#i’ve played this game about three times by now

[lvnleah]

Secret Transfers | Lia Wälti

Based on this request :)

Summary: you and Lia have been dating for five years and Arsenal put in an offer for you. You accept it but keep it all a secret from Lia.

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You were sitting on your balcony in Barcelona, a thin blanket was draped over your legs as you read your emails from your agent. Your contract with Barcelona was soon up and as much as you loved the club, you felt it was time for a new challenge.

You’d been with Barca for two seasons now and you’d won the league with them twice as well as the champions league.

Being from England, you wanted to go back to the WSL for many reasons, one being so you could be closer to your family but also your Girlfriend, Lia. Another was that the WSL was where you’d started off and you wanted to return there.

You’d been with Lia for five years and for all of them five years you’d been long distance. When you began dating you were with Lyon, living in France, and Lia had just moved to Arsenal.

For the first two years you’d take quick and cheap flights back and forth from France to England and Lia would do the same.

Then, Lyon let you go and Barcelona soon snapped you up. They offered you a two year deal and you were quick to accept it, Barca was a club you’d longed to play for and you finally were given your chance.

So in January 2022, you packed your bags and moved to Barcelona. Ever since then, you’d been living on cloud nine. Lia was at every game she could be at, even with the long distance and packed schedules, you and Lia always seemed to make things work.

Now, your contract with Barca was coming up for renewal and you didn’t want to stay. As you scrolled through your agent's long email, you read all of the different clubs that had put in an offer for you and what they were offering.

Man City had offered you a three year deal for £95k a year, Man United had offered you a year contract for £91k a year, Chelsea had offered you a two year contract for £94k a year. A few other WSL clubs, as well as some clubs in Europe, were listed but none stuck out except from the very last one.

Arsenal. £400k over three years, £133k a year. It was more than what you were earning at Barca.

The offer echoed in your mind. The club where Lia, your girlfriend of four years, played. The club that would bring you together, finally bridging the gap that had stretched across Europe for far too long.

You knew you’d be dumb to turn it down.

You instantly reached for your phone and dialled your agent’s number. It rang a few times before your agent, Sarah, picked up.

“Y/N!” She said cheerfully, “have you looked over my email yet? Some of the offers are good ones and—”

You cut her off. “I’ll take it, the Arsenal contract, I’ll take it.”

“You don’t want to think about it? Discuss it with anyone?” She questioned, “Chelsea and Man City are good ones too.”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’ve thought about it enough. This is my chance to be with Lia, to play alongside her, and be with my family in London. I can’t let it slip away.”

“Alright, then. I’ll finalise the paperwork.” She agreed, “I’ll get in contact with Arsenal and arrange flights for you to fly over and get a medical. I’ll start looking into houses for you too, any preferences?”

You shook your head, “it’s okay, Sarah. I’ll probably move in with Lia.”

You ended your call with Sarah before climbing into your bed. Excitement filled you like a child, you were finally going to be closer to Lia and your family. And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in five years you could finally live with Lia.

Whilst you were scrolling through TikTok, your phone rang and Lia’s contact filled your phone screen. You instantly picked up, last minute deciding to keep your transfer a secret from Lia.

“Hi my love!” She greeted as she laid in her own bed, “I miss you so much, how’s your day been?”

“I miss you too, it’s been great,” you smiled, “I looked through a few offers from WSL clubs.”

Lia’s face lit up, “and? How did it go? Any you’re interested in?”

You shook your head and sighed, “not really, love. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something soon,” Lia reassured you, “if not we’ll make things work with you staying in Barca, we always do.”

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. You had many video calls with Jonas and his team at Arsenal, all of them promising not to utter a word to Lia. You needed a medical done so one day you flew into London and headed to the Arsenal training ground, luckily it was the day before Lia was playing Liverpool so she was travelling to her hotel with the team.

You passed your medical and officially signed the paperwork, you also managed to fit in some photos that would be used when your transfer was officially announced. A start date that was set for in two weeks was agreed meaning you had two weeks to pack up your life in Barcelona without Lia finding out.

That evening you got home late, your phone call with Lia was quick and short and you hoped that she didn’t suspect anything. The next week, you said goodbye to your teammates and had your last training session. All though you were excited to join Arsenal, you were sad to leave Barca behind.

One evening, as you packed up your flat in Barca, you phoned one of your best friends from Arsenal. You and Leah had always been close from a young age, you’d both met at an England camp when you were eighteen and had been inseparable ever since.

The phone rang for a few seconds before Leah’s face fitted the scream, “Please tell me you’ve got some news about your contract?”

“Well hello to you too, miss impatient,” you laughed. As well as Lia, Leah had been pestering you as well about your contract. “Maybe I have, maybe I don’t.”

“You’re such an annoying rat, you know that right?” Leah joked, pulling her hoodie’s hood up as she laid in her bed.

You sarcastically laughed, “Haha, do you want to know or not?”

“Go on then,” Leah sighed, “wait! Don’t tell me if you’re moving to Chelsea or even worse fucking Spurs because I’ve seen the rumours and if you–”

You cut her off, “Well good thing Arsenal put in an offer and I accepted it then.”

“Fuck off!” Leah smiled, “No fucking way! Are you serious?”

Flipping your camera round, you showed Leah your boxed up flat, “Well unless these boxes are for no reason then yeah, I am serious.”

“Does Lia know?”

You shook your head, biting your lip as you turned the camera back round, “no actually. I wanted it to be a surprise for her and I need you to help me.”

Leah's eyes widened, her excitement palpable through the screen. "This is incredible!" she exclaimed. "Arsenal, huh? You've always been wanted to be a Gunner. Lia's going to lose her mind when she finds out!"

You leaned back against the half-empty bookshelf, a mix of nerves and anticipation bubbling inside you. "Yeah, I thought it was time for a new challenge."

