#i feel like he gets this a lot and if he ever read this or see me looking pathetic bc i saw him and Felt Things id die

[skyrigel]

Can you write an image in which Benedict is obsessed with Y/N and is always looking for reasons to touch her. However, Y/N knows that when it comes to women, Benedict quickly gets what he wants... sex. She keeps him waiting and doesn’t sleep with him until the wedding day.

Obsessed with you | I

Pairing: Benedict bridgerton x afab!reader

Synopsis: Ton's most eligible bachelor is obsessed with the mystery lady in silver, and would do anything to have her

Warning: Reader's mother has issues, scandalous family, last name Rose for convience, Benedict being a smug bastard, some regency class differences, cute Polin, cute kathony, minor non-con touching, smoking cigar, lots of teasing and ofcourse obsessive and possession behaviour. Might be toxic! Benedict but please he's a cutie.

Dearest gentle readers,

While for sure we have seen former Rake now Kate's beloved whipped husband, and Colin bridgerton who is so smitten with his dearest wife that it will not come forward a surprise if he hasn't set foot out in all these days, but Benedict bridgerton is neither whipped nor smitten, he is, as the poets would whisper, obsessed. It will be amusing to know who this mystery lady is, with her dazzling silver gown and piercing eyes, sharp enough as she carved the gentleman's heart out.

Benedict was a man for art and muse so forgive him if he got so obsessed with you, the real question was, how could he not ? You were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, clad in your most dazzling blue dress that he wanted nothing but to take off.

" She exaggerates." Anthony pouted, he shouldn't know that he had but he's been pouting a lot lately, it's called 'kateffect'

" No, you've been domesticated brother, just admit it, Kate has tamed you." Colin peppered, sprawling down next to Anthony who greeted him with the most glaring glare.

" Like you're any better." Anthony smirked, setting his gaze on Benedict who read the index again.

" Penelope doesn't know her name ? " Benedict worried his jaw, looking between his brothers.

" I take that back, Penelope didn't exaggerate, you're really very much obsessed." Anthony remarked, Colin nodded.

" Oi, she would've known your mystery lady's full name and history but—"

" Don't complete that, I'll duel you."

" In the middle of a ball ? " Benedict laughed, eyes amused, Colin turned a crimson red.

" Rather tempting—"

" Oi! " Anthony raised his brow, his mouth curving in disdain, as Colin staggered away, leaving Anthony praying to lord behind like he was any better.

" Oh dear." Benedict smiled when once alone, thumb caressing the index, as if it was the mystery lady in silver blue gown, accused of taking away the gentleman's heart.

" Who are you ? " He whispered.

_

" Ma'am, would you like something else ? " Mrs. Turner asked once you were seated on your dressing, playing with several glassy bottles with colourful scenty substances.

" In yesterday's masquerade ball, I was dancing with a Bridgerton—" Mrs. Turner tutted softly," He's Benedict bridgerton, i assume."

" Yes, indeed, the only bachelor bridgerton boy of age." Mrs. Turner pulled the corset strings and you gasped, feeling your internals squeeze in the process.

You smiled, thinking about the way Benedict looked at you, all stars in his eyes.

" I..it is not my place miss but as your well wisher, i would say.." she worried her jaw.

" It's okay Mrs. Turner, you should speak your mind." You assured her, feeling her fingers stop at your back as she looked at your reflection in the mirror.

" Benedict bridgerton's a rake, unlike any other gentleman... he's known to engage women with class and wits...artists, musicians, and other dimplomacy that are odd amongst our sex."

" Oh." You nodded, feeling stupid enough to think those were meant for you, like they were of real affection.

" I wouldn't want you any harm, after your father's death and your inheritance affairs, you couldn't afford another scandal, for a good match—"

" My virtue should stay intact ? " You raised your chin, examining the stain of rose on your lips.

" Your sister was a good girl madam, so are you." Mrs. Turner smiled, her eyes crinkling with deepest concerns.

-

Benedict's eyes were searching for you everywhere, he has been waiting for you since so long. Despite anxious mamas forcing introductions and dances, he was looking only for you.

" Miss Rose." Benedict turned to see his sister in law, smiling a smirk, followed by her husband in tow.

" You wound me Pen, it's Benedict bridgerton! " He laughed, much to Colin's dismay.

" Oh well your mystery lady is Miss Rose, daughter of late Duke of Blair field and lady bloom." Colin was one step away from clapping.

" Wow." Benedict's mouth curved in a delightful 'o'.

" Oh well they are rather scandalous, her sister was rumoured to be not a virgin which deceased all of her prospects of marriages, her mother is rather protective of her."

" Pen, did I tell you how you're my favourite sister ? " Benedict perked his gaze towards the entrance, hoping for you to bless him.

" Don't let Eloise hear that." Colin said, outstretching his arm that Penelope held as they swirled between the crowd, laughing.

_

" You shall not be unchaperoned." Your mother had a faraway look in her eyes, her hand was trembling and you surged the desire to just hold it.

" I understand, mama." You bowed your head once, trying to forget the trembling of her hands.

" Don't engage in gossips dearest, better keep to yourself and..." She forgot what she was saying, her lips trembling along, you looked at Mrs. Turner with a pleading gaze.

" Ma'am, we must make haste." She simply said, your mother spared a glance to you, her mouth tightening around the corners.

" You look beautiful child." She looked away, you pretended not to see the tear that glistented down her cheek.

After securing yourself in the carriage, with your dress squeezing the life out you, you finally breathed.

" I envy Gissele." You said softly, caressing the uneven glittering fake diamonds.

" She would say the same." Mary mumbled, she was Mrs. Turner's daughter who rather got scolded every often for being too blunt. You liked her alot.

" Oh wouldn't it be so wonderful to just lay in bed, reading a book and wearing simple soft dresses." You perked up at the idea of a life like that, a simple homely cottage, filled with warmth and sweetness and books.

" But the society has it's own fun, look at you, pretty dresses, pretty shoes, and all those prince charming lords." Mary took your fan and mimicked the motion, you smiled.

" Well you could always borrow a dress, have some fun." Your eyes glinted, Mary shaked her head.

" C'mon." You grabbed her wrist, shaking them, up and down profusely.

" No, mama will kill me ! "

" But the fun ?! No one would know, they haven't seen me, they don't know me."

" Well i can't pretend to be you, what would happen if somebody caught us."

" Don't then, be yourself ! Mary Turner."

" Sounds like a bad idea." Mary said, her smile deceived her.

" Lord Turner of Riverdales, be their relative, no one hardly pays attention."

" Whistledown does." Mary narrowed her eyes, you looked out to make sure you haven't yet reached.

" Well she called me a mystery woman who apparantly took a gentleman's heart."

" Oh Mr. Bridgerton's a known gentleman." You scoffed at that, Mary's brow knitted together as she studied you.

" What ? He's a rake." You brushed the tingling away, feeling the way Benedict's gaze lingered on you, the way he twirled you around like you were the only real thing, the way he flushed and stumbled through his words, attempting to know absolutely anything about you.

" I highly doubt that, never heard anything about him."

" Presumably he has a longing for accomplised women." You finger quoted it with a scowl that was too unladylike, Mary bursted into fits of giggles.

" What ? " You poked her, she shaked with her guffaw, chortling in her way.

" You fancy him." She said, chuckling the ' him' away, you frowned deeply, heart leaping at the ton that was gathered outside lady Danbury's exquisite ball.

" Utter rubbish. Do you still want to have fun ? " You asked, Mary smiled.

_

Benedict gaze perked up when you and Mary stumbled through the ball, Mary was almost shaking and you were sure her clothes didn't fit much to you, you felt your back prickling with burning gaze and you turned.

" Told you he's a rake. Don't be friendly to him." You whispered to Mary who was about to run when Benedict dropped his conversation with lord White, swaggering towards you.

" What if he recognises you ? " She mumbled and your lower lip trembled, but that's not possible, your mask obscured your whole face except your lips and eyes and certainly he hadn't painted you in his mind, afterall he shouldn't be that obsessed.

" My lady." He bowed, his gaze locking in yours as he kissed the hand Mary very reluctantly gave him, he was amused when Mary mumbled a hasty greeting, her manners mimicked.

" You look exquisite, more than the ball itself." He was clearly flattered when Mary blinked hard, looking at you for help.

You rolled your eyes when Benedict too, looked at you with a similar pleading as Mary.

" Forgive me my lord, my lady is tired—"

" We haven't been introduced i remember, Benedict bridgerton." He grinned, he actually freaking grinned as Mary glanced at you with the corner of her eye.

" Lady Mariam Turner." She blurted it quickly, looking at you for approval, " A pleasure." Mary smiled, you nodded.

" Forgive me Mr. Bridgerton." You cleared your throat, Benedict's gaze penetrated through you, he was setting you on fire and you couldn't do anything but to burn.

" My lady is tired, you must excuse us." You felt your throat dry, your whole body withering when Benedict narrowed his eyes, lingering specifically on your lips and treading down slowly.

" Indeed, I must not keep you." He cocked his head to Mary, humming along as you strode past him. You were sure he only whispered the ' not ' out of curtsy.

_

" That was bloody brilliant ! " You giggled while Mary shaked her head, clutching her bossom. Your footsteps echoing in the abandoned corridor, stiffling back your giggles.

" That was bloody scary and I can't breathe." Mary heaved, her breath easing when you patted her back.

" Lady Mariam Turner." You teased, bumping your hip as Mary looked at you, gasping scandalously.

" Shut up. I almost died." Mary pulled her dress that sticked to her skin, trying to fan in some air.

" Do you think he recognised me ? " Your cheeks blazed at the heat of the memory of him, his teasing glances and amused smiles.

" I...I think it was rather amusing that we were messing up, did you see how I trembled? " Mary shaked her hand, as you laughed at the display.

" No, my lady." You said, once your giggles subsided, " You were exquisite."

Mary wacked your arm, her smile unable to hide through the twitch of her lips.

" So, shall we go home ? "

" Would you mind waiting in the carriage ? "

" Don't tell me—" Mary glared, you pouted with puppy eyes.

" Please, you know it's my only way."

" Smoking is bad." Mary declared, " and for men." She added grimly, you nodded along, grabbing her wrist.

" Please, please, please."

" Only if you give back my clothes, i miss them." She touched the soft cotton of her clothes that you were wearing, you perked up eagerly.

_

You took joy at the puffs of smoke that ridiculed the air, the night chill freezing it into clouds of silvery mist.

Mary was dozing off in the carriage until it was time to go home, so early arrival doesn't raise any questions and your mother fast asleep, her trembling lipped questions saved for the next day.

" I thought your lady was tired." You almost dropped your cigar, jumping up the swing as it creaked at sudden outburst.

" Don't drop it, i don't have any with me." His smile was too big and smug for his face, his nonchalance dripped as he took the swing opposite of you. You stared, for some reason cigar still burning in intricate yellow blazing circles, dropping to ashes.

" Forgive me my lord—" you just remembered you were no longer in Mary's clothes.

" That's the only line you grasped so far ? " Benedict leaned on his swing, catching your wrist as he dragged you to sit.

You sat down with a thud, swing jiggling with your weight as you processed his smile.

" I..." You stammered, flushing in heat as he inhaled you in, you were back in your clothes, the one you were supposed to wear. And Mary was right, you couldn't breathe.

" I would say you look beautiful, in everything, in anything..or—" in nothing.

" I should leave." You throat itched.

" Stay." He was soft, almost a whine, a plead.

" Please don't tell anyone." You tried your best persuading smile, it worked on Gissele all the time, your lips pouting and eyes shining with stars.

Benedict's mouth curved in a smile, he clicked his tongue as he attempted to speak but he found he couldn't. A pause, then—

" You love tormenting me, don't you ? " Benedict took the burning cigar from you, locking your eyes with his own as he brought it to his mouth, a sound escaped him as his lips curved around the warmness that belonged to you, he inhaled deeply.

" I don't know what you're talking about." You tore away you eyes from the erotic display of smoking, he hummed in a dry scoff.

" Ofcourse, you wouldn't." He offered the Cigar back, every word coated with sarcasm.

The breeze was so cold that you shivered, moon hanging low in the night sky and every star stared back, Sirius, Rigel, and all of them.

" I never meant to offend you." You took the cigar back, his fingers brushed, a electrifying wave rippling inside you, like the way he held your hand and danced with you in the masquerade ball.

You noticed his flexing but said nothing, heart beating too fast to be sane and alive.

" Miss Rose—" you gasped, how could he know your name, "—have you ever been kissed ? "

" I...Benedict..lord." you clamped your mouth shut, lips suddenly struck by a bolt as they buzzed.

He leaned as you felt your back touching the rope of swing, his face too close... would he kiss you ? Would it be as electrifying as the rest of his touches ? Would you survive it or simply burn like a pheonix ?

" It's okay, we would alot when we get married. " He took away the cigar and dropped it as it was so close to burn your skin, smiling all the while. Was that a proposal ?

" Go home, it's getting cold, Mrs-yet-to-be bridgerton." And he pressed his lips against your forehead, his smile caressing your heart.

Rigel's note 🪩: while I loved this idea especially the hilarious ' Benedict gets what he wants....sex ' but I needed to base it, so it doesn't come as pervy and non con as it might, to make it comfortable enough to write on my part, I have tried to break it into parts, this part is generally meet up and getting obsession with y/n ( no use in fic ) and other will be courting and marriage bliss. Gif not mine.

[rafecameroninterlude]

hi angel! i love your work so much and fell in love with bambi!reader, so i was hoping you could write something for me ^_^

can you pls pls pls write bambi!reader comforting rafe after he gets into it with ward? i feel like she’d know exactly how to comfort himmm (pure fluff pls, i read too much smut lmaooo)

warnings: ward cameron, arguing, shouting, a little bit of physical violence, poor rafe who deserves so much better, mention of murder (i’m not referencing peterkin), fluff, soft petting, words of affirmation

a/n: aww bambi!reader has been getting so much love, it makes my heart happy to know that you enjoy the works that she’s in <3

“you had one job, rafe.. one!” ward had been shouting at rafe for nearly an hour already, his face flush with anger. “you really have a way of fucking things up, huh? i should put a caution sign on your forehead.” rafe’s fist clenched as he listened to his father, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest with every word that ward spat.

“i already told you that i couldn’t close out the business accounts and wire the money to a different one. apparently i’m not next in line to own cameron development anymore. ‘you know something about that?” rafe was in disbelief when he had to find out from a service representative that his own father took him off of the family business, something that he worked hard all these years for in order to prove he was worthy of running.

ward froze. he had forgotten about that. “were you ever gonna tell me, or were you just gonna be a coward about it?” rafe stood up, towering over his father with that crazy look in his eyes. “what you forgot to do before you faked your own death instead of facing your problems like a man, was take my name off of the inheritance of tanneyhill.” he laughed, “i own this shit now.” rafe stepped closer, backing ward into the wall. “get out of my house.” ward was seething, his hand coming up to fist rafe’s shirt.

“your house? i’m the one who worked like a dog to get us here.” ward said through gritted teeth, shoving rafe in his chest. rafe stumbled, scoffing out a laugh as he then pushed his father. “worked like a dog to get us here but you were more than willing to leave me here while you start a new life in fuckin’ guatemala.” rafe fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“leave. and don’t ever come back.” ward’s chest was rising and falling, both him and rafe glaring at one another. “you’re cut off. good luck keeping up with this place on your own.” ward smiled bitterly. “cut off?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “i’ve been cut off, dad. i haven’t used a cent of yours since i was nineteen. all this time i’ve been making money my own way, and a lot of it too. ‘seems like your old man brain forgot about that.” rafe nudged ward as he walked past, his father following him out of the master bedroom.

“i’m leaving. when i come back i want you out of here,” rafe grabbed his truck keys, his skin on fire as he looked up the staircase, “and by the way, asshole, i’m not by myself. i got the prettiest girl on the island on my arm everywhere i go.” ward watched as his son walked out the front door. rafe was seeing red the whole time he drove to your house, cursing under his breath as he recalled his father’s words.

“the fucking nerve that guy has.” he punched the steering wheel, nostrils flaring as tears pricked at his eyes. he was the only one who was there to take care of things when ward was ‘gone’. even going as far as committing crimes so his father wouldn’t face any kind of scrutiny. yet, there he was telling him that he was a fuck up.

rafe spent the next five minutes mumbling to himself, his hands shaking as he parked outside your driveway. you were curled up on the porch swing, an open book in your lap when he walked up the stone path. all it took was one look at your boyfriend to have you scrambling up from your seat, eager to soothe him in any way you can. “oh, ray, what’s wrong?” you guided him inside, locking the door shut before both of you made your way up to your room.

“it’s ward. he came back just to tell me shit about not closing the bank accounts under cameron development.” you knew all about rafe’s conflict with his father. from the way he favored everyone else over his eldest, to the constant nagging and insults. sitting rafe down on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help the way your heart sunk at the sight of defeat in his shoulders, his eyes void of any emotion.

slipping his shoes off, you took your usual seat in his lap, stroking the outline of his jaw as he vented. “i’ll never be good enough for him. i killed for him goddamit, and what do i get in return? ‘i should put a caution sign on your forehead.’ rafe imitated ward’s voice from earlier. you blinked, pecking his cheek. “you’re an amazing son, rafe. shame on him for not recognizing that.” rafe stared up at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

you were the only one that looked at him with pure adoration, the only one who made him feel like he had a purpose. “i think you’re amazing, rafe. you don’t sit around, waiting to get things done, you’re so helpful, and so, so kind— to me.” he chuckled at the clarification, rubbing a large hand over your knee. “you think so?” he leaned his head against your chest, your arms coming up to hold him. “i know so.” you sighed, breathing in his scent.

“wanna be little spoon tonight?” your voice alone made him relax, his eyes fluttering shut.

“..yeah.”

[jobean12-blog]

All In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,103

Summary: Bucky makes your first time an experience you don't want to forget.

Author's Note: This is written for my sweet friend @blackwidownat2814 <3 I hope you like it! Thank you for sharing with me and requesting it! Love and hugs! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: Softness and sweetness, fluff, insecurities but lots of love in between it all, smut, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, first time

You’re so aware of everything that’s him. His size, the warmth he radiates, his distinct and comforting scent. It’s all overwhelming in the best way and when warm and soft lips press to the skin of your neck you dig your teeth into your bottom lip to stop your whimper.

“Mm,” he hums appreciatively as he works his way down to your collarbone. “You’re so soft doll.”

Your fingers delve into his hair when he teases along the lace of your bra and then he moves higher, capturing your lips.

He pulls away and his brow furrows when he sees your bottom lip trembling and your eyes shining.

“What it is doll? Are you ok, talk to me.”

He gathers you close and wraps you in his arms.

“I’m ok, it’s just…I want this, and I want you to know how badly but…”

He smiles softly and presses his fingers under your chin, bringing your lips close so he can kiss you.

“You can be as loud as you want here. It’s just us doll. I’m the only one who gets to hear those beautiful sounds falling from your beautiful lips.”

When he releases you, he slowly gathers your arms over your head and holds them there, watching you intently as his lips trail along the curve of your shoulder and your skin erupts in goosebumps.

“You like that?” he murmurs before kissing the swell of your breast.

You nod and arch your back.

“Use your words doll face. If I do something you like, I want to know and if I do something you don’t like you have to tell me.”

He does it again, reassuring you with more words. “Remember, just us.”

“Ok,” you breathe out.

He chuckles softly and teases your lips, grinning when he pulls away and you chase them for more.

“Words,” he coos.

“Kiss me again Bucky.”

And he does-until you’re a melted mess beneath him and unable to form a sentence.

You gently tug on his shirt, wanting it off so you can feel his skin. He lifts his upper body and helps you slip it off, revealing smooth and defined muscle.

At your soft sigh he cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your lips.

“What’s that sound for gorgeous?”

Your simple shrug isn’t enough, and he tightens his hold on you. “Tell me.”

“You’re so beautiful Bucky.”

The pad of his thumb gently massages your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth.

“Every time I get to see even an inch of your beautiful skin bare for me, I have to count down the seconds until I can again.”

Your fingers trace his shoulder, hovering at the spot where skin meets metal.

“I understand,” he whispers.

Your eyes meet his.

“About being self-conscious.”

“Oh Bucky,” you whisper, cupping his jaw.

“It was so much worse before…at least now it’s cleaned up…still not pretty but better.”

“I think every part of you is pretty,” you whisper.

“I know you do doll face. And that’s why I need you to believe me when I tell you that you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

You quietly nod and let your fingertips smooth down the length of metal plates until they find his fingers, your own closing tightly around his.

“What did I say before about…”

You cut him off with a soft response. “I believe you Bucky.”

His answering kiss is soft and filled with all the words lingering in the small space between you and it’s enough to steal your breath.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, blue eyes darkened with desire.

“Taste me,” you whisper.

He licks his lips and starts to peel off you shorts, letting out a groan when he reveals your matching lace panties.

“Oh, fuck doll. Wow.”

“I was hoping you’d like them,” you answer, your eyes alight with growing confidence.

“I don’t like them. I love them. And I love that you thought of me while picking them out.”

He continues to stare, quiet now, as his eyes roam over every inch of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask as your lips start to lift.

“Imprinting this on my brain forever,” he murmurs. “You’re so gorgeous.”

With gentle hands he lifts your leg and caresses your calf before pressing his lips to your inner thigh.

He moves his hands up to your hips and hooks his thumb under the dark lace, slowly dragging it down your legs until he can drop it to the bed.

“You’re staring again,” you giggle.

He barely registers your words as he spreads you open and settles between your legs. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, and you pull tightly when his tongue makes the first slide between your folds.

You moan out his name and rock your hips, effectively pulling him closer and making him hum appreciatively.

It only fuels you on and your hips start to move in rhythm with his tongue. He teases and licks until your thighs are shaking against his head. His fingers ghost up your thigh before he pushes one inside you, pumping it in and out.

“Do you need more doll?”

You let out a muffled sigh and he slows his movements.

“Doll,” he warns, coaxing you with a determined look from between your legs.

“Yes, Bucky. More. Please.”

He dives back in, carefully stretching you before pushing another finger inside.

“You ok gorgeous?” he asks.

You’re so close to falling apart you can’t do more than nod but remembering his words you breathe out, “so close Bucky. It feels so good.”

He gives you just what you need, and you cry out his name.

“I love hearing you scream my name doll. Knowing I’m makin’ you feel so good. It drives me fucking crazy.”  

Your eyes are half lidded as you clumsily push on the waistband of his shorts.

“You want these off?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Off,” you answer, watching as he sits up to remove them.

When his cock springs free against his abs you reach for him, but he gently holds your hand back and dips his head to capture your lips.

“Tonight is all about you,” he whispers against them.

You pout but he simply kisses it from your lips and settles his weight on top of you. Your fingernails lightly run along the hard planes of his back then reach for his ass.

With a squeeze you urge him closer.

“Doll,” he whispers when he presses in, and you coat the length of him with your arousal. “Fuck.”

His hands are worshipful as they wander over your skin and his lips are soft when they kiss every spot he can find.

Every sensation makes you whimper and tremble in his arms until finally you speak up.

“Bucky,” you gasp. “I need you. Now. Please.”

With words of praise, he slowly pushes inside you, careful as he watches your face for any signs of pain. His eyes squeeze shut once he’s fully seated, and his face falls to your neck.

