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notquitecanon · 10 months

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Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until-

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond? an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket.

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already."

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold."

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us."

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack.

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could.

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!"

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you. Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you.

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed. Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared.

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing."

"No promises."

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt.

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more."

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern.

____

Ambushed in the night.

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept.

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow.

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest.

And Astarion? Their target?

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger. With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion.

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart.

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over. Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying.

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion. With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body.

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt.

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief.

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name.

"SHADOWHEART!"

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared. All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night.

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled.

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort. You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you.

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first.

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake.

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them."

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out."

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed.

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you.

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste."

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier."

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something.

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered?

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-"

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed.

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood.

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape.

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying.

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you."

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse?

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him.

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy.

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck.

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with.

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile?

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being?

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it.

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl."

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?"

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you.

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation.

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

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sirfrogsworth · 8 months

Text

Mom's Antiques Auction

I wasn't sure if I should post this or not, but we are trying to auction off a lot of my mom's antiques. This particular auction isn't being held at my house, so I figured it was safe to post here.

The auction will be live until 2/13/24 with a "soft close" starting at 7pm Central. That's when items will be sold a few at a time as people place their final bids. It's just like a live auction without a fast talking fella in a cowboy hat. If you try to bid at the last second, that extends the time by 60 seconds so someone else can try to outbid. It's actually kind of exciting to watch.

If you are in the St. Louis area, you can pick up items at the auction place the day after the auction ends. If you miss the pickup window you forfeit the item. Auction rules are no joke.

Otherwise, they can do shipping but I don't know if they do anything outside the US. You can check out the shipping info and call for more details.

This auction is actually for multiple estates. So not all of these items belonged to my mom. Her stuff is from Lot 406 to 660 and in the furniture section at the end from Lot 978 to 999. The link above should take you to the start of her collection (page 17).

There are some really cool uranium glass items—including this knife.

I had no idea that was in the display cabinet. I might have kept it if I had known, but I'm hoping people will think it is super cool and it will go for a good price.

I know that website looks like it is from the 90s, but everything is legit. We already did one auction and it went very well and everyone got what they paid for.

On a personal note, it was surreal watching them remove everything that had surrounded me for all of my life. I know it was too much for me to maintain and take care of, but nearly every one of these antiques has a memory attached to it. Most of the items will go to the auction fandom—which I had no idea existed. Pro auction people sell to hobbyists. Big auctions turn into little auctions. It's like an auction feedback loop where each auction hobbyist thinks they can flip the item for a little more money. They even have little auction meetups to show off things they got for a steal because one auction person didn't know the value of something. It's quite competitive and they like telling auction stories (whether you are interested or not).

All that is to say, I know not everything is going to a home where someone will take over custodianship of the cool things my mom collected. But it would be neat if some folks outside the auction fandom got some of her precious wares.

Hopefully with the money raised I can restore my emergency fund, which lasted all of a month after the last auction due to a busted battery and leaky-ass tires. Also, there will probably be a few more auctions after this as my mom collected antiques for nearly 40 years.

Speaking of asses, this golfing piggy bank game does not work very well (I could never get the coin in the hole), but I only ever saw it displayed from the other side and never realize all the junk in that trunk.

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thebluester2020 · 2 months

Note

can't tell if requests are open, but can you do sdv bachelors reactions to female farmer with a GYATT 😼💪🏽

Summary: Bachelors reacting to a farmer with a crazy shelf. Warning(s): Crack, Fluff, Some 18+ NSFW + Suggestiveness. Side note(s): My req(s) are always open ngl. I just take forever to get to stuff tbh 😭

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Elliot

[Pre-Relationship]

Ngl, he really wouldn't know what to do with himself. Especially when he first meets you.

I'm more than certain he'll be respectful and won't make it super obvious that he's looking but I wanna reference that one scene from Smiling Friends where Pim is struggling not to look at this one guy while a mosquito is sucking on his eye.

You wanna look (it's fucking killing you to keep your eyes down) but god, it would feel so good to just look for more than a few seconds.

And don't get me started if he accidentally brushes up against it while you two are close next to each other (say like- a busy tavern).

He's jerking off the second he gets home.

[Established Relationship]

When you two are dating, however, Elliot will still be respectful but he'll allow himself to touch you more often (as well as look).

But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that he won't be extremely blatant in regards to your ass but will more so show it.

Wearing dress? All of a sudden he's behind you and admiring your figure by placing a hand just above your butt, even going so far as to rub small circles into your back as a sign that he could and wants to go lower (you have to repeatedly tell him its okay to touch you more intimately).

If you're wearing shorts? I think he's definitely had more than a few moments where he's spat out his tea (or nearly choked on something) when you suddenly bend down in front of him to pick something up.

He also had some moments where he's taken you at random just because his hard-on is too much to bear from seeing you walk around all day being thick with no consequences.

All in all though?

Definitely an ass man <3

Sebastian

[Pre-Relationship]

To start this off, I will literally fight anyone when I say- Sebastion is a boob man and no one can change my mind.

With that being said-

Just because the man has preferences doesn't mean he's going to sit and deny you have junk in the trunk.

So I like to think that before you guys are dating, he sees the crazy shelf but he's not going wild and rocking a hard-on just from spotting it once.

It's more of a- "Damn, farmer's got that ass" and he moves on.

Ngl, he will think about how it feels from time to time though

[Established Relationship]

Now, once you two start dating. It's an entirely different ballgame after that.

He's touching your ass any chance he gets.

When you two fuck? All of a sudden he prefers positions where your ass is the center of attention.

When munch mode is activated. He'll gladly eat it from the back.

But I think his favorite part of you having a crazy shelf? It would probably be when you two are cuddling tbh.

It's super soft to the touch and kinda like a stress ball so when you two are relaxing together, he kinda just...squeezes it. It would happen so often that where you don't really pay attention to it anymore.

If you're sitting on his lap while he's working on his computer or playing video games, he's going to grab it.

If you're laying on top of him in his bed, guess what?

You guessed it, he's grabbing it.

Sam

[Pre-Relationship]

If you've followed my blog for a little bit. You probably already know how this is going to go with Sam-

Perv Mode is online

When he sees you for the first time, and you turn around. Sam's eyes would nearly bulge out of his head.

But similarly to Elliot, he'll be respectful in the sense that he doesn't want to creep you out or make him think that he's some type of pervert.

However, once he gets home that night?

Definitely jerking it, maybe even watching a couple videos on his phone with a girl that looks suspiciously like you.

But on the flip side, each time he sees you or you decide to visit his house with a gift for him. He'll blush like a sinner in church each and every time.

[Established Relationship]

He becomes touchy to the max.

Like I'm talking that his hand is on your body (mostly your ass) ninety percent of the time.

However, hear me out on this one, I don't think he'd really care about the sex part per se? (Not that I'm saying he doesn't like positions where he can see it jiggle at maximum efficiency)

Sam would be more of a fan of the clothing, to be honest.

Tight dresses, shorts that just barely cover the underside of your butt etc.

Those are what really get him off 'cause it's teasing for him. The anticipation of being able to feel all up on you as soon as you're finished with your errands from the day and you're back inside your shared farmhouse.

Side headcanon though; I'm a firm believer that Sam would be a huge fan of you teasing him by rubbing your ass over his crotch over his clothes. Just saying.

Alex

[Pre-Relationship]

Okay so Alex is yet another guy that I think is a boob man but, ass is ass and he's not going to deny you've got that gyatt.

But I do also believe that he make it more obvious where his eyes are going when you're around him?

Like if you're talking to someone in a crowd and he's around, he's not going to hide that his eyes are landing on your butt.

And if you're close by his side, his hand will practically be twitching for a teensy feel.

Ultimately though, he'll keep his hands to himself.

[Established Relationship]

King of Backshots.

I know I just said he's a certified boob man but once again, he's not going to lie that you have a fattie.

So with that being said, his preferred positions? They're in a wide variety (when he's not preferring a mating press so he has a good view of your boobs ofc)

Doggy, Reverse Cowgirl, Prone-boning. If your ass is the center of attention then he's going it.

Also I headcanon that if he was on a professional Gritball team then he would definitely brag to his teammates about his partner who has a fat ass.

Low-key I think he'd be open to sharing you ngl. But he's the only one who gets to cum inside you.

Harvey

[Pre-Relationship]

The most respectful man on this list.

If you have a crazy shelf of an ass then ofc he'll see it but he won't see it.

He'll keep his eyes up and to your face the entire time.

Hell, I don't think he'll even dare to let his eyes wander a little out of respect for a potential patient.

That being said, once he's off the clock. He'll probably have flashbacks to you here and there.

[Established Relationship]

Even when he's got you locked in, he's still respectful.

Similar to Sebastion though, I think him being touchy with your butt is going to mostly be reserved for cuddling sessions and when y'all are having sex.

But hear me out on this one in regards to that, while I do believe he'll be a fan of positions where he sees it jiggle.