Leah's grin widened. "Alright, spill the plan. How do we surprise her?"

You glanced around your sparsely furnished flat. "I was thinking of flying back to London. You know, just show up unannounced. Maybe at training and I can catch her off guard."

Leah nodded. "Solid plan. We need some confetti and banners, maybe even balloons.”

You chuckled. "Confetti, banners and balloons? Leah, I’m not proposing!"

"Fine, fine," she relented. "But seriously, Lia's going to be over the moon."

You smiled, “Thanks, Le."

You and Leah spent the next few hours on FaceTime, you searched for flights before booking on for a few days' time. She also kept you company as you packed up your house and shared your excitement about how you couldn’t wait to be with Lia again.

A few days later, you boarded the plane to England after letting Arsenal know you’d be arriving. The anticipation bubbled inside you as you boarded the plane bound for London. You couldn’t wait to see Lia’s face when she realised you were actually there but a part of you was scared that she was going to be mad about you not telling her.

The airport terminal buzzed with travellers, and you clutched your boarding pass tightly. Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and when you glanced at the screen, Lia’s name lit up. You answered, heart racing.

“Hi my love,” Lia greeted, despite not being able to see her face you knew she was smiling, “What’re you up to?”

You quickly made up an excuse, “Oh I’m just doing a grocery shop!” You nervously laughed, praying the background noise wouldn’t give it away, “What’re you up to?”

“Just getting ready for training,” Lia said, “It’s a recovery training so it shouldn't be too tough.”

“That’s nice, darling,” You smiled, “Look, I’m going to have to go, I need to pay. Speak to you later, yeah?”

“Oh, okay,” you could hear the sadness in Lia’s voice, “I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

You smiled, “I love you too.”

The flight was uneventful, but your heart raced as the plane touched down at Heathrow. You collected your suitcases, weaving through the bustling airport. Leah had promised to meet you outside the arrivals gate, and you scanned the crowd eagerly.

You eyes soon found Leah, she was in a grey tracksuit with a baseball cap on. She jokingly held a sign that read ‘Welcome home rat!”

“Leah!” you exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, superstar,” she teased. “Now spill! How’s it feel to be an official Gunner?”

You laughed. “Surreal but I can’t wait to surprise Lia. Is she training?”

Leah nodded. “Yep, she’s already there. Let’s go!”

You and Leah drove to the Arsenal training centre, it wasn’t a long drive but it gave you and Leah a chance to catch up before the chaos of moving in with Lia began.

As you pull up Leah turned to you, “So the girls know, I told them this morning. Is that okay?”

You nodded, “Yep, as long as no one told Lia that that’s fine!”

As you and Leah made your way inside, you bumped into Beth and Viv in the hallway who were just making their way in.

“Oh my gosh!” Beth squealed, pulling you into a hug, “I can’t believe you’re here! Lia is going to freak!”

You laughed, hugging Beth tightly, “I missed you so much!” You let go of Beth before hugging Viv, “You both okay?”

Viv nodded, “We’re doing good, it’ll be nice to have you around. How’re you feeling about being close to Lia?”

“It’s honestly amazing,” you sighed, “I can’t wait to be close again.”

You, Leah, Beth and Viv made your way down to the changing rooms. The team had just had their lunch so were getting ready to go back out on the pitch, Beth was in charge of capturing the moment.

“You alright?” Leah said to Lia, distracting her as she walked into the room.

Before Lia had the chance to reply, you followed in behind Leah and stood beside her.

Lia quickly glanced at you before talking to Leah, “I’m good,” she looked back at you again, registering that you were there, “Holy fuck! What the fuck? Oh my god!”

“Y/N?” she breathed, dropping her left boot. “What are you doing here?”

You grinned, pulling her into a hug. “Surprise!”

Lia’s arms wrapped around you, and you held her close. “You’re really here,” she murmured. “I thought you were still in Barcelona.”

“I was,” you said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “But Arsenal made an offer, and I accepted. I’m officially a Gunner.”

“Wait, seriously?” she stammered. “Arsenal? You’re joining the Gunners?”

You nodded, unable to contain your own excitement. “Yeah, Lia. It’s official.”

She squealed, then tackled you in a bear hug. “This is insane! You’ve worked so hard, and now this!” Her laughter echoed across the training rooming, contagious and full of genuine happiness.

You leaned down and kissed her lips. Her lips were soft, familiar, and everything you’d been craving. It was a kiss that was filled with love and passion. Her hand cupped your cheek, anchoring you in the present. The kiss deepened, a silent confession of all the words you hadn’t yet said.

“Alright, lovebirds!” Leah said, fake gagging, “pack it in, save it for later!”

As the days went by, you settled into your new life as an Arsenal player. The training sessions were intense, but exhilarating. You pushed yourself harder than ever, determined to prove your worth on the pitch. Lia was your constant support, cheering you on all the time.

One evening, after a tough session, you collapsed onto the couch in your shared apartment. Lia joined you, her eyes filled with pride. "You're incredible," she said, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. "I've never seen anyone adapt so quickly."

You grinned, leaning into her touch. "It's all thanks to you," you replied. "Having you beside me makes everything better."

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Again, for nobody in particular. But I wanted some content of Alma spending time with the grandkids post-movie.

The adults are going out for the time and Alma offers to stay behind to babysit. Dolores, assuming that the gremlins have been planning the worst all week, tries to talk her out of it. Only they are both surprised to find out that surprise is less chaotic and more theatrical than they thought.

Actual fluff from me. No angst at all. What????

Curtains Up, Showtime

“I insist, you really should reconsider.”

“I don’t understand. You are always so keen to give your parents a break and let Bruno babysit you all.”

