#it’s the camp effect. i fucking hate camps.

[snekdood]

ive literally never understood antisemitism and i dont think I ever will. literally 0 basis for any of the conspiracy theories. its always just projection from christians.

[babisawyer]

Late night with the devil was fun because it scared me but also because it had worms! 🪱

[bladeofmarseille]

im playing in ohtofu scrims tonight and we might have to play against a knight 😭😭

[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

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I Fucked Up

[vixstarria]

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.” 

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets. 

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight. 

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.” 

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.” 

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.” 

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.  

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?” 

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.” 

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”  

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.” 

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?” 

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.” 

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle. 

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?” 

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased. 

“I hate dancing,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?” 

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.” 

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned. 

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?” 

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh. 

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before. 

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?” 

“I didn’t let him.” 

He laughed. 

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?” 

You had to think for a moment.  

“Are we counting Volo?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then just Karlach and Withers.” 

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?” 

Astarion was silent for a few moments. 

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”  

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he said.  

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.  

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.” 

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered. 

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan. 

“That’s not my back, Astarion.” 

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly. 

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?” 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.  

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.” 

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.  

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.  

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.” 

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.  

“You can try,” you taunted him. 

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.  

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you. 

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars. 

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.  

“Ast… what..”  

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll. 

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans. 

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.” 

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it. 

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.” 

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.  

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred. 

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.  

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.” 

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you. 

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.  

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...” 

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.  

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t- 

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body. 

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.  

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?” 

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip. 

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.  

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again. 

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?” 

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night. 

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.  

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well. 

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...” 

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you. 

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.” 

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.  

“Your what?” you gasped.  

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.  

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.  

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.  

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go. 

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his. 

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.  

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.  

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face. 

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear. 

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder. 

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips. 

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.  

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea. 

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements. 

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder. 

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.  

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips. 

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.  

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear. 

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.  

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.  

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke. 

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.  

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?” 

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk. 

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes. 

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.  

“Is that so?” he said softly.  

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..? 

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.  

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.  

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.  

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with. 

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.” 

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.  

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.  

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying. 

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”   

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled. 

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”  

He chuckled at that. 

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.  

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered. 

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”  

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.  

“Five.”  

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.” 

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-” 

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.  

“Do not finish that thought, darling.” 

You grinned from behind his palm.  

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.  

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”  

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.  

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly. 

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.  

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.  

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.  

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

[maruflix]

  — ★ OUT OF CONTROL !!

☆ — “YOU’RE STALLING... AND MY PATIENCE IS RUNNING THIN.”

featuring: Yandere!Narumi Gen x f!reader

synopsis: Your captain’s hopeless crush on you is a running gag in the First Division. It’s been fun, but Narumi Gen decides that enough was enough.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, reader is kinda iffy too here, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number one

word count: 1,8k

“Why do you hate me?”

You pause mid drinking, lowering the water bottle just enough to catch a glimpse of your captain. “What?”

Narumi Gen stands tensely in the dim light of the training room, his hands crossed in front of his chest. His question is ironic with the way he’s glaring at you so heatedly— like he hates the very idea of you.

“I help you train even if you don’t ask me to,” He frowns, uncrossing his arms, “I ignore your mistakes and transgressions, no matter how bad they are,” his eyes are fixed on you as he takes several steps closer, “I keep you safe during missions, even if it costs me my life,” he’s right in front of you now, leaning down to your height, “I even kept my distance from you so you wouldn’t get uncomfortable, so why?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you move away, cheeks burning. “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain Narumi.”

“You don’t?” He repeats mockingly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Very well, let me refresh your memory.”

Air is knocked out of your lungs as he suddenly slams you to the wall, his hands placed on either sides of your head, effectively caging you in the process.

“C-Captain Narumi!” —but Narumi coldly gazes down at you, making your protests die in your throat.

“Tell me, who was it who helped you perfect that kaiju-slaying technique of yours?” His hot breath fans your ears as you gulp, perfectly aware of all the late night practices he’s referring to. Knowing the lazy bum persona he cultivates, training with Captain Narumi is something the other officers can only dream of, yet he tirelessly helps you to grow your abilities until you became one of the strongest officers in the division.

“I’m very grateful, but I don’t see—”

Narumi cuts you off. “Yes, it was me,” He clicks his tongue, making you go silent in shock, “Come to think of it, it’s all thanks to me that you didn’t get in trouble for half the shit you pulled off. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you and your rule-breaking friends? I’m not blind to the things that goes on in my division, officer.”

Alarmed, your eyes snap to meet his as your heart thunders in your ribcage. Which rule-breaking is he referring to? Was it when you and your platoon sneak out for late-night snacks during the three day training camp? Or the secret shortcut you always use when everyone goes for a jog in the mountains? Or was it that one time you saw his bayonet lying around and you tried swinging it around for a few times?

His chuckle breaks your train of thoughts. “Yes, I know everything you did. My office is equipped with a CCTV, you know.” Fuck, so he definitely knows about the weapon thing.

You inhale sharply, ready to beg him for forgiveness, but Narumi isn’t done. “Oh, and remind me who was it that swooped in to save you before you get devoured by a honju?” His face is now so close to yours, you can see yourself reflected in his crimson eyes.

You turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Why is he doing this? He has always been so gentle with you, a lovestruck cutie who stutters in the mere presence of you, not this overbearing presence that strips you of your ability to breathe.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

The slight crack in his voice makes your heart jump as your gaze scrambles back to him— but although he has a pained expression on his face, there’s no mistaking the victorious glint in his eyes.

“You know it, don’t you?” Narumi speaks again, lips stretching to form a boyish grin, “You know about my feelings for you... and instead of giving me a proper answer, you capitalized off of it.”

This is the first time he’s called you out on your actions.

You reach up cautiously, fingers tracing his jaw, “You know you’re the closest person to me, Captain Narumi. I owe everything to you, you know that.”

He exhales, leaning into your touch like a cat. Your raging heartbeat relaxes. There we go. Just calm down and stop talking.

Just when you thought you’ve succeeded in taming the lion, Narumi grabs your hand as his eyes dart upwards, his smile morphing into a cruel smirk. “You’re stalling... and my patience is running thin.”

He flips you, causing you to let out a yelp. Back pressed against his hard chest, you struggle to break free as he holds you by your arms. His hand is already slipping up your thigh and he leans down to plant kisses on your neck.

“W-wait, ah-” You glance, meeting the grey-haired man’s crazed gaze. Narumi’s eyes glow dangerously in the dark room, a piercing crimson that sends shivers down your spine. You know you’ve been playing with fire all along, but you never thought that the consequences would come so quickly.

“You know, I’ve really tried to be patient with you,” Narumi sighs, like he’s chiding a child, “but before I knew it, my affection for you has become a running gag in my own division. I don’t take such humiliation lightly, my love.” His whisper sends a delicious tingle down your neck to your spine, “Give me an answer, now.”

For a while, silence fills the room.

“Before I give you a response, shouldn’t you tell me what you did first?”

Narumi tenses up. There’s something different in the way you look at him now. His grip loosens slightly but it’s enough for you to yank yourself away.

You take a few steps away as he watches you like a hawk. “What happened... to him?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Oh, but he does. You know he does because he refuses to meet your eye.

“It feels just like yesterday that I gained a new sparring partner, and suddenly he’s transferred to the second division without prior notice? I wonder what happened.”

Narumi squirms.

“Kobayashi. Yamada. Inoue— and recently, Yoshida. What happened to them? What’s with all the sudden transfers? Did the other divisions really need more personnel? Or,” Ignoring Narumi’s burning gaze, you uncurl the fingers that are previously tapping on your chin to point at him, “did you have something to do with that, Captain Narumi?”

He looks at you and you realize that you’ve hit him right on the mark. The last disguise he holds on to for dear life has been ripped to shreds with your accusation.

So you knew — of course you knew — or has he intended for you to find out all along?

“Congratulations, you caught me.” Clapping his hand mirthlessly, he stalks towards you, a pleased smirk on his face. “It’s so tiring to pretend to be a good guy. What do they say— ah, nice guys finish last. I guess there’s some truth to that, because I’ve been nothing but kind to you and all I get in return is being toyed with.”

The moon is high on the sky now, casting a dark shadow over Narumi’s face. You barely have the chance to react before he pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“I no longer have the patience for this. Tell me you love me,” his voice comes out barely a whisper, “hurry up, don’t make me lose my cool.” The desperation in his urging makes you feel like your breath has been seized from you.

Of course you liked him. Who were you kidding? Strong, handsome, and rich, Narumi Gen has it all— and being the your captain’s object of affection is fucking flattering. Everyone else goes to desperate lengths to get Narumi to even spare them a glance, but he stares at you all day like you hung all the stars in his sky.

You like him so much, that’s why you’re afraid. Afraid that you’re just a shiny new plaything that has just caught his eye. Afraid that he will lose interest in you once you reciprocate his feelings. Afraid that you will go back to superior and subordinate once the spark is gone.