I think he's more of a fan of positions where he can more so feel it closer to him. Say like spooning sex and other positions that require you to be really close to him.

Then again, Harvey strikes me as that one meme of "My favorite position is seeing you happy" so there's that <33.

Shane

[Pre-Relationship]

I think this man nearly spits out his drink when he first spots you.

Like- no shame to my SDV men/women (except my queen Haley, she'll always be thicc as hell in my head) but I don't think many of them would appeal to Shane aside from Emily??

So when the farmer rolls into the valley, thick as hell. I think Shane develops a low-key crush the second he sees you.

But here's the thing, he wouldn't think of you inappropriately cause he's thinking "Oh, they'd never be into me. There are more appealing people here than me."

So any temptations he has to masturbate to the thought of you? They're quickly snuffed out by those thoughts.

However, that doesn't mean those urges don't pop up frequently every time you decide to visit him in shorts that hug tightly around your thighs.

Or when you wear a sundress that makes him do a cartoon gulp.

Little did he know you were wearing those on purpose.

[Established Relationship]

When you two start dating? Oh boy, prepare yourself.

It's like a volcano erupting basically. Everything he's held himself back from doing, everything he's wanted to do to/with you?

He's trying to do it all immediately to make up for lost time.

From plowing you against the back of your farmhouse, the slaps of your ass against his pelvis sounding wayyyy better in reality than what they did when the thought would flash through his head.

Or maybe even fucking you into the bedsheets!

The world is his oyster now <3.

And he's just glad that he has his fat-assed lover by his side to do everything with now.

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ladykailitha · 7 months

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 9

As you guys wanted, here's me doubling up on posting days. It will (hopefully) be twelve hours apart so that each chapter can get some love.

In this chapter we have a lot of flirting between Eddie and Steve. The Party being "meh" *shrugs shoulders* at Steve being bi. And Robin being the most soulmate a guy could ask for.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

That night they were all gathered to watch the amateur theatrical society put on Much Ado About Nothing.

Even the ones who had been reluctant to join in were doubled over in laughter at the trick the Prince pulled on Beatrice and Benedict. The way they cried when Hero was accused of cheated on Claudio. And cheered when it was resolved happily ever after.

Mike complained about it all the way to the car. “We were forced to read this play in eighth grade and I hated it. I never knew it was funny.”

Eddie put his arm around his shoulder. “That is the unfortunate side effect of the education system. They suck the joy out of all of everything.”

“Normally I’m rolling my eyes at Eddie’s rants,” Robin said, “but I’m going to have to agree with him on this one. They just want sanitized versions of everything.”

Steve nodded. “Like what’s with the jump in American history when we stop in eighth grade at the Civil War and then all the way to WWII in eleventh grade, with only a brief mention of WWI as it related to WWII. Are they really trying to tell us that nothing happened in those eighty years of note? Like the fuck?”

Mike blinked at him. “Holy shit, I never even realized.”

The kids looked around at each other in shock.

“They push math and science,” Eddie continued, “but shit on everything else, except sports.”

He winced when realized what he had said. He looked over at Steve with an apology on his lips, but Steve was nodding.

“And they have to be the right sports, too,” Steve agreed. “Wrestling, swimming, soccer...anything outside the big three baseball, football, or basketball. Trust me, I got a lot of flack on being on the swim team. It was ‘gay’.”

“What?” Will squawked. “Why?”

Eddie licked his lips. “Little, teeny, tiny uniforms.” He emphasized the point holding his fingers not that far apart.

Dustin snorted. “Can’t be any worse than the basketball shorts.”

Steve looked upwards as he chewed on the bottom of his lip.

Dustin’s eyes bulged out of his head. “How much worse are we talking about here?”

“Speedo.”

Lucas frowned. “What the fuck is a Speedo?”

Eddie was practically vibrating in his skin. “Can I tell them, Stevie? Can I please?”

Steve let out a little sigh. The sigh the Party lovingly called his mom sigh. It was the sound he made when he knew no mater what he did it was going to end badly for him, so he just...let it happen.

He waved at Eddie to go ahead.

“Instead of swim trunks, that have a leg on them,” Eddie crowed, “Speedos are swim underpants. They cover the junk, the ass, and that’s it.”

“And you deliberately wore these things?” Max asked in interest. More interest than Lucas or any of the guys were comfortable with.

“I’m good at it,” Steve said, blush creeping up his ears and down his throat from the stain on his cheeks. “The uniform wasn’t as bad Eddie’s making it out to be.”

Gareth snorted. “Nope, they really are that bad. There was a period of time where–”

Eddie slammed his hand over Gareth’s mouth. “There’s no need to tell them about that, Gare.”

Steve looked over at Brian.

“Your senior year Eddie forced all of Hellfire to watch your meets.”

“Bri!” Eddie protested.

Steve looked over at Eddie and raised an eyebrow. “You like the...what was you it called it,” he said tapping his finger on his lips, “the ‘little, teeny, tiny’ uniform, Eds?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I am but a gay man in a small town, so sue me!”

“I always preferred the lifeguard uniforms at the community pool,” Steve said. “Less wedgies.”

“Babe,” Eddie scoffed, “those shorts and tank left very little to the imagination. At least with the Speedo you knew what you were getting. With the lifeguard uniform it was all fantasy.”

Steve laughed. “I bet you were the kind who faked drowning to get CPR from their favorite lifeguard.”

“I can honestly say, I’ve never done that.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked all smiles. “Can you prove that?”

Eddie got up close to him and whispered, “Yeah, darlin’. I think I would have remembered you rescuing me before the Upside Down.” He winked at him and sauntered off. The rest of the band hastily said their goodbyes and hurried after their ride home.

Steve’s face was as red as his old life guard uniform. “Right. Let’s get home, yeah?”

Dustin eye’s narrowed at him for a moment. “Steve Harrington, are you crushing on my DM?”

The remaining eight looked at Dustin in shock.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “You can’t just ask that in public! What if someone overheard you?”

Dustin looked around and waved his hand around him. “There is literally no one here. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think it was a safe time to ask. But I’m going home with my mom as soon as she gets here and I will not be stymied.”

Steve ducked his head. “And if I did like boys, that would be okay with everyone?”

Everyone just looked around at each other and there was this collective shrug.

“Do you still like girls?” Max asked, genuinely curious.

Steve nodded shyly.

Lucas frowned. “You can like both?”

“Like David Bowie!” El said with her serene smile. “He likes both. Freddie Mercury from Queen, too.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Exactly like that, El!”

Her smile grew.

“It’s okay if you like Eddie that way,” Mike said softly.

All the heads snapped to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay. I have a lot to work on regarding the whole Lucas thing, but I’m not a complete ass.”

“Thank you,” El said and kissed his cheek. “You just have a lot growing up to do. We all do. We just need to give each other the chances to do so safely. Or at least that’s what Joyce keeps telling me.”

Steve gave her a hug. “Thanks, Supergirl.”

He looked out at all his friends. The people who were more his family then his own parents.

“I might have a small...” he raised his finger and thumb, “crush on a certain metalhead DM who recently joined the Party in March...”

Robin scoffed. “And by little he means huge!” She spread out her arms all the way out.

Dustin’s head snapped around to Steve. “If you two get together, he better treat you right. You deserve it.”

Steve blinked. Considering how Dustin had worded his original question, he had been sure that Dustin was going to him not to break Eddie’s heart.

He gave Dustin a hug and kissed the top of his head.

He really shouldn’t have doubted this kid.

Just then, Claudia pulled up in her station wagon and Dustin, El, Will and Mike all piled in after saying their goodbyes.

“He totally has the hots for you, by the way,” Max said dryly.

Steve blinked at her for a moment. “How do you know that? Does he spend all his days learning alt rock on his guitar or something for me?”

Max just blinked at him. “Huh. You aren’t as stupid as I thought.” And then she just started walking toward the car.

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “So to make sure I got this right, Max is saying Eddie has the hots for me because he’s been learning my favorite songs for me on his guitar?”

“That’s what it sounded like to me, man,” Lucas said with a half shrug.

“I’m with Lucas on this one,” Robin agreed. “So maybe you should do what I’ve been suggesting for the last three weeks and you know ASK HIM OUT!”

Lucas giggled.

“Shush you,” Steve admonished. “Get to the car.” He pointed at Robin. “You are spending the night with me to help plan out something cool.”

Robin saluted and Lucas just rolled his eyes and they all walked to the car to end another great night at the fair.

****

“Let’s play to your strengths,” Robin said, sitting cross-legged on Steve’s bed.

“Sports, sewing, and history,” Steve said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me. It’s not as though I can whip out something overnight as a token of my affection.”

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something fancy. You could do something small. Like maybe use that fancy red thread you got at the weavers yesterday.”

He blushed. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Everything I know how to make is either winter stuff or something he’d never use.”

“He uses that handkerchief all the time,” Robin pointed out. “You could do something like that.”

Steve flopped dramatically on his back. “Not if he knew it was made from that fancy thread I got. He’d want to protect it.”