“Yes, well, that’s because he deserves it.” Dolores narrowed her eyes across the room to where Bruno was encouraging his rats to squeak as loudly as possible for whatever game they were playing. “The four of them are spawns of Satan. I have heard them, all week - whispering and giggling. That spells trouble and you shouldn’t have to be put through that, Abuela. Especially at your old age. Mirabel, back me up here? Tell Abuela that she should leave Tío Bruno instead?”

Mirabel, who was too busy mending a hole her father had torn in his sleeve just as he and the rest of the adults were heading out the door, merely mumbled some agreement - muffled through the tail of thread she was holding taut between her teeth.

The matriarch chuckled lightly, waving Dolores’s comments off. “Oh, Lolita, don’t be ridiculous. You shouldn’t say such things about them, they are your own brothers and cousins.”

“And I know better than anyone that they come straight from hell.” Dolores crossed her arms.

“What? This adorable, little baby? Never!” Pepa gushed, as she scooped Antonio up into her arms. He giggled as kisses were pressed all over his face. “¡Buenas noches, hijo! We’ll miss you so much. Papa and I won’t be back until you’re in bed, so we won’t see you until the morning. But I’ve told your Abuela just how to put you to bed, so you won’t go without your story and cuddles.”

Julieta sighed nearby, “Your father and I will miss you girls too—”

“No! Don’t you dare touch me! I’m a grown woman!” Isabela screeched.

Luisa grinned mischievously, grabbing Isabela before she could sprint to the other side of Casita. She tried pushing her older sister back in front of their mother, who held her arms open, though neither of the girls moved to take the opportunity.

“I do like it when they act like hugging us will spread the plague,” Agustín offered, attempting to both cheer up and tease his wife.

“Now, you have to be good for your Abuela, understand?” Félix asked. “I don’t want to have your sister tell me that you’ve blown up a toilet or something tomorrow morning.”

“And you’d believe that gossip over me? Your favourite son?” Camilo questioned. He shifted into Antonio and bounded into his father’s arms, pouting.

Dolores swivelled from where she was still trying to plead with her grandmother, “I heard that!”

“I’m your favourite son!?” Antonio gasped, leaning over from Pepa’s grasp.

“There!” Mirabel affirmed, snipping the excess thread away. She stood back to examine her work, dusting off the sleeve. Her father shifted and wiggled his arm about. “Hm. It’s not bad for a quick-fix. And finishing it in an under three minutes is rather good for the infamous ‘slow one’ of the family. But don’t you dare rip through it - the shop barely stocks frost coloured thread these days— oh!” She jumped, finding that her mother’s arms were now wrapped around her.

Her sisters snickered from where they were hiding in the corner. Mirabel rolled her eyes at them.

“Why me?” She groaned.

“¡Porque eres mi bebé, amor!” Julieta answered. “And the only one with shorter legs than me, meaning you can’t run off like your sisters did.”

“I won’t hear another word of this, Dolores. I know my grandchildren, including you, better than anyone.” Abuela reminded, smiling. “And if they are as badly behaved as you claim they are, then spending a night with their abuela in charge will surely sort them out, no?”

Dolores couldn’t argue with that, she squeaked a little in defeat. “Yes, Abuela.”

With a few more warnings to behave and goodbye kisses, the two couples plus Bruno slowly made their way out of Casita for the night. Abuela made her way into the kitchen, offering to get drank for them all and suggested that they play a board or card game in the sitting room.

“Okay, what do you gremlins want to play? That will cause the least amount of damage?” Dolores asked, crouched in front of the cupboard.

“We’re not playing a game,” Isabela said.

“Yes, you are, or so help me, God, I will start blackmailing. Our Abuela doesn’t deserve to have to deal with you lot and your chaos.”

“No, Dolores, what Bela means is that we actually have something else planned.” Luisa explained. “We’ve been working on a short play all week for Abuela, we’re gonna perform it for her.”

“So… that’s what all that noise was about?”

Mirabel glanced between them. “Wait, what? I didn’t know anything about this.”

“Yeah, because you once called acting ‘professional lying’, so I figured you wouldn’t want to be part of this and would rather just sit and watch with Abuela.” Camilo shrugged.

“Oh, I was going to assume you all just forgot or didn’t care about me.” Mirabel mumbled. “But that was actually very sweet. Thank you for thinking about me. This might actually be very fun!” The others looked at her in surprise, she continued on, very giddy and clapping. “It’s been a while since I saw a play and I don’t remember much about it, so I’m hoping this will be better. Eleven years, to be exact.”

Slowly, the older few clocked the eleven years thing. They had all seen a play eleven years ago, some time after Camilo’s gift ceremony. It was one of the last fun family things they did before Mirabel’s ceremony went wrong and Bruno left and the pressure of the family hit an extreme level.

Camilo’s jaw hit the floor. He placed a hand on Mirabel’s shoulder, sympathetically. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Not seeing a play… your life could be a tragedy, prima.”

“That would be fairly accurate for me,” Mirabel hummed.

“Brilliant idea! You know how I’ve been trying to come up with a nickname for you, I’m gonna name you after some tragedy character!”

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know very many—”

“Hey, as nice as this is to see you two getting along and as sad as it is to remember how Mirabel has been robbed of a theatre experience,” Luisa interrupted, “We actually need to get shit ready before Abuela comes back.”

“And we need to finish before Antonio and Mirabel go to bed.” Dolores added, thoughtfully.

Isabela scoffed teasingly, “We? Lola, do you mean to say you want to help us?”

“I figured you might want some music and sound effects?” Dolores offered, to which she got plenty of enthusiasm from the four. “I mean, I have heard you practicing all week and, as a musical prodigy, I doubt I’d need too much time to consider what would work best where.”