You shouldn’t have been so anxious.

“What else should I do?” Narumi holds onto you, desperately clinging to the last shred of his sanity. “What more do you ask of me? I will give it to you, just tell me. Tell me what I should do so you’ll look at me.”

“I love you.”

Narumi’s heart lurches— it’s like the sky has been ripped asunder. His hands tremble as he moves back to hold your shoulders, searching for any signs of falsehood in your eyes.

Your smile pierces through his heart and he wonders why you’re looking at him with those clear, loving eyes.

“What..?”

“I love you, Narumi. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. I wanted to be sure of your feelings before I—”

His lips crashes into yours, making you stumble backwards. He’s there to steady you by the waist, his hand snaking up your shirt and making its way up your back, leaving sparks of electricity from where he touched you.

Then he pulls away, his hand cupping your face gently as if you’ll break under the slightest pressure. For a moment he’s back to the gentle, shy Narumi Gen who treats you like a goddess, but you can see the obsession in his eyes that has become impossible to mask.

Hasegawa’s warning rings in your ear: Narumi Gen is an obsessive and possessive man who hides his resolve under a flippant persona. You recall the worried look in his face as he asks you to tell him if Narumi ever oversteps his boundaries with you.

Well, Narumi certainly did— but that’s just the way you like it.

You tug on his hair, jerking him closer to you and inviting him to kiss you again. He groans involuntarily, ashamed that you’re able to play with him so easily. Moving closer, he stops just before your lips meet, staring at you through half-lidded eyes. “Do you know what this means?”

Narumi wants to cry at the innocent look you throw his way. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he knows he can’t let go. He’s fallen too far into the abyss with no hope of clawing himself back out.

“Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?” He muses, lifting your chin up before trailing a finger down your neck— but all you do is lean into his touch, shivering in anticipation.

Your shy, impish smile does little to hide the excitement in your eyes as your eyelashes flutter up at him, tempting him to continue. “What? Do tell me, captain.”

The purr in your voice sends salacious shivers down his spine. In an instant, Narumi comes to a realization— all this time, the one holding the chains has always been you.

art by suou2280 on twitter

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu

end notes: have you ever had an idea so chronic and brain-rotting, it haunts you even in your dreams? well, this is one of mine😭

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

~

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say. 

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly. 

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[al9ayf]

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Astarion finding out their f!s/o has suicidal thoughts please?

hi thank you for requesting again ❤️ also sorry for the late post, i have a lot of family events and weddings lolz. also while writing this i couldn’t help but do ascended astarion as well 😭

ᥫ᭡ suicidal thoughts | astarion, gale, halsin, wyll

｡˚ explicit content :: thoughts of suicide ofc, attempted suicide, mentions of abuse

ʚ astarion:

spawn:

he first found out the night you had sex with him at the tiefling party. astarion was different back then. he thought you a fool first for letting him take you under the stars, and now an even bigger one for confiding such dark thoughts to him. the two of you barely knew each other, so he did not care about how you were feeling

and then as the journey went on and he found himself risking his life for you on more than one occasion, he tried to deny his feelings. but you were so magnetic, and all of a sudden the nights felt lonely without you by his side

after proclaiming how much he cares for you and wants this relationship to go further, he invited you to spend the night with him in his tent. now the nights didn’t feel lonely anymore as you slept beside him

finally after reaching baldur’s gate and killing cazador, astarion invited you to visit his grave. the evening was peaceful as he said goodbye to an elf and hello to a new beginning as a vampire. he wanted the night to go on a little further but watched as a sour expression formed on your face as you declined the invitation to have sex with him. you would rather go to bed

the next few nights you were distant. astarion did not understand why until he finally got fed up and asked if you were mad at him. he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks as you confessed to him that you wanted to break up. it wasn’t him, you added, it was you

yet the breakup did not make things easier for you, it instead made it worse. he sees you go off to bed without a dinner and wounded arms. you do not speak to anybody. you are the leader of this group and yet you are silent during the job so astarion often is the one guiding the party around the city and making the decisions

the night after killing orin, he decided to stay awake and watch the camp. he was an elf for he did not need any sleep, but he saw you sneak away from your tent with a bottle in your hand. astarion decided to follow you to the river. he made sure to stay silent and at a safe distance, and once you got to a familiar spot, you sat down on the sand and started crying

you drank the whole bottle as fast as you could and then smashed it into the ground. you stood up and headed for the river with open arms, anticipating the cold waters. astarion stopped you before you could take another step

“what are you doing?!” he yelled, grabbing you. “you do not know how to swim, you idiot!”

you confessed to him that you were doing it on purpose. that you had no will left to live. fuck this tadpole and save faerûn. fuck everything in this world. you were hoping that he would hate you when you broke up with him so your death wouldn’t be that upsetting. the gods have not once given you a blessing in life, and now they have doomed you to the hells

astarion tells you that the two of you have been through everything together. have you not once loved him? have you not thought of him as a blessing? because you are everything to him, and losing you meant losing himself all over again. he wants to help you get through this even though it might be the toughest thing to do. at least he is with you

you expect him to make a joke but he doesn’t. you cry in his arms and hug him tightly, appreciating his kind words

ascended:

after completing the ritual, astarion completely changed. it threw you off more than you wanted it to and hoped that it was just a temporary effect of gaining so much power

but after saving baldur’s gate and all of faerûn from the grand design, and after moving in with astarion into his new palace, he never changed. it instead grew worse

months of his abuse and controlling behavior went by. you were not allowed to be who you are anymore. everything you knew had been stripped away from you, and now the man who you once thought saved you from wanting to end it all made those thoughts reappear again

you sat at your vanity crying as a servant did your hair for the ball happening that night. astarion entered the bedroom and told the servant to leave. he forced you to stand up and look at him, and you recoiled when he touched your chin

“is something the matter, my darling?”

you told him without being able to look him in the eyes. you told him you wanted to die. you hated him and would rather kill yourself than have him touch you. you cry and cry as you spill your broken heart out onto the floor, but astarion only laughs and tells you that you will do no such thing. you are a vampire now, living eternally with him. he will not allow you to end your own life

after all, you are his dear consort

ʚ gale:

gale always found it interesting how the light in your eyes always shifted. you were always thinking about something, whether good things or not. he never pried too much into it because he respected your privacy as much as you respected his. but he has poured his heart out many times to you, yet you always seemed closed off. he felt he knew so much about you, yet nothing at all

you have always thrown yourself into the toughest of battles without any thought. shadowheart always spent the most time healing you because of your rash decisions. it was like you were not scared of the danger, yet somehow you lived through it each time

gale asked you about it and you told him a simple answer: you hated evil. you would sacrifice your life to save faerûn. it was your home. he thought you brave, but again saw that shift of light in your eyes disappear. he asked what was wrong immediately, and you hesitantly admitted to him that life had not been so kind to you until you met him. and although this journey to baldur’s gate has been rough and helps take your mind off things, the past still haunts you. gale asks what haunts you, and you only kiss him goodnight

after arriving at baldur’s gate, gale takes you to a nice clearing in the woods to have a little alone time. you watched his small magic shows and the stars, but as time passed on and your laughter died down, there gale saw a sad girl

“whatever troubles you, we can get through it together. i promise you…”

and then you broke down in tears. you confessed to gale that a curse has been bestowed upon you ever since you were a young child. the date of your death grows near, and in one year you will take your final breath and lay to rest forever. you have known this your whole life and each year has not made it easier. you do not care if you die. you would meet death soon anyway. and every day you imagine what a sweet death tastes like if you were not met with the sharp side of the blade

gale pulled you into a hug and held you close. he did not know what to say. it was a horrible curse—a terrible one. he promises you that he will help you escape this fate. look at how far you have gotten in this journey in such a short amount of time. preventing your death is a small hurdle you both can jump over. he is determined to help you

ʚ halsin:

halsin has been the first druid for as long as you can remember. he was your idol, your guide, and your closest friend. admittedly, you wanted it to be more. you have loved halsin for years. all you wished for was to be by his side until the sun rose in the west and set in the east. but you were too afraid to admit your feelings for him. you thought yourself unfitting

after learning about the news of him getting captured by the goblins, you reassured yourself that he has not been killed. halsin was smart and the grove flourishes because of him. you would know when something bad had happened. you would be able to feel it in the earth. no flowers have died yet, and so you prayed to the oak father to keep your archdruid alive

though kagha never liked you. she thought of you as too naive and young. you did not know the ways of the oak father, in her mind. you were just a burden and halsin only allowed you to stay because he was too merciful. and now that she was acting as a first druid, it was taking everything within you to convince her to let you stay. but she cast you out without a second thought, banned from all groves of silvanus

you left the grove with a heart so heavy you had to drag yourself. you decided to go west to baldur’s gate, hoping to find a place there. but then you stumbled upon the shadowlands, the very place halsin had told you many stories about. you had only a torch with you and prayers, yet that did not last very long. you ran through the dark hoping to find a safe place to hide, and you found an abandoned home with a door and windows still intact

you hid there for the next few days. the shadows grew thicker in some areas, and you had to hide yourself many times from passing cult members of the absolute. your stomach growled and your mouth grew dry. each day was agonizing, and on the third, with one last drop of water, you prayed to the oak father that somebody would kill you. to take you out of your misery. you have been banished from all groves and lost halsin. why bother going on?