Your walls tighten and your hips roll.

“Oh god,” he hisses. “I swear you’re so perfect I’m gonna finish before we’ve even started.”

Your soft giggles have his eyes meeting yours and his expression softens, filling with reverence.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers.

@hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @lizette50 @goldylions

[kissofhoon]

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡ ⠀ ── ⠀THE WAY I LOVED YOU !

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ or the way enhypen loves you.

genre. fluff, established relationship word count. 1.1k words warnings. not proof-read penny speaks! shoutout taylor swift for the inspo. also heejake’s is just me spreading their babygirl agenda SORRY.

─────────────────────────

heeseung loves you as if you were a goddess. he worships the ground you walk on, worships you in complete totality. every waking thought and every thought before he goes to sleep is just you. you, you, YOU. everywhere he goes, he’s reminded of you. if the boys mention something you like, he’ll bring you up and shift the conversation topic to YOU just so he gush about you. he’ll even bring you up randomly in conversation, which does annoy the members a bit but he’s just sooooo in love that it makes them laugh. i swear this man’s personality revolves around you like… partially because you like to baby him, and he likes it too! whenever he’s out with the boys, he’ll see something and go “yn would like this” and then he’ll buy it and give it to you, or he’ll take a picture of it and send it to you and go “this reminded me of you :D should i buy it?” and if you say no, he’ll buy it anyway. HE JUST CAN’T HELP IT!!!! you have so many knick-knacks that he bought, you don’t know where to put it anymore. so he buys you a shelf specifically for his things and builds it just for you! he does a lot of things for you because a pretty person like you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, and as your boyfriend he has to serve you 🫡

jay loves you the same way noah loves allie in the notebook. he’ll do anything for you, including building a house from the ground up. though, whenever you have your little disagreements and discourses, he doesn’t turn to kissing and making up. he instead allows you to cool off, cooking up your favorite meal as an apology before the two of you talk it out when you’re feeling levelheaded. he’s big on gift giving too, always buying things you mention whenever you’re together and gifting it to you a few days after you’ve mentioned it. you never grow used to it since you always feel bad he’s spending so much money on you, but that’s okay to him. he loves seeing the look on your face after he’s surprised you time and time again.

jake loves you the same way a little schoolboy loves a girl on the school playground; he follows you around like a lost puppy whenever you go out together, giggles whenever you show him any affection, sulks when you don’t pay attention to him. he’s just absolutely smitten about you. and he’s not afraid to show you off either. he constantly brags about how amazing his partner is, and how anything they do is pure art, and how pretty they are, practically just gushing over you to the point the boys tease him for how head over heels he is. but the moment you show him off, he gets all shy and lets out the cutest giggles known to man. he never stops smiling or giggling when you’re around, and it warms your heart knowing you landed the bestest boy possible.

sunghoon loves you protectively and instinctively. he can be a jealous man, but not to the point where it’s suffocating. he won’t dictate what you wear or who you hang out with or what you do, but he does have to know where you are in case of an emergency. you both share locations, and constantly text each other when you’re both out, so if you ever forget to update him, it throws him for a loop and he grows worried. sometimes he’ll spam you, but only to see if you’re okay. sometimes it leads to the both of you bumping heads, but he means well. he always does! whenever you’re out in public, he’ll hold you by the waist and glares at anyone that dares to lay their eyes on you. his cold demeanor towards strangers drive them away from you, which is his goal. and if people approach you when he’s not around, and it’s clear they’re making you uncomfortable, he’ll come up behind you and stare them down. he’s like your personal guard, but behind closed doors, he’s the biggest softie, constantly being coddled by you.

sunoo loves you the same way best friends love each other. you were best friends before you started dating, and still remain each other’s best friends to this day. he’ll invite you over for sleepovers, you two get to gossip while he does your skincare and you do his nails, you even play fight over the remote before he shrieks and makes you give up the remote so he can put on his favorite show. sometimes the boys get confused because they have never once seen you display any sort of romantic affection, but that’s not what relationships solely are about. you guys show your affection in different ways, whether it’s small random gifts from time to time, the sleepovers you have, or the fun dates you guys go on. he doesn’t forget to tell how much he loves you whenever you guys spend your time together, just in case you had your doubts. because he does love you, and he’ll let you know every time after he presses the softest kiss to your lips or forehead.

jungwon loves you the same way cats love each other. sometimes he’ll be overly affectionate when it’s just the two of you, letting you rest on him when you’re exhausted from your date, his hand delicately rubbing your back in comfort. he won’t change the position the both of you are in, opting to hug you close as if you were to leave him. sometimes, when you two are hanging with his friends or yours, he’ll link pinkies with you and never leave your side, following you anywhere and everywhere. on days where you’re not feeling so fantastic, he’ll take care of you — from feeding you, to helping you bathe, asking if you’re comfortable with him doing so. he’s so gentle with you, as if you’re a gem that he’s afraid may fall and break. he does everything to make sure you’re content and satisfied, but it’s not that hard since you’re always happy when he’s around.

riki loves you in a playful manner — constantly teasing you relentlessly, pulling pranks when you don’t expect it, calling you names like booger and stink instead names like babe or sweetheart. you always return his energy, making fun of his height and laughing at old snack combinations, but at times it can be a little.. too much, and he notices that it doesn’t make you as happy as it makes him, so he dials it back. he’ll call you cute pet names from time to time, compliment you whenever you do something he finds cute or whenever you looking your best (or your worst, but he will poke fun whenever you look like you went to hell and back), sometimes under his breath when he thinks you can’t hear him, but you do and it brings a smile to your face.

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© kissofhoon, 2024

[auteurdelabre]

So Much to Lose Part 13 : Family Dinner

words: 7.5k

story rating: 18+

tags: emotional, sexual tension, idiots in love

a/n: two days ahead of schedule! I had to add another chapter in before 'coffee flavored kisses' chapter so it makes dramaturgically (please get that reference). I hope you enjoy, its one of my favorite scenes I've written for this story.

masterlist

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

"Are you even listening to me?"

You glance over your shoulder to where Jennifer leans against your counter. She's wearing a purple sweater dress today, her own creation. She's holding a coffee and giving you a small smirk.  

"Sorry, what?"

"You're distracted today," Jennifer muses.

The two of you are in your kitchen this morning, the early morning sun shining through your windows. It melted a lot of the snow, allowing bits of green to poke through. 

Jennifer saw you returning from the market with all the baking supplies you'd need. She'd commented that she wished she could bake as well as you and so of course you'd offered to teach her. 

She is so willing to spend her time teaching you to shoot, to take care of you, of course you wanted to pay her back in some small way. But ever since she crossed the threshold this morning with two coffees in hand chattering away about the town meeting you've felt this deep pit in your stomach.

Why did he do that? Why did you let him? Why did you want him to do more? You certainly hadn’t shied from his touch; you’d begged him to make you come right there. Your cheeks flame at the memory, thinking back to that evening.

You’d given Jennifer some bullshit excuse about a headache after she found you moments after you staggered out of the closet. Then you’d jogged home, your heart racing as quickly as your mind.

"Just haven't made a cake in a long time," you lie, turning away from her as you mix the batter. "Guess I'm just super focused on it."

The truth is you're completely distracted today. You have been ever since the town meeting with Joel's hand down your pants and his voice in your ear commanding you to come. You're ashamed to admit that since that night you've been bringing yourself off to the memory. 

Are you actually attracted to asshole? Or is it just that he makes the world feel safe? That he can make your brain turn off and make it all go quiet? 

There's also a humiliation there. "You think I didn't hear you on patrols?" 

You force the thought from your mind. You don't need to think about that right now. You turn your attention back to your friend who is mixing her own chocolate batter. 

"I was asking why you're making a cake of all things?" Jennifer says, frowning at the lumpy contents of her bowl. "You making it for Luke?"

She says it in a singsong voice, grinning toothily at you. 

"No," you say with a smirk. "Just making it for practice." 

Luke is another fly in the ointment as it were. While Joel's personality is abrasive at best, Luke is tender and sweet and patient. When he talks to you he really seems like he cares to know your opinion. Unlike a certain Mister Miller.

"Maybe I'll give this one to Joel," Jennifer muses, as if reading your thoughts. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach after all."

You give her a weak smile. 

While you're ashamed that Joel's treatment of you is turning you on more than you want to admit, you're more ashamed that the woman in front of you is supposed to be your friend, your best friend, and you're keeping this all from her. 

It wouldn't matter as much if she didn't like Joel. You could excuse your lack of sharing on being a private person. But you know that Jennifer likes Joel and keeping this from her is dishonest. But you're also a coward because you can't find the words to tell her.

"How was shooting practice with Luke?"

"Good," you tell her honestly, feeling a blush overtake your cheeks. "I shot four cans from a pretty fair distance."

"That's amazing!" Jennifer wraps you in a hug from behind. "See I knew you just needed a little practice!"

You grin shyly, feeling pleased and pretty damn proud of yourself.

"So did you like being with Luke alone?" Jennifer says casually as you set the temperature on the stove. There's something about the way she says it that gives you pause. 

When you look up she's grinning into her bowl, a sneaky little grin just for herself. The answer is there before you even ask the question. 

"You planned that?" 

You stare at her open-mouthed. Jennifer shrugs at you, as if she is not the most devious person in the room. 

"I mean I did need to help with textiles but I didn't need to miss practice." She winks at you. "And I may just get called away at the last minute next week too." 

"Jennifer!"

The two of you dissolve into laughter, the rest of the morning bathed in shades of pink. Jennifer has that uncanny ability to bring color into every room.  

A short while later you remove the dual cakes from the oven, praising Jennifer on hers. With your coaching her cake is going to be edible (which is more than you can say for her past baking ventures). 

"Okay these need to cool before we ice them."

"Good, its lunch let's go get something."

You follow her out your front door, both of you pulling on your jackets as Jennifer chats on about how the textile group has needed her for the occasional shift. 

"I don't mind though," she says tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. "I love seeing all the fabric." 

You wish that you could listen to Jennifer, to give all of your attention to her. But it's just not possible at this point, your mind is elsewhere. 

It's back in that room with Joel. 

Tommy and Maria are eating when you and Jennifer arrive to the dining hall. They wave you over with a smile and the two of you bring your trays to their table, joining them. 

Maria is wearing Douglas across her chest and he is milk drunk, passed out and grunting slightly in his sleep. 

"Hi you two."

Maria looks exhausted with dark hollows under her eyes. But she smiles anyway, kissing Douglas's forehead and turning to you. 

"How have you been?"

"Good how about you?"

"Tired," she smiles weakly. "Oh, I meant to ask if there was any chance you'd be willing to make some more flowers for us? I don't mean to be selfish but I'd just love Douglas to have some bright yellow ones in his room."

"Of course!" You're delighted that you can do something to help your friend. "I'd love to, I'll work on it this weekend." 

Maria gives your upper arm a gentle squeeze of thanks, whispering to Douglas that the nice lady was going to make his room beautiful. 

"Seems we're all gonna be working hard this weekend," Tommy muses over his coffee. "Gotta start getting some of the holiday stuff out of storage at our place."

You wrinkle your nose in surprise. 

"Christmas isn't for over a month."

"Yeah but it takes a lot to put on a holiday party for the town," Tommy says through a bite of salad as if you should know this already. 

"Tommy this'll be her first one," Maria reminds him. 

"Oh shit that's right," Tommy nods just as Jennifer retakes her place across from you. Tommy motions to her with his fork.

"Jenny knows all about it."

"What do I know all about?"

"The yearly holiday party."

Jennifer immediately grins enthusiastically.

"My favorite event of the year. The whole town comes out, everyone brings food, there's a band, dancing, booze, presents... It's always so much fun and goes until the next morning usually."

"We decorate the big barn by the stables," Tommy continues and you see the genuine joy in his eyes, like thirty years have been stripped away and he's just a sweet, boy on Christmas morning. "It's a big job, but with enough volunteers it goes pretty smooth." 

"We'll help you," Jennifer says out of nowhere before looking at you. "Right?"

The thing you love most about Jennifer is also the thing that drives you the most insane. She's always wanting to help people, and that would be fine if she didn't try to rope you in with her. 

Even if you didn't want to volunteer there's no possible way that you can say no now. Tommy is glancing over at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrows, Maria matching him. 

"Yeah of course. What do you need done?"

"Well we got music, set up and tear down taken care of, that's usually the hard stuff," Tommy says, rubbing his beard absently as he looks off in the middle distance. Then he snaps, remembering. "How about decorations?"

"Sure," Jennifer nods. "I love decorating, plus I worked in textiles so I have access to fabric and stuff." 

"Great," Tommy says looking overjoyed. "Joel'll be happy to have the help."

"Joel?""

Both you and Jennifer blurt the name out at the same time, though for very different reasons. 

"Yeah Joel is in charge of cutting down and decorating the tree this year. Guy who normally does it broke his leg last week." 

"Decorating a tree doesn't really sound like a three person job," you reason, pushing your carrot stick around your plate. 

"You haven't seen how big the tree is," Tommy grins. "Joel's gonna get a big one, at least twelve feet. Plus there's hanging the lights around the barn and all that stuff."

"Leave it to us, Tommy." 

Jennifer is fucking beaming as she goes back to her lunch, Maria and Tommy are exchanging smiles, but all you can do is hold in the nerves that begin in your stomach. 

Tommy and Maria depart shortly thereafter with the latter giving you a squeeze to your shoulder before she leaves. 

"I can't believe it, more chances to be alone with Joel," Jennifer giggles.

"I'll be sure to give you two a lot of alone time," you snark. "Take a page from your book."

The last thing you want is to be witness to more of them flirting, especially when thoughts of Joel have you feeling so churned up.

Jennifer laughs, about to reply to you when you both hear her name being called. An older woman with spiky grey hair is standing by the entrance to the hall and signalling for Jennifer to come over. Jennifer groans, muttering under her breath so only you can hear. 

"I know that look. She needs help with something at the shop,” Jennifer rolls her eyes as she stands. "Any chance you could ice my cake? I'll pick it up later if that's okay?"

"Uh, I might be out for a walk," you say hurriedly. "How about I just bring it over to you later?"

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"You're a peach!" Jennifer gives your hand a squeeze before excusing herself to join the woman standing expectantly at the dining room doors. 

You watch after your friend, musing that it’s so like Jennifer to want to help everyone. But now that you know why she keeps her days so busy your heart aches for her. How can you think of being attracted to Joel when you know your friend likes him? A friend that's done so much for you. 

Joel Miller isn't worth this anxiety or stress. It's not like he even enjoys your company. You're fairly certain he just gets off on ordering you around. You need to push him from your mind. 

You'll go to dinner tonight, you'll do patrols with him, but you'll keep it professional. You are going to help Jennifer get with Joel. The decision is made. It's the least you can do for a woman who has been through so much. 

Your name is called, breaking you from your thoughts. You glance over your shoulder to see Arthur and Penny headed in your direction with trays. 

"I thought that was you," Arthur says with a grin. "Mind if we join you?" 

"Please do."

The two of them sit shoulder to shoulder across from you. They fold their hands, muttering a quiet prayer for grace and then start digging in. You watch them, amused at how mis-matched a pair they are.

"So whaddya you do around here sweet pea?" Penny asks through a bite of toast. Up this close you notice her front left tooth is cracked. 

"I do patrols," you say. She curls her lip at you, perplexed. 

"Whassat?"

"It's when groups of us that take turns going outside the walls to make sure infected and Raiders don't get in or do damage to the dam." You pause hoping you've explained it decently. "

Penny gives a low whistle. "Dayum, that seems like an awful job. I'd rather clean up garbage any day." 

“It's pretty much just been carrying a gun and riding a horse so far for me."

And mutual pleasure from my nemesis.

"I don't envy ya," Penny says shaking her head and dropping back to her lunch. 

You don't know what to say to that. You watch them eat for a moment, intending on leaving them to it when Arthur starts talking.  

"I wanted to ask you, when did you want to get together for the portrait? I'd love to get back into it and I know I promised you, so I've set up my table by the window and Maria's given me some paper and pencils." 

"She did? That's great." 

You haven't been by to see Maria since the meeting and her anxious looking face keeps floating back into your mind. You know that she must be feeling overwhelmed with everything on top of Douglas. 

"She's a sweet lady," Penny observes. "Gotta bad case a' baby blues though."

You stiffen.

"Why do you say that?"

"Could see it the second I met her," Penny says absently drinking her tea. Her large eyes scan the room, obviously still nervous at the crowds. "Mothers know these things." 

"You have children?"

You don't miss the look of anguish that touches both their features. Before she speaks you know what she'll say.

"Used to."

Arthur is somber when Penny goes quiet, as if behind his pale eyes, his mind is concocting images of the face of the nameless child. Feeling guilty and uncomfortable you want to change the topic, your brain clinging the first thing that comes to your mind. Which happens to be the previous topic. 

"Arthur, I know I asked you about portraits, but I'm actually wondering if I could trade in that favor for a different one."

Arthur shoots you a watery grin.

"Lay it on me." 

///

You take a look at yourself in the mirror over your dresser that evening. It's faded, warped from age and damp. But it does the job and it reflects your tired eyes and your simple clothing. 

You blink at yourself before pulling on a new crimson-colored sweater, one of several that Jennifer gave you a few weeks ago claiming they would go wonderfully with your skin tone. 

You don't know why you're so nervous as you head to Rancher Street with the cake in your hands. You've been invited for dinner, it's sure to be a pleasant night. The cake wobbles in your nervous grip, the frosting gleaming in the fading sunlight. 

When the house comes into view you see Joel sail by in the window, going from one end to the other, reading something. His gaze is fixed, his head tilted to the page. From here you see his strong profile, the curve of his nose, and the pout of his lips. 

Fuck. Don't think about his lips. 

You swallow nervously as you make your way up the creaking porch steps. You take a full moment to stare at the door, looking at the chipped paint and the swept porch deck. 

It's just a dinner. Ellie will be there. I'll be fine. 

You knock gingerly with your free hand, shifting from one foot to the next as you hear footsteps approach. 

Joel opens the door sharply, brows furrowed before he realizes it's you. His dark eyes widen slightly, scanning you and the cake. Immediately your heart begins to pound in your chest, your cheeks heating the longer his eyes linger on your face. 

He's dressed as he always is, flannel and jeans. His hair is tousled, as if he's been running his fingers through it. You look at Joel's wool socks, strangely fascinated. They're a deep grey, worn and thick, they're so human. He stares at you, looking confused and a little surprised. 

"Can I help you?" 

His voice comes rumbling from his chest, deep and measured. You can't stop looking at his neck, noticing the sharp of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth. It has you feeling strangely distracted. 

You lick your lips nervously, inhaling quietly when his gaze drops to your mouth and then back again.

"Uh... I'm here for dinner," you say breathlessly. "I brought the cake." 

He peers at you, confusion clear in his expression. 

"Dinner?"

"Uh, yeah..." Your neck is starting to heat because Joel is crossing his arms over his chest, tilting slightly against the door frame and he doesn't look like he has any idea of what you're talking about. 

"Didn't you invite me to dinner tonight?" 

He shakes his head slowly. 

"But Ellie sa-" you start before slamming your lips together as realization belatedly dawns in your features. 

Ellie wanted you for dinner. Ellie realized that you'd never stay if you thought Joel didn't expressly invite you.

Ellie played you. 

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding," you say, feeling humiliated as Joel continues to stand there staring at you. 

You thrust the cake towards him, your eyes on the ground. 

"I made this for Ellie," you tell his socks. "Could you just give it to her?" 

Joel takes the cake from you, his fingertips trailing over yours as he does. You swallow again, feeling the little bolts of lightning that start at his touch. You watch as Joel quietly prepares to close the door, his eyes now on the ground. 

You hear the twist of the knob and can only make a little scoffing noise in the back of your throat. What had you been thinking? Had you really been so stupid as to think Joel Miller invited you over for dinner when he can barely stand you? 

"Hey," he begins, but you're already starting to move down the porch, humiliation coming off of you in waves. 

You both hear your name and your head jerks up to see Ellie coming up the walkway to the house, her arms laden down with bags. She sees you at the door and smiles broadly before she sees you heading away from the porch. 

"Where are you going?"

"Ellie, I don't really know why I'm here." 

Ellie's immediately deflates, her good spirits dimmed. 

"I wanted you to have dinner with us."

It's impossibly sweet of Ellie to want to spend time with you, but is Joel a necessary part of the equation? 

"Why did you tell me Joel invited me to join you both for dinner?"

"Because I knew if I didn't you wouldn't come."

Ellie's gaze sails away from you and over to Joel who stands with his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed and brow raised. He looks unimpressed with the pair of you. Ellie gives a grunt, heading towards him with a frown. 

"I invited her for dinner."

"Without askin' me first."

"Last time I checked it's my house too." Ellie shifts the bags in her hands. "I brought dinner and she brought dessert."

"Fine by me. I'll give you two some space." 

Joel goes to retrieve his jacket from the hook by the door but Ellie makes a disapproving noise. 

"No, you have to stay too."

Joel gives an exasperated roll of his eyes. 

"Ellie what is this?"

Ellie looks like she's halfway between a cry and a shout. She doesn't answer until he reaches for his jacket again. 

"It's my fucking birthday, okay?"

Joel goes still, his large eyes looking at her with confusion. A quiet moment passes between the two of them. 

"Your birthday?"

"Yes."

There's a lot of confusion now on your end. The way they act you'd assumed they must have known each other for most of Ellie's life. But that can't be the case if her birthday is such a shock to him.

"I didn't know."

"Obviously. Now will you stop being a grumpy asshole so my friend can have dinner with us?"

Joel looks appropriately admonished, a hand sliding to the back of his pinking neck. He's about to speak but you cut in. 

"Ellie this is a family thing," you try to appeal. "Here, take the cake and you two enjoy."

You go to hand her the cake but she shakes her head resolutely as she moves around Joel. 

"Both of you."

With that she disappears inside leaving you and Joel on the porch in tense silence. He sighs quietly before shifting his eyes to your face. 

"C'mon in then, I guess." 

You follow the two of them into the kitchen, citing that you need to put the cake in the fridge just in case. It's been a long time since you made butter cream icing and you don't want it melting.

You set it amongst the array of vegetables and water bottles inside the ice box. Ellie grabs some plates and utensils while Joel stands watching you both.  

"Grab the lemonade man," Ellie calls over her shoulder at him. You follow her into the other room, watching as she sets the table and indicates for you to take the nearest chair. 

“Joel look what they're serving tonight!" Ellie laughs, holding up the huge plate full of ravioli from the dining hall. Joel gives a droll chuckle. 

"My favorite."

Joel and Ellie exchange a secret smile, but not one that feels exclusionary. More just sweet to witness. Ellie scoops the pasta onto the plates and Joel fills up the glasses and the three of you take your seats and start eating.

You focus all your attention on the ravioli on your plate, taking small nibbles as your stomach is roiling. 

You feel eyes on the side of your face and glance over to see Joel's eyes skimming back to his plate. He looks so sullen, his jaw clenching with every bite. Your eyes drift to the other side of the table to see Ellie. She's eating her pasta with gusto but you can see the defeated look in her face.

Some birthday dinner this turned out to be. 

Joel sits on one end of the table looking uncomfortable, Ellie sits on the other end totally oblivious and you're in the middle of both with your eyes stuck on your dinner. You need to break this silence.