Isabela, Luisa, Camilo and Antonio raced upstairs for their makeshift props, grabbing some spares clothes and accessories to act as costumes. Dolores grabbed a couple of her instruments and Luisa moved the piano into the sitting room for her. Casita shifted some long red drapes to act as curtains and readjusted the lights.

Alma came in a few minutes later. She had gotten distracted in conversing with Casita and had almost forgotten what she was in the kitchen for in the first place.

She blinked a little as she eyed the room, “Charades is very different from how I remember it.” She shuffled in, setting the tray of glasses down on the table. Sitting down beside Mirabel, she took her own glass. “Have the others gone to bed already? It’s not like you to be the last one up.”

“They are tuning up, I believe.” Mirabel answered.

“Tuning up?” She raised an eyebrow, curiously.

“I… I don’t know what I’m talking about,” the girl winced, looking away. “I don’t know anything about any of this. I barely know what they are going to perform.”

Their relationship was getting better, day by day. But Mirabel still seemed to always be a little on edge around her, constantly trying to live up to some imaginary standard. It always tug on her heart strings to see.

“Neither do I,” Alma admitted, hoping to set her at ease. “Pedro was always the theatrical one. He adored the arts.” She smiled, offering Mirabel her hand. She had seen Luisa do it enough times to know how much it worked in calming Mirabel down or making her feel better. “We can always learn together?”

Mirabel took her hand, nodding. She managed a small smile.

The curtains rustled and out stepped Luisa, “Good evening, ladies and…” she paused. “And, um, Casita. Tonight, we have prepared a play, called ‘Hercules Gets Sent to School by Zeus to Learn that the Real Strength is Friendship, Gets Bullied by a Mean Cheerleader Who Has Secret Magic Powers that Become Relevant to the Plot Later, Befriends a Friendly Capybara, and Together They Fight the Cactus Mafia - Musical/Rap/Dance Edition’, written by us and Bruno. Oh, and the music is being provided by Dolores.”

“It sounds like it will be wonderful,” Alma commented.

“All of that was just the title?” Mirabel muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

As Luisa shuffled back through the curtains, Dolores slipped by her, taking a seat at the piano. “If you think that’s bad, wait until you hear some of the dialogue,” she whispered, only half-joking.

Needles to say, ‘Hercules Gets Sent to School by Zeus to Learn that the Real Strength is Friendship, Gets Bullied by a Mean Cheerleader Who Has Secret Magic Powers that Become Relevant to the Plot Later, Befriends a Friendly Capybara, and Together They Fight the Cactus Mafia - Musical/Rap/Dance Edition’ was a very… interesting play.

It certainly had its own charm, and was unlike anything else that had ever been performed before. Bonus points for them coming up with something so original and unique, if only other people had the same abilities instead of constantly copying and pasting or making sequels. But that is always a given if Bruno is directing and writing. In saying that, there wasn’t really a cohesive plot. More like four very different plots that kinda came together in the end but didn’t really. At least, Luisa and Camilo had both agreed on a high school setting.

The musical element was done fairly well, considering they hadn’t practiced with it and Dolores was just making things up as she went. Isabela and Luisa, who had both handled the choreography, had been very ambitious. Somewhere along the way, they had slowly grown more competitive and tried to outdo each other. Camilo also joined in with this when he realised what was happening. Antonio, given his age and not being as skilled as the other three yet, couldn’t quite keep up, but watching him try was certainly adorable.

The rapping had been a lot better. Something Isabela and Camilo seemed surprisingly good at it. Their skills at improvising as well had earned many claps from Casita’s tiles. The singing… not so much. The lack of harmonies between the cast being noted after every song by Dolores, who went from finding it frustrating to very humorous by the end of the show. Antonio’s animals all played various roles as the ensemble, though he often had to translate their lines for the audience and they occasionally missed their cues or wouldn’t hand over props.

However, the entire cast and the creative team (or rather the one creative person) were clearly enjoying themselves. And even if she didn’t get what was happening after about the first ten minutes, Alma was happy enough to just watch the kids mess around and have fun. Just watching them be themselves was better than anything else.

Mirabel, by her side, was sat rather confused by the end, trying to string together some kind of plot or conclusion or basic moral from the story. But even she had been smiling throughout most of it, clapped when needed too and even laughed at a couple comedic lines from her sisters and cousins, and also Dolores’ supposedly quiet commentary.

“Bravo! Bravo, niños! You all did a marvellous job!” Alma applauded, on her feet.

“You really think so?” Antonio asked.

“We’ll have to make another.” Said Camilo. “When do you plan on babysitting us next?”

“I can convince our parents to go out again as early as tomorrow morning.” Isabela declared. She tossed her hair dramatically, winking. “Believe me, I’m something of an actress and a very convincing one at that; pretended-to-be-straight-for-twenty-one-years, it’s no big deal.”

Dolores’ hand shot up immediately, “If we’re doing another play, can we do it properly, please? I will happily write it in place of Bruno. I will even schedule music rehearsals for harmonies.”

“And maybe we can extend our budget a bit? Splash out some proper costumes with fancy embellishments? Instead of stealing our parents’ wedding clothes?” Luisa suggested. She shared a knowing glance with Mirabel. “Come on, I know you were thinking about it. We might even spoil you and buy you some of that hard-to/get frost coloured thread.”

“Tempting. But I can’t imagine I’ll need more—”

“Oh, you will. Your father tripped an hour ago and tore off both sleeves.” Dolores informed.

Mirabel was baffled, “I… How!?”

“Well, I will be happy enough to fund the production for my favourite grandchildren.” Alma cut in.

“Really?” The six asked, simultaneously.

“Of course!”

And it would prove to be money well spent.

[mrsmess]

[aeris-blue]

Oh the dilemma, do I work on my Siffrin cosplay or do I keep playing In Stars and Time? Such a dilemma. Truly I am cursed.

