#my tagging is going rogue so I’ll stop here-

[leighsartworks216]

Migraine Pain

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this for me bc I have a migraine rn and I want Astarion to act as my personal cold pack. Beginning of Astarion's dialogue taken from the vid Neil did of an Astarion wake up call lol

Not proofread bc brain hurts

Warnings: migraine descriptions, pain, light angst if you squint, swearing, OOC Shadowheart

Word Count: 1,839

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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The two knocks at the door split your skull. Each one like an iron spike hammered into your temples. All you could do was hide deeper under the covers, hoping they would muffle the sound enough to stop hurting.

“Darling, get up,” Astarion called through the wood. Two more knocks accentuated his annoyance. He groaned when he didn’t hear any movement. “Get the fuck up!”

You wished you could tell him what was going on - really you did. But the slightest twitch from your tadpole was enough to have you wishing for death. Hells, you’d make a deal with Raphael with unbalanced terms just so it would go away! Instead, all you could do was wait it out. It would be a long wait indeed.

With another irritated sigh, you could hear the familiar scrape of his lockpicking tools working at the lock. Even the quiet metal-on-metal grated right against your eardrums. Fortunately, he was exceptionally skilled, because with a click the door was swinging open.

He rolled his eyes when he saw the lump of your body underneath the blankets. “My gods, you’re so lazy. Just like Gale.” His footsteps, even as an elven rogue, were too damn loud. You pressed your nose into the mattress, willing the thumping pulse in your head to stop. It thudded behind your eyes with each step.

In one swift motion, the blankets that provided the small mercy of darkness were whipped off of you. You curled as tightly into yourself as possible, covering your head with your arms to block out the sunlight streaming into your room. Astarion scoffed.

“Get out of bed and get up!” He gestured to the window. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the rustling of his shirt. “It’s the morning. Listen, I might be a vampire that’s been away from the sun for 200 years, and I can actually now walk in it thanks to a tadpole that’s induced my mind,” he rambled, before huffing indignantly, “but even I don’t rest in!”

Now was the worst time for his dramatics. You usually adored how sassy and silly he could be, but now it just drove a stake through your brain. Even the Absolute couldn’t cause a pain this agonizing.

You whimpered, reaching out with one arm to swat him away. You missed. “Please, stop,” you whined. “Head hurts.”

He clicked his tongue. “Nothing the cleric can’t fix. C’mon, she can do whatever it is she does on our way out of here.”

You shook your head slowly, burying your face further and further into the bed. Gods, why did it have to hurt so fucking bad? Your chest tightened as the burn of tears stung at your eyes. Even crying hurt. Your body trembled and shook, your hands tangling into your hair to press at your affliction, as choked sobs suffocated you. Each gasp for air felt like a vice gripping your brain.

“Darling?” Astarion spoke, much softer. You couldn’t answer. He sighed softly, no longer annoyed. Well, a little annoyed. He dragged the blankets back up to your shoulders. “I’ll get Shadowheart.”

His footsteps were much lighter as he rushed out of your room. Was… this the work of the tadpoles? But wouldn’t they be affected, too? Ugh, why couldn’t anything be simple in this damn group of weirdos?

Shadowheart rushed in a moment later, remembering to keep her steps light halfway to you. She knelt down, frowning at the sight of the group’s leader so shaken. “Is it a migraine?” she whispered.

A sharp pain bolted through your temples as you nodded. You whimpered.

She sighed quietly. There was nothing her magic could do; migraines weren’t something she could just heal. “I’ll tell the others and whip up some tea, alright?”

She didn’t wait for your answer and set to work closing the curtains over the windows. Astarion frowned, missing the golden light already. “What’s wrong with them?”

Shadowheart put a finger over her lips with a glare. He scowled, but didn’t say anything. She only spoke when she was right next to him in the doorway. “They have a migraine. They’re extremely sensitive to light and sound right now.”

“Can’t you do something?” He glared impatiently at her, crossing his arms.

“There’s nothing for it. All we can do is wait. I suggest getting comfortable - we’re not leaving today.” She slipped past him, back down the stairs to the rest of your anxious companions.

He tapped his arm as he watched the lump under the blankets shift slowly as you finally uncovered your head. Baldur’s Gate was so close. Cazador was so close. They couldn’t deal with these delays when he was so damn close to being honestly, truly free.

He hadn’t moved from his post by the door when Shadowheart returned with a steaming cup of tea. She placed it carefully on your bedside table. “Drink this,” she whispered. “It should help with the pain.”

You nodded slightly, wiping at your face. She offered a little sympathetic smile. She gave Astarion a stern look as she passed. “Don’t try taking a nibble, vampire.”

He forced a sweet smile. “Offering yourself up instead?”

She scoffed, scrunching her nose up at the mere thought. “They need rest. And you leering over them isn’t going to help.” She left once more, with a last cursory glance over her shoulder to see if he’d leave.

Once she was out of sight, Astarion stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. His feet barely made a sound as he found his way back to your side. At least you weren’t curled up into a little ball anymore. Or crying. Small mercies, he supposed. He had no idea how to deal with someone being sick, let alone someone crying.

