through to not come home to you.”

“So stay,” you grabbed his face. Cane relented, allowing himself to remain in your embrace for the night.

Author’s Note: Basically, our Reader found herself riding the business instead of standing on it. Yes, Cane is a softie and a trick in my heart. If you made it to the end, thank you!

[darkurgetrash]

───  𓆩♱𓆪  ───

When Gortash first formed the cult of the Absolute, he’d somehow expected it to be more glamorous than watching drunken goblins through a scrying eye.

What he’d expected even less was to see his former lover, long-presumed dead, walking among them…

───  𓆩♱𓆪  ───

Characters: The Dark Urge / Gortash

Game: Baldur’s Gate 3

Words: 1,700

Rating: Teen+

───  𓆩♱𓆪  ───

When Gortash first formed the cult of the Absolute, he’d somehow expected it to be more glamorous than watching drunken goblins through a scrying eye.

Indeed, in his visions he’d fantasised of insidious masquerade balls, dangerous heists, and intellectual assassinations. Alas, he supposed that tasks of observation were important too. For the plan to succeed, everyone had to be playing their part, from the highest ranking ‘True Soul’ to the lowliest gnoll, and someone had to make sure it was all going accordingly.

After all, if not him, then who? That loathsome animal Orin cared more about her pitiful attempts to please Bhaal than their grand plan, and Ketheric was much too busy ruling over Moonrise Towers to worry about the proceedings of some pathetic goblin camp, so who did that leave? He alone. Besides, he was probably the only one sharp and observant enough to notice if anything went amiss.

That was the case, at least, since Mera was taken from him.

He sighed. How annoying that, even now, performing the most mundane task possible, he still thought of her. The way she’d be sitting beside him, delicately fingering her dagger while her slender feet rested on his lap. She just loved to distract him; tease him.

“What does this button do?”

“That would shut down the Steel Watch.”

“How interesting, what would you do if I pressed it right now?”

“It’s a temporary measure. I’d simply commandeer one of the Gondians to fix it.”

“Boring. What does this one do?”

“That controls the Scrying Eye.”

“I see… Hmm, how about we do a little contest to see who can get someone murdered using it first? The chosen of Bane or Bhaal?”

“That would be hard considering we can’t communicate through it, only watch.”

“Ah, but that’s part of the challenge, dearest Enver.”

She’d strategically stroke his thigh with her foot, raising higher towards his groin in hopes that he might offer a soft moan and give in to her playful, mischievous ways. Then, of course, he’d have to put her in her place, right there on the command console. His hands clasped around her pale neck, long black hair splayed behind her as she glared daggers at him through those divine, striking red eyes…

He shook his head. Pathetic. He couldn’t allow himself to lose focus like this, not when so much was at stake. Mera was in the past, probably now dead and wreaking havoc in some corner of Avernus without a single thought for her once partner-in-crime, so why should he spare one for her? Besides, he spent too many long and lonely nights staring at his balcony, wondering if she’d suddenly appear to amuse him, love him, torment him. Even if it was to assassinate him, he’d have been glad for it, just to see her again…

She’d have been delighted to hear such a shameful admission.

Gortash turned his attention back to the screen, where a red-headed goblin now stood, waving her hand in front of the eye.

“ELLO?? Dis fin broken or wot?”

He leaned forward to reach the control panel, bumping the eye into the goblin in a childish act of irritation. She jumped back, startled.

“OI! I fink dis thing ‘as lost its marbles. Whateva, come this way and I’ll introduce you to the drow.”

The goblin turned and hobbled towards Minthara, a drow noble Orin had selected to be a spokesperson for The Absolute many moons ago. She was followed by a small party, presumably a gang of adventurers who had been infected with the tadpole. Strange though - he did not recognise any of them to be True Souls, so why were they being granted such a high ranking audience?

Intrigued, Gortash watched them as they followed the goblin. He could not see the adventurers clearly due to his positioning, but he could tell that there were four - possibly two men and two women judging by stature alone. One of the men looked to be an elf with curled white hair and daggers equipped at the hip while the other was clearly a magic user, adorning a long purple robe with a quarter staff on his back. The two women were harder to analyse - being shorter and obscured from view - but they both appeared to have dark hair. This was, unfortunately, all he could discern for now.