[angomay]

so um… they weren’t lying that dragon really can age. 2 even

[ID: A screencap of Jim from The Office looking to the side with a shell-shocked expression. His hand is resting on his forehead. End ID]

[kaweeella]

The next season finale of game changer: ultimate geo guesser.

[mr-e-nigma]

How long before I replay both Portal games.

[glitterhoof]

fighting the war on jaded pokémon fans on the side of jaded pokémon fans

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[luv4fushi]

thinking about arguing with husband!gojo. it’s funny because he’s the strongest sorcerer alive with several other, more wicked enemies harboring one sided hate for him, yet he’s anxiously glancing at you every now and then as you hiss at him. you’re the only one who can make him doubt his strength.

he usually finds you cute when you’re mad, but right now he doesn’t really appreciate the way your face is scrunched up and how you’re yelling at him.

it’s not his fault. he thinks you’re being so dramatic.

“you’re laughing at me,” you deadpan. “why do you never take things i say seriously?”

“because i honestly don’t think it’s that serious,” he fires back, and your eyes narrow. oh, fuck.

arguing with your husband is never fun. it’s probably because the both of you are stubborn; you’re stubborn because you’re simply right all the time, and satoru’s stubborn because if you’re not right, then he is.

you pause for just a second, but it’s enough to sprout a moment of extreme tension between you and your husband.

“right,” you scoff after you inhale sharply. “you just don’t care, do you?”

“don’t fucking say that,” satoru snaps. “i do care. that’s why i’m here.”

it takes everything in you to not shoot him another death glare. “so i should be thankful for the bare minimum?”

satoru blinks. he would’ve flinched, but he refuses to let you have that sort of power over him. “i’m not giving the bare minimum.”

“yes you are,” you argue back, voice straining as you swallow a lump of anger down the back of your throat.

the both of you are still. it feels like an eternity passes before the anger in you wanes. you’re exhausted and this fight with satoru is surely going to make the both of you upset enough to not talk for the rest of the night.

“i’m sorry that i’m not good enough,” satoru says, breaking the silence. you’ve never heard his voice so small, so pathetic—he’s never, ever shown you this side of him, and you’re starting to feel that dreading pit of guilt tug at your gut.

“that’s not what i meant,” you force yourself to say, sighing.

“but that’s what you’re thinking,” satoru mumbles. he avoids looking at your face.

“no it’s not,” you deny. “it’s never been about that.”

satoru gives you a wary look. “then what is it about? because i’ve done everything i can.”

“everything? really?” you sneer. “do you even love me anymore?”

silence. satoru swears he can hear your heart break.

“baby, don’t say that,” he groans, “c’mon, we were ten points away from three stars. that’s a single plate—one you didn’t turn in because you somehow forgot how to dash!”

you whip around to glower at satoru, your face twisting into an offended expression. “you set the kitchen on fire! how could i do something like serving a dish if the kitchen is on fire?!”

“baby, it’s the same button that it always has been this entire game!” he whines. “and you set the kitchen on fire! you keep forgetting to take the rice off the stove!”

you sigh exasperatedly, crossing your arms to act like some sort of shield between you and satoru’s (truthful) words.

“but you don’t chop up your stupid fish!” you protest. “so i end up doing five things at once!”

satoru opens his mouth to speak, but he knows you’re in the right. he opts to click his tongue instead.

“and every time i asked for help,” you add, frowning, “you just kept bringing out more of the dumbass cucumbers! we don’t have counter space for that!!!”

“that’s for prep to maximize our sushi making! throw it on the floor!”

“are you kidding me? that’s so unsanitary!”

“it’s a game!”

you’re both panting by the end of the fight. you’re biting down on your inner cheek and satoru is scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly.

“… sorry,” he mumbles. “i won’t bring out cucumbers anymore. and i’m also sorry for being mean about you not knowing how to dash.”

“good,” you huff. “‘cause i was seriously not gonna play anymore.”

“and…?” he prods, nudging you in your ribs. you can tell what he wants just by the sound of his voice.

“and i’m sorry for getting mad at you even though you’re doing you’re best at carrying me in this game…” you murmur, rolling your eyes.

satoru’s face brightens and he places a wet kiss on your cheek. “you’re forgiven.”

“love you, dummy.”

“love you too, baby.”

“no more cucumbers unless the ticket calls for them,” you remind him pointedly.

“yes, chef!”

[theonewiththefanfics]

Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”        

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings.  Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”          

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fiancé for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[slvttyplum]

toru is def an ass eater… CAN YOU WRITE A SMUT BASED IFF THAT

honestly i’ve gotten like three requests about satoru being an ass eater so this isn’t a whole fic but more of the basics.

now, satoru being an ass eater is something I believe; it’s just so him. to him, eating pussy is all fine and dandy, but give him the real substance, the real meat. 

he’ll lay you on your back and push up your hips so that you’re arching and get to work, his favorite part is squeezing and kneading your ass in the process. 

he isn’t shy about it, either. he’s going to eat your ass like he’s hungry for it, and then some. the tingly sensation from him swirling his tongue around and then his fingers swirling over your clit, that was overstimulation at its finest. 

why limit himself to only one thing when he can do both. his mouth and chin sopping with his saliva, dripping it back on your ass. 

at first, you weren’t a fan, until satoru swooped in and ate that, which was so good, he had you shaking and moaning. 

he loved that nasty stuff; he loved being outside the norm. we had mr. ass eater over here, and he didn’t give a fuck who knew; matter of fact, he will tell the whole world he was one, because that’s how much he loved it.

there was something so euphoric about being in between your big soft cheeks just swirling his tongue around and up and down your ass crack, if it wasn’t soaked he wasn’t doing it right. 

by the time satoru was done, your ass was filled with his saliva. this man loved eating you out so much that he would moan while he was doing it and even cum.

he was versatile and had no shame about what he was doing. while his other friends were talking about eating out their girlfriends, he would proudly say he ate your ass and ate it well. 

satoru was a D1 munch; don’t play with him. if he was going to eat your was, then he was going to make sure you came in the process. there was no room for error or games; he was going to do it, and he was going to do it well. 