Robin had to give him that one. Because that would be an Eddie thing to do. And while the sentiment was sweet it would make Steve sad that he never used it.

Suddenly Steve sat up. “Oh!”

She blinked at him. “What’s ‘oh’?”

“He was telling me just last week,” he explained, “that the bag he used to hold all his dice for their game got a hole in it and it kept spilling the dice all over the inside of his backpack!”

Robin grinned. “Let’s pick out the best material to match that pretty thread.”

Steve nodded. “I just have to make a quick phone call to find out how big the bag should be and I can have this done in no time at all.”

He called Dustin and told him his idea. Dustin was ecstatic and told him everything he needed to know.

Robin and Steve then dug into his material stores and picked out a nice black felt and a satin red lining to make doubly sure Eddie wouldn’t lose the dice down the gaping maw that was his backpack.

He then showed Robin how to make patterns and cut them. Then he got to work.

Even with how easily Robin got bored, she watched the whole time with fascination. How he embroidered his pattern into what would be the front of the bag. How quickly and evenly Steve stitched the pieces of cloth together. He explained the process every step of the way and her eyes just lit up.

He turned the bag right side out and fitted it with silver draw string. He pulled it taut and held it up to Robin to see.

She reached out and gently took it from him. “That’s so cool. You do a bunch of these at work and send them to Katie as way to gauge reactions to your work, while you make bigger pieces.”

Steve licked his lips. “You really think these would sell?”

“And I think Eddie would be pleased as punch that he got the first official Harrington Pattern design.”

Steve took it back from her and smiled. “That would make it even more special, wouldn’t it?”

Robin grinned. “Yes, yes it would.”

He threw his arms around her. “You’re the best soulmate anyone could possibly ask for.”

She blushed but held him tight. “You too, Stevie.”

When Steve finally pulled back he tapped his finger on his lips. “Now what to make you.”

Robin squealed. “But you already made something awesome. The pirate costume was amazing, you don’t have to do more just because you made Eddie something.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, but I just tailored the clothes. I didn’t make them. I want to make you something.”

She scoffed. “Like the only thing I need are gloves for marching band. Since I have to have hand-me-downs, they are either too tight or way too big.”

His eyes lit up. “I’ve never made gloves before. That would be fun and interesting to try.”

“How would you even measure something like that?” Robin asked, a small amount of hope creeping into her voice.

Steve grinned. “Do you remember those ugly ass hand turkeys they made us draw in elementary school?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Just. Like. That.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait are you serious?”

Steve just grinned.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

I'm not 100% sure my history experience in school is universal in the US, but in order to bridge the gap you actually had to an elective history class called Twentieth Century. Like it was straight up bullshit. And before you ask, you can bet your ass I took that class. It was taught by my favorite teacher. Of course I took that class.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @microbiology @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 12

Part 11

@spectrum-spectre before you say anything, there's no smut in this one so go to sleep and read it at a more reasonable hour

In Eddie's fantasy world, he took off in a plane with Steve, escorted him back to Indiana, dropped him off at the door of the home he'd be staying at, giving him a very thorough scenting before letting him go.

But Eddie had work to take care of and Steve said he would be fine. And Eddie had gotten the hang of figuring out when Steve meant what he said. It wasn't hard. Whenever he wanted to be spoiled, he put that bratty lilt to his voice. They parted ways, Eddie having rubbed himself all over Steve before they exited the car, then again before getting to the check out counter.

Eddie was avoiding notice by wearing his hair in a braided bun and big sunglasses. He insisted on getting Steve a first class ticket. It was the only way to keep too many people from rubbing against him and thus making his scent fade sooner.

"Don't miss me too much", Eddie teased, looking over the rim of his shades.

Steve wrapped his arms around his neck. "I already do, Daddy", he whispered. He kissed him and then murmured against his lips. "Can't stop thinking about it. In less than ten days..."

Eddie put his hands to Steve's waist. He couldn't wait either. They'd be reuniting for Steve's heat. But they weren't coming back together just for that. While Steve was pretty regular and was 99% it would come when he said it did, Eddie would have Steve on the first jet to Texas on January 1st.

Steve thoroughly enjoyed the luxury of first class and landed back home with less than half the stress of a normal plane flight. Eddie had been a little zealous in spending on him sometimes, and it reflected in how much money he sent to Steve so that he could get a ride at the airport. Steve had specifically told him that Lucas could have picked him up and then he'd be with family for the rest of the time.

Eddie must've heard something different because when Steve checked his venmo, he was several hundred dollars richer. When Lucas picked him up, he decided that money could be well spent doing some last minute shopping.

"You know, I'm actually kind of relieved", Lucas said as they packed the last of the stuff into his trunk.

"Why?", Steve asked.

"I thought when you started being a sugar baby and junk you'd turn into a different person. But you're still Steve."

Steve smiled. "Didn't go through a name change last I checked."

"You know what I mean. You were still cursing out the ref at the game back in DC. And you got Robin a mug with a weird picture, not like a diamond encrusted dog bowl or something."

"She's gonna love the mug more than that. And the ref had his blinders on for the whole first half."

Steve didn't realize how relieved he was to hear that though, that he had retained the real parts of himself even though he felt completely changed by Eddie. Would he start to change in time? How long would it take? His reverie was broken when Lucas pulled into the driveway of his home.

"Okay, so Dustin told my parents you were seeing someone and Mike told them it was someone famous but they don't know it's Eddie Munson."

Steve felt his stomach drop. "Do they know that I'm?"

Lucas shook his head. "You get to tell them that."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me", Steve groaned.

The last thing he wanted to tell the people who helped him through the final years of high school and the first couple of college was that he was getting dicked down by a celebrity and was falling for him too. The Sinclairs were more like his parents than his actual mom and dad.

They didn't hold back either, bringing it up the moment he entered and they got their hugs.

"Dustin told us you're seeing someone?", Mrs. Sinclair said.

Steve snuck an ear twist as Dustin walked by with a grin, one that the Sinclairs definitely noticed but let him get away with. He had to be honest not just because of how important they were, but because they'd find out everything sooner or later. New traveled fast online and he was honestly surprised they didn't know more already.

"I met him one night at a bar. He covered my dinner when I was a little short", Steve said as his hands were kept busy helping with the food preparation.

"Sounds like a gentleman", Mr. Sinclair said.

Lucas and his friends were sitting in the living room, which Steve was thankful for. He knew they'd want to spill every last bean. He got away with giving them minimal info: Eddie's first name, the fact he was a musician, an alpha, and that they'd been on a few dates.

That night, he cornered Dustin and Mike and made them swear to keep their mouths shut about anything else.

"Lucas got basketball tickets. We should get something to", Mike said.

"How's about you don't get a tanned hide?", Steve offered, eyes hard.

Christmas went as usual, Steve spent the day of and day after in the Sinclair home, then returned to his own apartment where Robin was already waiting to celebrate New Years. He didn't get two feet into the door before she was feeling his stomach.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not-"

"But you could be. I know you and your cumslut tendencies. So I know you're not making him wrap it up."

"But I'm still taking my birth control", Steve said.

"You just know that if you get knocked up I'll have no choice but to move back in with you and help you raise this pup", Robin said.

"There is no pup. And I wouldn't make you do that."

"I would though. For you", she promised.

"I know Robs. That's why I'm not gonna let it happen. If I wanna have his baby, you'll get a six month notice before we conceive."

"Thank you for that."

They spent December 31st ordering take out from three different places and binging Empire. When it got to the time for real festivities to begin, they turned the tv to where Eddie said he was going to be performing.

"So that's your beau. He's not bad", Robin complimented. "How's the rest of the band?"

"They're great. I think you and Jeff would really get along. He's actually really into brass instruments too. And Gareth knows a bunch of nerd languages."

"You mean like Klingon and Elvish?"

"And apparently he's learning Atlantean."

Midnight came and Steve kissed her forehead and Robin kissed his cheek.

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

The next day, he was packed and ready to hop on his flight. Robin dropped him off and hugged him tight enough to hold him over until the next time they met. His ticket was first class again and when he landed in Austin, he was already feeling a tingling under his skin. He missed his alpha. Need his scent, his touch, the rumble of his voice.

Because of this, while he loved the other CC boys, he was a little disappointed to see them awaiting his arrival and not Eddie.

"The Ed-man had to finish something in the studio last minute", Gareth explained as they led Steve to the car.

"Thanks for picking me up, guys", Steve certainly preferred them over a stranger from Uber.

Grant drove the way back, taking them to a mansion that had Steve's jaw dropping. He was no stranger to big houses, but he was used to them being simply for status. They'd been grand but sterile, devoid of any personality. The moment Steve stepped in, he could see that wasn't true for this place. He could pick out each of the resident's scents, could see each of their quirks as he was given a tour of the place.

They saved Eddie's room for last and he found out when Eddie barreled down the hallway to meet them at his door.

"They're really good pack", Steve said as Jeff, Grant, and Gareth left the two of them alone.

"I knew I could trust them with you." Then Eddie kissed him about six times. "For all the missed mistletoe." Then again. "For New Year's."