"So how old are you turning?"

"Fifteen," Ellie replies through a mouthful of ravioli. 

"Same age I was when everything happened," you muse. 

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Maybe that's why we get along so well. I haven't matured past fifteen."

You think you hear a small huff of amusement from Joel's direction but that might just be wishful thinking. The three of you eat your pasta in comfortable silence before Ellie turns her attention on you.

"Were you shooting yesterday? I thought I saw you and that tall guy."

Joel's attention drifts to you; you can feel it boring into the side of your face. 

"Yeah," you answer quietly. "Our friend Je-“ you catch yourself, "our other friend had to work. Normally it’s the three of us.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’m better than when I started,” you smile, motioning to Joel with your fork. “But you can ask Joel, that’s not saying much.”

You dart a glance to see Joel smirking into his dinner. Ellie laughs through a mouthful of ravioli, before she shines her attention over your way. 

“Did you hear about that party next month? Tommy was talking about it today.”

Who could forget the holiday party? The continued forced proximity with a man you just can’t quite figure out.

“My friend volunteered us for decorating,” you say, ignoring the way Joel’s motions still out the corner of your eye. “So I guess we better show up. Plus I’ve never been to one before so I’m curious.”

“We never had shit back like this in the QZ,” Ellie tilts back in her chair. “Closest we got is a pair of socks wrapped up with a bow. Fucking pathetic.”

“Language.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at Joel before looking back at you. “I hope this one is better than that.”

“You might need a dress if you go.”

The two of you glance over at Joel gulping back some of his lemonade. When he sees your dual questioning looks he raises his eyebrows, silently asking what?

Ellie stares at Joel as if she's been struck across the face. "The fuck would I wear a dress for?"

"In the south women dressed up for everything," Joel tells Ellie as he passes her the salad. "Just how things were done. My grammie wore a dress and pearls to go shoppin' in."

You can't help but discreetly glance down at your worn jeans and oversized sweater, suddenly seeing the snags and uneven loops in material. Not exactly dressed up. But you don't own nice, pretty clothes me up of soft feminine fabric. You have denim and leather and wool. Hard, fierce materials for the elements. 

"I hate dresses," Ellie frowns. "And things have changed since your day old man."

"You little shit."

You smile into your pasta. The silence is back over the table and you feel the need to fill it, despite it being a comfortable one. Emboldened by the relaxed mood in all people at the table you shift your question to Joel. 

"Are you going?" You ask casually, your attention on your meal. You hate how the flutter has begun in your chest. 

"I better. I volunteered to help with it."

"I figured you might have just been doing it for Tommy," you shrug. "Can't say I picture you at some big event with dinner and dancing."

"Joel dancing?" Ellie sputters a laugh into her glass of water. 

Joel arches a dark brow at Ellie. 

"Just can't picture it," she says giggling. 

"You know I wasn't born an old man," Joel says amused, turning his attention back to his dinner. "Did plenty of dancin’ in my day."

"Really?"

"S'half the reason Sarah was born," he says with a small smirk before he realizes what he's said.

The table grows quiet as his smile vanishes. Ellie notes the tension, shovelling pasta into her mouth.  You feel a lurch in your stomach at Joel's queasy expression. As if you'd dug a blade down his sternum and exposed his still beating heart to the world. 

It makes you speak without thinking, desperate to show him he's safe to share that side to him. Desperate to let him know he's not alone. 

"My sister loved to dance," you offer up, feeling the dual gazes of the people at the table. 

"My sister was in ballet but she'd uh, she'd do this stupid dance called the Macarena." You laugh a bit to yourself as you recall it. "It was really popular, was on the radio all the time and my dad hated it. I think that's why she kept doing it. He'd act all irritated but he'd always end up laughing." You smile at the memory. "She could always make people laugh." 

Ellie is smiling broadly, fascinated by your stories of this time before and there’s something so comforting, so normal in talking about your sister like this. Like the world isn’t ended and ugly, like she could come walking through the front door right now.

"One time my dad waited until we were in the backyard and then he turned the hose on her when she started singing and doing it,” you say, laughing bubbling forth from you. Ellie joins in, amusement painted in her expression.

Joel is listening with a gentle curl of his mouth. Ellie turns her attention over to him.

"You ever do the Macaroni dance, Joel?"

"Macarena," Joel corrects. "And fuck no, I didn't."

His horrified expression and just hearing the term Macarena in his husky drawl has you laughing loudly, a bright, noisy thing that bursts from you. It brings Ellie along with it, giggling and snorting as Joel rolls his eyes, his mouth twitching as if he's unable to keep the smirk from spreading over his features.  

The laughter ebbs comfortably and you shoot Joel a grateful look. 

"It's nice to remember the good times."

The smile he gives you in return is soft and sweet.

"Yeah. It is."

His gentleness makes your chest ache in a way you don't quite understand. It makes you feel compelled to change the topic. You shift your attention over to Ellie who is watching you both with a small curve of the corner of her mouth.

"Uh, so, I didn't know it was your birthday but I guess I actually got you a gift,” you tell her. “If you want it and Joel's okay with it."

Joel looks on edge, brow raised in confusion. Ellie wears a twin expression, but more relaxed. 

"Really?"

She looks around you for a box or wrapped item. 

"I, uh, found someone to do your tattoo to cover up your scar."

Immediately the room is silent and Ellie’s hand unconsciously places itself on her forearm, hidden under her striped sleeve. Your eyes ping pong between the two of them, concerned you’ve done something wrong. Joel is quiet, his dark eyes surveying your face as if he doesn't know what to make of you.

"If you wanted it," you amend. 

"Are you serious?" Ellie is wide-eyed.

"Yeah it's this new guy, Arthur. He just came to town with his wife. He does stick and poke tattoos and he owes me one so..." You trail off before forcing yourself to finish. "If you wanna see his work I'll introduce you to his wife. She's covered in them and they're gorgeous." 

Joel is still quiet and you're not sure what to make of the silence. You frown over at him, grimacing slightly. 

"Is that okay, Joel?"

Joel tilts back, one forearm lying casually on the table, the other resting on the back of his chair. 

"I'll wanna meet this guy. Make sure he's trustworthy."

"Of course."

"If he is... Well, it's not my body not my choice. But if you want my opinion Ellie, I'd say it's a damn fine idea."

Relief blooms in your face as Ellie gives a squeak of delight. Joel is still looking at you though, face relaxed. 

Ellie is still staring at you a beat before whipping her gaze to Joel. The two of them share a private grin before Ellie turns round to look back at you. 

"Can we go tonight?"

You laugh. "No, but I can see if there's room in his schedule later this week. If you come to lunch in the dining hall tomorrow his wife might be there."

"Awesome!" 

You smile back at her, feeling a familiar tug under your ribs every time you're happy. A measure of guilt mixed with joy. It makes your eyes wet and you push back from the table needing a moment to breathe. 

"I'll go grab your cake," you mutter, striding from the room. You hear the two of them chatting quietly behind you as you pull the cake from the fridge. 

You search the drawers for three plates and a knife, sniffling slightly. All you can think of is this bubbling joy and how she's not here to see it, to feel it, to live it too. 

You take a moment to stare at the pale pink cake. The icing on it is lumpier than you would have liked, but you'd been rushed for time. You look at the sliced strawberries and delicate whirls and you frown. 

This cake couldn't be less Ellie. Ellie is dark berries and bittersweet chocolate. She's not strawberries and pale pink icing. You idly wonder why you made this specific one for her today. 

You know why.

You cut into the cake to shut up the voice, noting how dense it ended up being with each pass of the blade. You cut it into several pieces, wiping at your eyes with the back of your sleeve with each slice. 

You feel a presence behind you; footsteps slow as they make their way next to you. Joel deposits the empty dinner dishes into the sink with a light clatter. You inhale his clean laundry and wood shavings scent, feeling dizzy. You wait for him to leave, but he’s standing there beside you, his frame sturdy. You drag your eyes up his chest to his face.

"That was kind of you, doin' that for Ellie."

"Oh, I'm not doing anything," you say with a shy lift of one shoulder. "Just the organizer."

Joel nods, tongue lodged in the side of his cheek as he stares at you thoughtfully. You let your hair fall in front of your face, worried he'll see the sheen to your eyes. It effectively blocks him out as you plate one of the cake pieces. 

"She's a good kid," you offer, knife gliding over the dish. "She deserves good things." 

"She does."

"Arthur is really nice," you tell him, hoping that if you continue to distract yourself by talking that your tears won't spill down your cheeks. "And I know he'd be discreet." 

"S'good."

"So if you want to-"

You break off when you feel Joel's fingers sliding through your hair, moving it over your left shoulder so he can peer into your face. His fingers slip down your shoulder blade before leaving your body. You track each movement, body tingling. 

"You okay?

You blink quickly, pulse jumping. His eyes hold nothing but concern in their depths, confusing you. 

"Yep. I'm fine."

He cocks his head slightly, one hand braced against the counter. 

"And the truth?"

You swallow, plating the remaining slices of cake. 

"Do you ever feel guilty that you're alive and others aren't? Like... Every time I feel a little bit happy it's like its wrong." 

Joel nods but he doesn't offer more than that. You're thankful because you're not sure any words could have brought a modicum of comfort anyway. 

You scrub at your eyes with the back of your sleeve before taking a page from Jennifer’s book; forcing a wobbly smile onto your face and motioning to the cake.

“So are we singing Happy Birthday?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

You grin at him, handing him his slice of cake and following him back into the dining room. Ellie there, looking excitedly to you as you slide her cake in front of her. She plucks the strawberry off the top, popping it into her mouth.

You take your lemonade glass and raise it. 

"To Ellie on her birthday," you say with a grin. "May your coming year be full of adventure."

Ellie smiles with a shy tilt of her face into her shoulder. You're surprised when you see Joel raise his own glass. 

"And less joke books."

Ellie sputters a laugh at this, head back her shoulders shaking. Joel chuckles at her and once again you feel like you're witnessing something sweet without being left out. Like they're letting you peek into their secret selves. 

“So was this an okay birthday dinner?” you ask.

“My first real one,” Ellie shrugs. “So it’s a good one for me. Plus I don’t actually know my birthday. I just decided I liked November so…”

She shrugs trailing off, her eyes stuck on the cake like she’s ashamed. You dart a look at Joel to see him similarly surprised at this admission. How could he not know? You glance back at Ellie who looks somber.

“I love that idea,” you enthuse. “I never liked my birthday. I think I’ll move mine to the summer so it’s always sunny when I celebrate. I guess you’ll have to make me a cake for mine, Ellie, so you better start practicing.”

Ellie grins over at you as you stick a fork into your piece of cake, the tension broken. The three of you are quiet as you savor the burst of flavor on your tongues.

“This is so good,” Ellie enthuses. “Way better than anything in the dining hall.”

You smile into your cake, flushing at the praise.

“So aside from a tattoo what would you want for your birthday?” Joel asks Ellie, his soulful eyes sincere. In moments like this you can see so clearly that he is a father, and a dedicated one at that. If Ellie asked for the moon you have no doubt he’d manage it.

“I wanna see a dinosaur,” Ellie replies seriously. “Or see space like in those books you got me.”

"Time travel," Joel nods, grinning. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The three of you chat casually about things in town, about Ellie and school until your plates are empty and Ellie is announcing she’s full after her third piece.

 Before you can start helping with the dishes she has your wrist in your grasp and is announcing to Joel that you and her are going to do girl stuff so he needs to leave you both alone. Joel hides the amusement in his features, nodding as you’re dragged away.

She pulls you into her bedroom, closing the door and motioning for you to follow her. You smile at her, feeling a bit of that sisterly affection flow through you as you watch her pace around her room, looking for something. She moves things on her shelves as she talks to you over her shoulder.

"Are you going to the party with that guy you're always with?" 

"Luke?" 

"Yeah that sounds right. Is he your boyfriend?"

Your eyes fly wide before you give an awkward chuckle. 

"No. Not my boyfriend."

"But you want him to be?"

"I don't really know," you answer honestly, fingers trailing along the edge of her desk. “Jennifer keeps trying to get us alone together.”

Ellie makes a face at this, halfway between exasperation and disgust as she throws back the pillows she moved. It makes you giggle but then feel guilty because Jennifer is truly one of the best people you know. 

"Why do you dislike her so much?"

"I dunno," Ellie shrugs her left shoulder. "Just think she's phony is all. Just like Diana."

"I used to think that too," you tell her honestly. "Jennifer suprised me though. I think you'd like her if you gave her a chance, Diana too."

Ellie just shrugs again, hands in the pocket of her jeans in a way that is all Joel. So much of her is, from her scowl to the way she sticks her lower lip out in thought. She looks over at her dresser, eyes brightening.

“That’s where I left it.”

You watch as she pulls out a dark blue ribbon holding it in front of her.

"I never pictured you as a ribbons in your hair kind of person," you tell her honestly. 

"I'm not." She hands the ribbon to you. “It’s for you. It’ll look nice in your hair.”

You’re touched by this, taking the ribbon, fingers dancing along the frayed edges. It’s a midnight blue, the deep of an ocean. You smile at her gratefully before pocketing it.

“Thanks Ellie, but it’s your birthday you’re the one that should be getting presents.”

“I got enough tonight,” Ellie says, looking away from you shyly. She strides over to the bookshelf, bringing out a book you didn't see during your last visit here. She holds it up to you as you approach. 

"Did you ever read this one? Joel says it's a good one." 

Charlotte's Web. 

You feel your stomach churning the longer you look at the title. The pale watercolor girl and pig. 

"Yeah," you say in a quiet voice. "It's a good one." 

Ellie nods, looking back at it before tossing it onto her bed, obviously her evening reading. She's quiet for a few moments, contemplating something before gazing over at you. 

"Don't tell Joel I'm thinking of going to the party. He'll just make a big deal about it."

You smile, touched by her trust in you. 

"Our secret."

///

When the moon hangs low in the sky and the world feels quiet you find yourself under the big window in your bedroom sitting under a knitted blanket, eyes wide. Your pupils look like little moons themselves, eclipsed when the reflection is shifted as you tilt your head. 

You've always loved looking at the moon. Unlike the sun that can be harsh and unforgiving, the moon is calm solemnity. It's quiet and forgiving. It bathes you in a soft glow and your neighborhood in a quiet still. 

You realize that being with Joel is like being exposed in the sun. Often harsh, unforgiving rays that burn your skin, but when it's warm and gentle attention is on you it's so enticing you want to bask in it. It's not as if you actually enjoy his company. He's fucking insufferable. It's because he withholds so much that when he finally relents and allows a bit of softness to trickle through it's like a stream you want to drown in. 

You were always been the one who wanted to befriend the feral cat, to earn their affection, to let them know you could be trusted. You suppose that must translate into this life now, a desire to tame the wild. 

And now you sit in the night, gazing at darkness, lost in thought. Tonight is one of those nights, the kind where your mind won’t quiet and the world seems more confusing than normal.

Sometimes on these nights under the moon you watch people wander up and down the streets. The night owls that aren't bidden by a clock like the rest of the town. But it’s almost three in the morning and the streets are empty.

It leaves you with nothing but your increasingly frenzied thoughts because if you focus you can still feel the sensation of Joel’s wide fingers buried in your cunt, the rasp of his warm breath on your neck, the husky urging of his rumbling voice telling you to come for him.

I know what you feel like when you're close. Don’t fight it.

Be a good girl and do it.

Give it to me. S’mine

You could write it off as nothing but lust but then dinner with Ellie? It had been a softening, a sweetness you peeked through the cracks of his hard planes. You’d seen love in his eyes for her, compassion for you. And above all you’d felt safety there in his home, a brief flash of it before your past memories caught up with you, nipping at your heels. Then the sensation of his hands moving your hair over your shoulder, the touch all tender and asking nothing in return but your honesty.

Joel Miller confuses you.

And then like some phantom you see him.

He’s there amongst the dreary wet snow, walking – well, stumbling slowly towards your home. He must have been at the Bison – he has the look of a man who’s had one too many, something you’ve never truly witnessed in him before.

You tense up, watching him in your window, knowing he can’t see you in the darkness but still paranoid he’ll sense you. With the moon high in the sky you can see him perfectly, the blue-black shape of his broad body and soft curls. You see when he comes to stand in the center of the street and you inhale softly when his eyes fix on your bedroom window.

He stands there for several minutes just staring, sort of wobbling from foot to foot. For some reason his presence compels you into pulling on a robe and rushing downstairs. Your blood is roaring in your ears and you know your pulse is doing its own little tap dance but it doesn’t stop you from jerking open the door.

"Joel?"

Joel is standing on your porch now with his dark eyes squinting against the light from your home shining out behind you. 

"Joel, it's three am."

Joel just stares at you, a long lingering thing. Something about the intensity of it makes any further remarks die on your tongue. Why did you come down here? Why did you open the door? Why did you invite this awkward moment into your life?

Joel stands there with glassy eyes fixed on your face. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and for a moment you worry something might actually be wrong. You pull your robe tighter around you before you take a step towards him.

"Joel are you-"

You go silent when he holds up a hand in front of him, palm facing you, silently asking you to stop talking. 

"Just ..." he trails off, voice thick with sleep and alcohol. 

He makes no move to come closer, no attempt to touch you. He just stares at you a few more minutes and then with a satisfied little nod to himself he walks off your porch and into the night. You watch him trail down your steps and then his long legs carry him in the direction of Rancher Street.

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

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[mini-ism]

#— “SO, YOU’RE A CAMBOY?”

⋆ warnings: ADULT CONTENT (MDNI). camboy!au, masturbation, no beta read.

⋆ pairings: gallagher, sunday, aventurine, welt yang, dr. veritas ratio (separate) X reader.

⋆ notes: this is a part 2 (that nobody asked for lol), i hope i didnt butcher anyones character 😓

⋆ PART 1.

⋆ gallagher will actually oil up if you tell him to — and he does it with a dirty grin. he always wears his signature magenta tie, or maybe a collar if he’s feeling extra naughty. not much is known about gallagher, truthfully. gallagher likes to flex his biceps, he knows that drives you mad. his arms are all scratched up, speckled with patches of scar tissue up to his shoulders. he has a strangely magnetic gaze, one that calls to you as he strokes himself. he lolls his head, letting out a long, heavy moan. his brown hair starts to stick to his face as he sweats, teasing his cock to drive his viewers wild. he edges to get you riled up, raising his eyebrows as he pumps his shaft with two big, thick, calloused hands. he likes to cuff himself to his bed, unable to pull away from a vibrator or his own hand. gallagher is very personal with his viewers at times, ranting about his long, boring day at work with a hand on his cock, calling himself an “old dog” and blabbing about bitchy people. if there’s one thing about gallagher that you know, it’s that he’s a dirty, old showoff. oh, and, if you finish before him, he will relentlessly tease you for it.

⋆ sunday infrequently streams. there’s something so filthy and impure about it that drives him somewhat wild. he doesn’t like to show his face on camera a lot, it could end up bad if it becomes public knowledge that he’s the one on stream. however rare it may be for him to stream, let alone show his face, you can’t ever get enough of his flushed face. he’s just so pent up, and every time he gets close, his wings start to flap a little, it’s adorable. his wings are perfectly preened, his body is well taken care of, and his hands are simply beautiful. his skin is quite pale, it sometimes looks slightly grey, but his knuckles are rosy, and his face gets so, so red. his cock is just as gorgeous, his entire body is well maintained, his tip just as rosy as his knuckles. he lets out small babbles as his cool, collected exterior starts to falter from pleasure. he teases the slit of his tip with his thumb, stroking slowly, dampening his moans with his other mouth. what he does secretly is just so, so impure, it’s sinful, it feels all too good to show his fans what he cannot show the world. it’s amazing, having no control for once.

⋆ aventurine is showy. he’s already pretty showy (he has a lot to compensate for, in all honesty), but when he’s right in front of the camera, something in him changes. he likes to make his streams feel one-on-one, he knows that’s what gets him donations. sometimes, he likes to make “bets” on who will come first, you or him. it’s always you, especially when he dirty talks and picks up the camera to show you how hard and needy he is. he licks his lips and he moans softly when he pumps himself, taunting you to cum, confessing how hard this makes him. he always makes sure to ruin your orgasm indirectly, never letting you get what you want. shouldn’t seeing him already be enough for you, or are you just selfish?

⋆ welt never anticipated becoming a camboy. he was reluctant, but he strangely started to enjoy it. he doesn’t have much personal time, between his job, his duties, his life, he doesn’t savor the time he has alone with himself all too much. welt loves to praise you, urging you to come for him, come to his body and his dick. his gaze is so, so gentle, egging you on for longer, edging himself just so you feel good. his audience loves that about him, he’s endearing and selfless, he doesn’t even have donations on. he mostly streams for the fun of it, he loves encouraging you to feel your best, showing you every part of him that you want, flexing his muscles, giving you THAT look, moaning for you. he strokes his cock softly, whimpering with pleasure and whining as he feels his abs after he edges again. welt absolutely has a cult-like following, the majority of which have some sort of DILF fascination.

⋆ veritas ratio was openly against the idea of streaming. he shut it down every time, but something in the back of his mind nagged him. he grew in popularity in a short time, tugging on his cock with a strange scowl-like smile on his face. he was wonderfully sculpted, though, he loved to show his body. he would occasionally post to other platforms with photos of him shirtless. sometimes out of the bath, skin still glistening and wet, or after a workout in a mirror. in due time, veritas became used to flaunting his body, sneakily placing a rubber ducky somewhere around his home, whether it be his living room, his room, wherever, and challenging his viewers to find it. he’s mildly agitated whenever a member of his audience calls him “ducky” or “mr. ducky.” the ducks are part of the reason why he blew up so fast. veritas knows he’s handsome, though, and he loves to tease, pulling his cock from his boxers when he can’t bare another second of not touching it. he’s big, and he loves to talk about what he’ll do to you. he wastes no time, making sure to pleasure himself and you as efficiently as possible, he’s a master of dirty talk, especially with that commanding voice of his.

[nerdallwritey]

Just to Ruin Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion whacked you in the face.

Your eyes shot open.

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

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

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

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

No.

No, that wasn’t your fight. 

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

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

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

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

That… would not be pleasant. 

You shifted to sit up and look around.

Ow.

A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 

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

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

Nothing.

Okay fine. 

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

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

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

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

“You were having a nightmare.”

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

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

“So you assaulted me?”

“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”

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

“Are you okay?”

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

You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”

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

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion pursed his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”

You giggled. “What?”

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

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

“Wait, no-”

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

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

You shrugged, pleased with yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just thought of something,” you said.

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

“Can I borrow your fangs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled at him. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did not!” You protested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you said.

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

You held up your hands innocently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doing what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a prick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That hurt. 

You said as much. “Ouch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then by all means.”

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

“Do you… want to be with me?”

Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You humphed.

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

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

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

You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 

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

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

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

That made you smile softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”

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

Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.

“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 

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

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

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

“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

You pulled back and looked at him curiously.

Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.

“I did have a knife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pursed your lips, disappointed. 

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

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

He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”

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

“What is it, love?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 

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

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

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

“They’re coming,” you hissed.

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

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

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

“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 

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

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

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

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

“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 

“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

He shrugged. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 

“Astarion,” you scolded. 

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

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

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

You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 

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

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

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

“Oh my gods,” you groaned.

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

Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” You asked.

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

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

A small smile appeared on his face in return.