“i couldn’t let my boyfriend eat my ass, i’m so-.” stop right there because neither of y’all give a fuck to listen. 

your man was a muncher, for both your pussy and ass, he ate it up yum yum yum with no problem lem lem, like be real, if you say satoru didn’t eat that ass up you would be lying. 

[satellitespinner]

MODERN ELLIE HEADCANNONS

modern!ellie who rides a beat up skateboard from when she was 15 everywhere. i mean everywhere your place, jesse’s, class. everywhere !

modern!ellie whose pen is never not in her hand, or deep denim pockets.

modern!ellie who tries to learn cool pen tricks while “finishing” her homework, but ends up hitting you with the pen..

modern!ellie who was your bestfriend before she was your girlfriend. you two were inseparable! (and irritating.)

modern!ellie who never fucking answers her texts.. it’s infuriating.

modern!ellie who sells weed on the side of working at a small café on campus. (she doesn’t like Starbucks) ((as she should))

modern!ellie who majors in astrophysics! that girl has been in love with space since she could talk. infact! her first word was planet!

modern!ellie who was unfortunately in the foster care system until she was adopted by the lovely man we all know as joel miller!!

modern!ellie whose username on all platforms is more likely to be something stupid than her actual name.

modern!ellie who refuses to turn on auto correct even though she so desperately needs it.

modern!ellie never cooks. ever! it’s either take-out or you forcing a homemade meal down her throat. (she doesn’t mind.)

modern!ellie who cuddles you like you’re married!

modern!ellie doesn’t play about her video game!!!! she will throw a tantrum!

modern!ellie’s playlist consists of hard rock, indie and atleast some rap.

modern!ellie who just shows up at your house?? at let’s herself in!!! the disrespect.. (you don’t care..)

imagine you come home from a long, stressed-filled day. juggling work and exam week AND the weight of being the baddest bitch on campus has really been weighing on you lately; causing you to (as she calls it) neglect ellie..

you walk in, shoulders slumped and release a heavy sigh as you drop your things down on the kitchen table when your bestfriend walks out of your bathroom like nothing.

“hello?” you say, your face morphing from scared to un-impressed as you realize the person in your home was not an intruder.

“hey babe” she says quietly as she walks over to you, slowly watching you as you put your things away.

“how many times have i told you. the extra key i gave you is for emergencies.” you lecture. not really caring as much as you led on to be.

“there was an emergency though!” she argues. you give her a look of scepticism. “and what would that be?” you roll your eyes.

“we haven’t hung out in three days! hello?! i’ve barely seen you since monday!” she whines.

“i’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“busy?”

“yeah.” you whisper, palming your eyes out of fatigue. she gives you a half smile as she realizes that you’re not in the mood for her god awful attitude.

“awh, ‘cmere” the next thing you know your letting yourself relax into ellie’s arms as she rubs your back and gently soothes the tension in your body.

“you wanna go lay down?” she looks down at you and asks. hee voice remaining in the same low whisper as before.

“yeah, please.” you say before she grabs your hand and pulls you into your bedroom. she insists on making you feel better at this point and who are you to stop her??

she opens your pajama drawer and pulls out a big baggy shirt and some shorts, “put these on.” she says as she walks around the bed to the night table, switching the lamp on and peeling back the blanket.

she somehow managed to keep her eyes to herself and when your done she carefully slides into bed next to you. “you comfy?” she asks.

“im good.” god you can already feel your eyes closing. ellie slowly pulls you into her arms and rubs small circles on your stomach as she lulls you into tranquility. eventually you both fall asleep; what seemed to be the weight of the world lifting of your shoulders.

for now.

modern!ellie who had a crusty white dog but it went missing and she never saw it again.

[g0dlyunsub]

red herring.

in which spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.

pairing :: spencer x reader

warnings :: none? some [really slight] sexual tension but it’s mostly spencer being his witty self.

word count :: 1.3k

author’s note :: second post is now up! i’m a sucker for pure fluff that involves constant bickering, especially when it involves spencer’s ginormous brain. mention of his glasses like thrice. i also just realized i missed the opportunity to title this as reid herring, but i'm too lazy to change the cover :3

accompanying song :: show me by mac ayres and chris anderson

you let out a deep sigh before you can stop yourself, and you instantly try to fake cough to mask your disappointment. spencer’s quick to notice, however, and he flashes a smile at you. his glasses hitch up slightly as his nose lightly crinkles, and you can’t help but look and admire. in comparison, your smile is always turned downwards and you’ve never felt comfortable displaying a wide smile like his. 

you’d find his smile to be refreshing any other day, but right now, it’s more of a nuisance than anything. 

“what, can’t admit that you’ve lost the last seven games of chess?” spencer chuckles playfully and rests his chin on his hand. 

you huff in frustration and tap the table with your index finger. “you’ve been playing this game since like what, when you were a week old? your elo rating is probably well above candidate masters and-”

“so what else do you want to try? i’ve handicapped my queen, my bishop, do you want a rook gone next?” the rim of spencer’s glasses gleams under the lighting as he asks, and you hate how everything seems to be on his side. 

“no,” you pout, and tip over your king to surrender. “i want to play something different.” you fold your arms in front of your chest as you speak and lean back in your chair.

“you know, if it helps, i could explain the strategies i used to counter your plays. these seven- well eight games, we’ve played the italian defense three times, the caro-kann setup twice, the sicilian defense once, which is pretty impress-” you cut spencer short when you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows.

“can we not… talk about chess right now?” you pout once again, and push the chess board to the side of the table.