Steve laughed against his lips. "You gonna show me the bedroom anytime soon? I'd love to lie down, Daddy."

Eddie bit his lip, looking nervous all of a sudden as he slowly opened the door. Steve wanted to take in everything. After all, a bedroom could tell you a lot about a person. But his attention was immediately grabbed by the bed situation and what was sitting on the bench in front of it. There was a thin quilt turning it into a canopy bed, much like the den Eddie had made in their hotel room back in New York.

Steve recognized the pattern from what he'd heard before. Jeff's handiwork. And by the foot of the bed was a small bench where a collection of clothes sat. Steve went right to them and took a whiff of the first shirt. It was so undeniably Eddie, he would have thought his neck was pressed to his nose were he not still by the door.

Then he picked up a tank top and caught notes of lemon and ginger. "Are these...?"

"I tried to scent a lot of stuff before you got here, the boys helped out too. I hope that was okay?" His hands were stuck in his pockets and his back was tensed like he might run.

"It's more than okay", Steve reassured him.

"And the den? You like it? I can always change it if you don't. We've got tons of linens here, all that can be scented in a moment's notice and-"

"Eddie", Steve put a hand to his arm. "It's great. Now...", he held up one of the garments. "Help me nest?"

Eddie swallowed and nodded. He followed Steve's lead as they arranged everything on the bed for maximum comfort. Once Steve was satisfied, he sank down into it, smirking when he saw the way Eddie gingerly lied down next to him.

"Your first time doing a heat?", Steve asked.

"I've been around omegas in heat before. Just not as the uh, let's say star alpha", Eddie admitted.

Steve turned so his back was against Eddie's chest and pulled his arm over him. It took Eddie a moment, but he got comfortable and melted against his body. The exhaustion from the flight and being up for hours finally got to him and Steve closed his eyes.

When he opened them hours later, his body was warm and he felt a wetness between his legs.

Part 13

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #i literally checked the clock b4 posting #bc i know now i have the uncanny ability to post smut #and therefore keep specs up at all hours of the night #but this time there's no smut so haha!#there will be a healthy dose of debauchery in the next one tho

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nectar-cellar · 9 months

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Default Replacement Male Underwear

The base game's underwear options are terribly boring, no? I couldn't find many default replacement underwear mods out there, so I thought I would compile my own. For those of us who care about very important things such as this.

I have made 3 default replacements. These only replace the textures for adult male sims. There are no custom thumbnails. They should be placed in your Overrides folder but will probably work fine in the Packages folder too.

Base game boxer briefs replaced with Afterdusk Sims Armani Microfiber Trunks (plain, 1 recolourable channel only)

Base game briefs replaced with Afterdusk Sims aussieBum Classic Undies (plain, 1 recolourable channel only)

Base game swimming shorts replaced with Afterdusk Sims aussieBum Precision Knife Wonderjock (3 recolourable channels)

These are texture replacements only. They do not add bulges!!!

Credits:

Afterdusk Sims underwear / swimwear

Some additional highlighting and shading added by me

I was and still am a huge fan of their creations. They were my go-to creators back in the mid 2010s, I used the hell out of their cc and they inspired my sim style... can you tell? 🙈 I thought their textures would be perfect to use as replacements.

You can still download the original items and more from Afterdusk Sims blog - use https://adlinkbypass.com/ to bypass the Linkvertise links.

Download: simfileshare / mega

I also recommend the bulge mods from any of the following creators but remember to install only one:

CmarNYC

Robokitty's Junk Mesh (don't install the texture file if you want to use my mod)

Jvsmith's Enhanced Bodies mod on LoversLab (pictured on the model)

#dl: undies #sim spice

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starlessnightsblog · 8 months

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daryl x reader

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

MDNI 18+ | wordcount: 3k | smutt ⭑ fluff

daryl to the rescue

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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Daryl decided we'd go out for a run. The prison could always use more supplies and he figured he could try to bring home dinner too.

I watched as he packed the trunk of the Prius with supplies we would need, n'case we would stay overnight. The sun was shining, it was a pretty day, the grass still glistening from the morning fog. It had rained on and off here at the prison these last few days. Daryl was eager to get back out there, I knew he liked providing for the group and he liked when I could tag along, he'd grown to not like being apart from each other for long.

I walked up to him, placing my hands on my hips as I watched him slam the trunk door down, "We all set?" I smiled up at him.

He grabbed his bow that was leaning against the car and swung it over his shoulder, "Yes ma'am," He squinted his eyes as the sun beamed in his face. With a raspy voice, "you driving?"

He tossed me the keys before I could answer, I caught them, and rolled my eyes playfully, "This time, but you're driving us home." He hummed paired with a nod.

Daryl opened the driver's side for me, and I looked up at him, my eyes asking him to kiss me. He caught on and leaned down to meet my lips, but in that moment, I saw Carol walking up to us and pulled away. Daryl noticed my gaze shift and he turned around to meet her. She hugged Daryl briefly and then me. "You two be safe, ...and behave." Her tone was stern yet hinted with sarcasm. Daryl let his head fall and his hair cover his face, trying not to smirk too much.

"We behave?" I questioned, pretending to be offended by her statement; though Carol never meant any harm.

Daryl walked to the passenger side and sunk in. "See you soon.' He reassured Carol and she nodded. I closed my door and started the car and waited for Carol and Carl to open the gate, they waved us off. I watched them grow tiny in the rear view.

Me and Daryl parked the car on the side of the road a few miles out from the prison, we ended up in the woods before midday. Stumbling through the forest on foot, I treaded right behind Daryl, as we stayed silent amidst the trees, getting a feel of the surrounding area, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to ourselves. I watched as he led the way, looking at sticks and piles of brushed up leaves, observing them. I watched his back as he was distracted by the prints in front of him, we hadn't encountered any walkers yet and I really didn't want too. My aim was still off sometimes, walkers made me freeze up. I hated having to encounter them, at all.

"We need to find an abandoned cabin or somethin'." He mumbled. "I think I remember seeing one out this way." He pointed and began walking adjacent to the direction we were going in, I just went along with it, trusting his every intention. "Okay."

"Least somewhere we can hold up for a night." He looked back at me, his eyes met mine.

oh, I thought. He side smirked and raised a brow. chewing his bottom lip, "Let's keep moving." He hummed and I nodded.

The day was growing dark and grey clouds had infused the sky; the wind picking up in waves. The ambiance of crickets and cicadas filled the swampy air. My feet would've been killing me if I wasn't already use to it, walking, running all day.

Daryl had managed to snag a few rabbits and now we were looking for somewhere we could build a fire. Though I think he was growing weary of the weather just as I was, and we were having zero luck with finding the cabin.

Instead, we happened apon a little homemade, car, junk yard. Though the cars were either stripped of everything that made them useful or already pieces of scrap metal, maybe even from before the world went to shit. Still, it looked untouched enough. There was a chained-up storage container sitting on the far side of the yard, almost blocked by two cars mangled on top of each other. I pointed it out to Daryl. "That might be good place to sleep tonight." I whispered.

"It'll have to be," He looked up at the ever-darkening sky, "come on." he ushered me, his hand hovering the small of my back.

We approached the fenced-in plot, finding a good spot spot to sneak in through. Daryl made a hole in the fence with his bolt cutters. He pulled the chain link down as quietly as he could, though it still made noise.

With caution, we began inspecting the yard. staying close to one another. After assuming it was fine, Daryl began opening a few of the hoods of the cars, inspecting the engines for anything useful. I held my knife out in front me, in case I needed it as I kept walking ahead, wanting to get to the storage building.

I wandered up to what seemed like an untouched mini-van. It had no tires, from what I could see, but all the windows were intact, looked promising. I tried peeking through the caked-on dust and dirt, maybe even guts or blood, I failed to make anything out, so I tried wiping the window with my fist. I wiggled the handle, it was locked, weird. I yanked the handle one more time, and then CLAP.

A pale, skinny hand from inside the car hit the window hard, I flinched, it scratched and bit at the glass so hard it was making its fingertips bleed. It was loud now, and I jumped back, wanting to evacuate the scene and maybe it'd magically shut up? I took a step back into the grasp of a walker suddenly appearing from under the same mini-van, I lost my balance, and stumbled back, hitting the ground fast and hard.

I slammed my foot against the rotter over and over, but was failing to do any real damage, I heard groans coming from behind me. I glanced back quickly. Another walker was crawling out the thick grass, it appeared to have no legs and half an arm, t was close but struggling at the very least, tangling itself in the weeds. My focus shot back to the walker beneath me, it was chomping and hadn't even reached my foot yet. I began to frantically search the ground for my knife, I must've dropped it when I fell. I cursed, wanting this to end but not knowing how.

Another wandering walker's attention snapped to me and this one wasn't stuck; it started limping quickly, it's one good arm shooting out, preparing to grab me at first chance. My heart was racing faster than ever, I pleaded with myself to do something, to move. I screamed as the walker beneath me bit at my shoe, I kicked it off before it could bite through, I scrambled away in the dirt, the moans and groans from the biters around me filled my ears and all I could think of was Daryl and how I couldn't leave him, not like this.