you awoke to somebody jolting you awake. your eyes were too heavy to keep open, yet a familiar voice kept yelling your name. you managed to mutter a weak “leave me” before falling back asleep. you wake up again to find yourself getting carried to a light in a pair of strong arms. one last time, you woke up in a comfortable bed with light surrounding you. a cup of water was laid out beside you, and you reached over to drink it. the woman beside you took your glass and left to fill it up some more

you sat up in bed, wondering who saved you and why. you were ready to embrace the oak father. they have wasted their time and resources on you. you have no will to live on anymore

then halsin entered the room with the woman. you cried when you saw him, and he quickly hugged you. he kissed the top of your head and called you his sweet girl, and it eased the sorrow in your heart

he told you he had found you while looking for supplies with his companions and was shocked to find you here in the shadowlands. you told him that after he had left you were in such disarray, and kagha had then exiled you leaving you to fend for yourself. then you found yourself in the shadowlands ready to die. you could not live without him or the grove. he was all you wanted and needed

he kissed you again, this time on the lips to soothe you. you gripped onto him tightly, still crying

“oak father preserve you, child. still, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. you are mine and nature’s until that changes. i understand why you would think such hurtful thoughts, but i am here now, and we will make things right again. you will never have to face such fear again. you will never be on death’s door again. for now i have come back to you, and will protect you until the sun rises in the west…”

you kiss halsin one more time

ʚ wyll:

you have known wyll ever since you were children. although he was noble-born and you were just helping your father around the grand manor he lived in, you both became great friends

your father and wyll’s father joked to each other that you both would end up married in the near future. it was obvious how much you loved each other. and once you both reached the age of 17, you started dating

but that is when wyll was exiled from baldur’s gate for reasons unknown to you. around the same time wyll left, your father had been murdered and a funeral procession was on the way. ulder took you in as his own and grieved with you. you loved your father dearly even though he was secretly a part of the cult of the dragon. evil, yes, but he was the only family you had

after years passed and you heard no news from wyll, gortash was going to be named the archduke of baldur’s gate. you attended the ceremony with ulder who acted weirdly, but you tried to think nothing of it. you spotted wyll entering the room with devil horns and stopping the ceremony, along with a few other companions. you almost cried if it weren’t for the shock running through your body

after the ceremony, you ran to wyll and embraced him. you loved him dearly so and headed back to his camp to learn of everything that had happened. there, he told you everything. from the day his father left for elturel to this moment. yet your mind was fuzzy at the beginning of his story

wyll had unknowingly killed your father during the battle. and it tore you apart

immediately you excused yourself from the camp and headed back home. for days you threw up and ripped your hair. the love of your life had killed your father and sold his soul to the devil. he felt like a different man and yet he was still the same. you loved your father though, so, so much. and wyll killed him

you never talked to wyll again. you stopped eating and kept yourself in your bedroom. and after baldur’s gate had been saved from the mind flayers and wyll returned home, you refused to see him. you would rather die than speak to him

yet he managed to get you at a perfect time. he locked you in your bedroom with him in front of the door, forcing you to finally face him. you cried and you screamed, telling him how much you wanted to kill yourself to meet your father again. the father he took from you. you would rather die than speak to the devil

wyll retaliated though. he understood how much grief you were going through but he made the right choice

“you must understand me, my love! i loved your father like he was my own. but if you were to have heard the roaring thunder and seen a head of tiamat, you too would have wanted to stop it. i did what was right and you know that. i beg of you to understand my situation. your father was an evil man, and yes he loved you so much, but he was willing to bring back dragons than see his own daughter alive and well in faerûn.”

wyll professed his love to you and told you that he will help you get through this grief and suffering. you had endured it for long enough. you broke down in tears and cried on your bed. his words were both comforting and not. the thought of your father not loving you enough made you want to meet him in whatever realm he was in and beat the shit out of him. but as wyll rubbed your back soothingly, you decided that living for the only family you had left was what was right

criticism is appreciated <3

[gaysindistress]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Gale, Wyll, Astarion, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with shy female s/o who would go out of their way to help others whenever they can please?

Bg3 masterlist

Gale:

Gale is going to be so causal about his praise. Yes he’s going to smile at you and brush your hair back but he’s also going to lean down to whisper some filth into your ear. Things that are veiled as normal praise like “you’ve done such a good job today, my love” but he’s behind you with his hand wrapped around your neck while rolling his hips into your ass.

He’s going to make you wait. For hours. Hell find every reason possible to delay going to bed while also slowly getting you more and more worked up. Dinner has to be made but not before he’s thoroughly ravished your chest and left a trail of small bruises from collar to navel. Wyll needs his advice on something but it can wait until after some light over the clothes fondling.

Wyll:

Sweet Wyll would be the most vanilla about this in that he wouldn’t realize the effect he’s having on you. hes subtly drawing closer to you by your hip and whispering into your ear words of encouragement in that beautiful voice, causing his hot breath to wash over your neck. Within a matter of moments, your body is on fire and you’re becoming antsy. He’d take this as you being nervous so he’d try to reassure you by squeezing your hip and kissing your cheek.

If you were to tell him this he would be embarrassed but after it settles in that you’re worked up, he’s giving you that award winning smile of his and leading you back to your bed.

Astarion:

He’s gonna be clumsy as fuck about this.

When he sees you coming back from telling yet another person that you don’t know how to cure smelly armpits, he’s so giddy. He can’t contain his giggles and will absolutely burst out in laughter as soon as you stop in front of him. He’ll give you a half hearted apology and a kiss which is never just one kiss. Astarion needs all of the kisses from you because he knows that you don’t expect anything to follow….however there are times where he wants there to be more and this would be one of those times.

He’s tugging at you and pulling you towards a semi dark alley way as he paws at your clothes. There’s nothing perfect or planned about this other than your route home because you best believe he’s not finished with you yet.

Halsin:

Anytime Halsin sees you doing something kind for a stranger, he’s whispering into your ear that you need to return to camp with a strained voice. He’s posted up behind you like the bear of a bodyguard he is with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring at everyone. We all know he can be a gentle giant and wouldn’t hurt a fly but if you get between him and his lover? Best of luck to you.

He doesn’t have any concerns about having you in nature because it’s where he feels the safest but he’s respectful of you. If he hasn’t been completely consumed by his desire for you, he’s finding a hidden meadow and making a soft bed for your night together.

Dammon:

He’s going to be the sweetest. Since he’s so concerned about your wellbeing, he’s going to ensure that you’re fed, bathed, and rested before he starts anything. I feel like he’d be the type to help you bathe but it slowly turns into something more. He’d be washing your body when he starts to get a little handsy. He’s telling you to relax and chuckling against your neck as your breathing becomes quick. There’s definitely a mess of water but that can be dealt with in the morning.

If you try to return the favor, he’s dancing just out of your reach and will not let you touch him. This is about you and you alone.

Rolan:

*cough* lowkey hate sex *cough*

Listen to hatef—k by the bravery. That’s all I gotta say.

Zevlor:

Like i said, Zevlor is good with words, he was a commander after all but they do fail him from time to time. So when this happens, you will be spending the foreseeable future in your bed being devoured by him. Zevlor is by no means inexperienced. Out of practice maybe but he is older and has had his fair share of steamy encounters. He knows exactly how to relax you while also working you to the point of tears. He won’t be cruel like Gale and make you wait hours but all good things take time darling and you can’t rush perfection like this.

[jungkookschin]

not so bossy

summary: An irksome feeling infests Jungkook's system when his girlfriend lets him know that she can't meet up after not seeing him for three weeks. pairing: d1 soccer player!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff

author's note: idk anything about football/soccer and yes im american so i used the term soccer 🙄lolz, also i got some inspo hearing about these famous athletes and their gfs so i pulled this out of my ass. pls enjoy (or not)! ALSO IF U HAVE ANYTHING U WANT TO TELL ME AB ANY OF MY PICS PLS PUT IT IN THE ASKS (not replies) BC THIS IS A SECONDARY BLOG

“Just because I’m not some big shot D-1 athlete doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t matter,” you grimly convey, eyebrows furrowed in pure vexation whilst your pretty lips curl down in a frown.

Jungkook exhales slightly, his pointer finger and thumb coming up to massage his temples. “Y/N, that’s not what I meant and you know it-“

“Then what the fuck did you mean?” The rapidity by which you cut him off pierces his heart like an arrow, because he’s never witnessed you being so abrasive. It hurts him to know that he’s upset you- that his inconsideration induced such a crestfallen expression from his one and only girl.

“I just didn’t want you to meet up with that guy,” Jungkook quietly explicates, unable to adeptly convey what his true intentions were: that he just missed you and didn’t want you to hang out with some other guy, even if it was just to study.