“well. is there anything else that you want to play?” spencer adjusts his glasses as you scratch the back of your head in contemplation.

“old maid. i’m a natural at that game,” you suggest, and you notice the corner of spencer’s lips tug into a smirk.

“oh, i bet you are. try me.” confidence oozes from his words and your heart beats just a little faster. he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“i’ll deal the cards.” you grab a deck of cards from the drawer of your desk and shuffle the cards in a swift and fluid manner.

“that’s right, in a classic two-player situation for a deck of 1 card to a deck of 51 cards, the latter of which is the standard for a game of old maid, the expected probabilities for the dealer winning are always higher than the non-dealer. if you’re really going for the win, i’d recommend playing with a smaller deck of cards, but the difference is really minimal. you’re looking at a simulated probability of 50.4 percent with 51 cards versus 51.8 percent with 23 cards.” spencer rolls the facts off his tongue like it’s common sense, and you blink rapidly in stunned confusion. he’s playing it off with a goofy smile again. ugh.

the next hour is filled mostly with intense silence, and you could swear a part of your brain was going to short circuit from mental exhaustion any minute. 

“is it… here? hm?” spencer observes your facial expressions for any note of change, but you wouldn’t give it to him. you remain unphased as his fingers trail between your cards and pull the rightmost card from your grip. 

your heart makes an ecstatic turn when he takes the old maid and it takes everything in you to suppress your smile. so much for being a profiler.

your excitement doesn’t last, however, when he slightly cocks his head to the side and starts to shuffle his cards. it’s endgame, and you might be able to come out of this with your first victory. 

you lean in ever so slightly, brushing your fingers atop each card and pausing in between. your eyes lock onto his hazel beads, and neither of you blink. 

“it’s not this card.” you move to the next card, and spencer raises an eyebrow.

“are you sure? you know, statistically speaking, when one shuffles their deck of-” your hand snakes under his cards and you lay a finger to his lips. 

“shh, i’m trying to concentrate,” you whisper, and everything goes silent. the tension between the two of you hangs suspended in the air and it’s increasingly harder for you to focus on the game. in fact, you’re thinking of everything but the cards in front of you. 

you draw in a deep breath and settle on the card that sits second to last in his right palm. when you turn the card over, a frown instantly overtakes your face. the old maid had instantly made its way back into your set of cards.

the rest of the game is torturous; each turn, spencer discards his pairs one by one, and your disappointment seeps through your loud sighs. 

you set the last card on top of the messy pile of pairs. it’s a loss, again. 

“spence, i’d beat you in any target game like darts.” you lift your head with an exhausted groan.

“you know, phil taylor, a 16-time world darts champion, is often cited to utilize geometry to his strategic advantage since he aims for the triple 20 section, which is one of the highest scoring areas of the board. it takes practice, of course, to nail the angle down, but an estimation of the dart's projectile motion offers great leverage to your precision.” he looks at you as you start to stack up the cards and stuff them back into their case.

after a pause, he continues: “can i not impress my favorite person once in a while?" he reaches for your hand to interlace his fingers with yours. 

his thumb rubs the cave between your thumb and index finger in a circular motion, and you feel your body relax under his touch. you suppress your excitement at the mention of the word favorite by pursing your lips.

“you always impress me, spence. wait – hey, is that a red herring, coming from you?” you question, pulling his hand towards you.

“perhaps. and i’ll actually address mine, unlike a certain someone…” a sly grin spreads across his face.

“but what about that one time you-” you start, raising your other hand to contest. 

“hm. interesting. that’s your first whataboutist reply in two days,” spencer cuts you off short. what an actual jerk.

he breaks into a small fit of laughter before he waves his hand to control himself. you, on the other hand, aren’t impressed. he stands, his figure towering over you as you remain seated.

“come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before we head out for the weekend. i’ll walk you home.” spencer motions for you to get up, and you reluctantly follow suit. you’re glad you could spend more time with the witty doctor, but you hadn’t expected to accumulate even more stress after work was over. a cup of coffee is exactly what you need to get a moment of relaxation.

he hands you your cup of coffee and turns to face you while stirring his drink with a coffee stick.

“hey, uh, listen. it’s been really nice playing with you today, and if you wanted to play again sometime, talk about strategies, stuff like that…” he trails off, watching you as you take a sip of your hot drink.

“of course, if you’ll ever consider adopting me as your apprentice,” you jokingly respond, and a glimmer surfaces in his eyes. before he can respond, you lean in and embrace him. 

“i’m just kidding. invite me for a card game any time.” you look up so your forehead sits right under his chin. he’s surprised at your sudden move, but he sets his cup down and returns the hug.

“poker next?” 

“oh hell no. get out of here.” you laugh and take his hand as you walk out of the office while he desperately scrambles for his cup with his free hand. both of your laughs echo down the hallway and trail behind as the elevator doors close.

[sukiipjs]

✿ TRUTH OR DARE

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↳ matt sturniolo x fem reader

↳ words - 1397

↳ summary - a stupid game of truth or dare with your best friend turns into what you’ve always fantasized about…

↳ contains - smut, swearing, fingering, oral, sex, praise, pet names (baby), use of y/n, fluff at end, idk

↳ song - void by the neighborhood

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

me and matt are best friends, ever since we met, we just clicked with each other but honestly, also ever since we met… i’ve liked him, wanted him… of course i never told him, or anyone but myself and i don’t act on anything, just think… think of all the things he could do to me, fuck.

currently, i’m over with matt and we just finished up a movie -that i’ve been clenching my thighs the whole time while watching it- and now we’re bored again, we sit on his bed, facing each other and decide to play truth or dare, sure it’s basic but who cares it’s something.