I closed my eyes, shielding myself as the walker that was stumbling towards me got hauntingly closer. Then, in an instant the air was silenced. I watched the walker collapse on the group in front of me, A bloody arrow had pierced straight through its skull. Then another arrow went straight through the eye socket of the walker holding onto my foot. Blood leaked from both the heads in front of me, though the weak walker behind me was still struggling, but still too close for comfort. I stared at the vicious corpse, still in shock from the last few minutes.

I didn't see Daryl till he was on top the corpse in front of me, he shoved his knife down and through the walker's brain, and stabbed again and again till the head was blood and mush. Dark blood splashed his face as he did so.

I took a deep breath in, and Daryl's full attention locked on me, he snapped out of it and rushed to kneel beside me, pulling me up gently. "You okay? You're okay right? They didn't-," His breath trembled, and he looked scared; he scanned my face up and down.

My eyes locked to his as they trained my face. "I'm okay, I'm good," my words wearier than my breathing, my body slightly shaking in the rush of it all, "they didn't- I'm okay." Tears formed in my eyes. I cupped the side of his face with my hand as I shook my head in reassurance. "I'm okay." He touched his forehead to mine and then wrapped his arm around my whole body, holding me tight. We lingered in the embrace, I wanted him to never let me go, and then it began to thunder. Daryl broke away first and looked around. "Let's get inside."

We hadn't even scoped out the container due to my little damsel in distress moment. but it didn't matter anymore, we were sleeping in that thing no matter what.

Rain began to poor, the dirt on our skin rinsing off, our hair dripping onto our faces; we hurried over to the storage container. Daryl puller out his bolt cutters swiftly and broke through the chains with ease, that, or he just made it look easy. He slid the door open slowly and it was dark inside but not so much so we couldn't see in it. I stepped forward but his arm shot in front of me, holding me back. He looked me up and down, "Uhh uh, No way." He murmured.

I didn't say anything. He grabbed a flashlight out his bag and stepped inside. It beamed through the shadows. He peaked around and made sure no dead would pop out the corners. He signaled for me that it was safe, and I stepped inside. He came to close the door behind me, shoving a metal rod through the handles.

I think it was safe to say we hit the jackpot. The container had shelves on either side, it was partially stocked with a decent amount of can goods, we found a first aid kit, and even a few boxes of ammo. I noticed some cardboard boxes that looked straight out of somebody's Saturday morning garage sale.

They were filled with ghosts of the past. I found someone's family photos, baby clothes and even toys. I stuffed my bag with anything I could fit in it. Some of these things would be useful to Judith and this helped me feel useful.

The place had a box full of beeswax candles, the kind you use when the power goes out. Daryl had a lighter handy, so we lit some and put them on the shelves to lighten the place up so we wouldn't trip on ourselves.

I then lay out us out a cot with a double sleeping bag, I tossed my favorite blanket I tote with me on every run as a finishing touch. It looked good enough. Daryl had opened a few of the cans and that's what we ate for dinner. No fire for the rabbits, what a bummer. (I was not bummed.)

We ate quietly. The groans coming from outside disappeared, though the rain only got harder and maybe that's why. We were closed in, nothing was getting in.

We huddled around our one lantern, and each ate a can of green peas. I finished the can and set it on the shelve just above my head. I looked over at Daryl who was also finishing up. He set his can down, away from the sleeping bed.

"Thank you, for earlier," I whispered, "I dunno why, I just froze." I started, wanting to make an excuse for my helplessness. "I shouldn't of-"

"Don't do that." He cut me off, shaking his head. "Nothing happened, and you're okay."

"I put us in danger." I retorted. I never wanted to put Daryl in danger, and he was so much better at the whole apocalypse thing than me.

"Hey, hey, look at me," He hummed, his tone smooth. I met his longing gaze. "we're in danger just by being out here, so it doesn't matter." He took my hand in his, our fingers intertwined. "I would never let anythin' happen to you... no matter what. It's you over everything, over everyone. You know that, right?" The look on his face was coated with sincerity, the flickering lights from the candles bounced on his skin. He was emulating complete and utter warmth.

If it wasn't for Daryl today, I might've ended up walker food. I replayed the moment in my head, the guilt still eating at me, "I never want anything to happen to you." I managed to choke out. I rested my forehead on his shoulder. he took me into his embrace, I squeezed him, and he squeezed back, tighter.

I thought about the man beside me, how he defended me and loved me. He'd take a bullet for me, and we both knew that. But did he know I would do the same for him though?

"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered. I glanced back up at him and pulled his face down to kiss me, brushing my lips to his, he placed his hand on my hip. I broke away for a moment, our eyes pulled together. Wanting to top that, but he crashed his lips to mine.

My hands snaked around his neck, and as our kiss grew more heated, he pulled me on top of him. His hands roamed my body, trying to make skin to skin contact. I ripped my jacket off, not even daring to break the kiss, my hands found their way back around his neck. He tried pulling me closer, grinding my hips below his torso. I ripped right through his vest, leaving him exposed. He smirked, trying to catch his breath, he pulled at my shirt, wanting it gone. He got it over my head and threw it away. He started kissing my neck and biting me softly. I loved when he did that. But I wanted his mouth on mine, and I tilted my head with his, he let my lips touch his and they moved in sync.

Our mouths stayed glued together as I fiddled with his belt and zipper. It didn't take long for me to find his hard-on, I rubbed him gently through his briefs, he groaned. I lifted up off him and removed my shorts, He moved my underwear to the side, and his own down, his cock shot up and his fingers grazed my warmth making sure I was wet. He hummed when he touched me, growing more eager to stick it in. He held his cock in place as I eased onto it. Letting out a breath of pleasure as I felt him enter me.

he started guiding my hips, rocking me back and forth, Daryl loved being in control, even if I was the one on top. He bit his lip, trying not to moan. His dick pushed deeper into me, and I couldn't help but make noise. I brought my lips to his, thinking it would mask my cries. It got harder as we sunk into each other. Whimpers leaving my throat, moans escaping through our kiss. He pushed me down, bucking his hips, I straddled him, and he wrapped his arms around my back, switching our position. He was on top now and I was floating below him. My shoulders barely touching the ground, He rested on his knees, his hands clinging to my waist, he began pounding into me. I whined as I felt his tip hit my cervix over and over again.

His breathing was heavy, and he cursed under his breath, He leaned in, my whole body on the ground now, my legs wrapped around his torso as he wrapped his arms around me. All I could do was plead with my whines. We were so passionate, yet making love with such haste like we didn't have all night. Daryl just knew what he was doing; and no one, not even before, could make me feel this good. I cursed under my breath as my body began to fill with pleasure, my nails digging into his skin, he knew I was close and sped up, with every thrust I could feel my climax getting closer. I bit his shoulder, if I made any more noise, I might attract walkers. his rapid breathing heavy in my ear, he sucked on my neck and left kisses in-between.

In the midst of our passion, Daryl pulled out and released onto my stomach, my release following, my chest was heaving up and down as I laid there on the cot. Daryl whipped the sweat from his brow and stood up, grabbing my shirt and shorts for me. He kissed me slowly as he handed me my things, and then kissed my forehead.

I put my clothes back on and he buttoned his vest back up, he laid down beside me, his head resting on his arms. and I followed, resting my head on his bicep, he pulled me in, I could still feel the heat steaming off his skin, he still had a few breaths to catch, I smiled at him, "I've been thinking about doing that all damn day." He admitted. He wrapped his body around mine and we just laid there, listening to the heavy rain on the metal roof. We started drifting off and fell asleep in each other's arms.

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wp: thewriterdoll

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #the walking dead

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oppropro · 3 months

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Chapter 3

This is the conclusion to my fanfic. This was really fun and I hope all y'all enjoy it. Maybe I'll write some more stuff later on. Something shorter and more lighthearted.

Once again, All credit to @jttw-monkeybusiness for her AU story.

********

CHAPTER 3- Hired

The only sound Sophie could focus on was that of her heavy footsteps drumming on the forest floor in tandem with her racing heart. Her mad sprint had tempered into a steady pace as she continued to run as straight as the terrain would allow her. Her legs ached and her chest felt like it was on fire. No matter how heavy she breathed, she never seemed to get enough air. Still, she had to keep running. At that moment, it did not matter to her where she was going; anywhere but there.

She tripped over a tree root but did not lose her balance. What the fuck had just happened to her? How the hell did she wind up in a forest? That woman in the shop. Was this her fault? Was she a witch? A mare? More likely, she drugged that cup of tea, and this is all a hallucination, a bad trip. A nightmare.

She should have fallen onto the wet pavement of her hometown. A street bustling with vehicles and foot traffic. The smell of concrete, rubber, unemptied garbage bins; all overpowered by the sweet perfume of flowering tree blossoms. Someone should have helped her up to her feet and brushed away the dirt from her scratched up face. A human; not a pig-man. And what was that thing she fell on? Some grotesque talking monkey monster? It looked like it wanted to tear her apart with its fangs. Jesus Christ! It talked. He talked. The monkey monster and the pig-man talked. None of this could be real.