A scoff escapes your mouth, your obsidian orbs glaring bullets into him. “Jungkook, we were studying. It was for school. You of all people should understand that,” you sneer, your harsh words making his heart drop, the unpleasant feeling of guilt infesting his system, because he knows you’re right. Knows he’s been a shitty fucking boyfriend. Knows that you’ve been nothing but understanding, that you've been his personal angel ushering heaven to him, a task you accomplished everyday of every second.

Jungkook’s reticent silence tells you everything you need to know. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the day,” you murmur quietly, though loud enough to make the words thunder in his heart. You turn your heel to walk away from him, your arms securely hugging your textbook to your chest, as if you were subconsciously shielding yourself from him. He hates that so much.

Jungkook stands frozen, unable to chase after you like he wants to. His heart is screaming at his brain make his motor system send his body after you..Instead, your figure disappears into the crowd of students flooding the hallways and he’s left there with regret plaguing his system.

How did this even happen?

Jungkook vividly remembers that dreadful text message you sent whilst he was on the bus, heading back from fall training camp.

y/n ♡: hi baby, im so so sorry. i dont think i can make it to our date tonight. this senior in my class asked me if i wanted to join a study group with him and i want to go so i do good on my final :( sorry baby.

Jungkook's lips immediately curl down at the message. Despite quite literally sharing an apartment together, he hadn't physically seen you or touched you in three weeks. With travelling out of town for a tournament for a week, and his two week long training camp immediately proceeding the tourney, he hadn't gotten the chance to come home and see you. Your absence had a deep and profound effect- he had to drown himself with intense physical training to distract himself from the fact that you weren't around.

Jungkook is a D-1 soccer player- one of the best in the nation- predicted to be one of the top picks in the first round of the Major League Soccer super draft. He takes his craft very seriously, centers most of his attention on his body and mind to refine his physical ability and ultimately become one of the best soccer players in the world. Since high school he often opted for a nasty gym session over a party, admiring Messi and Ronaldo over pretty girls, and even went to his club soccer tournaments over attending prom.

That was- until he met you.

The university you and Jungkook attended was widely renown for its impeccable soccer program- and computer science program. By God's grace was he assigned to you for a group assignment freshman year. Your face was slightly flushed when you kindly uttered "Hey, I know you're a huge athlete or something, so I don't mind carrying the project if you have to focus on sports." In reality, your intentions were selfish, solely concerned about your own grades and how this group project may cause them to fall, but Jungkook still thought it was the cutest thing ever.

He appreciated the consideration, but gently let you know that he was certainly able bodied and willing to complete the assignment. Had you not been so pretty, if the way you pushed your glasses up your face not been so adorable, he would have gladly taken the offer, not being quite privvy to anything academic related.

But you were arguably the cutest girl he's ever seen, so he was willing and eager to put in the effort.

Feelings blossomed, cavernous eyes gazed into each other and Jungkok kissed you for the first time. Seeing that you enthusiastically reciprocrating his energy, Jungkook took it as a sign that he scored the girl of his dreams. Group projects lead to late night calls and incredibly vulnerable talks in his car, then arcade dates to salacious movie nights. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend with a bouquet of the most delicately beautiful roses you've ever seen.

Jungkook thanked God everyday for your naturally compassionate nature, and for when you assuaged all his dreadful anxieties about not be an adequate and involved boyfriend. You understood that the nature of your relationship with him would not always be the most attentive- that he had no choice but to sort of neglect you when he had to travel over state and country borders for the sake of his athletic career.

You understood it and you whole heartedly offered your bona fide support.

You appeared at his games with cute red bows binding the curls in your hair, his oversized red jersey thrown perfectly over your precious abdomen. His perfect cheerleader, his number one motivator- and his teammates certainly appreciated you because he performed better when you were in the stands oggling at him with your starry eyes. He had to play better when his girl was in the crowd.

When you weren't able to be physically present at his games, you sent him the most adorable selfies of you streaming the game on your TV, laptop, or phone, going the extra mile to snag a selfie whilst Jungkook was in the frame of your device.

It really is common knowledge that Jungkook adores his girlfriend. In fact, anybody can tell by looking at the measly three photos on his verified Instagram account (courtesy of the NCAA). There was one photo of Jungkook and his teammates from a few years ago, all men have their hands on their cut and bruise heavy knees. They've got gold medals around their necks, ginger smiles on their faces after winning some summer league tournament.

The second photo was from last year when the men's soccer team at your university won the NCAA Division 1 Men's Soccer tournament, and rather than a photo with his teammates, there is one of him and you. Jungkook who was drenched in sweat from an intense yet rewarding game has his hands wrapped around your waist in the photo, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your cheek whilst you smile gleefully. His gold medal is adorned around your neck, resting on your chest rather than his. The caption reads "scored the winning goal for my number one girl", and the comments are permeated with "awwws" and "how cute!" Of course, you are slightly suspicious of the genuiniety of those comments since most of them are from girls who have a crush on him. How do you know that? You just do, consider it girlfriend intuition.

The most recent photo is simply a gorgeous photo of you at dinner. It was from his point of view- his prettiest view when you were sitting across from him enjoying your steak in a strapless black mini dress. In the photo your french manicured fingers are gripping your wine glass, the stain of your lipstick visible at the edge of the cup. The expanse of your neck is visible, making your aura all the more alluring. Your hair is in a sleek bun with the exception of the face framing pieces that dangle on the sides of your face.

You remember that day, Jungkook looked so dashing in his black button up and slacks, and when he presented you with another bouquet of red roses you melted since they were the same flowers he asked you to be his girlfriend with.

The caption is simply a black heart.

Jungkook shuts his phone off and throws it on his bed, hands rubbing his face as he groans into his palms. After you told him not to speak to you for the rest of the day, he meandered back to your shared apartment, earnestly anticipating your return home. The intoxicating scent of your vanilla body spray fills the room, making him all the more miserable.

He knows that he wasn't giving you the attention necessary in maintaining a healthy relationship, that he wasn't amply putting his share into it, but his mind was so trained on soccer that it hadn't occurred to him to check on up on you. He winces at a certain memory where he was so entranced in practicing penalty kicks that he completely forgot about your date at the pumpkin patch. He went home wondering where you were, and his heart dropped when you marched into the home, slamming the door and refusing to speak to him. After profusely apologizing and making it up to you, you later forgave him and everything returned to its usual nature.

But this time was different, because it is 2AM, and you're still not home, causing Jungkook to fall deeper into his despondency.

He spammed you with so many pleading text messages, his eyes scanning over each and everyone as his thumb scrolls further and further to the history of your shared messages.

[2:52 AM] jungkook: y/n baby im so anxious right now. please let me know where you are. i wont go to bed unless i know that you're safe. you don't need to come home or talk to me, just send me your location so that i know you're okay. im so sorry and i love you so much.

As his thumb scrolls up, his texts from earlier in the night appear.

[11:38 PM] jungkook: baby where are you? im starting to get worried about you. please come home.

[9:12 PM] jungkook: my love, the food is getting cold. if you come home we can still enjoy a meal together.

[8:24 PM] jungkook: baby, i know you're upset at me. please let me make it up to you. i cooked your favorite meal, and we can eat together once you get home. i'm here waiting for you.

A soft exhale leaves his lips, his thumb scrolling all the way back to the same stupid argument that triggered all of this.

y/n ♡: hi baby, im so so sorry. i dont think i can make it to our date tonight. this senior in my class asked me if i wanted to join a study group with him and i want to go so i do good on my final :( sorry baby.

When Jungkook first received the first message, it inevitably upset him. A grimace on his face and the furrow on his eyebrows indicated as much. He missed you so much and was looking forward to seeing you so fucking badly. He longed to feel your body against his, the thought of you keeping him up all of last night. He missed your pretty face, the vanilla scent of your soft hair, and the way you made him feel so complete. So, of course he's upset. The first thing that caught him off guard was that you were cancelling on him after three weeks apart. The second thing that caused a deeper furrow in his brows was irksome personal pronoun: him.

Were you really going to ditch him to hang out with some guy? He was trying to be understanding considering the rigor of the university's computer science program- and wanted you to do everything you could to maintain your perfect grade point average. Nonetheless, he was already pouting at the announcement of your absence.

jungkook: him?? who's this senior?? and are u sure u guys cant reschedule?? miss my girl too much

y/n♡: i miss u too, im so sorry,, it's just that this code is really fucking hard and jaebum offered to help so obvi i accepted lol

Jungkook's concern morphs into unamusement, because he is very familiar with this motherfucker. He sighs deeply, reminiscing when his teammate Hoseok approached him and informed him about a certain Jaebum making inappropriate comments about his girlfriend. Not inappropriate as in sexual, grotesque, or expletive. Had that been the case Jungkook would have beaten the shit out of the guy and risked playing the next season. The type of inappropriate Hoseok intended to express was that Jaebum was going around calling you cute- you, a girl who clearly was not single. Jungkook never explicitly told you about this, not really concerned that it would have a significant impact on your very healthy relationship, but it still displeased him.