The goblin and the drow talked together as the four of them observed. Gortash edged the eye slightly closer.

“…This mug helped me to escape. I say we stick a few holes in her, show how grateful we are!”

The goblin seemed to be referring to one of the women, who Gortash could now see was a human with loose hair hanging around her shoulders. She seemed to be the centre of the group, maybe even their leader.

“Oh dear. Your prisoner is one of the Absolute's favourites, Sazza. A True Soul…”

Minthara’s brow raised in interest as the goblin squirmed beneath her gaze. Interesting, so they were True Souls after all… Then why did he not recognise them? Was it possible they somehow slipped the system unnoticed?

“Nah. Can't be... they woz in the grove, hangin' around with the tieflins!” The goblin replied, backing away nervously.

“Undercover, no doubt. Carrying out the Absolute's will. Oh, Sazza - you have made a grave error…”

Gortash knew that this wasn’t the case; The Absolute’s will was his own, after all. Could this be the work of Ketheric or Orin behind his back? Some kind of plan to usurp him?

“… please, no! I didn’t know!…”

It was certainly a possibility. If these True Souls had found their way to Moonrise Towers, it would have been easy for Ketheric to recruit them as sole commander. But to position them in a grove filled with tieflings - what would be the point? Could there somehow be ties to Avernus at play?

“She’s telling the truth. She didn’t know.”

A shiver shot up Gortash’ spine as he heard a voice all too familiar. He stood and moved closer to the viewing screen, but the Scrying Eye was positioned too far away to clearly identify the woman that spoke.

It was surely a trick or some coincidence, but still, the woman sounded exactly like her. Like Mera.

The mere fact that this woman spoke on behalf of a lowly goblin and saved her from a deathly fate was proof enough that this wasn’t his once-partner. Mera was as blood-thirsty and cruel as she was cunning and beautiful. Not in the way her replacement Orin was - who acted like a wild dog, murdering left and right for senseless amusement alone - but in a way that was meticulous and logical enough to match his own intellect. There would have been no point in sparing a goblin, no, his lover would have remained silent as Minthara laid out her judgement, simply observing with deliciously cold calculation.

“… silence, wretch. And remember - you owe your miserable life to this one.”

The goblin ran from the scene and towards the eye, knocking into it in her clumsy escape. Gortash exhaled through his nose in frustration as the screen fuzzed and the audio crackled - all sound now unintelligible.

“Tamia!” he called out through gritted teeth. A cultist belonging to Bane rushed into the room at his call.

“My lord?”

“Send in one of the slaves to fix this at once.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Within seconds, a Gondian shuffled into the room with their head lowered, immediately beginning to fix the scrying eye. Gortash tapped his foot impatiently.

“It is fixed m-my l-lord.”

“You are dismissed.”

The gnome left just as the screen flashed back into focus and the audio returned - but now Gortash could see only Minthara, her gaze fixed on something in the distance.

He returned to his seat and slumped in defeat and annoyance. If he should ever meet this ‘Sazza’, she would face a punishment worse than death for the damage she caused - thanks to her, he would now have to contact Minthara personally to discover what transpired between she and the adventurers.

He returned his hand to the control panel and began moving towards the drow when a light indicating ‘physical altercation’ quickly flashed. Had the eye just been… poked?

He rotated the eye towards the source and…

His heart pounded heavily in his chest and long-dried tear ducts threatened to enflame. Was he even still breathing? Was time still moving? He could scarcely tell, as the world around him seemed to turn to nothing but darkness, the scrying screen a single spotlight.

For there, standing in front of the eye with a puzzled expression, was her.

“It can’t be…”

Mera.

She waved, crossed her arms, and peered deeper into the eye as if she were looking directly at him. Could she sense him there?

“… My lord?”

Gortash snapped back to reality as the cultist cautiously approached him. He realised then that he had shot up to his feet once more, lights flickering around the control panel and small alarms sounding as his fists throbbed against the deck.

He took a deep breath and calmly removed his hands from the panel, assessing the slight damage caused by his clawed glove.

“…How I detest flies.” He hissed. “You were dismissed, Tamia. Were you not?”

He heard the cultist’s breath hitch in her chest.