When she thought she had put enough space between her and her would-be assailant, and when she finally ran out of breath, Sophie stopped and leaned her back against the trunk of a mossy tree. The air was cool and humid, making her sweat stick to her body rather than evaporating. Now her legs hurt, her head throbbed, her chest burned, and she was shivering. With her eyes closed, Sophie managed to regain control of her breathing and rummaged through her pocket for her cell phone. She pulled it out of her sweater and opened her eyes so she could unlock it.

Sophie dialed 112 and waited for the call to connect. Nothing. There was no signal. No data. No Wi-Fi. No matter how many times she tried, her calls were not going through.

Unable to hold back whimpers anymore, Sophie held her phone in front of her with both hands wishing she had the strength to snap the useless piece of junk in half. All out of options, she cried out to the heavens.

“Help! Somebody please help me!”

To her dismay, the heavens answered.

“Yeah, I can help you girly.”

Sophie turned to her right to see the monkey monster standing no less than five meters away. Her heart sank.

********

Was it fair to think that all humans were stupid, or was it this woman in particular? To be fair, Wukong acknowledged that he held a personal bias, what with this woman crashing onto him and then running off without so much as an apology for her insolence. Tracking her down was not hard, it was actually quite funny to watch her run herself to exhaustion. The distance was impressive, for a human, and he doubted that his master could do any better than her.

Wukong observed the woman as he stalked her from the canopy above. She obviously posed no real threat. There was nothing demonic about her, though her foreign attire made her suspect. She could be a part of a demon plot; a patsy to be used as bait to lure him and his master. If she was smart, she would answer his questions and return with him to his master; then the monk will see that Sun Wukong, the great sage equal to heaven, is the fastest, smartest, fiercest, bravest, patient, loyal, and most merciful of all on heaven and earth.

The woman below Wukong began crying for help. The chase had gone on long enough. It was time to get some answers.

“Yeah, I can help you girly.”

The woman looked up at him and froze. She was like a frail little deer staring down a tiger.

“Of course, you’re gonna have to answer some questions of mine. First off, who are you and whose dumb ass idea was it for you to assault me and my master? I’m pretty sure you’re too stupid to sabotage the monk’s mission on your own, so start naming names and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She stood, still frozen in place, her lips quivering. Her eyes darting between him and a clearing in the forest floor, the remnants of some old animal trail. There was no way she would be stupid enough to run again.

“Just answer my questions,” Wukong was no longer asking, he was ordering.

The woman stared him down, regaining the slightest semblance of composure. Then, she ran off again into the forest.

Why? WHY! Why was she making this harder than it needed to be? He was tired of playing cat and mouse. He barely had to walk briskly to catch sight of her again. This time he was going to make sure she stayed put. He extended his jingu bang out before her. He could have hit her with it, but he didn’t. She ran right into it on her own. Wukong grinned cheek to cheek as he watched the woman tumble over the staff and face plant into dirt. He laughed aloud as he made his way to her feet. His staff rested on her back in case she tried to run again.

“I guess you are a stupid as you look, but I am in a forgiving mood so answer my questions and I will make sure you don’t hurt yourself any more than you have already.”

The woman on the ground grabbed a fist full of dirt and debris, then with impressive precision managed to throw the filth in Wukong’s face, hitting him in the eye with a rather sharp pebble. She squirmed under the weight of his staff but could not free herself.

“GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE!” Her voice conveyed all the fear and malice Wukong knew to expect from every god and mortal alike that crossed his path.

This was the end of his patience. He was the one who was accosted. He was the one showing mercy. He was not the perpetrator in this attack. He did nothing wrong. And yet this insolent little mortal woman thinks she can attack and insult the great Sun Wukong? He was going to get the answers he wanted from the woman and then drag her ass back to his master. But first, he was going to teach her a lesson she would never forget.

“You think I’m a disgusting creature? You think I’m a monster? You’re the one who attacked me. But that just makes what I’m about to do you all the more justified.”

His fur stood up on end. the knuckles in his right hand cracked. The woman beneath him cowered as he readied his strike.

********

Sophie braced for whatever blow that monster was about release unto her. Huddled on the damp forest floor trembling in a fetal position, her eye clenched shut; she prayed for this nightmare to end. But no strike came.

She opened her eyes to see that her prayer was only halfway answered: she was still in this strange forest, but the monster that was attacking her was now seemingly incapacitated. He was doubled over on himself, clenching the golden band around his head. He looked to be in agony. Behind the monster was the pig-man and the human who were with her when she fell.

Sophie hardly registered the man back then. Now, riding on a white horse, with elegant robes, he looked like a prince out of a far away fairy tale. He was in deep concentration; muttering words Sophie could hardly hear. Pig-man looked on at Sophie and the monster with a seeming sense of shock. A third man was with them. A large blue man, with a not-unfriendly appearance. Sophie couldn’t remember if he was there all along or not. It didn’t matter. They were here now, and whatever that meant, their presence kept the monster at bay.

Blue-man walked to her side and helped her up slowly. “Please, little sister, accept this apology for the behaviour of my brother.” Sophie found his baritone voice to be assuring. “We do not mean you any harm. Our master, the monk Tripitaka, simply wants to know how it came to be that you have happened upon our company.”

Sophie looked to the man on the horse, this Tripitaka monk, and then back to the monster still reeling in pain. If she had any chance of surviving, it was with the monk. Guided by blue-man’s gentle hand, she began to follow the strangers through the forest.

Pig-man held her backpack in front of himself, “Little sister, you dropped this when you fell. I will carry it for you until we are back at our camp.” Sophie could tell he was trying to cheer her up, make her feel better. She simply nodded in silence and continued to stare blankly ahead, hoping the second half of her prayer would come true and she could leave this wretched place.

********

Hours had passed and Sophie was warming herself by a fire prepared by pig-man. Bajie, she had come to learn, or Pigsy as his friends called him. She held in her hand a cup of tea prepared by Wujing, who told her to call him Sandy. The cup was warm in her hands and the tea was bitter and earthy. Sophie would take sips and let the tea sit in her mouth awhile before swallowing. To her it seemed it was the only part of her existence she had any control over. She had finally stopped crying, but every now and then tears would well up and pour down her cheeks.

Once they had arrived at camp, Sophie had told Tripitaka all about the events of her day leading up to her being shoved out a store front door and onto the monkey monster, Sun Wukong. Wukong had more titles to his name, but Sophie didn’t care to learn them. Once Sophie and the monk had gone back and forth trying to puzzle out her story, he excused himself from her presence to sit in quiet contemplation. Sophie sat alone staring into the flames of the campfire.

Wukong sat at the outskirts of their camp. Sulking, arms crossed, and staring daggers at Sophie. She could sense him from the periphery of her vision but refused to make eye contact.

She didn’t know if she was more afraid of him than she was angry. She was angry at him and knew he was angry at her, which made her more afraid. When Pigsy assured her that Tripitaka had ways to make sure Wukong would behave himself, that seemed to make the monkey even angrier at her. No matter what, she could not allow herself to be alone with that monkey demon.

The sounds of Pigsy and Sandy setting up camp and preparing a meal, melded with the sounds of the forest: distant birds, chirping insects, and wind through the tree leaves. All the sounds blended together into a silence Sophie was able to ignore. She was tired of thinking, tired of existing; she wished for no more than to slip into nothingness. The only thing that seemed to keep her tethered to the reality was the crackling of the fire and the cup in her hand.

Finally, the silence was shattered by Tripitaka’s voice. “I have come to a decision.” The pilgrims halted whatever task they were performing to look at their master. Sophie slowly turned to meet his gaze as well.

“It seems to me that it is the wish of Buddha, as well as the wish of the Bodhisattva, that Sophie accompanies this party on our holy mission. Therefore, she shall act as my servant and assist us on our journey.”

The monk’s declaration was met with mixed reviews. Sandy accepted the news at face value, Pigsy seemed happy. Wukong was taken aback. Sophie shook her head in denial of the monk’s words.

“No. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.”

“Master, I beg you to reconsider,” Wukong interjected. “Our journey is hard enough already. If we take her on, she is just going to be another liability.”

Despite the protests of Sophie and Wukong, Tripitaka stuck to his conviction. “Sophie was offered a job by Guanyin to act as my assistant. I had told Wukong that whatever challenges should befall us, we must face; and you just so happened to fall upon Wukong. I don’t think it could be any clearer that you have been brought here to help keep my disciple in line, though how you might achieve that is a mystery to me.”

Sophie looked across at Wukong, who again stared back at her. If he was angry at her before, heaven knows what he was feeling now.

“My disciples shall assist you in your chores, until you find your own footing in this world. And then, you shall be able to carry your own weight on this journey so that you are not a burden or a liability.” The monk stared down Wukong as he finished his sentence.