He wasn't able to constrain his words, mentioning something when he witnessed Jaebum clearly flirting with you when he picked you up from class.

"Jungkook don't worry," you giggled. "He's just a senior in my class- he's really smart so he was giving me some homework advice."

Jungkook tensed at that. "Alright babe, just be careful."

After that, Jaebum really wasn't ever mentioned or considered. He fully trusted you so Jungkook wasn't worried, until at that very moment.

jungkook: babe

jungkook: i thought we already talked about this

jungkook: that guy literally likes you

y/n♡: ewwww lol dont put that idea in my head😭 gross

jungkook: y/n, im serious

jungkook: he really does, i can tell when someone wants u its my boyfriend intuition

y/n♡: okay baby, and if he does??? u dont trust me??

jungkook: ofc i do, but it makes me uncomfortable to know that he invited you to a “study group” , who knows what he’s planning???

jungkook: who else is gonna be there??

y/n♡: it’s just gonna be us, but i promise u u dont have anything to worry about. uk how this class has been kicking my ass.. and jaebum is the only one with an a

Jungkook uses his pointer finger and thumb to massage his temples. The thought of you and this guy studying together enkindles something vile in his system, but nonetheless he chooses to trust you since he knows how important school is to you. However this irksome feeling bubbles in his chest, and he feels like has just has to do something about it.

The next message he sends is his last attempt to assuage the undeniable burning in his chest.

jungkook: i know, can i at least come with? to make sure he doesnt do anything weird?

y/n♡: i don't think it's a good idea. i dont want things to be uncomfortable

Jungkook scowls at that. Weird? Why would him tagging along be anything of the sort? More importantly, why were you choosing to protect Jaebum’s feelings over his?

jungkook: lmao uncomfortable? are u two planning to fuck on the table or something , why would my presence make things “uncomfortable”?

Jungkook winces when his eyes train on that very ill intended text message. He knows damn well he crossed the line with that one, but your response didn’t indicate that you were upset, probably dismissing it as one of his stupid jokes.

y/n♡: jeon jungkook🙄🙄

y/n♡: i’ll see u tonight at home baby💗💗

Jungkook knows he should have left it at that, but three weeks without having you with him were so excruciating, and he longed for you so so much. He loves being an athlete; he loves playing soccer, but the intense drills and back to back games have been agonizingly tough on his body that all he wanted was to cuddle up against you in your cozy and comfy bed. Maybe have a little movie night and give you a little massage though it was his muscles that were sore and tense. But no, you had to study with some slimy guy. Consider him salty.

When the bus dropped the men’s soccer team off on campus, he bid his farewells to his teammates, and for some strange reason his legs just start walking to the library. Huh, how strange. What an anomaly it was for his feet to randomly move by themselves!

He acts very nonchalant, hands shoved into his sweats whilst he wanders between the dozens of book shelves arrayed in the campus library. Nonetheless, his eyes are rapidly shifting toward every corner in the library, in hopes that he “accidentally” runs into you.

Jackpot.

You and Jaebum are sitting adjacent to each other at an occupied table, both of your eyes trained on your Macbook screen. Jungkook puts a hand on his chin, acutely scrutinizing the situation at hand. The distance of your chairs is quite satisfactory to Jungkook- not too close, but he would appreciate it if you were further away. Jaebum is very clearly giving you a lovestruck gaze, and when he scoots his chair closer to yours Jungkook narrows his eyes.

Jaebum is such a fucking weirdo, his hand creepily advancing towards yours that is resting by the keyboard, and you are so exceedingly focused on your screen that you fail to notice. You randomly remove your hand away from where it rests on the table, and scratch your head with it. Once you turn towards him, his close proximity startles you, and you jerk your chair back in the opposite reaction, the most mortified look on your face.

Jungkook isn’t the best at reading lips, but Jaebum is currently expressing something to you, the most awestruck look on his face and Jungkook scoffs at that, clearly understanding the situation. Without thinking he advances towards you, pulling your chair back with a tight grip whilst he looks daggers into the man. “Can you please stop hitting on my girlfriend?”

Your head whips around at the voice of your boyfriend, but it goes unnoticed by Jungkook whose attention is soley on the man.

Jaebum scoots his chair back a little bit, scratching his head. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend-“

And before Jungkook can interject you speak up. “I’ve told you many times that I have a boyfriend- and quite frankly I’m appalled that you’re trying to make a pass toward me when we agreed that we would be studying,” you say firmly which induces a goofily proud smile to appear on Jungkook’s face.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I-I just really like you and didn’t know how else to talk to you," Jaebum elaborates in attempts to elicit some sort of sympathy from you. His attempt is entirely futile, and you ask him to leave, already vexxed by his inappropriate shot at making a pass at you.

You begrudgingly saunter behind Jungkook, the two of you leaving the library. Jungkook, who is acting under the assumption that you are annoyed by Jaebum, reaches out for your hand, falling into confusion when you rip your hand away from his.

"Babe?-" his eyes round, uneasy at your dissonance.

You exhale deeply, eyes apprehensively glancing around at anybody who may be eavesdropping. "Why the fuck did you follow me?" you whisper shout at him, hands thrown down petulantly.

"I was worried about you," he clarifies, not even bothering to claim that it was a mere coincidence. "And I missed you so much," his tone glosses over softly. He steps forward to embrace you, and the air shifts once you put your hands on his chest and push him away from you.

"Jeon Jungkook, I clearly told you that I would see you at home," you stonely enunciate.

Irritability spreading throughout his system, he scowls. "It was killing me to think about you being alone with this guy when I was missing you so much, and I told you that he liked you but you didn't listen-"

"I admit I was wrong about that, but I am also perfectly capable of handling myself." You hesitate momentarily, gathering the words before spitting them out hastily. "I think you've made it pretty clear that you don't trust me- which is seriously fucked up."

"What's fucked up is that you were hanging out alone with a guy who clearly likes you! You haven't seen your boyfriend in three weeks and chose to spend your time with some guy rather than with me!" Jungkook fires back, attracting some concerned glances from bystanders.

His postulation enrages you. "Need I remind you why I haven't seen you in three weeks?" you sarcastically inquire, eyebrows creasing in awe at the audacity of this man.

"Babe, I have to leave for soccer, you know that, so don't weaponize it against me," he coldly says, and really, all his words do is spread the indignation through your veins like a wildfire.

"I have never weaponized soccer against you, so don't you dare put fucking words in my mouth," you hiss, giving him the dirtiest look he's ever seen from you.

"I have been nothing but supportive of you. Never said shit when you're out there with a bunch of cheerleaders who like you, and with your teammates that fucking cheat on their girlfriends with those cheerleaders! Yet the moment that I prioritize my academic career over you, you pull some weird shit as if you can't trust me!" you finish, your ice colds words leaving Jungkook frozen as a sculpture, as if nitrogen replaced his blood because he realizes you're right. If he ever spend a moment in your shoes, he would lose his goddamn fucking mind because of his naturally possessive and overprotective nature.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I was trying to say," Jungkook clumsily tries to salvage himself. "I appreciate you so much for always being there for me and when I go pro I'll make it up to you. You'll be my soccer wife, and we'll have a mansion with our kids- I'll buy you whatever you want," he conveys, his feeble attempt of sewing together the cuts of the situation.

Instead of a commiserating look, you give him a look that tells him you're even more irritated.

"That's not the point! You don't get that I don't want my identity to be just Jeon Jungkook's soccer wife. I want to be my own person, have my own successful career," you frustratedly communicate. "Why do you think I'm trying so hard in this stupid fucking coding class? Because I didn't want to see you? I always want to see you, but I have to make sacrifices too. The class average is 56 and Jaebum is the only one with an A, but my life isn't as important as yours so you don't want to be sympathetic of my feelings." You finish, cooling off once you've exploded at him.

Jungkook rips away eye contact with you, looking towards another direction, feeling slightly chagrined at your legitimate display of vexation. "I guess your studying didn't seem as important to me at the time," he abashedly murmurs.

“Just because I’m not some big shot D-1 athlete doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t matter," is how you retort, leaving the situation full circle.

Now, it's 3 AM, and you're still not home. Jungkook feels himself falling into a pit of dilapidation and guilt, feeling so remorseful of how shitty he's been. You truly are his super woman, because he's positively sure that he wouldn't be able to handle it if you did what he had to do on a regular basis. He couldn't even handle it when you were studying with another man, let alone travelling and leaving him at home by himself.

The apartment simply feels so empty, and it makes him feel all the more lonely. When he walks into your shared bathroom, his eyes glossing over your cosmetics and skin care products, he becomes absolutely miserable. Debilitatingly picking up your moisturerizer, he squeezes the bottle, product falling falling into his hand. He looks into the mirror and rubs the ointment into his skin, sighing exasperatingly because he wishes you were standing by his side.