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

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

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

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

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

“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re happy?” She asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

“I got it,” he said flatly. 

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

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

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

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

You let out a heavy sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made you laugh. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “Bad.”

“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”

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

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

“But you said-”

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

You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 

“Words, darling.”

“Another…” you said breathily.

“Another what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A relieved sigh escaped you. 

“We could always work our way up-”

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“No, of course not-”

“But we can-”

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

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

You inhaled. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s important because-?”

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

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

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

Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“And second, multiple trips, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What about it?”

“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 

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

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

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

“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 

“I do not.”

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

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

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope she kills you first.”

You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 

And stepped into camp. 

[interstellarl01]

My most reread Drarry fics

You know those fics you keep coming back to, no matter how many times you've read them? Well, I've got a few that I can't get enough of, and I wanted to share with you my love for them and for the writers of these incredible stories.

I've read those fics countless times. Some are angsty, others are fun and sexy, but they all have something in common: I've read them an embarrassing amount of time and I love them dearly.

Almost all of them are under 30k because, well, I don’t have enough time to reread longer fics, unfortunately (although, I do sometimes reread part of them, but that would have to be for another post).

Is this love? by @phdmama 3.8k

This is where I go when I need comfort. So achingly tender, soft and intimate. I love it.

Draco at nineteen by birdsofshore 5k

Older Harry from the future surprises Draco for his nineteenth birthday. Hot hot hot with feelings and a pinch of angst.

In His Nature by Create_Serenity 20k

Amazing veela fic with a vulnerable Draco who will break your heart.

Strings Attached by daisymondays 14k

Friends with benefits with a Draco very much in denial. Humour, banter, feels, smut. This fic has it all.

Once more with feeling by InnerLilith 28k

I guarantee that you will be a little bit in love with Harry after this fic.

8th year fuck or die. An absolute gem of a fic! The first chapter hurts so bad, but the pay off is worth it. The ending will have you grinning like a loon with your heart full.

All I have to do by @fluxweeed 9k

The hottest one shot ever. Incredible writing and such a delightful read.

Kiss the Joy (Until the Sun Rise) by ICMezzo 37k

This is such a raw, emotional and powerful story. A confined narrative entirely set in the room of requirement, right after the final battle.

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia 18k

“When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember”. My absolute favorite GallaPlacidia fic. Angsty with lots of pinning.

Invisible by Phoenixstrike 2.6k

Warning : infidelity (not between drarry) + threesome Drarry/Ginny.

This fic was written for a dialogue-free fest and is so underrated. It deserves more kudos. It’s brilliantly written and even though it’s very angsty and quite sad (for Ginny), I love revisiting it.

Finally, I couldn’t not mention @lqtraintracks - I’ve spent hours and hours going through their catalogue. There are so many fics that I adore and that I’ve reread over the years. I couldn’t possibly choose one.

And you, what are your most reread fics?

[hqbaby]

nineteen — different

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.9k content. profanity, angst

“Fucking finally,” Maki groans, rolling over from her place on your bed. She raises the beer that she’s holding and clinks it against yours. “We did it.”

Nobara, head buried in a pillow, makes a sound that’s halfway between a wince and a sob. “Barely made it out alive,” she says, voice muffled. “But I guess it’s pretty cool that it’s over.”

You reach over and pat the back of her head. “You did good, babe.”

She grunts in reply and you laugh, leaning back into the pile of pillows behind you.

Now that your exams are over and done with, there’s only one thing left for you to do: Pack for the ski trip and get the fuck out of here.

You look around your room, at the mess of it all, at the empty cans of Monster littering the floor, at the wads of tissue paper strewn across your desk and your dresser—it both embarrasses and annoys you to know that you can cause such a mess.

You hear a quiet snore and look to your side to find Maki sleeping with her head on your shoulder.

At least you didn’t make the mess all on your own.

With the smallest of movements, you manage to slide yourself out from under Maki and prop her head up with a pillow. You check on Nobara, find her sleeping as well, and quietly walk out of your bedroom. You grab your phone and propel yourself onto your couch, sighing as the soft pillows embrace your body.

You love your friends, you really do, but sometimes you find that you just want to be alone. Just need a moment to yourself.

You’re lying on your side, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when the text pops up.

booger: how’s the finals recovery going?

You smile to yourself as your eyes linger on the notification. You and Sukuna have barely seen each other since things between the two of you became official… or, well, as official as they can get after fucking each other a few times and proclaiming your love for one another over the phone. While you know steering clear of each other was the best choice for your grades, you can’t say that you haven’t missed seeing your best friend.

you: it’s going

you: they zonked out

booger: oh? so can u sneak out to the parking lot?

You frown, fingers hovering over your keyboard as you read his text. What does he have planned?

you: be there in 5

You head back to your room, careful to not make any sudden noises as you change out of the t-shirt you’ve been wearing for who knows how long. You glance at yourself in the mirror, hardly looking presentable, but you decide it’s good enough. You suppose there’s some benefits to dating your best friend, the one who’s seen you through all states of grossness and undress.

You walk out of your apartment, locking the door behind before sprinting down the stairs. You stopped using the elevator after that last incident. While the results were pretty great, you’re not exactly keen on getting trapped in a metal box again.

As soon as you step outside the building and into the cool night air of the parking lot, you see him.

Sukuna, leaned against the hood of his car, smiling as you walk up to him.

“Hey, tiger,” he says when you stop in front of him. He reaches over to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek as he studies your features, as if he’s trying to memorize every part of you. You’d be shy if anyone else looked at you this way. But it’s Sukuna, how could you ever feel shy in front of him?

You nuzzle into his touch, placing a hand on his hip and drawing him closer. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, still lost in your eyes. “Just wanted to see you,” he says. “I missed you.”

His words make you want to melt. You figured this was what Sukuna would look like in love, you’d never seen it before—not with the girls he used to go out with—but you always knew there was potential for him to be this gentle with someone he cared about. This sweet. This good.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest. “I missed you too.”

He holds you by your waist, closing his eyes as he breathes you in, lets himself succumb to your touch, to your warmth. “Don’t think I can ever be away from you for that long again, tiger,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your hair. “Nearly drove myself crazy.”

You chuckle against him, pulling him in tighter. “You’re so needy.”

He pulls back a little and catches your eye. His forehead comes to press against yours. “I meant what I said,” he whispers.

You raise your brow teasingly. “Remind me, what did you say again?”

“Such a brat,” he says, eyes softer than his words. He holds your face in his hands, his touch featherlight. “I love you.”

You swallow. You can’t tell if it’s because of the tension between the two of you, the tiniest sliver of space between your lips and his, they way he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Or something else.

You nod and draw him closer to you. “I love you too.”

There’s a strange expression that passes over his features. You can’t tell what it is, but you catch it. The subtle pursing of his lips, the slight hardening of his gaze. He snaps out of it before you can point it out.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment,” he says, finally moving away from you. He holds you at arm’s length, grinning as he gives your cheeks a squeeze. “You’re so fucking adorable.”

You roll your eyes, swatting his hands away. “You’re so annoying.”

“Well, you love me so… too bad,” he says, swinging his arms over your shoulder and leading you back into your apartment building. “You better pray that your friends are asleep because they’re gonna think we fucked again if they see me.”

“They’ll have your head,” you laugh, leaning into Sukuna’s touch.

You try to relax as the two of you make your slow way to your apartment, but you can’t seem to let yourself do that. This whole thing between the two of you feels so new. So fragile. You’ve never been more afraid of ruining something in your whole life.

You reach your apartment door and fish your keys out of your pocket. “Have you packed for the trip yet?” you ask him as you unlock the door.

“Packing’s for losers.”

You lean against your door frame and stick your tongue out at him. “Not packing is for losers,” you tell him. “If you forget to bring anything, I’m not letting you borrow my shit.”

He gives you a look of faux offense. “I thought what’s yours is mine?”

Grinning, you press your nose against his. “We’re not married, asshole.” You lean forward and kiss him. A quick kiss, but soft and sweet. When you pull back, he has a goofy little grin on his face.

“Is that your way of asking me to marry you?” he says. He wiggles his brows playfully, obviously just teasing you. “Because it might just work, tiger.”

You can feel your smile drop at his words. You don’t intend for it to, but it does. Your whole body seems to grow cold.

Sukuna’s expression shifts into concern as he holds your shoulders, tilts his head to the side. “Hey, are you okay?”

You blink. “Yeah,” you say. You shake your head, letting out a laugh, “Sorry. I don’t know what that was.”

“You sure?” he asks. “You looked like you were gonna be sick.”

“No, no,” you reassure him. You place a hand on his arm and squeeze it. “I’m just really tired.”

Sukuna nods slowly, still unconvinced. But he doesn’t question it, doesn’t force you to tell him something you might not want to. He’d never want to force you into saying anything you were comfortable saying.

“Okay,” he says. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

You nod, offering him a smile to placate his concerns. “I will, ‘Kuna,” you say. Then, “As long as you do the same.”

He leans down and kisses you one last time. “I promise.”

“Maki!” you call out. You’re in the kitchen with a garbage bag in each hand. The three of you have spent most of the morning running around your apartment like headless chickens trying to tidy it up as much as possible. You’re all feeling pretty disgusted with the people you become when you’re busy with finals, so you’re trying your best to hide the evidence.

“Maki!” you say again, louder this time. “I need help over here!”

When you don’t get a response, you groan, dropping the bags by the door and walking over to your room where you know Maki is.

She’s standing in front of your bedside table, her back turned. Her head is crouched and you assume that she’s holding something, studying it with intent.

“Maki, I need help with the door,” you tell her, heading over to where she is. “Nobara’s downstairs, can you lock the door behind—”

You freeze when you finally see what she’s looking at.

She doesn’t look at you, eyes focused on the thing in her hands.

“Ma—”

“Why do you still have this?” she asks. Her voice is soft, not judgemental, not harsh in any way. It’s genuine curiosity if anything. “And why is it right beside your bed?”

You look away when she finally turns to you. “I just haven’t gotten around to throwing it out,” you try to explain. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Maki says your name quietly, putting the paper ring back down on your bedside table. “You don’t have to hide things from me,” she tells you. “I’m not gonna criticize you or anything. I just want you to know that you can tell me these things.”

You glance at the ring on the table. Satoru, written inside. “I don’t think I’ve been honest with myself.”

“Okay,” Maki says. She guides you to sit down beside her on your bed. This is clearly not a standing type of conversation. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” you say, staring at your hands in your lap. “Everything with Sukuna is just going so great, and,” the next words come out all strangled and weak, “I’m just so scared. Because this is exactly how it started with Satoru too.”

She rubs your back in a soothing manner, leaning the side of her head against yours. “It’s gonna be okay,” she tells you. “Sukuna’s not Satoru. And… you know even that was more complicated than it should’ve been. I wouldn’t expect the same thing to happen again.”

The night of the party flashes in your head, little bits and pieces. You think of the way it all started out so nicely. You think of how you felt like you were walking on air for the first few hours, surrounded by friends and full of nothing but joy. Then, you think of walking past the bedroom. Their laughter. Their words, cutting into you. Tiny cuts, but cuts all the same.

You think of what happened after. What you did.

And it makes you want to hurl.

You grab Maki’s hand, trying to ground yourself. “This is gonna be different, right?” you say, more to yourself than to her. “Right?”

Maki squeezes your hand. “Yeah,” she tells you. “It’s gonna be different. It’s gonna be okay.”

You can only hope that she’s right.

notes. i think it’s so poetic how this is the chapter i’m posting after finishing my own finals. like it wasn’t planned at all it just kinda happened. so glad i’m not dealing with the same scary feelings as reader though 🥲 we also got a little more insight on the breakup in this chap 👀 what could’ve happened 👀

[gay-dorito-dust]

This can be consisted the prologue of the series, a little taste test or something…

Warning: men being men and not listening and paying the price for their stupidity.

You didn’t know how you did it.

You really didn’t, and it currently wasn’t as if you were actively trying either! You had been running for a while now after catching the unwanted gaze of some unsavoury characters before running as fast as your legs could to get out of sight, only to find yourself somewhere and staring into the large eye of a dragon.

This was no ordinary dragon because from just it’s eyes alone you could tell that this one was a lot bigger than most, possibly as large as Vaghar but the cave had been proven far too dark to get a good look of the rest of its body.

Or the reason you can’t see the rest of its body is because its head is so large it’s all you can see. That little voice in your head told you as the cold feeling of dread crept up your back, thought of standing in front of something far larger than you didn’t sit right with your feeble human mind as you swallowed thickly.

One thing that you were for certain about and that was the potent stench of rotting corpses however and blood that stung your eyes with how horrid the smell was the moment you had rushed into the massive cavern on impulse to find safety. It wasn’t until your eyes has caught a glimpse of the skeleton of a dragon, one of which that was far, far smaller than the one you in front of you, followed by a skeleton of a human did realisation hit you.

You had found Cannibal, one of the largest dragon to ever exist, the very same dragon you’ve heard plenty stories about as a kid. Stories of how many people tried to claim the behemoth, only to end up within the dragon’s stomach and even more stories of how Cannibal would even hunt and kill other dragons for sustenance.

You didn’t understand why people would still try to claim him, knowing well enough of the fate that awaits them, but still pressing on regardless in hopes that one of them would be lucky enough to make history by becoming Cannibal’s first ever rider. It was stupid to think such a thing when it had been proven time and time again that Cannibal simply didn’t wish to be ridden and left alone in peace but kept having it being disrespected by people fuelled by their own personal agendas.

Cannibals eye remained on you the entire time, watching you as though trying to read your next move. The behemoth of a dragon seemed to recognise that you knew of him and his reputation, but didn’t dare move to attack you like you thought he would. The question on your mind were between him trying to lure you into a false sense of security or was he trying to gauge whether you’d break first and run?

You respected dragons becuase they were far smarter then you’ve been lead to believe, beings that harboured endless fires within their bellies, and have lived long enough to recognise the changes within Westeros from the one they’ve arrived to a long time ago. They fascinated you all the same but something about Cannibal has fascinated you the most, however you valued yourself in knowing that it was better to admire the beast from afar rather then up close; much like you were right now.

‘I’m sorry.’ Were the first words that came out of your mouth in a flurry as you bowed lowly before the dragon, tensing when you felt Cannibal’s hot breath wash over you, it reeked badly of blood but your fought your urge to gag as the scent as though your life depended on it because it did. ‘I didn’t- I wasn’t aware that you resided here. I’ll leave.’ You told the dragon as it merely watched you back away with a peculiar look in its eye, all the while you tried to prevent yourself from stepping and tripping on old bones of both human and dragon, not once ever breaking eye contact with Cannibal for a single second.

However once you were close enough to the entrance of the cavern, you heard the voices of the very people you had ran away from in the first place and felt yourself as though trapped between a rock and a hard place; either die by dragonfire or by the hands of fellow humans?

‘Where did they go?’ A voice sounded close by the entrance of the cave, causing your breath to catch in your throat as you found yourself frozen in place.

‘They ran off into this cave, the stupid cunt.’ Another voice called, cocky and arrogant as two men appeared in your only way out, their faces were casted in shadows but you could feel their stares and their growing smirks once they saw you.

‘There you are.’ One sang, steeling forward but you immediately took a step back, feeling Cannibal’s hot breath at your back once more.

‘I wouldn’t come closer if I were you.’ You tried warning them as you could sense that Cannibal was getting annoyed, you didn’t know Joe you knew what Cannibal was feeling but you just assumed that the dragon wouldn’t like the additional company of two men who reeked of piss.

‘Oh? And why’s that?’ The other said as he too stepped into the cave, causing you to take another step back.

‘There’s a dragon in this cave.’ You said and the two men stopped their advances to look at each other for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. ‘A dragon? Here? You’re having a laugh!’ They were crying tears of laughter now and you’ve never felt more helpless in that moment. ‘I’m serious! There’s a dragon in this cave and he’s going to kill you!’ You cried as you could feel Cannibal practically hovering over you now as you internally begged the beast for mercy and forgiveness for being these men into his home.

‘Oh I’m so scared!’ One of the men said, nudging his friend. ‘You hear that? We’re going to die according to this little cunt.’

His friend snorts. ‘They’re lying, let’s grab them before they attract anymore attention.’ He said before bringing his attention back towards you as he and his friend began to advance on you once more. ‘Come here you lying little-‘ before he could finish his sentence, a wave of dragonfire consumed both men in their entirety until there was nothing more then charred corpses.

You looked over your shoulder towards Cannibal who huffs at you as if to say you’re welcome.

‘Thank you.’ You told him, only for the dragon to huff again, leaning his head down to nudge you with his snout towards the entrance of the cave, urging you to take your leave before wandering back further into his cave until you couldn’t see him anymore.

This wasn’t what you at all had expected from this outcome, not one bit.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 6.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, jungkook is a mess, swearing

☆word count: 4.4k

☆a/n: this can almost count as a full chapter lmao oop, I hope you enjoy reading <3

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook is excited. He hasn’t had his friends over in forever, and he and Jimin are already planning to get plastered even though Sera said they shouldn’t.

He’s been needing it, if only so that he can get you off his mind. So that he can forget how awkward things were this week, how you both avoided each other like the plague as if nothing truly ever happened between the two of you.

It’s been making him feel more bitter than he’d care to admit, so getting plastered has been sounding like heaven since Jimin suggested it. Or maybe Jungkook’s true goal is just to get Jimin drunk, if only so that he stops teasing him about you.

About that evening you watched anime with them, and Jungkook couldn’t resist but lean against you, far too close for comfort.

“Is she going to be there?” Jimin says for the thousandth time, wiggling his eyebrows.

They are currently setting up the living room, organizing all the alcohol they got. Sera is lounging on the couch, and she raises her head to look at them.

“Is who going to be there?” she asks.

“Tae’s sister,” Jimin explains, and then slides his gaze back to Jungkook. “They were pretty cosy-”

Jungkook interrupts Jimin’s teasing by punching him in the shoulder, clearly hard enough to hurt as Jimin immediately winces, massaging the spot he hit.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles. “We’re just roommates.”

“Oh my God, they were roommates,” Sera imitates from the couch, just like the Vine from years ago.

“Exactly my point,” Jimin says, mischievous smirk on display.

“You know I’ll kill you?” Jungkook says, slightly shaking his head as he clenches his jaw.

Jimin laughs, plopping down on the couch next to Sera. “That’s if Tae doesn’t get to you first.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the comment this time around. It helps that his phone starts ringing with a call from Lisa incoming. He picks up to learn that she’s outside with Eunwoo and Jaehyun, and Jungkook walks over to the door, opening up for his friends.

Lisa smiles shyly as she meets his gaze, and Jungkook engulfs her in a quick hug before dapping up the two guys. As he follows his friends back to the living room once they’ve ridden themselves of their coats and boots, Jungkook glances towards the bend in the hallway, almost imagining you appearing.

But you’re not here at all. He heard you leave over an hour ago, while he was gaming in his room waiting for Jimin and Sera to show up with the alcohol.

He wonders where you went. If there’s a party on campus that you’re gracing with your presence right now, and somehow his stomach twists at the thought. He pushes it to the far back of his mind, focusing on drinking now that it is time to do so.

As he gets slowly tipsier with every passing sip, Jungkook can’t help but notice how Lisa is bolder than she usually is. Sitting closer, being touchier, and Jungkook would push her away if it wasn’t for the way Jimin is looking at them with narrowed eyes, suspicion painted on his features. 

Lisa could be a good distraction, Jungkook reckons. Not for himself - he wouldn’t have sex with her at all as she’s part of the friend group, and he’d hate to make things awkward. But she could be a good distraction for Jimin’s incessant teasing, so Jungkook seizes the opportunity, lying down with his head on her lap as the boys - Mingyu has now also arrived - are playing Smash on the TV. 

Jungkook feels the way Lisa stiffens for a few seconds, before relaxing as he offers her a quick smile. She melts then, and she starts playing with his hair, which feels way too good in his tipsy - or maybe drunk now? - state.

He sits up when it’s his turn to play, coincidentally grabbing a new beer for himself. He’s just barely won the game when the front door opens, a gush of cold air rushing in, and then you appear, cheeks rosy from the late winter outside.

The sounds fade around Jungkook as he meets your gaze, and his heart comes to a halt in his chest as a frown appears on your face. He hates the sight of it, and he’s too drunk to tell himself it’s not his job to take care of it, so he yells, “Peach!” at the top of his lungs.

He feels everyone turning towards him, and he quickly jumps up to his feet, wobbling slightly as he makes his way towards you.

“It’s freezing,” he says, closing the door. 

You meet his gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re drunk.”

He can’t help himself. He flicks your nose, if only so that your frown dissolves. “Astute.”

You glance towards the living room, but Jungkook doesn’t look away from you. You’re a prison to his gaze after all.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth.

He leans against the door as you meet his gaze again. “Oh peach, sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Damn him and his drunk brain, because why the fuck would he say that? 

He hides it behind a grin, and then escapes by walking back to the living room, feeling your eyes boring into his back on the way.

Sera greets you, but Jungkook forces himself to listen to the conversation around him, laughing when everybody does. It’s a little forced, but it goes unnoticed, and the next time he glances towards the door, you have disappeared.

“I want to play with your hair again,” Lisa says in his ear, startling him. 

Sera gets up to head to the kitchen, and Jungkook glances at Lisa. “Huh?”

She pouts, her doe eyes innocent. “Like earlier?”

Right. He’s too drunk to refuse the offer, and he lies down, head in her lap, as she starts running gentle fingers through his hair once more. It doesn’t last too long - the second you emerge from the kitchen after Sera’s return, Jungkook pushes himself up, waving you over.

“Come here!” He narrows his gaze as his eyes drop to the bowl in your hands. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my shit,” he complains, and he gives Lisa the controller he was holding before standing up to walk towards you.

He tries to grab the bowl, but you turn away, offering your back to him. “Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook knows his eyebrows are almost touching over his eyes as he says, “No.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, which forces you far too close to his body for comfort. He feels the immediate reaction, his ears slowly turning red, and he covers it up by stealing the bowl from your hands. You try to reach for it, but you’re too small, and he whoops in victory.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” he says, looking down to meet your gaze.

Your face is so close he believes he feels your breath on his skin, and his blood heats up, turning to magma in his veins.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

Fuck you’re so pretty. It’s all he can think of, and he smiles, winking at you. 

“Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

You clench your jaw. “Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“Please, Jungkook,” you say a few seconds after he’s met your gaze again.

Something’s wrong. He feels it in his bones, and he frowns, lowering the arm that was holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

“I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

Hearing that you went on a date does something incredibly ugly to him, and Jungkook takes a step back, handing you the bowl so that he can fold his arms on his chest. “Who did you go on a date with?”

Your answer comes far too quick for it to be normal. “It’s none of your business.”

It dawns on him that he probably already knows, and the sour feeling turns bitter. “Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

“Jungkook,” you firmly say. “It’s none of your business.”

The spike of anger and jealousy forces Jungkook to clench his fists. “He’s an asshole.” He lets out. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He isn’t, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You glance towards the living room, and Jungkook looks just in time to see everyone turning their head away from you two. 

The last thing Jungkook wants is for you to go to your room. Hell, he’d go with you if only to make sure you’re okay, truly okay, yet he can’t really do that, can he? So instead, he suggests, “Why don’t you stay with us? To cheer you up?”