“Tripitaka, please, I just want to go home,” Sophie pleaded to the monk.

“If it was in my ability to send you home I would do so in a heartbeat dear Sophie. Alas, the only one I know of who could perform such a miracle is Buddha and he is not here. As it were, we are on our journey to reach Buddha ourselves, if you wish to ask him to send you home you are more than welcome to accompany us.”

Tripitaka gave Sophie a sad smile. He was trying to make the best of her sorry situation. There was no denying the truth in his words, however. If she ever wanted to get back to her home, to her mother, she was going to have to accompany the monk on his journey to the west.

#sun wukong #journey to the west #jttw #jttw sun wukong #jttw-monkeybusiness #celestialkiri #fanfic #trust me I don't normally write this fast I was just hyperfixating

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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This is important, and it could save your life: the firefighters say that you should replace your smoke detectors every ten years. A whole-ass decade is a surprising amount of time for any electronic device these days to last, even when legislated to the nines. Although I don’t know that for sure, it probably isn’t this way out of guilt, at least.

Throwing something away after a mere ten years is antithetical to my very way of life. Every single thing has value, even when it might potentially malfunction when it comes time to keep you from dying. Even I will shoplift a new armload of the bastards (albeit wearing my most Home Depot-y shirt as I do so) and install them as need be.

Due to my hobbies and general dislike of throwing things away, I tend to have more risk of fire in my home than most. This results in a large surplus of sorta-good but untrustworthy smoke detectors, which slowly pile up in the corners of my home, unable to be banished at last to the municipal dump, who I am no longer on speaking terms with, ever since they didn’t let me take that old ceiling fan out of the junk pile. The foreman tried to taze me, even. Me, who has thought about paying taxes on at least two occasions this year. Customer service is awful these days.

What do you do with the old smoke detectors, you ask? Unfortunately, modern detectors no longer use exciting radiation sources as their emitter, so you can’t collect several thousand of them and then become the subject of a magazine article about how you got a new kind of cancer while trying to unlock the secrets of nuclear fission (it involves atoms.) That said, a “used-up” device is still an important safety device, but the kind of safety it provides has somewhat shifted. It doesn’t take much of an imagination to get the most basic ones: wheel chocks for when your parking brake (and transmission) don’t work on a hill. Imitation landmines to keep Bobby By-Law off of your property. Something to plug that open sewage pipe in the middle of what used to be the previous owner’s bathroom, so you stop falling in when you get up in the middle of the night to check if the power company has finally cut you off.

I’m sure there are hundreds of other ideas, but I only have like two working smoke detectors, and – due to the intransigence of the aforementioned power company – they’re both currently powered by a gas generator that I have welded onto the trunk of my Plymouth. It takes awhile to pile them up if I can only replace them every ten years. Maybe those eggheads in the government should consider cutting it to five years, give me some real inventory to work with. Hell, I bet if I had enough of these, I could use them as a tazer shield.

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pedropascalsx · 1 year

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Yours for the Weekend. {Javier Pena x F! Reader}

Summary: Javier returns to Laredo for a Long Weekend after being informed by HR he must use up his paid time off.

Warnings: A little angst, age-gap dynamic, kissing, nothing sexual in this chapter but marked explicit for future chapters. Reader has no physical descriptions.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter: 1 of 3.

A/N: Had this idea yesterday and wasn’t able to put it down. A huge thank you to the amazing @frannyzooey for editing, making the most helpful suggestions and being an incredible cheerleader. I am super grateful for you!

His nose scrunches up at the smell of freshly mowed grass and burning asphalt as the piping hot Laredo sun blazes down on it.

He was home. Kind of.

After working tirelessly and refusing to take any time off for months, HR had no choice but to demand he at least take a long weekend. Back to Texas, to see his Dad and spend the next few days tackling the jobs Chucho wasn’t able to do by himself, before rushing back to Colombia.

It had been just over a year since he last walked the familiar streets of home, ignoring the harsh whispering or the unwelcomed praises of their hometown hero. He’s never really sure of what he hates the most, the digs about how heartless he was to leave his high school sweetheart at the altar or the constant droning of how he is a hero; tackling drug crime with both hands at the expense of his own happiness.

After a while it became white noise, constantly crackling in the background and itching his brain in a place that he could never scratch. He has no doubt that this visit will be the same.

His cab pulls up to the Peña family ranch with Chuchos truck nowhere in sight. Javier pays the driver, insisting he keep the change as a tip before going to the back to grab his bag from the trunk. Knowing his dad would have made a fuss and insisted he pick him up from the airport, he hadn’t told Chucho he was coming back, and Javi didn’t want him to undertake any more unnecessary tasks so decided a surprise would be best.

Unlocking the door and stepping back inside the house he called home for most of his life is a feeling that he never fails to appreciate. The smell, the exact same furniture his mom and dad had picked out many years before and the sense of security is something rare that he allows himself to enjoy. A brief moment of serenity before he convinces himself he’s not a good enough man to enjoy the simple things.

The time of day and lack of food in the house alerts Javier to his Pops location. No doubt sipping an ice cold beer and chowing down on whatever special Rita has scrawled out on the chalkboard that sits slanted at the end of the bar. Food sounds good. He thinks to himself briefly before scrambling in the junk drawer for the set of keys to the spare truck that only gets used when Javier comes back into town.

‘Everything stays the same,’ he hums to himself as he pulls up to the bar, the sight of Chuchos truck making him chuckle as he parks up next to it.

Loud and unsurprisingly busy, he weaves through the crowd with his head down to go unnoticed, the corner of his mouth turning up as he spots his Pops in his usual seat chatting happily to Rita at the bar.

“Well, if it isn’t my lucky day!” Rita says with a beaming smile, “Both handsome Peña men in my bar at once! You never told me Javier was back in town.” She scowls at an equally surprised Chucho.

“I didn’t know myself!” He exclaims before pulling his son in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Had a few days to kill,” he says before pulling back, with the first genuine smile on his face for longer than he cares to admit, “Figured you’d be here as soon as I opened the fridge.”

“Best chow in town,” Chucho remarks with a wink. “Sit down.”

Wordlessly Rita hands Javi a beer and then shouts to the kitchen to add another special to Chuchos order, “On the house.”

“How long this time?” Chucho asks before taking a sip of his beer, his arm resting happily on the top of Javis back.

“Long weekend.” It doesn’t take long until people are coming over and thanking Javi for his hard work in Colombia and letting him know how proud they are of their ‘hometown hero.’

“Leave him alone,” a soft voice calls out, immediately grabbing Javi’s attention. He watches as she balances two plates with an insane amount of sides on a large tray. “Let him eat in peace,” she warns the room of patrons with a stern look.

“Thanks dear,” Chucho chimes in as you place a plate in front of him and then one in front of Javi. Adding the sides between them both. “Enjoy, let me know if y’all need anything else.”

“Thank you,” they both reply in unison, making you smile before heading back into the kitchen and grabbing your next set of plates.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be out there?” Chucho asks, knowing that he’s unlikely to be happy with Javier's answer.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Depends on the DEA I guess. Lots of work to do.”

“Mhmmm,” Chucho hums in response, digging into his enchiladas and deciding on having a lighter conversation.

“We should stop for groceries on the way home,” Javi remarks before taking a large chug of his beer, “Maybe grill up some steaks tonight and have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. The fence outback is fucked… we can work on it in the morning, get as much fixed before I head back out there.”

“Sounds like a hell of a rest you’re planning for yourself there, mijo.”

Every now and then you appear from the kitchen, a wide smile spread across your face as you hand out dishes and serve beer. And every so often you catch a glimpse of him, seemingly unsure of himself as he sips his beer and eats his food. Clearly aware that much of the focus on the room is on him. Not all of it good.

You’ve been there. In a similar situation where the small minded folk of this never changing town whisper loudly about your indiscretions, your mistakes and intimate parts of your life that none of them have a right to know. It makes your heart ache as you wonder if that’s what really sent him running.

You’d heard bits and pieces about what happened, the town had gathered for what was likely to be a beautiful wedding, the church filled with excited guests eagerly awaiting to toast the happy couple but it never happened. He had cold feet and confessed that she deserved better, she deserved to marry someone that wanted the life that she wanted and it simply wasn’t him. He left town shortly after that and began his work with the DEA.

It didn’t take long for the woman to move on and marry someone else but even after all these years, people still hold a grudge, a grudge that you now knew personally.

You lean across the bar quietly, counting your tips and preparing to clock out for the end of your shift before catching a glimpse of him again. A small smile sits on his face as his Dad vividly tells him a story, and before you have a chance to look away his eyes flash upwards and meet yours. Both of your eyes linger for a few seconds before your attention is ripped away by a customer demanding another beer, and you graciously oblige.

The sound of barstools scrapping has you looking up again, watching as the Peña men gather their belongings and leave payment and a generous tip on the bar for you.

“See you tomorrow, querida,” Chucho calls over to you, “If you could add Javi down for the quiz that would be much appreciated.”