The sound of the door suddenly creaks open, and Jungkook rushes into the living room thinking that you may have returned home. His face immediately falls when Jimin marches into his apartment.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jungkook deadpans.

Removing his shoes at the front of the house, Jimin scoffs. "Why'd you leave your door unlocked at 3 AM?"

Jimin plops down at the dining table, picking at the food Jungkook meticulously prepared for you. "This shit is cold as hell," he mumbles before grabbing the plate and shoving it into the microwave. Jungkook doesn't say anything, just grinds his teeth whilst he lays down on the couch.

"Y/N's not home?" Jimin questions with a mouth full of steak.

"No," Jungkook quietly mumbles, dejected and losing hope that you would return home that night.

"I ran into her a few hours ago," Jimin states casually, causing Jungkook to robotically spring up like a zombie and join Jimin at the dining table. "Where?" Jungkook asks like a crazy man, eyes wide, his veins protruding through the whites in his eyes. Jimin gives his friend a distasteful look before protectively covering the food Jungkook made. Jimin analyzes the situation carefully before it dawns on him that you aren't around.

"She's still not home yet?" Jimin asks, concern spreading throughout his face.

"No," Jungkook squeaks out, discouraged by everything before he bangs his head on the dining room table.

"I ran into her at the mall," Jimin says, attempting to provide some comfort to his younger friend. "We looked around a little bit, but I had to go pick my brother up and then I dropped her off at the gym."

Jungkook pauses, owlishly blanking into space whilst he takes a few moments to fully comprehend what just zoomed past his ears. The sleep deprivation and exhaustion is seriously hindering his cognitive function, but he just can't sleep until he knows that you're safe. "Huh?"

Jimin sighs, rolling his eyes before repeating what he just said. He raises his palm to smack the back of Jungkook's neck, which elicits a gruesome glare from the younger one.

"I ran into your girlfriend at the mall. We looked at the dinosaur exhibit. I dropped her off at the gym," Jimin firmly enunciates.

Apparently this computes more briskly than the first time. "The gym?" Jungkook asks, an amusing look of confusion hazed on his face.

"Yes," Jimin replies, frowning at Jungkook's sluggish responses.

"She went by herself?"

"I don't know," Jimin responds, a hinge of more empathy in his voice. "She said something about a personal trainer but I have no clue what she was doing."

An exasperating sigh leaves Jungkook's lips, too much information for his fatigued brain to compute. He didn't even know you had damn personal trainer- you don't even need a fucking personal trainer when your boyfriend is one of quite literally a D-1 athlete. It's not something he wants to even think about, the prospect of him being a shitty boyfriend plaguing his mind even more.

Jimin's eyebrows furrow in concern for his younger friend, and his hand gingerly pats his friend's rock hard back. "Do you want me to stay the night? Or stay at least until she gets back?" he suggests whilst the younger one buries his handsome face into his large palms.

"Please," Jungkook mutters.

Your unexpected entrance proves that Jimin's request was unecessary, because you casually waltz back into the apartment, making Jungkook practically whip his head towards the sound of the opening door.

"Jimin?" you jabber, a little startled at his unanticipated presence.

"Oh hey Y/N!" Jimin greets you more awkwardly than he ever has before, as if he interrupted something though he was there first. "How was the gym?" he releases a sheepish chuckle, and you internally cringe at his overt display of politeness.

"Oh, um. It was good. Are you planning on spending the night?" you ask, slipping your shoes off as you join the two at the dining table.

"Pshhh, no. Absolutely not! I gotta head home.." his eyes erroneously shift all over the room, poorly concealing how clearly he wants to leave. "Right about.." his head whips down at the non existent watch on his wrist. "Now!" He scoots the chair out and -for some reason- he tiptoes out of the house, bidding you and your boyfriend a farewell as he gently closes the comically creaking door.

You look towards your beloved, Jungkook looking dejectedly at his twiddling hands, avoiding eye contact with you. A soft exhale leaves your lips and you plant your palms on the table, getting up before you approach him. Even when he's sitting down at your wooden dining room chairs, he's only a little bit smaller than you- training and the gym have done him well. This profound emotion of tenderness rushes into your heart, and you bend down, placing a tentative and delicate kiss on his fragile cheeks.

"Wanna come with me to the bedroom?" you ask, gentleness lacing your voice at to hopefully assuage the vulnerability of the situation. It is undeniably true that you were upset- even livid at him, but after mulling it over you realized that he is your one and only. If anybody was deserving of your empathy, it was him.

You stride to the bedroom, settling down on the side of your bed with your big hunk of a boyfriend mimicing your actions like a little puppy.

"I made us bracelets," you blurt out hands digging into your pockets, before you pull out two identical bracelets dangling from your fingertips. The bracelets were childlike at best; you used black plastic beads and yarn, the same type of shit toddlers use in pre school when they learn how to do basic things like cut in zig zag lines. The bracelets are mostly made up of black beads, with a pink heart bead in the center of them.

Your fingers wrap around your boyfriend's larger hands, and you gingerly slide his bracelet on his dainty wrists. You suppose you overestimated the circumference of his wrist, because it hangs off his wrist like a necklace.

Jungkook still hasn't said anything, but finally looks up, and your eyes meet his glossy ones.

When you realize that he's crying, you hand cups his cheek, and you use your thumb to wipe the tears that cascade down his handsome face. "No no no," You're panicked at his sullen state. "Don't cry," you express desperately. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry."

Jungkook gazes at you so intimately and intensely, and he feels as if all his resolve breaks now that you are finally in front of him.

"I-I just didn't want to lose you," Anguish laces his voice, and he sounds so desperate that it makes it feel like your heart is being ripped into pieces. "Thought I was gonna lose you," he whispers, and you're compelled to just hug him- so you turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, and his automatically snake around your waist, so naturally- like this action was done so out of muscle memory.

He holds you tightly, like he never wants to let go of you, of this. He holds you like he's found his sweet solace in your embrace. His neck finds comfort in the crook of your neck whilst he pours his emotions out into your honeydew skin.

"I can't believe you still love me."

"I can't believe you made me a fucking bracelet even after everything. You're so sweet, so perfect."

"I don't deserve you- you mean everything to me. I swear I'll make everything up to you, just give me one more chance."

You pull back at his words, a concerned haze painted on your face. You settle on your knees to meet him at equal eye contact. "Did you think I was gonna dump you?"

Jungkook tears away his eyes from yours. "I don't know. I thought you were getting sick of me- I guess," and the

You sigh, shifting your weight backwards so that your ass rests on your heels. You gnaw on your bottom lip, finding the right words to say. "Jungkook," you begin, conjuring the courage to verbalize everything you've been itching to say. "I... I have never loved anybody as much as I love you." You inhale, nostrils flaring slightly before you continue your somewhat clumsy attempt to bandage everything.

You speak very steadily so that he can fully digest what you are about to say. "And I don't love you because you're a soccer player, or because you're verified on Instagram, or because you're ESPN thinks you're going to be super successful. I love you because you're you."

Jungkook's undeniable heartbeat is pounding, so loud that he can hear it in his ears. Love. Your love is interpermeating his being, seizing control of him completely and fully. There are no words that can properly encapsulate how he feels. Just Love. Love times a million. "Y/N-"

"Just shut up and let me talk," you cut him off, preparing once again to regurgitate your feelings.

"I just love you so much, and because I love you, I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship. You just have to trust me, even if it makes you uncomfortable. I'm an adult- I know what I'm doing."

Jungkook purses his lips perceptively, nodding ever so carefully at your simple yet overflowing explanation.

"It just hurts me that you felt like you couldn't trust me enough to be alone with him. I know I was wrong for not trusting you when you said he liked me, but even if he were to make a move on me, I would never reciprocate or encourage that behavior. I put so much trust in you, and I really want you to work towards putting that same trust in me. And.. I'm sorry for throwing a temper tantrum, I was just embarrassed I guess. "

Jungkook grabs your hand as if the moment is fleeting, his already soft expression softening impossibly more at the sincerity of your words. He holds your hand to his chest, and you can hear the rapid beating of his heart.

"I understand," he automatically expresses, which concerns you because his answer was almost too immediate. You're not sure if he's properly digesting what you are trying to communicate.

"I was just super frustrated- I missed you so much and thinking of you and that guy was killing me. I trust you, but what if he did something to you?" The disclosure of his authentic feelings relieves any doubts you had about the immediacy of his answer.

"Babe, I'm not an idiot," you reply. "I have a taser and it's not like we were in the woods in the middle of the night," you point out which elicits a soft chuckle from Jungkook.

"You're right baby, my girl's a genius," he leans in and presses a familiar and delicate kiss to your bottom lip, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. When he pulls away you're left with a lingering feeling of longing, and he beams at you.

"You just gotta be patient with me, but I swear I'll try to be less," Jungkook takes a moment to find the right word. "Overbearing."