You meet his gaze, scanning his features for a few seconds. Jungkook hopes you can’t hear his heart beating out of his chest, settling only when you let out, “Okay.” You pause, sighing, and then add, “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you, though he has to admit he’s relieved by your teasing tone. It’s much more like the Y/n he knows, and it stays that way for a little while as you move to the living room, and he sits right next to you.

Almost close enough to touch, but not quite touching. He tells himself it’s just to keep a safe distance, to make sure Jimin doesn’t say anything, yet when you joke about the food being too spicy, and Jungkook says, “We just have to build up your tolerance”, his hand lands on your thigh, like your thigh was the metal, and his palm the magnet.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but when you widen your gaze, looking like a startled deer, his mind zeroes in on the spot where he’s touching you, and he immediately pulls his hand away, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

And then someone nudges him in the back, and he glances over his shoulder for half a second, just long enough to notice Jimin looking at him, and Jungkook knows he fucked up. He fucked up bad, so he moves away from you, forcing himself to lie back down with his head in Lisa’s lap.

It hurts you. He can tell that it does from the way you stiffen, barely even eating anymore, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than right here. But you have to understand - he’s doing this for your good. Both his and yours, to make sure Jimin doesn’t tell Taehyung anything.

It lasts for a little while, you staring at the TV while Lisa runs her hand through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly - does she notice he’s tensed too? But then Jaehyun asks if you want to drink something, and all the anger and jealousy Jungkook felt earlier when you mentioned your date bursts out of him.

“Careful, Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

He’s been drinking more. Way too much, if he’s honest, and the words come out slurred. He’s too far gone to care, and he ignores what Jaehyun answers to focus on the TV, on the beer next to him and on Lisa’s fingers in his hair. 

He wants her to stop. He wants all of them to go, to leave you two alone, but instead Lisa leans down to whisper in his ear.

“What happened between you and Tae’s sister?”

The question hits too deep. Nothing happened, he should answer. Yet everything did. Everything fucking happened and it shouldn’t have because now he wants you, always. Can’t fucking stop thinking about you, and it’s driving him crazy.

He doesn’t answer Lisa’s question. Instead, he sits up to take a long sip of his beer, and that is answer enough. Indeed, Lisa sighs dramatically next to him before grabbing her own drink. 

After that, Jungkook just drinks, which gets him far too drunk. He knows he should stop, but you’re still right there next to him, way too close for comfort yet way too far, and his mind is growing dizzy. 

It gets worse when you get up to walk to the kitchen after you’ve done shots, Lisa following behind you. Jungkook knows he has to follow, yet he’s drunk, and getting up is a struggle, but he eventually manages to push up to his feet.

He walks to the kitchen, stopping right outside as he catches sight of Lisa’s back, and you standing in front of her. 

“Peaaaach,” he yells, a lot louder than he first intended to. He plays it off by leaning against the door frame as you meet his gaze over Lisa’s shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns. “Just talking.”

“Well then,” he lets out, cocking an eyebrow. “Why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

He wonders if he sounds as annoyed as he feels. He must, because Lisa frowns before glancing at you as you stifle a laugh. She sighs, shrugging, and then she’s walking towards Jungkook. He steps aside to let her leave, offering her a tight-lipped smile on the way.

Once she’s out and heading back towards the living room, Jungkook walks in, moving towards you.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he loses his balance for a few seconds, catching himself as he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

“You want water?” you offer, and it warms Jungkook’s heart.

Because of course you would take care of him. Which, he reckons, is another reason why he shouldn’t stop drinking, because his heart shouldn’t warm in his chest when it comes to you.

“Water?” He shakes his head. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and he steps closer to you, looking down at you where you’re standing in front of him, your pretty face tilted up to hold his gaze. You’re blocking the way to the fridge, and he clenches his jaw momentarily.

“Move.”

“Drink water first,” you insist, standing your ground.

You’re too pretty. Too addictive, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. You shriek, pushing on his chest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Let me get a beer,” he says, and he drops his head to whisper in your ear next. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

But you’re so close, the lingering smell of your perfume inebriating, and Jungkook doesn’t want to let go of you... Doesn’t think he’d regret kissing you, holding you, though he knows that might just be drunk thoughts.

Sober him would hate himself.

“Listen,” you whisper, and you fall silent as he ghosts his lips on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

He does it again, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him better access, a clear sign that you want it just as much as he does.

Or so he likes to tell himself.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs, his blood like electricity in his veins. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

It’s the plea in your voice. It undoes him, reminds him of your brother, of every little reason why he shouldn’t be doing this right now. He steps away, horror itching in his heart.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

He stumbles to a cupboard, grabbing a glass that he then fills at the sink. He drinks it in one go, and then refills it, leaning against the counter to sip on it.

“What was that?” you ask as he meets your gaze.

He doesn’t know. He’s just insane - thoroughly, completely insane, and his body seems to think you’re the cure to the madness. 

He sighs, sucking on his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that.” You sound mad, and Jungkook’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Especially not when there are people around.”

He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek. “Sorry.”

Your features fall, eyes softening. “It’s okay,” you reassure, though he’s not sure you mean it. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He doesn’t like the sudden softness in your voice, the way it makes him want to cross the distance between you and kiss you dumb. So he does what he knows best, smirking lazily. “Liked it?”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath that makes Jungkook think you’re probably about to curse him and his entire bloodline. Instead, your eyelids flutter open, and he doesn’t miss the spark of mischief hiding in your pupils.

“So what if I did?”

Yup. He’s insane. He’s mad, crazy, a fool. All the synonyms in the dictionary are not enough to describe the insanity crawling in his blood, in his heart.

“Pretend, peach,” he forces himself to say. “What would your brother say?”

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say.

Maybe he needed the reminder. Because Jungkook feels the insanity slip away, clearing his mind. 

“Oh,” he lets out, chuckling. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says, meaning how he held you earlier. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, smiling softly. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

He pouts. “Ever?”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head. “Stop. Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He wants to answer, wants to tease you more, but he doesn’t have time to as Jimin appears in the doorway, interrupting the moment. It pisses Jungkook off, and maybe that’s why he returns to drinking. Maybe that’s why the second everyone leaves, he wants you so bad he thinks he’s about to say fuck it.

Fuck what Taehyung would think.

“I told you,” you say to Jimin as he and his girlfriend get ready to leave. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, offense swirling through him. He raises a finger and says, “I’ll have you know.” He has to pause as everything spins around him, and he shuts his eyes. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and Jungkook glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

No. Jungkook doesn’t want to go to bed. He wants you, and he wants Lisa to fucking leave him alone. 

Why is he even thinking of her right now? You might be right - he thinks he’ll throw up before falling asleep.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that.”

The words are out before he can stop them, and Sera widens her gaze. “What?”

Jungkook frowns as he looks at you. Because you’re the answer to the question, but he can’t say that, right?

“I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin teases before bursting out laughing.

As he laughs, Jimin pushes Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook was already unsteady, and he loses his balance, falling against the wall. He lets out a surprised, “Oh shit!”, and a second later, he collapses, soon followed by Jimin.

They’re laughing, the kind of laughter only alcohol can bring forth, so loud Jungkook can barely hear as you and Sera talk. The only thing he hears is you saying that Taehyung can hardly count as a good influence, which is the most accurate thing he’s ever heard you say.

“He’s not,” Jungkook agrees, thinking about how Taehyung forbade him to be with you. “Your brother is an asshole.” He pauses, and then bursts out laughing again. You don’t say anything, so Jungkook adds, “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hands motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He frowns, sitting up to lean against the wall as Jimin does so too. Sera helps Jimin up, while Jungkook just keeps staring at you.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don't help.”

You smirk. “Alright, let’s see you try.”

Fuck. He glances towards your door, and then looks at you again. “Too far.”

You look victorious, your smirk stretching into a smile. “Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?”

You groan, rolling your eyes, but you step closer to him. Jungkook tilts his head back so that he can keep looking at you as you say, “We should have asked your friends…” You glance towards Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

Jungkook lets you grab his hands. “Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in.”

You help him stand, and though it’s a struggle, Jungkook is soon up. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm like you don’t want him to fall again.

“I won’t tuck you in.”

All Jungkook can think of is that you’re so, so beautiful next to him with that flush on your cheeks. He wants to touch you, to hold you, and he doesn’t have any inhibitions left. A second later, he cups your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes widen, surprise making them sparkle, and fuck, he thinks he’s about to kiss you dumb, to kiss you until he’s never said you should pretend nothing happened.

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

Jungkook blinks once, slowly, his surroundings coming back into focus. He turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. “Shit, you’re still here?”

He’s stupid. Inherently stupid, and he can’t focus on Jimin and Sera as they leave. No, the second you step away from him and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Jungkook thinks he becomes deaf. Or maybe he’s just deafened by the thunderous beats of his heart. He only comes back to reality when you step in his line of vision, Sera and Jimin now gone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook flinches as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be unto us!” You motion towards the door before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?” Jungkook bursts, only because he’s done.

He’s done being yelled at, done always being the one in the wrong because he can’t do a single fucking thing right in his life.

You cross the distance between you and him as he leans against the wall, smirking at the sight of your anger. Because that anger is something he knows, something he can deal with. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his face.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” he says as he tilts his head to the side.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook.” You shut your eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes. He plays with his piercings, his tongue then pushing on the inside of his cheek. “He won’t be. Why would he?” He blinks. “Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?”

You sigh again, your annoyance so stark he thinks he can taste it on his tongue and, damn him, it’s turning him on.

“Like we’re friends,” you say. “You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you liked when I’m touching you,” he says.

You stare at him unblinkingly. “Shut up.”

He raises his hands in defense, smirking. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

“Like what?” you ask, echoing his previous words.

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and he gives in to his desire, one finger tapping gently on your clenched fist, before slowly moving up your arm. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

It hurts. Jungkook doesn’t know why, but it does, and he feels himself growing bitter.

Feels himself needing to hurt you, too.

“See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it,” he says, and immediately hates himself for saying it as hurt flashes in your gaze. 

It disappears quickly, and you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest.

“Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered, your hand then resting flat against his beating heart.

Everything in him concentrates on that spot where you’re touching him, on the feeling of your fingers on him, of your eyes in his, and Jungkook feels himself leaning infinitesimally closer. 

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach.”

He doesn’t let you move your hand away when you try to, putting his hand over yours.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

He can’t. He really can’t let you go.

He doesn’t want to let you go.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers.

You step away, freeing your hand from underneath his. “Don’t ever tell me that again.”

He knows it’s going to happen. The look in your eyes tells him that you know it, too, despite the words said. 

“Why?”

“Just don’t.” You scoff. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-”

Jungkook grabs your face, crashing his lips on yours before you’ve finished the sentence. Because he can kiss you. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he can, and he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. Not when you reciprocate the kiss in all its intensity, pushing him back against the wall.

He hits hard, breathing out the air in his lungs. You’re quick to push your tongue in his mouth, and Jungkook wants to feel you, to taste every inch of you…

But you’re stepping away, and he can’t look at you. Not when you’re everything he’s wanted…

Everything he can’t have.

“Don’t kiss me again.” You say it like you mean it, and then you walk away. He hears your steps, and he only looks up when he hears the door of your bedroom closing behind you, putting finality into the words.

What the fuck has he done?

Read chapter 6 here!

☆☆☆☆☆

our favourite chaotic mess in all his glory lmaooo i hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think of the drabble<3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate

[97linelover]

Better off without me - Kim Mingyu

18+ / mdi

summary: nearly 10 years.. that´s the time you´ve been with Kim Mingyu. But what if his plans about the future are not the same as yours?

What if the guy you love the most breaks your heart within seconds?

content: Idol Mingyu x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, smut

wc: 3.8 k

a/n: I really love reading your guys opinion about my stories.

They say that after 10 years, you will be together forever.

After 10 years, you'll know each other's biggest flaws.

But what if 10 years meant nothing in the end?

You met him when you were 13; you just changed schools; he was the first one to talk to you. He was your first friend.

Your first friend took you out at night.

Your first real friend.

Your first kiss.

It was your first time having sex.

This is your first real relationship.

Your first apartment together.

This is your first time saying I love you.

Your first love.

And also your first heartbreak.

Kim Mingyu was the man who pushed you away, fast and painfully.

And the worst part? You did not notice.

It has been 9 years; next week it would've been 10 years. 10 years of you two together in a relationship.

Mingyu currently spends a lot of time in the studio; they had a comeback prepared. 4 months from now on until their comeback would be there.

You had been with him for every comeback until now; you were always at the front, supporting them. Your second family.

Seungkwan always went out with you for brunch; Joshua went shopping with you; and Wonwoo just talked to you for hours.

You were sure about Mingyu being your future.

When Joshua took you out to get a manicure and pedicure, you thought of nothing; when Jeonghan took you to buy yourself a pretty dress and some heels, you felt all giddy.

When you were styled perfectly, your hair falling perfectly over your shoulder, and your make-up done, you knew tonight was the night.

And when you were sitting in front of the man you loved deeply, you carried the entire world in your eyes.

The eyes Mingyu loved so deeply.

As you were giggling along to his jokes as you sipped on your wine, your perfect manicure was present as always.

Mingyu treated you like a princess.

He treated you like he always said, „You're the one that always supported me, baby; in the end, I'll spoil you like a queen.".

Mingyu made sure you were always taken care of; even if you did not need any of it, it was his priority.

„Baby," he whispered, taking your hand in his. The music was playing softly—your favorite song. The tears were prickling in your eyes. „You can probably imagine why we are here tonight," he smiled softly. He felt something tuck inside his chest.

The velvet box in his hand was making you beam with joy, but he suddenly let his hand down. „I can't do it," he whispered, swallowing the biggest lump he ever had in his throat.

He let go of your hand, and you felt all the air leaving your lungs. "Gyu," you whispered, confused. „What do you mean?"

Mingyu got up. „I can't marry you; I can't," he whispered, placing a couple of bills on the table. „Gyu, what the fuck are you talking about?" You got up, and the red wine got knocked over. You followed him outside. „Baby, please talk to me," you pleaded, and he walked to the car.

"You can't marry me, but why this? Why the ring? Are those years not enough?" you sobbed.

„I thought they were; I'm not sure about this anymore," he was shaking.

„What do you mean by this?" You pulled his arm so that he would look at you.

„Fuck Y/N, I CANT MARRY YOU BECAUSE I FUCKING FEEL UNDER PERMANENT PRESSURE WITH YOU," he screamed at you, so that you flinched at his words.

You could not utter a word: "You... what?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"You're better off without me. I have tried to break it off a few times now. Wonwoo told me to try it, that the engagement will light up another spark," he rubbed over his face. „I thought I'd never tell you; I thought I could pull this off," he whispered, and he avoided your gaze at all costs.

„You're joking, right?" You said with a quivering voice, „Please tell me that this is not true." You felt your knees buckle. „We don't need to get married; you don't need to lie," you basically pleaded.

„I'll pack my things; I'll be gone by tonight," he said, opening the door of his car. „You can't do this to me, Gyu; you're the love of my life." You felt the tears running down your face by now.

„We grew apart by now, Y/N," he shrugged, getting inside the car. „I'm sorry for doing it like that."

„What do you mean? What is happening? I don't understand where this is coming from; we were happy, we were perfect for each other; you really want to leave me here." You held on to the car handle.

„Please let go," he whispered.

„So you really broke me while trying to propose," you gasped, taking a step back. „You really did that," you whispered while turning around, falling to your knees and sobbing. „Please get up; don't make a scene, please," he said, and you looked up at him. „Get the fuck away from me," you spat.

How could he be this cold after all those years?

Mingyu felt his heart break, but you did not see his emotions on the inside. How could you?

Seeing you like this is the worst scenario.

„I'll let Wonwoo Hyung know to get you," he said while driving off. He parked the car somewhere he could see you getting picked up by Wonwoo. He watched how he lifted you up—your fragile, sobbing body. How he buckled you up and drove away.

He did not see how you entered the apartment or how Wonwoo followed you, making you tea.

How have you tried to call him a thousand times?

How you packed your bags and how you called your parents to tell them that your trip to Germany with Mingyu would be cancelled because he did not feel so well.

How they told you that you could come alone, and how you agreed.

How you spent the entire night crying over a man you spent all your life with, how you threw away the dress, and how you slammed all the picture frames against the wall.

When he opened the door to the apartment the next day to grab some things, he found you gone. He saw the missing suitcase, and he found a letter on his nightstand.

„Gyu,

or Mingyu, I don't even know if I can call you any pet names anymore. I really don't know what has just happened; I can't get my head around this situation. I try to find the problem; I try to think about all the possibilities of what could've happened.

We were so happy—at least I was.

You, Kim Mingyu, were the reason for my happiness and for all the beautiful moments.

You helped me become the woman I am today, and I'm thankful for that.

My mom always taught me that things happen for a reason.

I don't know what the reason is now, but I'll try to live my life.

But I hope you understand that we will never have any kind of relationship—neither friends nor lovers. You broke my heart; you had now shame and no mercy. You did not care about me in the slightest. After nearly 10 years, you dumped me like a fucking trash bag.

Kim Mingyu I want you to be happy. I want seventeen to reach all the goals you've dreamed of; you guys are amazing.

With us being separated, I need to distance myself from my second family. Because how am I supposed to hang out with your best friends? You took it all away from me, but that's okay.

I'll survive.

Please stay healthy and happy.

I love you, Mingyu, with all my heart.

Your Y/N

"P.S. tell Jihoon that he can use all the audio snippets I recorded for him."

When Mingyu finished the letter, he felt the wetness on his cheek. He was sobbing.

He had lost the only person he had ever loved.

And now you were gone; he knew you were visiting your parents. He looked at the velvet box and choked on his sob.

Maybe in another time you both will get your deserved happy ending.

But as for now, you both needed to fix your broken souls.

-

Six months have passed since you last visited Seoul.

It's been six months since you've last worked inside the office.

It's been six months since you've seen him.

SVT invited you to their release party, and you were pretty sure you would not go, but as time passed, you wanted to be there.

You missed them so badly, and you thought maybe you wouldn't even see him.

Well, you were a fool.

The first thing you saw when you entered the building was the large frame of your ex-lover. He was standing next to Chan and Jihoon.

Nice, exactly the two people you wanted to see.

But before they could see you, you walked toward the bar.

You were happy that the location was crowded and people were not paying attention. With your cocktail in your hand, you walked around looking at the different album promotion pictures.

There was this one picture you could not stop looking at; it was Mingyu in the studio. It looked normal, but as you looked closer, you could see the ring he was wearing. The one you got him as a promise ring.

„He's not doing well." A voice startled you. „Nonu," you gasped, and he chuckled. „He's miserable, Y/N. Ever since you left, he has done the bare minimum."

You sighed, "Well, he wanted that, Nonu; he was the one that pushed me away. I was sure that he would be the one I'd marry, but suddenly he did not care about a thing." You tried to end this conversation.

„It's not how it seems, Y/N; there are some parts of the story you don't know; you should talk to him," he pecked your head. „I'm really happy you're here," and with that, he walked towards some other guests.

You tried not to think about his words, but it was harder than you thought.

As you made your way through the venue, you spotted some of the boys. „Y/N!!!!" Seungkwan yelled and ran towards you. „Hi kwannie," you giggled as he hugged you tight.

Cheol and the others also greeted you, but when Mingyu was standing in front of you, his brown eyes basically pleading for forgiveness, you felt like crying.

You were quick to avoid his gaze, but you felt it on you the entire time. „Excuse me," you said to Jeonghan, „I need to get a refill." You smiled, escaping the situation. The heels made it a lot harder to walk away with fast steps. You felt Mingyus presence behind you, „Y/N," he said while stopping you.

„What do you want?" You asked with a stable voice, and he gulped down at your tone. „I want to talk," he whispered as you ordered another drink, gulping it down.

"Now you want to talk?" You scoffed, "You ditched me after nearly ten years; you treated me like a random girl. After everything I did for you," you walked past him, "I will not talk to you tonight.".

Well, now that the night had changed, you were sitting on top of Mingyu, throwing your head back while riding him like you loved to. How he guided your hips with his long, slender fingers digging into your flesh.

The familiarity of your bodies made it so easy to feel good.

"Oh god, your pussy is so good," he groaned while you moved even faster. "Oh fuck," you said, feeling yourself getting close to the end, and you were a moaning mess.

When you both reached your highs, Mingyu tossed the condom away, and you suddenly felt sober. You gathered your clothes while Mingyu cleaned himself up. "What are you doing?" he asked, confused, and you walked past him. "Hey," he said, grabbing your arm. "Let go of me," you said, ashamed of yourself.

"Please stay," he whispered, but you could only choke out a sob. "This should not have happened, Gyu," you whispered, and he felt his heart clench at your words. "You don't mean that, baby; we were so good," he pleaded, holding on to you.

feeling that if he lets you go now, you're gone forever.

"You broke me, Mingyu; I spent the last six months trying to fix what you destroyed." You pulled your arm away and said, "So no, Mingyu, I won't stay just because you decided you still wanted me." You walked away.

"I always wanted you; I could just not tell you the truth." He whispered, but you did not hear it. 

You tried your best to ignore this feeling of missing him, but you couldn't; your heart yearned for him. Kim Mingyu was the man your heart belonged to. 

With each passing day, you realize that you need to talk to him, that you need to know what happened, and that he pushed you away. 

When you heard your phone vibrating, you rushed to your desk, where it was lying. 

You saw Wonwoo's name on there: "Nonu? Is everything alright?" you asked when you answered the call. 

"I'm fine, but can you do me a favor?" You raised your eyebrows, confused. "What is it, Nonu?" 

"Come to the recording studios, please," he breathed. "What is happening there, Nonu?" You were getting nervous, and he chuckled slightly and said, "Be there by 7 p.m., please." With that, he ended the call. 

You were pretty sure this was about Mingyu, and you were ready to find out. 

So you got ready, put on some comfy pants and a hoodie, slipped on your sneakers, and rushed to the bus. 

After a 30-minute journey, you were in front of the building you once visited regularly. "Y/N, oh my, it's been a long time," Juna said with open arms, pulling you into a hug. "Yes, sorry, I was so busy." You lied, and she looked at you. "We all know what happened, love, and I can totally understand that you wanted to have some distance." She smiled softly at you.

"So, have you seen Wonwoo?" You giggled, and she nodded. "He was here; he gave me this envelope for you and told me to guide you inside." You nodded, following her. 

You sat down, opening the envelope. 

You took a deep breath when you realized it was Mingyu's handwriting.

"My beloved Y/N,  I never thought the day would come that I would need to write those words to you and that I would push you away.   The only person that I ever loved.  Y/N, there are so many things I did not tell you; I couldn't.   I did everything I could so that I could act like this did not affect me, but in the end, I suffered in silence.   The members talked to me, and they told me I'm just the corpse of myself.  And they are right; I'm barely eating and barely active; actually, I'm working out even more because it takes my mind off, even if it's just for a few minutes.  I want to tell you why I did it and why everything escalated.  It all started with our comeback. We got a new manager, a woman whose name was Heejin.  She was not nice at all; she told us dating was a no-go, and we told her that some of us were happily taken.  She just laughed at that.  After a while, she began to manipulate us; she told us that we were not good enough, and every day she told us that no one could love an idol.  I began to believe her; we all did. I wanted to bury myself in a hole; I felt like a burden. Believe me when I tell you, I wanted to propose. When I looked into your sparkling eyes that night, I felt my heart bursting with love, but then the words of Heejin came back to my mind, and I could not do it anymore.  I wanted you to be happier.  I thought I could not give you this happiness.   But god damn, baby, believe me when I tell you that you are my happiness; you're all I ever wanted.  I can't live without you; I miss you, and I need you...  Hopefully someday you can look me in the eyes again and realize how much I adore you.  I love you. 