“Of course, Chucho. It was nice seeing you again.” You say, looking over at him and watching his face contort in confusion as he clearly begins trying to work out when and where you’d met before.

“She’s a good girl,” Chucho remarks as they walk towards their trucks, “Made a decision similar to one of your own, but didn’t have the means to leave town.”

“I can't place her,” Javi admits with a hum, wondering what decision you had made.

“Sirenita,” Chucho says with a hearty chuckle, “The youngest Juarez girl.”

“Oh shit,” Javi says, raising his eyebrow, remembering the nickname that had stuck, because you were always clutching a mermaid doll as a girl.

The sun is no longer uncomfortably hot as Chucho turns the steaks on the grill, watching Javi silently plate up the precooked sides they had picked up from the store.

“Other than that fence what else can we tackle before I head home? I was thinking we could replace the railings out front before I go… They’re not as steady as they should be, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re relying on them more than ever.”

“Eat.” His dad replies ignoring his son's concerns. “I’m.. I’m glad you’re back, mijo,” he sighs, “Even if it’s just for a few days. I miss having you around.”

“It’s good to be back,” he half lies, he’s happy to see his father, happy to have the security that the four walls behind him provide, just not looking forward to the very real possibility of running into the ghosts of his past that seem hellbent on haunting his future.

“We should have just walked,” Javi scoffs as he attempts to find a space to park outside Rita’s. “I forgot how busy this place can get.”

“If you didn’t spend so much time making yourself pretty, we would have gotten here with plenty of time to find a space.” Chucho remarks before pointing out a spot just a little further down the road.

They both hop out of the truck and slowly meander towards the bar, watching the small crowd of people disappear inside, “Before we go in,” Chucho says, “You’ve got to realize that the work you do down in Colombia means a lot to the folks up here. Shake their hands when they come up to you, accept the compliment and take a sip of your beer. You’re like Santa Claus to some of these people. A rare sight. And they just want to thank you.”

“Pop—.”

“No, Javier, I know you hate it, I know it’s why you dragged your heels about coming tonight but just take it in your stride. For me.”

Javier nods a few times before bringing his hand to the top of Chuchos back, leading him towards the bar and taking a large inhale as he enters the bar and headfirst into the chaos.

He does as his father asks, shakes some hands, gracefully denies the offers to buy him a beer and makes his way through the crowd with a smile plastered across his face.

“No, Chucho! Not there!” Your voice calls out from the side of them, “Figured the guest of honor would prefer a booth that’s a little more out of the way than your usual haunt.” As you point to the booth at the very end of the bar, situated next to the makeshift stage that you’ll be calling out the questions from.

“Thank you, Chucho,” say as he greets his usual quiz team, watching with glee as they all greet Javi and give him their thanks and well wishes.

“Two beers?” You ask Javi, who’s looking at you with a grateful smile.

“Yes please… Sirenita.” He smirks.

“Ugh,” you groan, “Did you figure it out or did Chucho give you a heads up.”

“My Pops,” Javi admits with a shrug, “I-uh- I’m sorry I couldn’t place you. It’s been a long time since I saw everyone.”

“Don’t apologize, I was still a kid when you left. Now I’m all grown and thankfully that terrible nickname has since been retired by the folks here.” You say with a giggle. “I’m sure you’ll hear that I’ve joined you in the highly exclusive ‘Lotharios of Laredo’ club.”

He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re making your way back through the crowd and collecting two ice cold beers.

By the time you make it back Javier is deeply engaged in conversation with one of his fathers friends, answering question after question about the Escobar operation with a slightly uncomfortable ease.

“Good evening folks,” you say, before rolling your eyes at the enthused cheers from the audience, “Rita is on security duty, so if y’all even try cheating… Well lord, I, myself, will pray for y’all to have a speedy recovery. 30 questions. 3 highest scoring teams will win a prize. Let’s go!”

15 questions and multiple arguments across the table later a short intermission is called for bathroom breaks and beer refills. Javier sits quietly at the table watching you for a few moments. You’re still on the ‘stage’ and going through the sheets of paper with the next set of questions written on them. With a final chug of his beer, he pushes himself out of the booth and takes a few short steps towards you.

Clearing his throat he waits patiently for you to look up, “You okay there?” You ask with a smile, that makes his chest feel warm and fuzzy.

“Uh, yeah, I was just curious…” He says with a shrug, “This ‘exclusive club’, how exactly did a nice girl like you get inducted to it?”

“Maybe I’m not a nice girl,” you tease with a wink, “Tale as old as time. Childhood sweetheart arranges the ‘perfect proposal’ in front of the flower stand at the farmers market so basically the whole town can witness it and so I couldn’t say no.”

“Oh, shit… but you did? You did say no?” He asks with a twist of his lips.

“No, no, I said yes. But after booking a venue and trying on countless amounts of hideous gowns I couldn’t take it anymore and called the whole thing off, only to find out that his Mom had sent the invitations I wasn’t aware had even been made.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “That shit with paired with people's small town mentality isn’t fun.”

“It’s okay,” you say honestly, “They whisper about me more than you now, so at least this visit shouldn’t be so bad.”

“We will see,” he chuckles before Chucho slides up next to him and hands him another bottle of beer, “Anyway I best go back to my seat, keep this one from causing chaos.”

“Yeah. You should really keep an eye on that one,” you giggle, before scrunching your nose up at Chucho and grinning as he bops you on it.

The rest of the evening goes by without a hitch, you find yourself stealing more glances at Javier, unable to ignore just how handsome he is and you catch him looking back at you a few times. Both of you simply smile at each other when you do.

You announce the winners, happily to see the Peñas team came in third so have won a round of beers that they all seem thrilled about.

“Okay, I am asking everyone as nicely as I can,” you say with an inhale, “As I am the only one staying on to clean up tonight, please don’t leave your tables too cluttered tonight. Now go! Leave! Get home safely.”

“They work you too hard,” Chucho says with a shake of his head, “You shouldn’t be clearing up by yourself. Me and Javi will stay.”

“No,” you won’t, you say with a head shake of your own, “Your back has been giving you trouble all week. Go home, Chucho.”

“She’s right, old man,” one of Chuchos friends says with a chuckle, “You’d just get in the way.”

“I can help though,” Javi interjects, before turning to Mitch, “If you can drive my Pops home, I’ll stay and we will get it down in half the time.”

“You really don’t need-,”

“I know,” he says before tilting his head and leaning towards you and whispering, “But us ‘lotharios’ should look out for one another.”

“Fine,” you say with a scoff, “But lunch for both of you is on me tomorrow. It’s Chuchos favorite barbecue.”

You’re surprised at just how quickly you work together, you wash the plates and throw out the large collection of beer bottles as he clears the tables.

“Could you stack the stools on the bar?” You ask, seeing that he’s finished with the tables. “I don’t vacuum until the morning, but it’s just easier to move them up the night before.”

“Sure… How long have you been working here?” He asks, as he lifts up the first stool.

“Around six months… Rita hired me after the wedding shit. I wanted to pay back the deposits that his family had spent. I don’t need that shit hanging over my head.” You murmur, “People just love to throw that stuff back in your face around here… Figured if I paid it back, they couldn’t.”

“Smart,” Javi murmurs, “You back living with your parents?”

“No.” You shake your head and place the final glass into the pallet before stepping out of the kitchen. “They barely talk to me, still furious over the whole thing. I live in the apartment above the bar. Rita really helped me out.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. She was never on board with me marrying Lorraine… I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you getting home,” he says with a kind smile.

“No, just up the stairs. Thank you for staying and helping though. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah. No problem. I won’t be sleeping for a bit anyway, and Chucho will be snoring by the time I get back.”

You finish up the rest of the clearing up with small talk, telling him the story of a few weeks back when Chucho had the entire bar participating in the most horrendous rendition of ‘La Bamba’ known to man and grinning at the way Javi snorts with laughter.

Noticing it’s the first time that he looks genuinely relaxed, the smile on his face soft and not stiff. He looks younger, just as handsome but his big brown eyes shine a little brighter.

“Do you want to stay for coffee? Or a whiskey? Whatever you’d prefer.” A voice that sounds eerily like yours asks.

He stares at you for a few seconds, weighing up his options before looking down and shaking his head, “I better not. It’s not that I don’t want to… But it’s better for you if I don’t.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding your head before shaking it. “Why?”

“You already know how people talk,” he says with a shrug, “A whole bunch of people saw me offer to stay and help you clear up. You don’t deserve—.”

“I stayed,” you scoff, “If I cared about what people thought of me, I would have left. I would have found somewhere, but it’s fine, Javier, if you don’t want to stay… don’t.”

“I said that it’s not because I don’t want to,” he repeats as you round the bar. Stepping toward him until you’re practically toe to toe.

“Then stay,” you whisper, watching as his restraint snaps and whimpering as his hand shoots out behind your hand and drags you closer to him. His mouth covers yours in a needy kiss. He groans as he captures moans of your own, swallowing them down as he presses you up against the bar.

He’s only here for the weekend after all.

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