You give Jungkook a pursed smile and nod your head. Before you can respond he presses another delicate kiss to your lips. Though the kiss is fleeting, it's as if your lips mold together perfectly because he knows you and your lips the best. "Thank you for being you," he presses his forehead against your, mumbling against your lips, the utmost sincerity in his voice. "I love you, so so much," he says, hot breath palpable against your lips. "Thank you so much for everything you do. Thank you for understanding, for loving me. You're just- just perfect, perfect for me. Made for me, and I love you so much." His emotions overwhelm him, and his eyes become glossy. "My love for you scares me. The thought of you leaving terrifies me so much, and if you did, I don’t think I would ever recover,” his words are delicate, fragile like he’s a butterfly that could fly away at any moment. It was up to you to keel him grounded.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment of him being so close. " 'm not going anywhere," you hum into his lips, and he sighs blissfully, snuggling more into your protective embrace.

That night, you fall asleep on his chest, his arms instinctively wrapped around you for the entirety of the night.

[ssvnriseya]

LOVE AFFAIR (R.G.)

summary - you and rick had a forbidden affair that you knew was bad for the both of you, but you loved him and you can't help it.

warning - MDNI 18+ heavy angst, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it buddy!), cumming inside, rick is a bit of an asshole and a jerk but we love him for it, lowercase intended, mentions of shane, mentions of lori and shane cheating on our poor baby, I think that's it. (lmk if i missed anything.)

notes - i love rick, period, previously the other woman but i changed it to love affair.

masterlist

you glanced at rick as he assisted lori and carl out of the car and onto the little camp you and the group has decided to settle in for the night.

it had been months since the farm fell when it was hit by a herd, months since you and the others have been on the road and were consistently on the run.

it has been months since something happened between you and rick, five months to be exact. you didn't know what happened or how it happened.

you only knew that you and rick needed comfort and stress relief since that night when you and rick were on the top floor of a house your group stayed in for a week.

you and rick were guarding the house from the top of the balcony, well rick was, you were just accompanying him because sometimes you know it gets too lonely.

you were talking his ear off and trying to converse with the man you've liked since the first time you met.

he was older, you were fine with that, it wasn't much of a big problem. it wasn't the thing to stop you from your feelings over him.

he has a wife. that was the thing that would stop you, you've tried to stop liking him but you could not, he was a great leader and he was a great father.

carl is rick and lori's son, he was a teenage boy that was a very sweet guy, he was the reason you met rick. otis has accidentally shot the boy and that brought rick to ask your uncle for help.

you looked away from the family as you bit your lip, staring at the fire embers instead as if it would make the aching pain in your chest go away.

fuck, you can see from the corner of your eyes how lori and rick lovingly held their son as they told him stories and cuddled with him.

"is that how you met mom?"

you could hear carl ask innocently as he looked up into his fathers blue eyes, you tilted your head a bit to the side to look at them and now you wish you didn't.

rick was smiling as he made heart eyes to his wife, the woman also had a smiling face as rick slowly nodded and looked back down at his son.

"yeah, bud. that's how i met your mom." rick nodded as he played with the boy's hair. was it really a good memory that it had them laugh amidst the chaos around the world?

you've never made him laugh, were you not really just funny? you also wanted to make rick laugh, you wanted to be the reason why he was laughing.

he rarely ever smiles when he's with you, whenever your bodies are onto each other or after that. he rarely smiled or laughed.

it was truly a rare moment to see him smile with you, and you would give up everything you had just to see him smile again, because of you.

you're crazy and down bad but whatever, you loved him. what can you do? it's not like you can control who your heart likes or loves.

"share it with us." beth smiled at the couple as she laid her head on your uncle hershel's lap, the old man was stroking the girl's blonde hair as he also looked at the couple.

everyone was looking at the family by now, also wanting to hear a love story once again for the first time since shit hit the fan.

you can feel butterflies form inside your stomach when rick's gaze landed on you, you smiled a bit as you looked away again.

he always had this stupid effect on you. you hate and love it at the same time, you hated it because it shows how weak you are for him, you love it because you love him and only he could make you feel this way.

you can hear the silence of the night as everybody waited for the story or rick and lori, how they met and how their love happened.

you didn't wanna hear it, you can't hear it. it would burn you and hurt you but you can't do anything, others would get suspicious.

maggie was a smart woman, she would instantly figure out what was going on and you didn't want anyone to know what's up with you and rick.

you only pressed your lips into a thin line as you mirrored daryl's usual position, you dazed into the fire as you waited for rick to start the story.

"well, there's this college party my brother and i attended." rick started and you didn't dare look at him while he told the group how he met his wife.

"and?" carl asked impatiently and everyone laughed at the little boy, even you let out a little smile as you quickly wiped it.

"i saw your mom with her friends and we fell in love." rick stated simply as he finished the story in two simple sentences.

"that's it?" beth and carl grumbled as they wanted more, treating it like a bed time story as beth finds it hard to sleep on the cold grass.

"well, lori... she liked to make pancakes on sundays..." rick stated in a teasing voice as lori slapped his arm, also smiling at the memory.

"they weren't great." she instantly informed everyone as she waved at the air like she was trying to clear off the fact that rick tried to make her look like a good cook.

you frowned a little, you were a better cook. you don't burn your pancakes and surely you could do them a little better than lori.

you shook your head and thought about the times the older woman has been kind and generous to you. you can't say things about her just because you love her husband.

you were attracted to her husband yet she was the one who stood like your mother when you and the group were still in atlanta.

"rick doesn't bring lunch to work, he buys them." she chuckled as everyone laughed along with her. you let out a small scoff.

how could rick like her if she doesn't even know how to cook? how could she be a wife without learning how to cook in the first place.

but yet again your cooking skills would be no use if the guy you liked already has a wife and loves her despite her bad cooking skills.

you were glad hershel and beth were between you and the family. you can't stand being that close to rick. you would probably just have broken down.

he wasn't okay with her just a month ago, that's why you were both grinding against each other while everyone was asleep in the next building.

he definitely wasn't okay with her two months back, hence why he claimed that he needed you and only you could make him feel better.

three months back was the worse, lori and rick weren't even in speaking terms despite the woman trying to converse with her husband.

they weren't okay four months ago because lori cheated on rick with shane, thinking that her husband's dead, they weren't okay because she hooked up with rick's best friend.

they started drifting apart five months back when the farm was hit by a herd and shane died, rick wasn't even able to look at her in the eyes.

so when did everything go wrong? they weren't on good terms one month ago and now they're just laughing like a family like everything is back to normal?

maybe everything is back to normal. maybe rick has forgotten the fact that lori had cheated on him or maybe he just forgave her.

maybe it's just because his feelings for her came back and they were willing to try again for carl? maybe they were willing to try again as a whole family?

you took a quick glance at lori's stomach and your heart felt like it was being stabbed multiple times at the same time with different knives.

she was six months along, she was pregnant. none of you knew if it was rick's or shane's but the former was willing to stand up as a father for the baby whether it was his or not.

and that made you sick. he dropped you at the sidewalk to start a family again with the first woman he loved. he dumped you because he wants the four of them as a family.

did you actually mean so little to him? were you just really a bed warmer or a body he could use whenever he was feeling horny or stressed?

but you didn't care, you loved him, right? you don't care if he was using you or not. you would do anything for him because you loved him.

loving him comes along with things, and you were willing to pay for it. you can endure the pain and suffering, as long as you can love him.

you would rather it be that no one loves you than no one loves him. he was your everything and he's great, he deserves all the love in the world.

if letting him go means him being happy, you would let him go a million times. you loved seeing a smile on his face, you loved hearing the sound of his laughter.

your smile at maggie held so much meaning when she offered you a beef jerky that was being passed along the group as rick and lori went on sharing stories.

you passed the beef jerky to your uncle hershel and beth and you accidentally made eye contact with rick. only this time neither of you looked away from each other.

you smiled bitterly as if telling him that you understood, telling him that it was fine, that you were fine. but you weren't and the both of you knew that.

"rick..." you moaned his name as you both kept the pace you had, desperate to get some release. your hands were entangled in his curls as he was kissing your neck.

he was thrusting his hips into you so bad that the bed almost broke, you almost felt bad for the bed if you both weren't so starved for each other.

"please..." you begged as you met his hips, you were nearing and he was too. "ric—" you moaned loudly and rick had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet.

you would scream his name out loud like it was the only word you knew, but you knew you can't. the group was sleeping on the third floor of the building.

it was too quiet except for the occasional grunts and moans of the passing walkers. it meant that your moans would echo and reach those who were sleeping.

"i-i missed you..." you moaned.

you both were on the ground floor but you knew you would never lose a thing by making sure you were quiet. rick could keep his moans at bay while you? you can't.

it was too much of a pleasure for you and you wanted rick to finish inside you, to have him cumming the same time you are. you wanted to feel close to him more than ever.

"i-i'm coming..." your moaning was muffled by his big hand that almost took over the whole part of your face. you closed your eyes as you tightened up around him and came.

rick groaned in relief as he stopped thrusting and muttered praises as he felt your warm walls tighten up more around him.

"fuck... lori—" he came inside you as you stopped yourself from moving, you were frozen as you gripped his shoulders, pushing him away from you.