Your  Mingyu" 

You looked up, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You never realized how he felt, and you could scream at yourself for that. 

The TV turned on inside the small room. "And today we have Seventeens Mingyu here, covering one of the saddest heartbreak songs at the moment." 

When the melody began to play, you felt the goosebumps rising. 

He was singing Kim Feel's Someday, the Boy, your favorite song. 

- 

You were lying on the couch, your heating pad on your tummy, while Mingyu was making you a fresh peppermint tea.  It was this time of the month that every woman hated.  You were currently watching a new drama called Itaewon Class, and you could not stop the tears. "Baby, what's wrong?" Mingyu hurried over to you, but you could only sob. "Oh, baby, you're too nice; you're always crying over movies," he chuckled while pulling you closer.  "Can you someday cover this song?" You whispered, "This would be the perfect song to fix my broken heart." You looked up at him, and he softly kissed you.  "Hopefully, I never need to fix your broken heart," he said, kissing your head.

-

When you heard his deep voice singing the words of the song, you tried your best to stay strong. 

"The sad memories in my heart

I can't erase it with the tears I shed. Where should I start deleting it? Only empty laughter"

You could see the teary eyes, and you were sobbing once again. His knuckles were white from how tight he grabbed the microphone. 

"A long time in the future, that person back then

Do you have everything you dreamed of?"

He finished the song with one tear running down his cheek, and then the TV got dark. People cheered after he finished, and you could not believe it. 

You jumped up, hurrying through the corridor. "He's in there," Juna said, pointing towards the dressing rooms. In this exact moment, you knew that Mingyu was your forever, and you wanted it. 

You rushed into the room, and he looked up. "Y/N," he said breathlessly. "I read it, I watched it, and now I am a mess," you whispered, your mind completely occupied by him. 

"But I realized that I just can't move on; you are what I want." His dark brown eyes watched you carefully. "You are more than enough for me, Gyu; you are enough." You walked towards him, and he watched every move you made. 

"How can you be so understanding when I messed up our entire relationship?" He had tears in his eyes, but you only pulled him close. "Because I promised you, Mingyu, we both are the endgame," you said, wiping the tears away. "I love you," you whispered, and you kissed him softly. 

He did not hesitate one second and pulled you close while his one hand was softly in your neck. This kiss was full of desperation and love. 

You walked with him until he landed on the couch with you on top, straddling him. 

The way you undressed each other was skilled; you knew each other's bodies blindly; your whimpers were like the best song he has ever heard; and the way his tongue twirled around your hardened nipples made you crazy. 

The way you were bouncing on his dick made him lose his mind; he felt like he would go insane with every passing minute. The way you whispered in his ear how much you missed this made his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

"I'm going to cum, baby," he groaned, and you nodded. "Fill me up, please. Wanna feel it?" You moaned, and you brought him over the edge.  He held you so close that you clawed your nails into his back until you both just calmed down against each other. 

And when you both lay in his bed with only some white sheets covering your bodies, he opened his nightstand. "Marry me," he whispered into your ear, and your eyes widened, letting out a gasp. "Gyu," you said, feeling the tears in your eyes. 

"I´m so sure, like I´ve never been before; you´re all I want, and I can't wait to spend my forever with you, so Y/N, please marry me." He opened the velvet box, and you nodded. "Yes," you squealed while kissing him.

"I love you so much, baby; you make me so happy," he said while putting the ring on your finger. "Us forever, Gyu," you kissed him softly. 

[n0tamused]

I'm here to make a Dr. Ratio request!!

How do you think Ratio would handle having a short s/O? (Talking about around 4'9/145cm bc I'm that tiny 😭)

Do you think he would 'lose' them when walking together even though they're right next to him? (That happens to me sm you can't even imagine)

- 🦐

A/n: Anon, where did your height go, my friend?... 😭 I'm so sorry- hshsfhghsa please enjoy these silly hcs <3 mwah

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, fluff, crack, a bit short, sorry

-He may not ever admit it, but he finds the height difference between you and him quite endearing. It’s one of those “small things” for him that really does make him break into a barely noticeable smile, it’s amusing

-Sometimes he would taunt you by doing the “oh wait I gotta bend down to hear you” thing if you’re trying to argue with him, but this can either cause more of a flare from you or make you flustered (remember how he leaned in TB’s face in the quest cutscene-). He knows the effect this can have so he uses it to his advantage where he can. 

-It’s so easy to flick your forehead if you’re not listening to what he’s saying, but it’s also so easy to pat your head when you do well or if he sees you could use some wordless comfort

-He is quite tall, so sometimes you’re quite literally not in his sight at all. And in crowds you can get lost quite easily unless he has your hand in his. 

-If he turns around to find you’re no longer there, he gets both alarmed and frustrated, his eyes immediately scanning the surroundings and looking for the familiar head amidst the masses, his sharp gaze may as well shoot lasers if he catches someone looking at him curiously. His aura alone speaks business - he stands on business.

-Even he is stumped on HOW he lost you but he doesn’t have time to ponder it as he walks around in circles until he finds you on the side petting some cats or window shopping

-After he finds you he makes it a point to both keep you in his sights, and to have some hold on you, be it holding your hand or having a hand on your shoulder/upper back to lead you through the crowds. Even if he is not big on PDA, hand holding is a must for the sole reason he doesn’t lose you

-Gets so sassy with you at times, especially if you run off on purpose, you won’t hear the end of it

-But at home he certainly does sass you a lot for a man that welcomes your cuddles as he relaxes with a book in hand, you laying on top of him. You slot yourself so perfectly against his body and tuck your head into his neck. He feels his cheek become warm, dusted with a light blush, but he only clears his throat and focuses on his book.

-One big hand rests on your lower back, keeping you where you are even if you shift in your sleep. And admittedly it gets him to sleep sooner too, your warmth and touch too inviting to  lose to the printed words he probably read before in his classes

-Another thing he thinks of doing is making you his muse, and he probably has sketches of you somewhere, elegant and beautiful, like you <3 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 10

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, Soldier Boy gets hurt, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture, reader gets hurt

Word Count: 4245

A/N: English is not my first language.

♩ This is the song of the chapter, 'Alone and Together' by No Clear Mind.

When Ben sat down on the bed and waited, neither of you said anything or did anything for a while. You hated how he still treated you, so you turned your back on him while closing your eyes and avoiding the heavy feeling in your heart. You wanted to let things go, but you also felt like you had a lot to say to him about how deeply his actions had wounded you and how much you still suffered. You stayed mute because you knew that talking about it would only make things worse and give him the impression that you still cared.

All you longed for was for him to see how much his acts had hurt and pained you and to realize just how selfish he was. But you eventually realized that Ben wasn't someone who would actually listen to you, even for a brief moment. Even if you decided to give him another chance and let him get close to you again, he would still hurt you without considering the consequences or your feelings; therefore, it was best to let the past die in the past and leave memories of both joy and sorrow behind. These blissful days would never return.

You were ruminating so much that you shifted on the bed until your chest reached the edge, making it obvious that you didn't want to come into contact with him. Ben seemed to pause due to your behavior. 

“I don't bite,” he said, annoyed that you were making every effort to avoid him. This ended the quiet that lingered between you. “You can come a little closer. Sleep comfortable.” 

“I am comfortable.”

He sighed with annoyance as he made his way to the bed. Ben considered drawing a little closer to you, but he quickly dismissed this idea. You would become upset based on your response to his touch and your fragile attitude. Even though he didn't know you were in his thoughts at all times, he felt extremely hungry and affectionate toward you ever since he woke up. And though every cell in his body was screaming to be near you, to touch you, and to hold you close to him, the realization that you didn't feel the same way made him feel a little insecure—a feeling he wasn't used to experiencing in his connection with you.

He whispered, “You'll fall there,” in an attempt to persuade you.” I'm not going to touch you.” Again.

“It won't hurt if I fall, though.” In an attempt to find some solace, you took the entire blanket from him and placed it between your thighs. “I'm a supe too, remember?” you exclaimed. 

Ben leaned down at the head of the bed, his veiny and powerful arms supporting his head while he stared at his bare chest and tried not to smile when you took the blanket away from him a little too firmly. 

He abruptly muttered, “I'm sorry,” in a dry voice, trying to start a conversation while he continued to glance at your back and listen to your quiet, gentle heartbeats. 

“For what?”

How should he respond? For shoving you into the bed, sucking your nipples, kissing you out of the blue, and attempting to fuck you like a wolf in heat? Taking a big breath, he folded his arms across his chest and scowled, not knowing quite what to say. He didn't used to talk to you like this since you weren't that far away from him before he screwed things up. 

You attempted to contain your rage and kept your eyes closed because you didn't want to get into another fight with Ben, and you knew how sensitive his nerves were. You were also feeling a little anxious about his new, unpredictable abilities.

“Just don't do it again,” you simply said, trying to sound calm but firm. “I am serious, Ben.”

He wanted to argue, but he was at a loss for words. He answered, “Of course,” in a low voice, knowing that he shouldn't have behaved in that manner before speaking with you in an appropriate way.

Ben knew you moved too much when you slept, so even though he wanted to be near you, he went to the edge of the bed to give you enough room to make you feel comfortable and sleep in peace. While he listened to your calm breathing and watched as you swiftly fell off to sleep, he reminisced on your shared memories and felt sorrow for all that had happened between you, including how much he had messed up. He realized it would be difficult to win back your trust, but he knew he would do everything in his power to do so. He just didn't know how.

This morning, just after changing into your new clothes in the restroom, you ate breakfast quietly as Butcher and his buddies talked about Vought and the Seven. When Annie began to dispute with Butcher and Hughie, you did not interrupt them—in contrast to Ben, who was also having arguments with Butcher—and instead concentrated on your meal. 

“I'm just saying consuming those Temp-V's doesn't sound safe, and you're forcing Hughie to inject it in himself too,” Annie pointed to Hughie's face as he attempted to eat breakfast quietly.

Hughie stated, “He's not pressuring me. I'm taking Temp-V on my own initiative, and I find it to be really helpful,” he said quietly. Annie shot him a cold stare, which instantly caused him to stop talking. 

“Why the fuck are you all attacking me?” Butcher spoke while lifting his arms. “Temp-V is absolutely secure. It only grants us superpowers for a full day. Is there any damage in this” 

“Oh my god,” Annie muttered, irritated with Butcher's impetuous behavior. “Don't you think it's a bit atypical to play with your DNA that fluently?” 

“So what?” Annie was cut off by Ben's stern voice. “Even if it harms their biology, it's not wrong to use it since it's better to die than to live like a weak pussy.”

Butcher instantly agreed with Ben: “Soldier Boy's got a point,” and he gave Hughie a tight squeeze. “Besides, we are just a bunch of annoying losers against the Seven and Vought. You have to find them more for us because we need to use all of this trash. I don't want to shatter your little heart, love, but all you do is consume up my electricity, and right now we are outnumbered against them.”

Annie's jaw tightened as she glanced at Butcher, her eyes suddenly brightening with a deep shade of yellow. 

“Maybe your electricity can be useful at some points; what do you say?”

“Hey,” Butcher grinned at her and added, “Let's not spoil our family meeting. Stay calm. That's not how you keep your man, right?”

Hughie put his hand Annie's and softly said, “Can we talk about this later?”

Annie sighed angrily, shoving Hughie's hand away from her and getting to her feet, adding, “You know, I need to go, and we'll definitely talk about this again.”

As Butcher said Annie farewell before leaving the house after their argument, you and Ben were observing their facial expressions. Hughie looked at Ben, irritated, as he took his phone from him and began to play with it. You weren't asking anything, but you were occasionally peering in,om him even though you were rather interested in what he was doing with the phone. 

“We need two phones just like this one.” Ben abruptly said, “One for her, one for me,” holding up the device to Butcher's face. 

“Are you a teenager obsessed with technology?” He was instantly teased by Butcher, who gave him one of his nasty smiles. 

Ben looked at Hughie, who was kindly asking for his phone back, and said, “If you are not going to give us two phones, I'm going to take this,” but Ben wasn't even paying attention to Hughie at all. 

“Alright, we'll get your phones. Could you please return mine to me?” 

With a quick motion, you grabbed the phone out of Ben's hand and delivered it to Hughie while smiling. With a look of graditude on his face, he returned your shy smile. 

Ben said, glaring at Butcher's face, “Today,” giving Hughie no attention. 

“Alright,” Butcher agreed. “We'll buy your phones today and make sure you two watch the best porn and make yourself busy, alright?”

“Ben is a man of actions; he likes to screw every kind of woman in real life,” you sarcastically remarked, grimaced at Butcher's remarks and folding your arms over your chest. 

Ben immediately asserted, “I don't,” and you asked Butcher, “Can we already move to the place we're going to stay in?” without giving him the chance to respond to you. 

“Sure, sweetie, but let me have my breakfast in peace, and then we can leave.”

You watched the TV and the news until Butcher and the others finished their meal, which was less than an hour ago. You looked for any updates regarding Earving, but there was nothing at all. Everything on every channel was Homelander and political crap. 

You could tell he was a dangerous man by the way he used language, his professionalism in interviews, and his controlled facial expression. It appeared that Vought had discovered the ideal obedient superhero that fit their preferences.

Ben quietly murmured, “Hey, we're leaving,” as you were lost in idleness. 

You nodded to him, got up, and watched him pick up his shield from where he'd put it yesterday on the corner. That was the moment you realized you had never really used your powers. Since you weren't safe at all and you weren't sure whether you were experiencing any hidden side effects like Ben, you realized you wanted to exercise as soon as possible.

After leaving Kimiko and Frenchie at home, Butcher and Hughie took you to the place where you and Ben will be living for a while. Hughie kindly assisted you in learning how to use the phones that Butcher had purchased for you and Ben. You learned how to make calls easily, at least. Ben had complained that you just required his number and that no one else's was needed, but you disregarded him and asked Hughie to record everyone's number on your phone.

While you were looking over the house, Ben placed his shield in a corner. Despite its small size, you felt safer there than you would in the city since it was isolated. The smell of this place, which was like a forest, finally helped you to relax after the sickeningly heavy and dirty air of the city center.

Butcher put his hand in his pocket and stated, “You're just going to stay here for a while until me and my boys sort things out with the Vought and until you are a bit forgotten by the angry people of America. I'm telling you, though, don't leave the house. If you do, I'll know. I will occasionally check on you.”

“Go suck a friend's balls and make sure he puts his jizz in your empty mouth.” Ben scowled in frustration, set down the closest coach, and put his hands behind his head. “All you do is talk for fucks sake.”

Cursing him back in a mocking manner, Butcher dragged you into a corner and said, “You seem like a more reasonable supe than him, don't you? You should

stay inside the house, dear. I mean it. You have all you need here, and it's a pretty safe location. I will come see how you're doing.”

“Alright, alright.” You nodded to him after glancing at Ben, who had already begun watching TV, but you knew that he was keeping his ears on Butcher and you. “But what will happen afterwards?”

“You hand that off to your teammate and me. There are a lot of things to do here, and you'll have time to think about your future.”

“I just don't want to get sucked into something dangerous; I'm not a bad person, and I've already gone through a lot.” It felt uncomfortable to share your anxieties with him, but you knew you had to be clear from the beginning and that they needed to understand you.

“I don't even know how to fix things between myself and this country,” you added, crossing your arms over your chest. “And no offense, but I don't trust you and your friends at all.”

Ben grimaced as he heard your intimate conversation with Butcher, during which you confided your anxieties to him. Given that you had known one another for a long time, had an extensive amount of memories, and experienced similar experiences, he ought to have been the one with whom you opened up about everything. The idea that you would trust a complete stranger—someone you had just met—irritated Ben. He should have been to one you opened yourself. It was something else Ben needed to solve with you. 

Ben also knew that, as long as you were with him, nobody could hurt you. He would never be tricked again, and that is the sole reason he was captured. He would ensure that no one, not even himself, could ever hurt you again. 

“You have no other chance but to trust me and my boys though, right? Why being so ungrateful? I'm taking of you two well enough,” said Butcher with a sly smirk and gave you squeeze to your shoulder shortly just before he left the house.

None of you spoke as Butcher left the house, but after a while, you felt his heavy eyes on you as he shifted postures on the couch and watched the TV in silence.

Ben listened to you while you were taking a shower when he grew tired of watching television. Although he wasn't intentionally focusing on you, his supe hearing was drawn to you while you were around. He was compelled to listen to every sound you made. He couldn't deny that your presence soothed him either. Ben didn't care what the reason was as long as you were with him at that particular moment, which might have been anything different, something deeper, or the fact that you were the only person he actually trusted. He knew what you had was special.

You returned to the room after a long shower, changed into clean, gratefully new clothes, and saw him pour whiskey into his glass. You wondered whether his body could withstand a day without drugs or alcohol. 

“Why are you looking in such a way?” Ben took a sip of his drink and asked in a lighthearted manner. “I'm curious about what you're thinking right now.”

“I was wondering if you could just give up drinking or using drugs for a single day,” you asked, getting annoyed that he seemed okay with everything. happening. 

“I survived for decades without using them, sweetie,” he murmured, instantly putting an evil grin on his face. 

You changed the topic and said in a low voice, “Do you think they'll trick us? They can easily fill this house with the same gas that made us sleep for ages.”

Ben instantly stiffened up and felt aggressive as he considered the idea of being betrayed by teammates once more and returning to the lab in Russia. When he considered the years he wasted and the treachery he had experienced—years without you—it was difficult to contain his rage. 

He filled his glass once more and remarked, “They might try.” His eyes remained fixed on yours. “I doubt they would dare do such a thing. They really want that Homelander guy dead and are most likely attempting to kill that man for a very long period, but it seems that they ultimately fall unsuccessful.”

You shivered and felt uneasy when he brought about Homelander, and you whispered, “There has to be a reason why they can't handle a single supe, Ben.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “They are just some weak, useless piece of shitbags, that's it, and that's why they need me.” 

“I watched Homelander, that man, on TV. He is undoubtedly skilled at manipulating the public and the media, and in today's society, power seems to be much more significant.”

“Remember what Butcher said: People easily forget, and they'll forget him as well when they realize he's not the strongest supe at all.” 

You scowled in annoyance at seeing Ben had no longer cared about the world or how things were working at all. You didn't know if he was up to something or whether he simply didn't give a damn other than killing Homelander. 

“Ben, I don't believe that getting rid of Homelander will resolve anything from our side. Can't you see how everyone hates me and you at the moment? If you attack Homelander and Vought, things will only become worse.” You replied angrily, annoyed by Ben's careless demeanor, “Butcher and his crew just want to use you against him.”

As he argued with you, Ben let go of the empty glass he was holding and sighed as he observed your annoyance growing. He trusted your strength, but at some point, he became uneasy about your vulnerability.

Ben vowed to destroy Vought and all Seven members when he was set free that day and began searching for you. He understood that the only way to get things going right would be to resolve the issue between you, him, and Vought. He would take over the whole company and form his own new team, proving to the world that he was the strongest supe and that nobody could stop him. In that way, he would be protecting you most importantly. For the time being, though, it was better the less you knew.

Ben said in a determined voice, “I won't let anything happen to you,” as he came nearer to you. Despite being too close and yearning to touch you, he refrained from doing so. “I would never let someone hurt you ever again.”

With a heavy heart, you whispered, “The only one who hurt me was you, Ben,” stepping back and creating some distance. Everything you wanted to say to his face was eating you alive, and you felt like you would blow out at any moment. “It seems like you didn't take any lessons from your mistakes, and you're going to make me drown with you again.”

He said, “I made a deal with Butcher,” ignoring your comments as he saw the sorrowful, icy look on your face. “I promised him that I would help him kill Homelander, and he would help me save you. A deal is a deal.”

Ben wanted you to know that he wasn't just going to break his word; in fact, what he was doing was for you. He was so desperate to find you that day that he was willing to kill Vought's top supe and everyone in a heartbeat. 

“Since when are you so keen on keeping your word?” You asked in a bitter voice. 

Ben was ready to tell you not to think about the past, but he stopped himself because he knew it would hurt and infuriate you even more. Instead, he whispered, “Since right now,” softly, and he slowly stepped forward to confront you. He simply knew it was time to have some conversation. “Look, I know what happened between us in the past wasn't just right, and I wasn't fair to you, but let me fix things.”

Perplexed by his words, you said, “Let you fix things?” Remembering every horrible thing he had done to you, your heart began to rush with hurt and despair, and he was still unable to truly apologize. “Ben, you abandoned me after cheating on me with Crimson. How can you fix something like that? Talking things out can help clear up misunderstandings, but not that.” 

He muttered, “I was wrong about everything and about you,” not knowing how to express how he felt. He found it much more difficult to open up when he saw the disappointed and cold expression in your eyes. “I cared about you a lot; I've always had, and now too. I didn’t know back then, but now I do.”

Ben didn't make a single effort to even slightly touch you, but he was too close to touch you again. For an instant, Ben's gaze lingered on your hands, his heart shattered by the longing to embrace and caress you. He never imagined you would be this different, but here you were. 

This time, you spoke gently, understanding that Ben was simply too blind to really see the damage that he had caused. “I don't think you'll even understand your actions, Ben,” you murmured. 

He opened his lips to say something, but you cut him off right away. “I gave you everything I could, Ben: loyalty, friendship, love, innocence, understanding... I never asked for anything in return. I accepted and loved you as you were.” 

You spoke softly, focusing your attention on his deep emerald eyes and hoping he could understand you. “I gave you everything I had, but you kept what we had concealed from everyone, made me feel like I was a rat, and I never once complained—you already know that I supported the choice you made from the start. When you proposed that our connection be kept secret, I mistakenly assumed that you were protecting me from Vought and everyone else. This was foolish of me, and I held onto this belief all the way to the end.”

Ben listened to you with a pained expression as you talked about the things that hurt you the most, finally.

You continued after a little period of silence between you, stating, “You acted as though you cared for me when we first met, when we were by ourselves. You threw me aside when Countess showed up, kicked me from the squad, and then you tried to bring me back. I attempted to make amends for whatever I had done, despite the harm you had done to me, believing that my actions were the cause of your behavior. However, you continued to ignore me, failing to recognize the true colors of her.”

The image of Crimson's face struck Ben's heart with rage. If he had simply killed her on the first day, none of this would have happened.

He whispered, “I know I should have listened to you, I wish I could turn back time,” cutting you off. “But you must know I never loved her.”

Ben was unsure of his feelings for you, but he knew he had never loved Crimson and never felt anything at all for her. All he knew was that he needed you by his side and that he cared passionately for you. Your presence filled his body and soul with warmth and comfort. It didn't matter the name of whatever he felt about you and what you shared; it was something deeper and more special than anything someone could share with another. At least he knew that for sure.

You gently answered in an understanding tone, “I know, Ben,” knowing that he would never cease to love anyone including you.