“My deepest apologies, my lord. I thought you had dismissed the Gondian alone, I-“

“Excuses are a waste of breath. Leave at once. Oh, and Tamia? Have a new slave come repair this and punish the previous one that let a filthy insect into my office.”

“Y-yes, my lord.”

The cultist bowed and left. The command panel still flickered and Mera still shone from the screen, her attention now turned to the elf who was glancing at the Eye with suspicion.

Mera…

No. No, it was impossible. Mera was not infected, she was not even still with the living - if she was, she’d have gone to him. Wouldn’t she have? It… it must be a shapeshifter, another trick from Orin meant to throw him off balance. So he was right, the others were plotting to wage war with him.

How foolish they were.

As the thought grazed his mind, the so-called ghost of Mera raised an electrified hand and swiped.

Then all faded to black.

───  𓆩♱𓆪  ───

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Reader goes to a bar with the intention of hustling someone in pool, not knowing it would lead to something more.

You walked in with a soft hum, looking around the bar. You were in a cute dress, one that nobody would take you seriously in. It fit your hips just right, snatched your waist, and accentuated your bust and butt perfectly. It was short, but not too short, seeing as you didn’t want to come off as a prostitute. It was looser from the hips down, allowing you to move freely.

You moved to the bar, ordering a fruity drink, stirring it and looking around again, your eyes landing on the pool tables. You watched for over an hour as the men played over and over, and when they finished another game, you took your chance. Throwing a few bills on the bar for your drink, you walked over to the men, smiling. “Hey, can I buy in?”

They all kind of looked at one another, shaking their heads. “Nah, we don’t play with women. Wouldn’t be fair,” one said.

“Glad to see chivalry isn’t dead,” you said mockingly with a shrug. “Alright then, well, I guess I’ll-“

“I’ll play you,” a deep voice cut you off. It was gravely, not like anything else you’d ever heard. It was so unique. You looked to the source of the voice, a pool table in the corner.

Smiling, you walked over and put down a fifty dollar bill. “Great.”

The other men had since gone back to their games at this point, and the man with the deep voice hummed and looked at you. He also put a fifty down on the table. “Hank,” he said, reaching out a hand to shake yours.

“(Y/N),” you replied, nodding as you shook.

With that, you started the game. You purposefully held your stick wrong, hitting the balls horribly. This Hank guy blew you out of the water when it came to the game. He took your money with a hum. “Do you even know how to play pool?”

You shrugged. “I was watching them. It didn’t seem too hard.”

Hank raised an eyebrow, then walked over to you. “Let me show you how to hold your stick.”

You hummed and held your stick wrong again, Hank adjusting your body to put you into a more correct stance. Then, he racked the balls and got up behind you. “Here,” he said softly as he put his chin on your shoulder, your faces touching. You let out a breath as you felt him behind you, his body pressing against yours. His hands overlapped yours as he helped you hit the ball right. The two of you moved as one. “See?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your face flushed from being so close to the man. You hadn’t really noticed before, but he had muscle to him. That subtle kind of muscle you couldn’t see because he didn’t show it off. He had strong arms and shoulders, and the way his body moved with and against yours was the feeling of bliss. You could barely think straight for a moment until he pulled away, leaving you colder than you’d been before. He played his turn before looking back to you. You walked around the table, still pretending to be confused as to how to hit. Again, his body pressed against you, his unique voice speaking softly into your ear. You wanted to be closer. You wanted this man.

After the practice round, Hank let you be on your own. You smiled as he racked the balls. “You know, I’m feeling pretty confident. Maybe we could raise the stakes.” You put down two hundred dollars on the table.

“I don’t think I can morally take that bet,” he replied, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Are you just giving money away today, or what?”

You shrugged again. “I’m sure I can find someone else who will take advantage of a pretty girl like me.” Your eyes met his, and his darkened, having picked up on the double meaning on your words. He let out a breath, then pulled out enough bills to match your bet. You hummed. “You break.”

The game went on quite a long time, but you matched his skill. He didn’t say a word to you, despite your skill level rising higher and higher with each hit of the ball. Finally, when the eight ball sunk into the corner pocket that you’d called, you smiled. “Game.”

Hank hummed and nodded, looking to you. “You hustled me.”