"what the fuck?" you stood up once he was off you, he also looked shocked when the word slipped out of his lips. the same lips you loved to kiss.

you searched for your clothes as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, you found your undies and jeans as you reached for your bra and shirt along with your sweatshirt.

you didn't even dare to turn around and face his stupidly handsome face, you were too scared to do so. he was stuttering as he tried to come up with an explanation.

"what?!" you finally faced him as you started slipping on your undies, followed by your jeans. "you can't fuck her so you fucked me?!" you screamed, you didn't care if anyone heard you at the moment.

"what? is it because she's pregnant or she fucking only wants your best friend fucking her?" you hissed in pure anger.

"it's not—" he started as he tried to grab your arm, you backed away as you put in your shirt followed by your sweatshirt after putting in your bra.

"i'm not—" you sobbed as you stopped yourself from completing your sentence, "i'm not a fucking whore you can k-keep around to fuck when you feel... feel horny!"

"it's not fair how you just fuck me because you want to... or when you want to fuck your wife but forget you can't so you fuck me..." you sniffled as you crouched down.

"i-i love you that's why i always have sex with you." you confessed to him as you hid your face in the palm of your hands.

"it hurts me how you were laughing with her last week when you weren't fine a week ago..." you shook your head, disappointed at yourself.

"i said no strings attached..." rick looked down at you as he also started clothing himself if anyone ever came down due to your screams.

"i know... but i got attached. maybe too much more than before." your voice cracked as you looked up at him, wiping your tears.

"we're—" he started as he ran his right hand over his face and hair, "we're casual." he finished and you nodded several times.

"i-i know rick. i know." you nodded as you slowly stood up as you looked up at him, slowly walking towards him as you wiped your tears away.

"c-can't you try loving me?" you asked once you were standing face-to-face in front of him, voice cracking as he looked anywhere but you.

"i'm sorry." he looked down at the ground as he put a hand in his hips, shaking his head as you reached for his hands. he was breaking your heart and he knew it just by the sobs and whimpers that escapes you.

"please?" you begged as you lifted his head to look at you, pulling your hand away from his hand as you supported the sides of his cheeks.

"i-i can't." he shook his head and he also had tears in his eyes by now, also waiting to spill out any moment. he was shocked how he could hold back his tears.

you were desperate, sad, and angry. maybe this didn't hurt him too much and he really had no feelings for you that's why he can't even spare a tear for you.

"in another life?" you asked as you gave up, your shoulders slumping as you smiled at the older man, caressing his stubble.

"in another life." he nodded finally breaking as he saw your pained smile and at how you were so accepting and understanding.

"i love you, rick." you whispered out as you searched his eyes for any signs that he wanted you too, not the way of you being beneath him but wanting to be with you.

you waited for a second but all you got was silence and his silent sobs. you nodded and smiled again, wiping his tears as he looked down.

"it's okay... i understand..." you assured him as you brought the taller man into a hug, he buried his face into the crook of your neck as you rubbed his back.

maybe you weren't meant to be in this universe. maybe the universe had other plans for the both of you. maybe in the next life... he could finally learn to love you.

he might not love you in this life or universe, the next life and the next one after that but you knew one thing.

you might be the other woman in this universe, in this life. but maybe in another life you could be the one he chose, the one he loved.

you would always be waiting for him.

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

My Mother Plays Baldur's Gate: Part 5

Summary: My retired mom is having me play Baldur's Gate 3 on her behalf because she has trouble using controllers/keyboards but still wants to "smooch the wizard boy." She is playing a neutral chaotic good wood elf druid; this is a detailed account of her crimes. Part 1 & 2 Part 3 Part 4

Sorry for the long break! Life got super busy for a second there. We're about 30-40% of the way through Act 3, and we finished up some companion quest lines and started making some plans to kill Gortash and Orin.

Here's what happened during yesterday's game session:

Scratch gave us an iron bowl at camp. My mom assumed this was somehow plot relevant, so she had me carry it around everywhere because "we might need it." I am not allowed to sell the bowl. She is a druid and her carrying capacity is still garbage. I suffer.

She LOVES Gale’s new kiss animations. I  tasked with smooching him before we leave camp every single time. Even if I just stop by to switch out a party member, I still have to kiss him goodbye. (And pet the animals, obviously.)

We accidentally blew up Volo outside the Steel Watch foundry with a poorly-placed Ice Storm that nicked the edge of the explosive barrels. His corpse was charred and unrecognizable, and my mom was distraught. She demanded to know why I blew him up, so I reminded her that casting Ice Storm was HER idea. We saved him the second time.

Cazador accidentally won his fight several times because we kept rolling dogshit initiative and got zapped by status effects before we could move an inch. The first time Astarion got turned to paste in the ritual, my mom nearly leapt out of her seat. (“RELOAD RIGHT NOW, HONEY.”) We killed Cazador on the fifth attempt, the rotten bastard.

My mom was locked in for the Iron Throne mission. The turn limit really freaked her out, and she kept second-guessing my choices every time I made a move because she was so nervous I was wasting time. I had to gently remind her that I’ve done this mission literally dozens of times. (We got everyone out with a whole turn to spare. Pfffft.)

Got the wavemother robe. I put it on Gale because I thought my mom would love it, but she was actually horrified because he “might catch a cold.” She robe is now somewhere in the camp stash next to all the spoons, iron tongs, and rags. It will probably never be found again. 

Saved the Gondians, and Mom now rides the “fuck Wulbren Bongle” hate train. Shout-out to my boy Barcus!

After watching the conclusion of The Pale Elf quest line (Astarion did NOT ascend, thank you), my mom quietly said, “I hope that actor knows how perfect he is as Astarion. What a wonderful man.” I had the pleasure of informing her that Neil Newbon won Best Performance at the Game Awards for his role. Congrats Neil Newbon, my mom is super proud of you!

Hoping to get together with my mom again soon and make some more progress through Act III. She told me to thank you for all your kind words of support!

[ganondoodle]

(while i am crumbling into pieces from cramp pain)

back when they announced the totk masterworks book i said i wasnt happy about it bc it would either

prove they thought all this was good from the start and everything went as planned

show us that they had unbelievable better ideas and plans but for some unknow reason scrapped it all

as it stands now with the concepts i have seen ... they somehow did both, some things seemed to have been planned fro mthe start (the whole focus on sonau/zonai stuff for example, which i personally just dont like bc i liked them better as an unkown mystery you never get to meet) and other stuff (like ganondorfs concepts, or the infinitely cooler castle in the sky esque concepts for the sky islands, instead of some nonsensical, meaningless little stone crumbs) was much, much more interesting initially (together with the interviews that said they initially planned to have the battery be a magic meter and make the sonau more magic than tech- but then decided to build their stuff around modern electrical devices just so players would immediately know what it was an what it would do -why????? thats so boring?? and unecessary ?? and they still give you tutorials for it anyway, multiple times??!!- for some ungodly reason)

it makes me more and more sure that this game, that took 6 years to make with most assets already being there (the same time that botw took to make?????????), went through a similar development hell as that one final fantasy game did where the director decided to make it an entirely different game every few weeks bc he saw something cool in another game-

its the only thing that makes sense to me, why else would it be so weirdly ... unfinished, its full of grand ideas badly executed, or like i said in a previous post, like an alpha build (weird! did someone in charge also see cool stuff every few months and decide they wanted it in there too no matter what so everyone had to scramble to try and put it in making the whole jenga tower fall over and over??), just to test how far you can push things, with placeholders everywhere, the same cutscene pasted in where another should be and a placeholder reason to get players to go soemwhere (fake zelda) and rough ideas for puzzles etc, that was never finished, jsut highly polished (in looks, sounds and presentation) in hopes of it being 'good enough' or players not noticing (like, take the underground for example, the idea itself is fantastic and cool as fuck, but its feels like an idea that was never finished and just barely fileld with some things to try and cover up the fact that it was never done, like a statue that wasnt done being carved but ran out of time so they painted it anyway- take the base map and invert it, put some easily accessible points of jumping down into it in random spots to test if the game can handle it- no time left to actually get that idea anywhere more specific and well thought out/put together, so its left like that, put the same texture everywhere, barely modified copies of the same enemies, and some little reward spots that make no sense, modelling three types of trees and an enemy camp is way quicker to do than actually making an entire new map (they didnt have to make it the same size btw, just make it big but unique caves, put the gravity effect down there in enclosed spaces! makes it less weird to have randomly happen in the sky! etc) but its there!! its in the game and if they are lucky most players wont go down there enough to notice how meaningless and unfinished it all is)

knowing they would most likely never admit to it though, probably bc of their reputation, is just addign to the frustrations i have with it :I

(i just hate to not know the reason for things, if the devs, who are usually the ones being worked to the bone for things they know arent good, where put through that bc some executive big shot threw their tables around every so often or neglected their project bc they wanted to focus on something else first ... id like to know, i dont enjoy making up these conspiracy (?) theories .......... but i cant shake this feeling, its jsut makes no sense)