You came to the realization after all those years that nothing, not even giving your life for him, could win his affection. You used to think that if you gave him everything you had, there would be a way to win his heart. Nevertheless, nothing would be sufficient to win his love.

His gloved fingers, a tiny glimmer of hope in his heart, only lightly touched yours to gauge how comfortable you were with it. “I know I caused you so much pain you never ever deserved, and I'm sorry for everything I have done to you,” in a sincere voice. “But give me a chance to fix everything. All I want is you and your trust.”

“And I forgive you, Ben. For everything you have done,” you sincerely said, giving a nod to him, understanding that there was no going back and that what was done was done. “But my love is gone.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: I don’t know how this is even going, but here we are. Kind of feeling insecure and hate writing nowadays to be honest. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. Take care. “-“

*Losing You series masterlist is here.

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[carmenized-onions]

Just Dropped. | Missing Invoice

logline; It's still fucking Friday. Half past five, maybe?

[!!!] series history, this is the eleventh; We're jumping RIGHT back in babe, feel free to re-review chapter ten to remember everything lmao.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to.

portion; 8.2k Thank fucking god this got split off from the last.

possible allergies; hurt,,,,, some comfort? You'll see, idk. No spoils. Terrible self-image, a lot of talk of Mikey's death and blame about it. Just a lot of mean and hurtful words to oneself and others.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (i don't believe there's any pronouns but feminine titles are used? you'll see) Also, if I'm being honest, this chapter is not about Carmen, lmao. but when are they, really?

you ever notice that the other shoe chapter doesn't have a period? lol pranked you!! genuinely both very interested and very nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this one,,, i hope you like it,,,, if you don't,,,, let me down so gently, sweetpea

Same team. You say to Marcus.

It’s an idiom you coined, long ago. It’s a simple phrase you and your friends started to exchange whenever heads got hot, and you had to remind each other that at the end of the day, you’re fighting for the same thing. To get through the end of the day, together. You’re on the same team.

It’s not interchangeable with ‘we good?’ It means so much more than that. Fights happen, they do. You know that better than anyone, but it’s important to remind each other what you’re fighting for. Same team, you say to Marcus, after reciting all the pastas on order.

He says it back, calming down. Talking to Richie was just as important as running expo; same team. He gets it. You exchange reassuring nods.

Two doors swing open. First, Sweeps comes in through front of house, pressing a note to your back, you hold it there. You don’t think it’s a good sign when he mumbles, slipping past your shoulder. “Need a smoke break, one sec.”

Second, Carmen swings out of his office. Phone call over, he seems deeply bothered. Is Natalie okay? Is he okay? You imagine he wouldn’t just return to his station, right in front of expo, if everything wasn’t okay. He does seem… On the verge of something, though. Despite your concerns, you continue to bark out orders. You try to run it a little more… prim, this time, with Carmen back. A couple fewer ‘love yous’ peppered in between table numbers. You don’t want to make him snap by running the place not like his Exec would.

Richie rolls back his shoulders, stretching out his neck. He tries to find sympathy and kinmanship, in Carmen, “Cousin, your ol’ boss is such an asshole, you wouldn’t believe what he—”

“Respect him, Chef.”

Huh? That gives both you and Richie pause. You stutter on the order. “Twen—Twenty-six, table twenty-six, waiting on fish, Chefs.”

“Fish.” Carmen hands the plate off to expo, immediately. Cold. He hasn’t even commented on you running expo yet. Is he mad? You’re probably doing a shit job at this. You hand the serving tray off to Fak to run. He speeds out, like a reverse lassie, sensing danger and wanting to get the fuck out immediately.

“…Respect him?” Richie repeats, dumbfounded.

“He’s a Two-Star Executive Chef.” Carmen doesn’t take his eyes off his cutting board. You’re not sure what he’s making, right now— Oh shit, you should tell him about the cherry and lamb before he wastes his time.

“Don’t matter what his title is—” “Yes. It does.”

Richie’s brows raise then furrow, as do yours, just not nearly as dramatic. Neither of you were expecting a fight over this, you’ve both been serving this man first hand. Carmen worked for this guy for like two or three years, he knows. He has nightmares about this guy. You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?

“Who shit in your cereal? He’s bein’ a fuckin’ creep, Cousin.” That touches your heart, a little bit. Richie’s not directly saying it’s affecting you, but it’s nice to know that he just as equally cares about your discomfort.

Carmen’s a different story, though. Because he doesn’t question why Richie would say this. Doesn’t bother to consider the idea that he’s not fully informed, on the situation. On any situation, for that matter. He just thinks he’s being attacked, for some reason.

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

That snaps you off of your focus— Quite frankly, it snaps half of the kitchen out of their focus. Everyone’s knives pause above their cutting boards, spoons half dipped into pots, it hangs in the air, for a second.

“Pardon me?” Richie puts a hand over his chest, taking a half step back, to physically display how much offense he’s taken. Fucking hell, it’s gonna be this now. “What the fuck am I?”

“D’you want me to tell you? Cause I’ll fuckin’ tell you.”

You’ve gotta get between this, before Carmen can tell him. You slip Sweeps’ note in your pocket, long forgetting it, at this point. When you step forward, Richie puts an arm in front of you, barring you from getting in the middle of this. “Rich—”

“Please.” Richie goads, ignoring you. “En-fucking-lighten me.” You immediately brace yourself for whatever impact you and the rest of this kitchen are going to be collateral for.

“You’re a fuckin’ deadbeat, Rich.” Carmen puts his knife down, turning from his station to face Rice. Where the fuck is all this coming from? What kind of phone call was this? When you open your mouth to interrupt, Richie puts his other hand up in front of your face, shushing you. He wants to hear what Carmen has to say. You desperately do not want to hear what Carmen has to say.

“You wouldn’t have shit without me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have shit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to pay for your fuckin’ life—” “Oh here we go—” “Or your fuckin’ kid—” “Oh, oh you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ kid?” “You wouldn’t have shit—” “At least I have a fuckin’ kid.” “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you don’t have shit, Carmen, you don’t let good shit ever fuckin’ happen to you. So fuckin’ tough, never let anyone talk to you.”

It is impossible to get a word in, inch wise. They are so in each other’s faces, Carmen’s a bit shorter than Richie, and that somehow does not make him any less intimidating. This has been brewing long before you showed up, that much is very fucking clear. What caused the snap to happen now is beyond you.

You cannot find a moment to interrupt, to attempt to mediate. No one can. The kitchen is divided, some continue cooking to avoid the situation, some have stopped to watch, wondering to themselves who’s going to intervene, and some are like you, waiting for the right moment to step in. There will never be a right moment to step in.

“Where were you, when I fuckin’ put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit?”

Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harbouring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with my family— Such—You’re such a fucking leech.”

You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit.

“Oh, I’m fucking obsessed—” “You fucking leech—” “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” “I should’ve cut you out!” “Yeah.” “I should’ve fuckin’ cut you out!”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Richie points in Carmen’s face, and Carmen somehow manages to not give a shit. It does nothing, for Richie to have said this, and that is shattering. Sydney reaches for your hand, you don’t look at her, you only know it’s her because of the band-aids. You take it.

“You fucking need me!”

“I fucking love you!”

“You’re fucking nothing!”

“Don’t fucking say that!” That’s when you jump in. Practically call and response, for you. Your body processes what Carmen even said before your brain does. That was the straw. Carmen picked the wrong fucking one, to say that in front of. Carmen drew the line a lot of times, Carmen drew the line when he said to respect that Asshole— Quite frankly, Carmen drew the line with the broken sauce ‘you want a star’ bullshit with Syd— But this was the back breaker, for you.

You let go of Syd’s hand, moving to be in between the men, back facing Richie, defending him, “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit to Richie— To anyone, ‘specially not Richie.”

“Oh, like he’s some fuckin’ prize?” Your eyes go wide, like dinner plates. Carmen continues, “You wanna fix him, too? Add him to the list?”

“Fix him?” Is that what he thinks of you? That you think people need ‘fixing’? “I’m not trying to fix anyone, Carmen.”

“Didn’t try to fix Mikey?”

You straighten up a bit, whole brain dialing up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

You adore Carmen, but in this moment, you cannot help but think of all the utterly life ruining comebacks you could say to set him on his ass, right now. Bite your tongue, same team. “Oh, I’m excused?”

“You don’t fuckin’ work here.” Ouch.

“Oh, suddenly that’s a problem—”

“Think you’re the fuckin’ peoples’ princess—” Ouch.

“That is not what I’m doing—”

“No no, of course it’s not, you’re such a goddamn saviour, modern day Christ.” Ouch.

“Carmen—” Richie tries to step in front of you, you put the back of your hand on his chest, holding him back. Time for you to prove what you said, in your kitchen, just a few days ago. Time to prove to Carmen, and quite frankly, yourself, that you can take this. That you can take his teeth. Carmen gave you fair warning, that the shoe could drop, that he might do this. Your first fight. It came a lot faster than you expected, but fair warning’s a fair warning.

“Say what you wanna say, Carmen.”

“Where’s your fucking invoice?” Carmen’s never swore at you, you’re pretty sure. It feels weird, in your chest. Cornering. You frown. “You didn’t fuckin’ give it to Nat, don’t lie.”

“It’s complicated.” It’s a legitimate answer, to you. It is complicated. “We can talk about it, after—”

“I don’t need to be some fuckin’ charity tax write-off, alright?” Carmen interrupts, he doesn’t care to hear your explanation. He’s already decided your intentions, and that feels very unfair, doesn’t feel like you’re on the same team. “Just fucking charge me. You wanna work here? Fucking charge me.”

Is he trying to make your entire dynamic transactional? Why is he acting like this? What did you do wrong? Don’t tear up. You can take it. You can take the teeth, Tony, come on. “That’s not—”

“I don’t need fuckin’ fixing, alright, I’m not another fucking addict—”

You can feel bristle Richie behind you. You both handled that ‘fucking addict’ first hand, and you certainly don’t care for him to be referred to as such. You interrupt Carmen’s tirade, “Don’t say that shit—”

Carmen rolls back his head, like he’s tired of some sort of façade— Like you’re being fake. “Oh, my fucking God—”

“What! What the fuck—” “He’s fucking dead, you can say it— He was a fucking loser junkie—”

He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to start shit. Same team. He’s just hurt over something he hasn’t admitted yet. Same team.

“Carmen—” You can’t get a word out, with this guy. God, you wish this was at least behind closed doors. Wish he’d give you and Richie the grace of breaking you both down without an audience.

“And, and—” There’s a split second of manic laughter to it, he’s so incensed by the idea. “You, you fucking gave that junkie money?”

You’re quick to furrow your brows, emphatically shaking your head. Did you give him discounts on services and pay his diner tab on occasion? Sure. But that’s an entirely different thing. “I never gave Mikey a cent—”

“Oh?” Carmen shrugs, “So you don’t have a joint bank account?”

Oh.

Oh. Is that what this is fucking about? He found some paperwork or a debit card lying around and lost his shit? Carmen and Mikey are very different people, and you love that, but one of your least favourite differences is Mikey never circled the drain, when it came to what he didn’t like. Carmen’s spent forever, needling Richie, and then needling you over some fucking joint bank account? That still doesn’t feel like it, though. There’s gotta be something he’s not saying.

To be fair, you know how the man spirals, you were hoping to explain these weird leftovers from your history yourself. This is what the painting was for. You were supposed to start on the first page— God, at the very least, a softer page, one that makes it all make sense, for him.

“Carmen, I get why you may be confused, but I—”

“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from watering. Take the teeth, same team. It was easier to compartmentalize with Mikey, when he yelled at you, because his eyes were blown out, and you could tell that it wasn’t him talking to you. But this is a sober Carmen. This is what he deep down, somewhere, thinks of you, isn’t it? He doesn’t think you belong in his kitchen. Don’t belong here.

“That— That fuckin’ asshole out front, or whatever you fuckin’ call him?” He points to booth twelve, through the window. You are now reminded that there is a window, and that there are more people than just the kitchen, here, there’s patrons. If they craned their necks and listened close, the sound proofing would keep them from hearing Carmen, but you feel like they could probably hear the way your heart is struggling to keep pace.

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

“I never said I know better than you!”

“You didn’t need to!”

“I—” You swallow your spit. You have always tried to keep a level field, with Carmen. Since day one. “I never meant—”

“I don’t— I am not your fuckin’ charity case, you do not need to-to donate to me to make up for the fact that you failed Mikey!”

Yeah.

You can’t take these teeth.

Carmen Anthony Berzatto realizes a couple of things, seven things, in quick succession, after he says this.

Thing One. His middle name is Anthony. Tony. That’s kind of funny. He should tell you that, make you laugh. He never really thought about it, until now. Didn’t have one of those moments where his brain disconnects from his body as a method of escaping the poison in his mouth, so it can have plausible deniability, until right now.

Thing Two. You are not Mikey. He had gotten so caught up, over the past week, conflating the fact that you’re both so likable and so ‘The Guy’ with the idea that you’re just the same. You’re not. You don’t react to being pushed and screamed at, like Mikey did, you don’t scream back. You defend yourself, but you don’t bite back at him, the way he bit at you. You don’t fight. You don’t get mean. You are not Mikey. Carmen always took Mikey trying to help as him trying to one up him; a silent way of saying he was better. You are not Mikey. You helping around the kitchen tonight, helping him every fucking day, was never you trying to one up him— Let alone fix him.

Thing Three. Your cherry and lamb plate is nowhere to be seen. It’s only been like three, five minutes? Where’d it go? He can’t even find a plate of bones. You’re never going to speak to him again, after this, he knows that. He’s never going to hear straight from you what you thought, he needs to see if you cleaned the plate.

Thing Four. He didn’t even ask. He didn’t even mention the photos, the thing that he was actually hung up about. Carmen’s confrontational, but not in the way that matters. He yells, but it’s never the thing he actually wants to yell about. Those candles could’ve been for anything. How old was Eva, when you met Mikey? Carmen doesn’t know, he wasn’t here. Could’ve just been birthdays. There’s a million reasons to have those photos, there’s a million reasons to have a joint bank account. He should’ve asked. He should’ve listened when you were trying to explain. You were trying to explain. You had something to say. You even acknowledged how confused he must be. How confused must you be, right now? He didn’t explain why he was yelling, at all. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t listen.

Thing Five. Carmen wasn’t here. You were. You were here. He blames himself, for his brother’s suicide, and he wasn’t even here. And then there’s you. You were here, and you probably took Mikey on your shoulders the way you take everything on your shoulders. And he just said you failed. He never asked you, if you blamed yourself, but he doesn’t need to. Everyone blames themselves. God, why did he call Richie nothing? Richie was here, too. He’s not a fucking leech, he was here. And that’s a fuck of a lot more than Carmen did. It’s not just about when Richie put his brother in the ground, it was the years before, proceeding, that Carmen wasn’t here for, and both of you were. And he just fucking said that you failed. He said it was your fault.

Thing Six. Carmen glances over your trembling shoulders, out the window, to where he can just see the edge of his old Exec’s head. Who he’s just said he is. Ugh. He thinks back to when that man became Exec, and Carmen took over as head. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when he went back to his shitty New York studio apartment and cracked open an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne (gifted) to drink alone on his mattress with no bedframe. He promised himself that no matter how bad it got in the kitchen, no matter how bad it got in his head, he would never get in someone’s ear and tell them that they were no good, terrible, slow, useless, better off dead, dumb fuck. He promised himself, that he would never make someone cry in his kitchen.

Point Seven. He’s resented the fact for the past week, that he hasn’t gotten to be the first person to do a lot of things, with you. He’s resented how much he missed out on, how much he wishes it was him in the photos, in the memories. But now you get to be one of his firsts. You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too.

You have wonderfully bright eyes. He didn’t tell you that, before. He should’ve. He gets compliments on his bright blue eyes a lot, but yours just have this glow from within, about them. A brightness that he doesn’t, a sweetness that his don’t. That’s gone now. Eyes go from wide to hurt to vacant. Gone. Devoid. Hand over your mouth to cover the wobbling of your bottom lip. You look like he did, two years ago, at the French Laundry. A shell of what he was. A shell of what you are.

Carmen was right, he is the man out front. That’s who he is. That’s what he is.

A husk, biting down on the hand that feeds; defending nothing from no threat.

Richie didn’t need to call you, to let you know that Carmen’s awful for you, that he’s an asshole to everyone around him, that he’s sharp and not worth your time. Richie didn’t need to call you, to tell you that he’s just some fucking creep Executive Chef, but this time, he doesn’t even have any stars to retain about it. Richie didn’t need to call you. Carmen told you himself who he is, just fine.

Please make eye-contact. Please look him in the eyes, you used to do it all the time. You might never look him in the eyes again, please do it one more time. He didn’t savour it, before, didn’t hold it, when he should’ve. He would’ve, if he knew it would’ve been the last time. He should’ve been savouring it every time. He should’ve kissed you, when you kissed him on the temple— He should’ve let you know. You’re so smart, when it comes to emotions and things— Everything. Intuitive. If you’d look him in the eyes, you’d be able to tell how sorry he is, how wrong he knows he is for saying everything he said. But you’re downcast, trying to zero in on something.

You swallow, blinking wildly in a failed attempt to stall tears, and nod imperceptibly, digesting his words. He wishes you wouldn’t. This is the last thing he’d want you to eat.

Sydney is already rushing to your side, her station long forgotten. “Yoyoyoyoyo—”

She’s distressed, because she cares about you, hurrying to comfort you, taking your hand, then arm, then shoulder. She’s trying to get you to look at her, you won’t. You won’t look at anyone. She’s crouching to get in your field of vision. “C’mon, c’mon—”

Richie is behind you, where he should be, already squaring himself up, making himself taller. Carmen has never wanted someone to hit him, he’s pretty sure, until right now. He just wishes it was you doing it. Fight him back, please. Break his jaw, permanently, please. Keep him from saying anything ever again. Keep him from making you make that face, ever again. He wishes it was you doing it, but he’ll take Richie as a close second.

Richie steps in front of you, grabbing him by his collar, good. “How could you fuckin’ say that shit to Chippy—”

“Please don’t call me Chip.” Is the first thing you say, voice quiet, cracking. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, hard, thumb nail digging in. Eyes closed. You’re trying to hold it down. “Not right now.”

And like a guard dog, Richie heels. Of course, Richie would find you more important than violence. He cares. You put a hand over Syd's, on your shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m good, Syd.”

Everyone knows you’re not good. Your voice cracks painfully, again, when you say you’re good. “Just gimme a second.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I know, Syd—” “Will you let me?” “I—”

You take one deep breath, slow, rubbing your thumb over her hand. She gives you a clean dish rag. You wipe your tears and blow your nose. When you lift your head back up, to face the crowd that is the kitchen, it’s like it never happened. Well, your face still has that puffiness and redness to it, and your eyes certainly look irritated and glassy. But you’ve gathered such resolve back, immediately. Hardened up, immediately. Turned off a sect of yourself. If Carmen didn’t know you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you were just crying.

“Apologize,” —He'll grovel to high hell— “To Richie.”

Carmen’s eyes flicker with confusion, just for a second, you catch it. You repeat, clearer. “Apologize to Richie. Say you didn’t fuckin’ mean that.”

Carmen doesn’t need a broken jaw, to go speechless, apparently. You don’t care to defend yourself at all, here. Never put yourself first. He frowns, you don’t take it the right way, no, why would you? You speak with an extra layer of gravity.

“Berzatto.” Hurts worse than when you say Carmen with disappointment. Deserved punishment.

“I’m sorry, Richie…Not nothing.”

“Not fuckin’ forgiven—” You put a hand up, turning your head to face the man behind you. “Rich.”

“Oh, don’t—”

“Say sorry—” “He fuckin’ started it—” “You didn’t have to entertain it.” “He was bein’ a bitch—” “Jerimovich!”It’s more fun, when you do it to Richie. More kindergarten teacher like, breaking up a fight at recess.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, Cousin.” Richie does not mean it. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He was right. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

You turn back to Carmen, of whom you still will not make eye contact. That’s fair. “Can Richie take five?” He doesn’t like that you feel like you have to ask him for permission, now. “He’s gotta help me carry tools, to my car.”

That’s a chance to talk to you, alone. “I can—”

“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”

That hurts. But he said it. He said it was his kitchen, he said you didn’t work here. You’re so much more than an employee. You’re family, everyone here treats you like family. This is your kitchen, too. He doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks, right now, but it also occurring to him that he said all that in front of everyone here, everyone who adores you. None of these people have seen this side of you— You didn’t come to the funeral. This is probably why. It’s pretty clear you don’t like crying in front of people, the way you immediately go somewhere else mentally.

Richie’s already walking, you didn’t actually ask him to grab your tools from the corner of the kitchen, but he just does it. Wordless. Richie knows how to show that he loves you. Carmen could learn, from that. Carmen could learn from Sydney too, she said it, and she’s still holding your arm.

Carmen takes a step forward to you, and what you mean by it, he’s not sure, but what he does see, is you take a step back. He immediately takes two steps back.

You’re very good. Too good, too good for anyone. Not gonna change my mind ‘bout that. That’s what he said to you, when you confessed you were worried he would ‘figure out’ you weren’t good. He lied to you. The other shoe dropped and he’s the one that made it.

You sniff, you feel bad for taking a step back, but you think if Carmen touched you right now, you’d have a full-blown meltdown, and you’d like to hold some modicum of respect amongst your peers here.

Carmen hates you. You didn’t expect that. But it’s fair. You’re not certain what he saw along with the joint bank account, but if he was able to put the pieces together, it makes sense. You failed his brother, failed Mikey. God, it’s still ringing in your ears. You killed him. Everyone knows that. Everyone hates you. He said the quiet thing, that everyone here knows, out loud. You didn’t do enough. You weren’t smart enough. You failed to do the one job you’ve been trained for, save someone, set them at ease— For fuckssake, just keep your friend from dying. Is that so fucking difficult? Was that so hard? He’s right to say it. You don’t have the right to be upset right now. He doesn’t owe you anything. You owe him.

You owe him.

You look to Syd, “You have a pen?”

You can tell she doesn’t like that you’re essentially blocking off the part of your brain that feels pain. What’d she expect? You were an E.M.T. for three years, you learned how to turn off your brain. She gives you the pen from her breast pocket anyways. You dig through your pants pocket for a slip of paper, oh shit, the note from Sweeps, you completely forgot about it. It’s a folded guest check, it says ‘B12’ on the front. Booth Twelve, you infer. You unfold and read Sweeps' chicken scratch. It’s nice to focus on something that isn’t the rotting feeling inside you… No fucking way.

“Sweeps!”

“Yuh-huh?” It’s nice that Sweeps has only just came back in from his smoke break. He has no idea why everyone’s shocked and/or enraged right now, and there’s something beautiful and perfect about that. Sanct.

“Did he seem serious?” You hold the note between two fingers for him to see and know what you’re talking about.

Sweeps shrugs, slipping his Marlboro pack into his inner breast pocket. “You can fuckin’ read that guy?”

A very fair call. You sigh, then flip the note over, it’s hard to write, using your hand as a pad, but it doesn’t really matter, neatness doesn’t matter. Just write it fast so you can get the fuck out of here and cry in your car about a boy that doesn’t love you and never will.

“Freezer door hotfix, eighty. Plumbing repair, took about four hours, that’s two-fifty. House call oven, seventy. Oven hotfix just now, plus replacement part costs… One-twenty.”