You shrugged once more, taking the money from the table. “That’s what you get for playing with a girl.” Then, you moved to walk out, but he grabbed your wrist.

“Hey, wait, come to my place.”

You hummed and looked him over, then nodded. “I’d be honored to hustle you some more.”

He chuckled and walked you out of the bar, helping you into his SUV and taking you back to where he lived. It had been the night of your life.

[deception-united]

Back again for more writing advice. How dos one write game seven moments? Like there's no second chances if you fail. You screw this up the major villain wins. How do I make the audience feel the tension emphasize the tension and stakes?

Thanks for asking! Here are some techniques you can use to achieve that:

Foreshadowing: Hint at the consequences of failure early on in the story. Drop subtle clues about what could happen if the protagonist doesn't succeed. This builds anticipation and dread in the reader's mind.

Character investment: Ensure that the audience is deeply invested in the protagonist's journey and the outcome of the conflict. Develop relatable and sympathetic characters whose success or failure truly matters to the audience.

Raise the stakes: Continuously raise the stakes throughout the story, making it clear that failure is not an option. Highlight what's at risk if the protagonist doesn't succeed, whether it's the safety of loved ones, the fate of the world, or the protagonist's own life.

Intense descriptions: Use vivid and descriptive language to immerse the audience in the moment. Describe the tension in the air, the sweat on the protagonist's brow, the palpable fear of the looming threat. Make the audience feel like they're right there alongside the protagonist, facing the same dire circumstances.

Time pressure: Create a sense of urgency by imposing time constraints on the protagonist. Make it clear that there's a deadline looming, adding an extra layer of tension as the clock ticks down.

Confrontation: Build anticipation leading up to the climactic confrontation between the protagonist and the villain. Use short, punchy sentences and quick pacing to reflect the frenetic energy of the moment.

Emotional arcs: Show the emotional toll that the pressure and stakes are taking on the protagonist and other characters. Let the audience see their doubts, fears, and vulnerabilities, as well as their determination to overcome them.

Twists and turns: Keep the readers on the edge of their seats by introducing unexpected twists and turns in the plot. Just when they think they know how things will play out, throw in a curveball that raises the stakes even higher.

Sensory details: Engage the reader's senses by including sensory details that evoke the atmosphere of the scene. Describe the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations that surround the characters, intensifying the reader's immersion in the moment.

Resolution: Finally, deliver a satisfying resolution that pays off the tension and stakes you've built throughout the story. Whether the protagonist succeeds or fails, make sure the outcome feels earned and emotionally resonant.

Hope this helped! ❤

Previous | Next

[justaboot]

sorry took a nap

OKAY I've always lost my mind a bit at New Gods on the Block, but I could never put my finger exactly on what it was. Specifically this scene.

First off, visually it's BRILLIANTLY laid out and dynamic, and I think that's a huge part of it, because it physicalizes the entire episode thesis.

It's about power dynamics.

We've talked about this before, but the kids have put Scrooge up on this towering pedestal. Della, who's been in their shoes before, spends the whole episode trying to get them to kick that image, because it's stupid, not healthy, whatever. But the point is, I think what's so intriguing about the adults in this episode is that they're ADULTS. Scrooge and Della have kicked the parent-kid dynamic for this one, the dust has settled, and they're on equal footing.

The episode lays that out as soon as they get home from their failed adventure. The kids are having their life crisis, we're worms, etc, and they have Della come in and de-mystify the scenario immediately. It's low stakes. Don't worry about it, look, here's the formula, it's happened before, it'll happen again.

So suddenly, she's coming in confidently and easily on the same plane as Scrooge. This is what happens, whatever. They're partners, she's not subservient or looking up to him. She spends the whole episode treating him like a peer, the adults and the kids, and she's pissed at him like a peer, so that when THIS scene comes around, you've got a great setup for a visual struggle, too.

There's all this discussion about an effective team, who's worthy, whatever, and the kids fall behind, and Della and Scrooge jump in. After all this talk about teamwork, a huge visual point is made about Scrooge and Della having silent, effective communication and team work, and I think the most important part is that Della goes first.

This whole episode is a conversation about power dynamics, and Scrooge being this god-king, and Della pulls him up.