“okay truth or dare?” i ask matt as he answers, “dare” i try to think of a non boring dare to say, and then i remember this one video i saw… perfect chance to just get something to fuel the churning feeling in my stomach, “uhhh i dare you to do five push ups… and say my name in between them.”

he laughs a little, getting off the bed, “…weird but whatever, trying to make me work out or something?” i watch him as he gets on the floor, his hands and feet supporting his body as he starts to push down, “y/n” he says normally before going up and back down again, “y/n” his voice starts to get breathy.

i move one of my legs on top of the other, squeezing my thighs again to feel something… oh god, “y/n” my teeth hold my bottom lip hard as i try to subtly move my body, trying to get a little more friction, he’s so fucking hot, i wish he was moaning my name for real “y/n…” he grunts as he picks himself back up again, “shit- y/n” he shakily says one more time before he lays his body on the floor, breathing to catch his breath.

“okay maybe that was a good dare, could barley get to three,” he laughs a little, picking himself off the floor as he looks down at me, my cheeks flushed red and lip swollen from the bite. “jesus you okay? you look sick,” he bends down a little, letting his thumb graze over my lip, i stare at him, his face so… so close to mine. “no i’m fine, i just pick at my skin,” i try smiling a little, picking up my hand to swipe his away, my face still red with slight embarrassment now.

“whatever,” he rolls his eyes a little, sitting back down on the bed next to me, “okay my turn, truth or dare?” i play with my fingers a little, thinking of which one to choose. “truth” i look at matt as he thinks of a question until he asks, “do you have a crush?” i let out a slightly embarrassing laugh, being so caught off guard by that.

“that’s a stupid question!” i try hiding my face a little, still burning up, why would he choose that out of all thinks to ask. “you only say that cause you do!” he laughs out, “who?” i shake my head a little “i never said i had one!” he sighs a little, eyeing me, “look at you. who is it cmon?”

i shake my head again, hiding my face with my hands, “okay, i might but i am not telling you.” he pushes me playfully, my body rocking as i take my hands off my face and push him back, “rude.” he rolls his eyes again, “fine. but since you wont tell me, i’m telling you a dare and you can’t back out on this.”

i roll my eyes back, “fine, what?” he moves himself a little, sitting more comfortably as he stares into my eyes, a small smile coming to his face, “kiss me.” my smile drops slowly, my eyes widening a little, “what.” he moves his face closer to mine, “you heard me” is this real?

“you think i never notice how you stare at me, clenching those thighs? you think i didn’t know what you were doing when you asked me to basically moan out your name? kiss me. i dare you.” he sets a hand on my thigh, gently squeezing it as his nose almost touches mine now, whaaaat the fuck.

i quickly move my mouth to his not letting this opportunity go, our lips pressing against each other, his hands move to hold my face, not letting me go of the kiss. “fuck- you have no idea how long i’ve been dreaming of you,” he grins, staring at me, his hand still on my cheek until it starts to travel down my body as i move to lean on his headboard.

i keep my eyes on his hand as it goes lower and lower on my body, stopping at the waist of my pants as he looks up at me, “can i?” i nod my head vigorously as he gives me a smile, eyes going back to his hands that start pulling down my sweatpants and underwear off my ankles.

“so beautiful,” his hands make small movements up and down my thighs, he starts to gently move my legs apart as i bend my knees to prop them up. matt scoots closer, his hands keeping my legs apart as he starts to kiss at my inner thighs.

i stare down at matt between my legs, waiting for him to touch me more. he finally lands his lips onto mine, his stubble scratching slightly on my skin. “matt-“ my hands squeeze onto his sheets, my back arching slightly as i moan out his name. his tongue dancing around my clit, his warm breath being felt on my skin, his fingers creeping on my thighs, making sure i don’t close them.

my hand moves to grip onto his hair, pulling him gently onto me more, bucking my hips into him. “fuck!” i moan, my eyes shutting and jaw clenching. one of his hands leave my thigh and i suddenly feel two fingers plunge inside me, starting to pump in and out making me moan out more.

my grip on his hair tightens and i feel the knot in my stomach release over matt’s tongue. “fuck you taste so good baby,” he smiles, lifting his head out my legs, fingers out me and leaning to kiss the lips on my face.

he continues kissing me as he starts to yank off his pants, letting his dick spring free. he slowly pulls away from the kiss, throwing his pants to the side off the bed. he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me down to lay more as he holds his hardness, guiding it over my folds.

he grabs onto and moves one of my legs to rest above his shoulder before pushing inside me, finally. “fuck!” i moan out, feeling myself stretch around him. “oh shit…” he starts to thrust inside me, low groans and sighs coming from his mouth.

“fuck y/n…” i shut my eyes as i moan out, matt starting to lean down to kiss at my neck, leaving dark spots on my skin. “you like that? hearing me moan your name out? this what you wanted?” he smiles as he goes back to sucking at my skin. i wrap my arms around his back, scratching my nails into his fair skin. the vibration of his mumbles tickle my skin as i clench around him, “close-“ i moan out more, matt still marking my neck.

i let myself go, cumming around him as he makes a few last thrusts, leaning back up smiling at the spots he made on me. he pulls out, stroking himself to cum too. i lay back, catching my breath and replaying what just happen, fuck this is perfect.

matt flops over beside me, laying down and quickly wrapping his arms around me, letting his head rest on me. “you okay?” i nod, “i’m perfect” he smiles, “i know you are,” we laugh a little as i start to rest my hand on his back, my finger running circles on his back, “matt?”

“yeah?” he asks back, my stomach churning just from his voice. “i really like you…” i speak softly, kinda nervous even though we just did something way more. “me too,” i feel his smile grow on my skin as he holds me closer, tighter.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist : @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt @freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @whore4matt @txssvx @teenagetrash00 @matty-bear @venusbabysblog @m0r94n @junnniiieee07