You hate doing this. It sucks to be doing this. This is what the fucking painting was for. Why couldn’t he just let you do it in the order you wanted? You were supposed to start this on a better page.

“Said I’d pay you back for that pinot, which is about twenty on wholesale, so… Five hundred even.”

You click and unclick the pen, several times, shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you need fixing, and I wasn’t trying to make up for anything. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

“I’m—” It’s the first time he’s tried to speak, and you just can’t let him. You can’t listen to his voice right now, you know it’s unfair, but you can’t, so you interrupt him.

“I didn’t tell Nat you covered the invoice.”

You hand him the note, careful to hold it at the very edges, so you don’t make contact when he takes it. “I owe you two thousand.”

At the bottom of your shoddy invoice, it reads, ‘Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. $2,500.’

You told him it was fucking complicated.

He should’ve let it lie. He should’ve bitten his fucking tongue, like you did for him constantly. You told Nat her brother covered the invoice; you just didn’t say which one. Was it intentionally sneaky? Yeah, obviously, because how were you supposed to fucking explain that? It’s fucking complicated. But no, Carmen didn’t fucking want to hear anything you tried to explain, so you’re just gonna let his stupid fucking dumbfounded face stay that way. If he just told you what he actually saw, like a fucking adult, you could’ve done so, happily. But Carmen hates you, and he’s decided what you are. He probably doesn’t want to hear much of your voice, anyways. Keep it short.

“So just… I’ll just uhm… Wire you. Or something.”

You sigh, thinking about what’s on the other side of that fucking note. “You have my number, you can give it to him, if you want.”

The Exec liked the cherry and lamb dish. Of course he would, it was perfect. It also seems like he enjoys that you’re both smart and clearly ‘spunky’, or some shit. He wants the ‘wine girl’s’ number. Didn’t even bother to remember you said Jack. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll send the mystical wine girl his close friend Michelin Guide Inspector’s number, and maybe they’ll review the place. Maybe. Doesn’t matter to you. Not your kitchen.

A chance at a chance at a chance or your well-being? That’s Carmen’s choice now.

You snap your finger, pointing to the note, remembering. You never brought The Guy a wine, “Pinot Noir. Marcassin 2013. Top left shelf. Pit a cherry and put it on the rim.” It's the perfect pairing, for his dish.

At least get him a star, if he has to hate you.

When you start to move, Syd’s still holding onto you. You don’t pull her off, but you do put your hand over hers, and she knows what you want. She doesn’t care. She repeats. “Will you let me?”

Goddammit. Does she want you crying all over again? You’re trying very hard to not look like a wuss, right now. “I will. Just need five minutes alone, okay? I’ll wait outside.”

She doesn’t want to, but you’re not giving her many other options here, so Syd nods and lets you go. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.” You clap your hands together, eyes glazing over the rest of the staff. Rest of your family. You’re trying not to read their expressions because if you do you very well might scream, cry, and throw up all at the same time. “Everyone! Back to work! It’s half past five you’ve still got a whole night ahead, look alive, Chefs.”

You pass Carmen, careful not to bump shoulders. Just get out of here unscathed. Hopefully he’s not too mad about the dish swap. You made the right call. It won’t matter if he’s mad, anyways, actually, he already hates you.

At least be something of value, for him, if he has to hate you.

Richie’s out there, leaning against the trunk of your shitty 2004 Dodge Intrepid. How he knew it was yours, you’re not sure. Probably the goofy bumper stickers. It’s a piece of shit. Broken fob. You have to use your key to unlock the trunk. It still works. You speak at once.

“What the fuck was that?”

You both laugh, though it’s hollow. You unlock the trunk, Richie throws your tools in. He’s first to add. “You didn’t actually want me to fuckin’ apologize, did you?”

You shrug, head tilting back and forth, he kisses his teeth, you supplement. “Listen, the ‘you don’t have a kid’— Touch crazy.”

“He fuckin’ started it!” “I know he fuckin’ did, I’m not defendin’ him!”

You purse your lips. There was the other thing Richie said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral, Cousin.”

“Ah, oh…” Richie attempts to wave it off, shrugging, as if it wasn’t a huge fucking deal to him just two minutes ago. “It’s good—”

“It’s not.” You interject. Richie always says he’s fucking good, when he’s not. He’s not good about Tif, he’s not good about the Exec making fun of him, he’s not good about you abandoning him, for a year. “It’s not good, Richie, and I’m sorry.”

You swallow, closing your trunk. You attempt to remember bits and pieces of your prepared speech, from dinner. But this is reality, and typically once transferred from your mind, it makes the words so much clunkier, lines forgotten, here and there.

“I should’ve been here, after. It was fucked up, that I just left. Made you hold it down, by yourself, and— And I can’t fucking imagine, Richie, how hard that must’ve been.”

Standing in The Bear is a touch easier, because it’s so different now. But Richie was there, days after Mikey died, in The Beef. Taking smoke breaks with a shadow that was no longer next to him. Forced to keep morale up, all by himself. You can imagine how hard it must’ve been, and that’s exactly why you stopped coming around.

Richie can only bring himself to nod, swiping his nose, because it’s starting to run.

“I— I didn’t cut you out. I want you to know that.” Carmen was so cruel, with that shit. “That wasn’t me cutting you out. I— I was tryna cut myself out.”

He halfheartedly laughs, confused. “Fucks that mean, Cousin?”

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

He mimics being shot. You add, “Fuckin’ listen—” “Fuckin’ drive-by—”

“I just didn’t think— I don’t think anyone’s my friend, I don’t think.”

“What’s that even begin to mean?”

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

Richie takes a moment, to digest it. The silence is terrible for you though, so you continue. “I’m startin’ to realize, that not likin’ myself, can actually really end up hurtin’ the people I love—”

“I’d still love you, even if you weren’t helpful. By the by.”

Richie’s interruption hits you in the chest like a fucking freight train. “Oh Jesus Christ, Richie—”

“What? What the fuck—”

“That was just fuckin’ crazy.” You cover your eyes, tears already coming to a head. He’s relieved, you mean crazy like good.

“Fuck, Richie, I love you.” You sniff, trying to look at him through watery eyes, it’s near impossible to do without warbling. “Man… You were here.”

Now it’s Richie’s turn to have his tear-jerking trigger phase said. “Oh, don’t start, Chip—”

“You were fucking here, Richie, Carmen doesn’t fuckin’ get that— No one gets that.” You’re kind of blubbering, honestly, starting to point at him, speaking emphatically. It might be better that this is happening in the parking lot rather than in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re fucking— You’re fucking something, okay? Carmen is a bitch, you were right— You’re good, Richie. You’re fucking good and—and— You were here, and you’re important, and— And— I didn’t fuckin’ say that enough, back then. So, I’m fuckin’ doin’ it now. I love you, and I’m here, and if fuckin’— If Eva ever needs anything, I’m there, if you’re ever in need, I’m there. If you just want to fuckin— Fuckin’ text someone, and actually just hang out like Normals—I’m there for that, too. I’d even go to fucking Tif’s wedding with you, if that helped.”

Richie’s got a couple tears going, which is good for you, because it makes your sobbing less embarrassing. “Fuck, Cousin…” He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose, like a self-soothing technique. When he looks back up to face you, he blurts it out.

“You wanna see a Taylor Swift concert wit’ me?”

Your response is immediate and baffled, “What?”

“I’ve got three tickets for me n’ Eva but Tif won’t come, it’s in January.”

You take a moment to buffer, brain half moving out of the tender moment. Shaking your head in disbelief, still fully crying.

“Richie… That sounds, like the worst experience I could ever imagine. You couldn’t pay me to write an outing so perfectly curated to be the worst, for me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ hate on T Swift—” “Richie, I’d love to.”

The death grip grab and hug is so immediate. You feel bad for getting tears and probably snot on his coat, but he said himself it’s a knock off, so he’ll live.

“You didn’t fail Mikey, Chip.” He kisses the crown of your head. Richie must be a good dad. You’d tell him that, but he might overload, the man doesn’t get acknowledged much, you’ve got to take it slow with the praise. You don’t reply to his sentiment, so he repeats it.

“Y’did everythin’ you humanly could.”

“I could’ve done a couple things different.”

“So could I. It my fault, too, then?”

You both know very well, that you blame yourselves. And as much as both of you would like it to, this one cry-fest isn’t going to magically make all of those bleeding guilts go away. Especially not after Carmen tore those stitches right back open.

“Well, no—” “‘Xactly.”

But you accept it, for the moment. “…Okay.” For this moment, you get the lesson.

And you’ll both forget it tomorrow, when you have that split second in the A.M. Where Mikey is still alive, before you remember. But right now, it’s neither of your faults that the glue between you died and left you both to figure out how to still stick together. You stay in that hug for quite a while, crying and rocking back and forth, before Richie lets go saying, “Aright, I do actually need a fuckin’ cig.”

“You’re going to give me second hand smoke and kill me.”

He smirks, already fishing out a loosie from his pocket. “We can only hope.”

Despite your complaints and not being a smoker, you still pull out a lighter for him. Mom friend. Never know when you’re going to need a fire. You cup the flame for him. This is the worst Friday of your life, you’re pretty sure. But here is Richie, sticking beside you. And here you are, sticking beside him.

Syd steps out, she keeps crossing between a walk and a jog to you two, unsure of what looks more awkward. You don’t know, but you do know the option of switching between both is easily the most awkward.

She asks, walk-jogging up to you, “Are you good?”

“I’ve been better.”

She grabs your face in her hands, reviewing your puffy bleary-eyed face. Just looking at it makes her want to cry, too. You hold her wrists. “M’sorry for cryin’ in your kitchen. I know that’s the type shit you deal with all the time—”

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

Sydney continues, “That was extremely not normal. Crazy fucked up of him to say that shit— I don’t even know like— Like any of the backstory, but even I know that was fucked up to say.”

You sniff, nodding slightly. “Yeah, a little.”

“A lot.”

You nod, no longer fighting to downplay it. That was fucked up of Carmen, you don’t need to try to make it seem less bad. “Yeah, a lot.”

She nods back, still holding your face. Bandaged fingers pressed against your head. “What d’you wanna do?”

“Go home?” Cry? Eat freezer cake?

“Well, yeah.” She chuckles, so you do too. “I mean like, like—” She nods behind her, to The Bear. What do you want to do going forward? Never talk to him again? I’ll do it, too. She’s saying, wordlessly.

“I— I don’t fuckin’ know.” You admit, laughing, but hollow. The very idea of reconciliation feels impossible, at the moment. “I think I’m just gonna, fuckin’ ignore it, until it comes up. Just don’t break shit until I figure it out, I guess.”

“Wedding gig is gonna be so awkward.”

“Oh, fuck—” Entirely forgot, about the wedding gig, next weekend. Vinnie and Mira, destination wedding. New York.

Richie pipes in, “Tonight’s gonna be awkward enough, don’t even wanna go the fuck back in.”

Syd nods, letting go of your face. “I think like, half the kitchen wants to walk right now, just to fuck with him. I do, too. Should we just say fuck this and go to Mattina?”

“Don’t think they’re open, only do breakfast and lunch.” Richie knows their hours; it wasn’t always just Mikey and you there. He takes a drag, he blows it away from you, so you don’t get second hand smoke.

“Fuck... Could do Denny’s? Inky, you fuck with Denny’s, still?”

‘Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.’ That’s what Carmen was scared of, exactly. What he thought would happen, if the other shoe dropped. Is this you leaving? This might be you leaving. This should be more dramatic, if this is you leaving, shouldn’t it? There should be finale music ringing in your ears, somehow. But instead, you’re in a parking lot with a chain smoker and your girl, making shitty diner plans.

You can’t let them leave Carmen. So much work cannot be wasted just for your hurt heart. You shake your head— Then nod, confusing yourself. “I—I do still fuck with Denny’s, but y’all have to go back in, you can’t fuck him over.”

“I very specifically want to fuck him over.” Syd’s quick to reply, Richie nods, agreeing. These two are only bonding over a mutual love of you and a current mutual hate of Carmen.

“You gotta get your star, Squid.”

She swallows, at that. She loves you, she does. But you’re right. You always are. This is her entirely livelihood and career, she can’t just dip out, because of a fight. She’s done it before, during the worst rush of her life, but that was small potatoes compared to this.

“Go hold it down,” You look at both of them, nodding to The Bear. “Don’t let anyone walk, solidarity is cute, but I’ll be okay.”

Regardless of how right you are, both Richie and Syd boo you. “Let him drown!”

It’s hard not to laugh. “Fuckin’ —guys— I’m serious.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious too, Chip!” Richie jabs at your shoulder, lightly, “Thought you said you take me fuckin’ serious?”

“Bitch—” You click your tongue, pointing at him, sighing. You can’t help but smile. They’re both on your team, to the bitter end. “I will see you at the wedding, aright? I’ll text you, both of you.”

“You driving, too?”

You and Syd both back up, for a second, expressions baffled. You’re first to ask Richie, “You’re driving?”

He’s equally confused. “What, you’re fuckin’ flying?”

“Cicero’s paying, why wouldn’t we?”

“Uncle Jimmy is fuckin’ paying?!” Richie gives him an emotionally charged chocolate covered banana and still hasn’t gotten on Uncle’s good side? This is bullshit.

“He’s paying for everyone! Or at least I thought he was—” Syd replies for you. “That was like the whole fuckin’ deal— Did you not get emailed a boarding pass?”

“No! He told me to get gas— You’re fuckin’ flying—?”

You clap your hands together, “Richie, what the fuck is going on in your life that this is not the first thing that you clarified for plans?” You tap Syd on the shoulder, “Marcus said he’s cool with switching seats, by the way, so we can sit together.”

“I have a fuckin kid, aright—”

“Ooohh—” You and Syd mock him in unison. “We get it.” “Whoop-di-doo.” “Did you hear, Squid?” “What’s that, Inky?” “Richie has a kid!” “What? No way. He definitely doesn’t bring it up all the fuckin’ time.”

“Alright, fuck you two.” He waves you both off. “Plane's gonna crash.”

Syd shrugs, “You’re doing a twelve-hour road trip, you’re gonna crash—”

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—”

You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

That quells them with snorts of laughter, quickly. They both shove at you. Equilibrium.

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

“I don’t know if jealous is the word—” “So Inky just became the call n’ response. Cause, cause squid ink?”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I can do two plus two, Chip.” Richie tucks his hands in his pockets. It’s starting to get a little chilly. You’re now remembering you left Carmen’s jacket at expo. Goddammit, now you’re remembering Carmen and your heart hurts again. You hug your shoulders.

“What’s Chip, anyways?” Syd asks, you and Richie both cringe, just slightly. Syd mimics it. “Bad?”

You shrug, “Just… It takes a lot, to explain, I guess.” Personal. “We’ll need a trip to Denny’s, for that one.”

“So? Let’s go.”

What did you just say. “Bitch—”

“Heard.” Syd cuts you off, laughing. She gives you a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

You hug her back, even tighter, if possible. “I will.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” It’s been three years, since you were really daily friends with Syd. And though you clicked right back into place no problem, in this hug, the feeling really starts to set in of how much you two needed each other this whole time. It’s been so long since you both had a best friend. It was good to be apart, and learn things apart, but now you’re both back. It’s not just Richie that you returned to.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” You clap her back a few times, before letting go. “Alright, it’s been like ten fucking minutes, go be great. Get a star. Or a chance at a chance for a star.”

“Heard, Chip.” “Heard, Ink.”

One last hug from Richie, before they head back in, and you pop in your car, and drive off. Back home. Music blasts from your radio the entire ride, to keep you from thinking. Screaming along to diss tracks help soothe the soul in any scenario, you think. Won’t let anything hit, this way.

A stray cat, the stray cat, the one you feed on your fire escape, is surprise surprise, on your fire escape, when you get home. She’s (you think she’s a she, you’re not super sure how to check, you’re a former E.M.T, not a Vet tech.) biting the flowers you potted out there. The flowers Carmen stole for you.

After a quick google check to make sure none of them are poisonous to cats, you let her. Let the cat decide how much of him stays. You dish out a pile of kibble for her on the one black plate Carmen gave you. You leave it on the fire escape, long after she finishes. Let the elements decide if it gets ruined.

Let Carmen breaking your text streak, never sending you a belated Connections result tonight, decide if this is the end.

This could be the end.

The same picture frame that fell off your wall, just two weeks ago, when you were making the painting for Carmen, falls again. You grumble, picking up the picture frame, setting it on the coffee table. You’ll nail it up properly in the morning. You roll your eyes at the phantom that you’re never certain actually haunts you.  “Mikey, shut the fuck up, this is your fault, y’know…”

You sigh, staring nowhere. The wind blows against your window.  “I guess it's both our faults.”

You drag your feet, walking to your bedroom.

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

It was so fun for me, the way y'all were like, ah, i'm sure this'll be so painful when this is resolved next chapter because Carmen will scream at her about it. hahahahahhaha-- You think the least yet most direct bitch of all time was going to actually confront what he was upset about? NO1!!!!!!! WE'VE ONLY GOT MORE QUESTIONS NOW. WHAT THE FUCK CARMEN!!! What's with that Advanced Payment? And I didn't lie bro, go back and read it, Tony did say Nat's brother covered it. Sneaky sneaky....

Oh, also. Y'all thought I would let the freezer fight slide by? Naahhhh, golden moment of television, just delayed the inevitable muhahahahha and got the FAILED MIKEY?!?!?!?! BROOOOOOOO was it as bad as you thought it would be or no? worse? better? lmk

I loved writing Syd and Richie w/ Tony here. I can't believe any of you thought I wouldn't see Richie and Tony's much needed reconciliation through--- If this was a Richie fanfic, 100% this would've been their smooch moment, fr. Also if you're a taylor swift fan, please don't be mad at me i was doing a funny okokokokokok-- (I also just think it means a lot more, if it's something she doesn't want to do, but will, for him)

i know it's technically still 2022 in their universe but tony was in that fucking car ride home listening to fuckin Ain't Shit, HISS, euphoria, Like That, Not Like Us, Not Nice (YOUR MAMA AINT WORTH THE CRACK YOU SMOKE BITCH!!!!!!!) I know she was so heated in there.

We've got a taglist, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

I am sorry if your tag doesn't work this is why I hate tag lists tumblr always makes me manually type and sometimes it still don't even work...

As always, i'm always so grateful that you've given me your attention with reading, and if you have thoughts, i'd love to hear em! I always read your comments/reblogs too, even if I don't always reply. Adore y'all.

[starryeyedjanai]

counting the days till i'm coming home

lake monster steve fic steddie | Explicit | part 1 of 4 | read on ao3

The first time Eddie stumbles across the monster in Lover’s Lake is right after he fails senior year for the second time.

He doesn't know it’s the monster everyone talks about at first—because no one has ever really seen it.

People only talk about how there’s something in the lake, something that sometimes pulls people under, something that’s been there since before Eddie was even born.

He’s sitting at the edge of the lake—just watching it ripple, thinking about how he’s probably going to be stuck here, in Hawkins, for the rest of his life—when he sees something moving out of the corner of his eye.

His head snaps over to look—because for as long as he’s been coming out here to Rick’s, he’s never seen anyone in the lake.

But there’s someone in there now.

This guy, he’s almost ethereal looking—smooth tan skin, hair slicked back from the water.

“What are you doing in there?” he asks before he can stop himself.

The boy looks up at him, his eyes lighting up. He swims over to Eddie—he’s fast, probably faster than anyone on the swim team even.

“Hi,” he says after he stops a handful of feet in front of Eddie.

“Hi,” Eddie says, almost breathless.

He’s even more gorgeous up close, with his full mouth and doe eyes and moles dotting his face and neck and shoulders.

“What are you doing in there?” he asks again.

“What do you mean?” the boy asks.

“People say there’s a monster in the lake. You should be careful.”

A smile tugs at the boy’s mouth as he says, “People say a lot of things. But nothing’s ever happened to me when I swim here.”

Eddie nods. People say all kinds of shit, so he isn't surprised that the monster in Lover’s Lake is probably just a myth that got repeated too many times.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, wondering where this guy came from. He doesn't recognize him from school—he’d remember a face like that—so he must be visiting relatives or something over the summer.

“I’m Steve,” he says, drifting a little closer. “You should come in the water sometime. It’s nice.”

Eddie smiles. “Maybe sometime. Not exactly dressed for it right now though,” he says, a little ruefully, looking down at his jeans.

He kind of wishes he had the confidence to strip down to his briefs and dive into the water, feel its cool touch on his overly warm skin. He’s been sitting out here a while now—and now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember hearing a splash when Steve got into the water. He must have really been distracted by his thoughts.

Steve shrugs and wades back further into the lake. “I’m here all the time, so if you ever decide to come in, I’ll find you.”

Those words haunt Eddie after he leaves the lake, after watching Steve disappear under the surface and not seeing where he popped back up.

He sees Steve in his dreams that night, whispering the words I’ll find you over and over as he reaches out as if to touch Eddie, but the touch never lands on him. He spends the entire dream craving that touch, wanting it, but never getting it—just listening to him tell him he’ll find him.

He wakes up in a daze, thoughts only on the boy in the lake—his voice, his hair, the way his skin looked in the sunlight.

He slips a hand in his boxers and he isn't surprised to feel how wet he is. The dream was confusing and weird, but craving someone’s touch isn't new.

There have only ever been a handful of guys here in Hawkins that he’s been attracted to, but he’s always only ever crushed on them from afar. There’s no way he’d risk the wrath of some backwater jock by hitting on him.

There’s something alluring about Steve though, even though from what little Eddie’s seen of him probably suggests that he’s also a jock. But he’s not from here. There’s something about that that makes it less scary, thinking about approaching him, asking him if he wants to fool around.

Worst thing that could happen is that he gets the shit kicked out of him and can't go to Lover’s Lake for the rest of the summer. But Steve will be gone back to wherever he came from come September. A guy like him has probably got plans for college already neatly lined up, swimming scholarship or whatever sport he plays that makes him almost inhumanly fast in the water.

So he thinks about it as he touches himself. Thinks about going back to the lake and finding him there, waiting for Eddie.

I knew you’d come back, he’d say when Eddie dove into the lake.

Eddie imagines being brave enough to wade close enough to feel the heat of Steve's skin.

He’d say something like I came back for you or something equally as cheesy.

Eddie fucks two fingers into his cunt, the palm of his hand grinding against his dick as he thinks about Steve reaching out just like in his dream, but this time actually touching him.

He thinks he’d probably gasp at the first touch of Steve's fingers grazing his skin, touching his tits, thumbing at his nipples.

His breathing picks up as he thinks about Steve's hand slipping between his thighs, touching him like he’s touching himself now.

Maybe he’d spin him around and let him feel the expanse of his chest pressed against his back as he touches Eddie’s dick with deft fingers.

He’d press them tight together so Eddie could feel how hard he is for him, just for him.

Maybe he’d take him like that, right there in the lake for anyone walking by to see. He’d press inside him, stretching him out on his cock until Eddie's eye crossed from the pressure building inside him.

Maybe he’d turn Eddie's chin with his free hand and kiss him, slow and deep as he fucks into him from behind.

Eddie comes with his fist pressed against his mouth to keep the noises from spilling out as he clenches around his fingers, riding it out.

He sinks boneless into his sheets, still thinking about warm brown eyes and big hands all over his body.