Now, you've got a fight scene happening in a fight scene, while their primary activity is climbing. Again, everything in this episode has been about team work, and this climb is old-hat enough for them together to weave in and out and still have it out, and the timing is EVERYTHING.

Scrooge is critical of what they're doing, where are those kids, why aren't they helping, etc, and he's been placed higher than Della. Suddenly, though, when she turns it around on him:

She climbs above him. They talked in the artbook about how she used to be in the kids' shoes and knows what it's like to hinge her worth on his opinion, and now, she's knocking HIM down a peg.

Suddenly SHE'S in the position of power, where she's put herself, (and he's let her, long way from don't raise your voice at me) because pre-series, they (and Donald) were a team. That's the point that he has to take a look outside of himself and see that the kids aren't on the same page. He's thought of them as a team, but didn't vocalize it, didn't treat them fairly, etc, and the kids heard and that had consequences. He literally doesn't hear them, he's not listening, and it takes a smackdown from someone who's decided she's on the same plane to get through to him.

It's one of the few times Della's one of the adults and not one of the kids, and it's really brilliantly executed. It adds a lot of dynamic, and the implied history and experience together adds a really dynamic layer. She used to be Thee adventure team, and that's still true. Idk the silent teamwork got me.

Anyway, this episode is my fav and a lot more thought was put into this than it looks, thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[wanderingwriter87]

"I don't suppose you imagined it like this."

Julian looks a little puzzled for a moment, then shrugs. "I don't think I imagined this at all," he confesses. "So I'm not sure I had any expectations one way or the other."

Garak laughs. It's a sad, hoarse little sound.

"I suppose it's a uniquely Cardassian trait, then - fantasizing about the rousing arguments one night have with the object of one's affections."

Julian offers a lopsided smile. "Maybe not entirely. This just isn't the sort of thing I enjoy fighting about. I don't think you do either."

Garak humphs quietly. "What I enjoy is of little consequence, it would seem."

Julian flops over on his back. "Relationships are just like this sometimes. Which, incidentally, is exactly why I never imagined you'd be caught dead in one."

"I can't quite believe you ever saw me as unobtainable."

"Well, believe it."

It cuts too close to a painful topic, and they both fall silent.

"We both want the same thing," Garak says, finally. "As you're always saying."

"Same team," Julian agrees softly.

"And yet."

"And yet?"

"On certain things, we cannot seem to come to a consensus."

"We're from different worlds, Garak. It's understandable that we get into these tiffs sometimes."

"I think I rather preferred it when the stakes were lower."

"You don't mean that."

Garak hears the twinge of pain and hates himself for saying it. "I only meant - when we were friends, it was easier."

"Of course it was easier. We could walk away when things got too intense, and just steer clear of anything too hurtful in the future. But we're building a life together now. We don't always have that option anymore."

"I know."

"And I know the stakes are higher, but it's not... I don't exactly have one foot out the door."

"But there are limits."

"Of course there are limits. I hope you have limits, too."

An uncomfortable silence.

"Garak - this isn't going to work if we're not on even footing."

"I have limits," Garak snaps. And regrets.

It feels endless, inescapable. This cycle of pain, lashing out, and guilt. In his darker moments he thinks his whole relationship with the doctor, from that first moment in the replimat, he's simply been stringing regret to regret with only a few moments of blissful respite in-between.

He has placed Julian on a pedestal - the beautiful, brilliant, compassionate doctor. The one who always forgives him. He is only now beginning to understand that his actions have impact on the seemingly untouchable man, even when they seem to slide right off his elegant back.

It is a difficult thing to learn so late. But Tain, for all his faults, didn't raise a quitter.

"I am sorry," Garak says, very quietly.

Julian's hand flexes beside his. "I know."

"You...are the only person of consequence in my life. If you asked me to go with you, anywhere -"

"I wouldn't -"

"But if you did. I need you to understand, Julian. If you did, I would go."

Julian sighs, arches his head back into the pillow like he's trying to disappear into it. "I'm tired. Please, can we just-"

"You don't believe me."

"Elim, please."

Garak balls his hands into fists until his claws dig into his palms.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"I know," Julian says, sounding more exhausted than ever.

The chirring of the nighttime insects is the loudest Garak has heard, since the Fire.

"Come here," Julian says, finally.

Garak slides closer, takes his place in the crook of the younger man's arm.

"I love you," Julian says.

Garak swallows. It still takes an effort. "I love you."

In time, as the night wanes, they sleep.

[mooshywrites]

Okay, so Wyll is very much the prince charming type, so hear me out: him romancing a Tav with equally strong princely energy. Turns into some weird competition where both are trying to out-gentleman each other. (The other companions get greatly annoyed by this when they spend ten minutes standing next to a door trying to insist they be the one to hold the door for the other lmao)

Ever the Gentleman

Gn!Reader x Wyll

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Oh this is ‘love is war’ vibes for sure

Warnings - a lil silly, a lil goofy

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Today would be different. Today, you would not lose. Not against him.

Both you and Wyll had been locked in a furious battle for weeks now. It had started off innocently enough, simple gestures of genuine politeness.

It was hard not to admit that you prided yourself on chivalry, used to being the most courteous person in any group. Most of it came naturally, but you also couldn’t help playing up the princely act now and again.

You had offered to pour him a glass of wine at the end of the night, only for him to brush off the invitation. With a flourish, he poured you both a glass, even having the decency to give up his cushion for you to sit upon.

It didn’t raise any cause for concern within you, just yet. After all, The Blade of Frontiers was simply doing a small favor. If it had ended there, that is.

No, however, it didn’t just end there. After that, you noticed the little gestures everywhere. How Wyll refused to let you be the one to go through the trouble of making a campfire, how he insisted on carrying your heavy purchases back to the camp, how he’d jump at the opportunity to help you out of the armor at the end of the day.

The final blow hit you when you offered to help him with his own armor. Wyll gave you the warm, charming smile he always did when he decided to be extra polite.

“Oh, I couldn’t let such a pretty face go out of their way for someone like me.” He assured.

Flames rose in your chest as you stared back at him, the realization finally dawning on you.

This little devil is trying to out gentleman you.

After that, it was an all out war. You made a show of being the most chivalrous person anyone could ever hope to be. You refilled his glass as soon as it was half empty, you offered a hand to Wyll when there was the slightest of inclines, you insisted on checking every new area for traps lest the warlock hurt himself.

It seemed to take a few days for Wyll to catch on to what you were doing. Instead of calling attention to your obviously petty behavior, he only raised the stakes higher.

He insisted on paying for everything, treating you and your companions to the best food Wyrm’s Crossing had to offer. He took care of a majority of the laundry, sneaking away when you weren’t looking to scrub the blood out of your favorite tunic. Gods forbid there was so much of a puddle in your path, because if Wyll saw it, his cape would be over it in a split second. The action ensuring that you would never have a muddy boot ever again.

But not today. No, he wouldn’t win today.

You had a full proof plan for the ultimate gentlemanly act. When you entered the tavern today, you would be the one to hold the door open. Not Wyll.

You practically ran to the door when it was in sight, holding it open for your companions proudly. Wyll stood in front of the group, poised to be the first one to enter.

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’d be happy to hold that for you.” Wyll grinned, reaching for the handle of the door.

You fought the urge to smack his hand away.

“Not a trouble at all, after you.” You retorted, giving the most assured smile you could manage.

“Oh, but I insist!” Wyll replied, placing his hand on the space above yours.

“No, I insist.” You gritted out, your smile strained.

”Surely you don’t expect me to let such a treasure hold open a door for that long.” He bit back, his own smile coming across as more sly by the minute.

“Surely, I do.” You narrowed your eyes, your grin still plastered across your features.

“Gods above, I’ll happily go first.” Astarion quipped, sliding past the two of you and heading into the tavern

The rest of your companions followed suit, ignoring the intense battle of eye contact you and Wyll were trapped in.

“I won’t let you win this.” You huffed under your breath.

“I think that you will, in the end.” Wyll smiled before widening the door, making you lose your grip on the wooden handle.

You glared at him, already scheming for the next battle of wits.

“You may have won the battle, Blade. But you will not win the war.” You seethed.

Wyll had the grace to not argue back, only rising your temperatures higher. Instead, he bowed slightly, gesturing an arm out into the tavern.

“After you, please.” He looked up for a moment, winking at you.

“I insist.”