You looked at the cup on the table. Liquid salvation. The real trick was being able to drink it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to sit up, wincing and whimpering with every jerky motion. He was honestly shocked you didn’t jump when he grabbed your arm to help, but perhaps you really were that out of it. Or you knew he was there. Either way, you thank him in the smallest, most pathetic voice he’s ever heard.

Comfortably propped up on a stack of pillows against the headboard, you reached over to try grabbing the cup. He caught your hand just before you knocked the cup over.

“Careful, darling,” he chastised quietly. With a put-out sigh, he sat down at the edge of the bed and picked up the cup. He brought the rim to your lips. “Since you’re so incapable…”

You carefully took a sip. Your whole face relaxed at the warmth, and the soothing herbs mixed in. It wouldn’t be an immediate remedy, but it was a very pleasant one. After you eagerly drained half the cup, he set it back on the table. You sighed with relief, content in the knowledge even a single percentile of your pain could be eased away.

“You don’t have to stay,” you mumbled, watching him through squinted eyes. Even the dimness of the room was too bright for you.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Least I could do after such a rude awakening.”

You chuckled, but the sound was cut short with a strong wince. You sat there for a moment, face pinched and brow tight as you waited for the sting to pass. Once it did, your face softened once more.

“How bad is it?”

“Like Dwarves are taking pickaxes to my temples in search of gold.” You took a breath. “And like an ogre is sitting on my head.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not much I can do to help with that, love.”

You hummed, shaking your head ever so slightly. You didn’t want to go jostling the miners when they were so damned hard at work.

With a small gesture toward the cup, Astarion helped you finish off the last half of the tea. A small dribble fell from the corner of your mouth down your chin. He caught it with his thumb quickly, the knuckles of his closed hand brushing your cheek. You leaned into the touch immediately, without even thinking about it. You sighed with relief.

“You’re cold.”

“Mm. Comes with being undead.” He set the cup aside, but allowed his hand to linger. In fact, he opened it up so he cupped your cheek with his palm. A sharp chill raced down your spine, but you didn’t pull away.

It was curious, how easily you placed yourself in his care. Watching as your eyes shut in easy tranquility as you indulged in the coolness of his hand, how relaxed you became - it surprised him. You always found new ways to amaze him.

Slowly, not wishing to jostle you, he moved to press his hand to your temple. If he thought you were relaxed before, this was utter bliss. “Gods, don’t stop,” you begged.

He glanced at the door, half expecting Shadowheart to burst in and yell at him for disturbing you. But nothing happened. Still, it would be better to avoid being told off. He pulled away, but kept a hand on your arm. “Lay down, dove.”

Whether out of desperation to have him acting as a cold compress once more or just to take the pressure off your brain, you complied in a heartbeat. Slowly, you shimmied back down into the covers, head situated on a pillow once more.

Astarion thought for a moment. Did he really want to keep sitting here, back tiring out, arms reaching for hours? You whined, placing a hand over his on your arm, asking without words for relief. He hushed you.

As quickly as he could without shaking the bed, he stood, rounded it, and slipped in under the covers beside you. You gravitated toward him immediately, even as you winced. Head on his chest, arms clinging to him like a babe holding onto its mother, you relaxed into the natural chill he offered. He rested a hand back on your cheek, but slid the other to the back of your neck. That was the sweet spot, it seemed; you practically melted in his arms.

It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, lulled into peace with the aid of the tea. He stared at the dark curtains blocking out the sun. One more day couldn’t hurt, surely. Not that they really had a choice, but…

You stirred in your sleep, turning your head to press your nose further into the ruffles of his shirt. Like this - bags under your eyes, hair a mess, a bit pallid - he was sure. He would Ascend. You’d never have to suffer like this again. Neither of you would. He’d be the most powerful man in the lands, with you at his side. Never again would he have to live in fear, bound in chains to someone else.

He sighed and rested his cheek lightly on your head. Gods. Just a few days now.

---

Tag List:

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[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS System Reveal Fic round up!

If you know one that hasn’t been recc’ed, then please put it in the comments/tags! I’ll add it to the post!

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate.

Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

What is Seen by CaveteDracones

…is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison? (NOTE: This one was recommended three times, and I have personally reread it multiple times. It’s one of my favorites and I really do want to read more fics in a similar vein lol)

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

Futility in Practice by TGP

When Luo Binghe is fourteen years old, his shizun suffers a terrible qi deviation and fever that completely changes who he is.

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?”

First, do no harm by Terias

Shen Qingqiu has been acting especially erratic since awakening from his three day coma after a severe qi deviation.

Mu Qingfang investigates and discovers a great many things about his new shixiong. (NOTE: This one has Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu as the same soul, technically, but it still works I think!)

Show The Screenshots by A_Non_ymousWriter

When a rogue foreign System sends out a subtle virus, some outsiders are shown chat messages between a certain two transmigrators and their Systems.

AirplaneBro: nah dude shen jiu would never lay a hand on his female disciples like that, hes gay

Liu Qingge tripped on thin air while Mu Qingfang choked on his tea as Shang Qinghua (their god? creator??) casually shattered their view of their original Shen Qingiu. The fake Shen Qingqiu at least, was sharing their shock.

CucumberBro: EXCUSE ME WHAT??

CucumberBro: The fuck he is?!?! He literally GOES TO BROTHELS! LIU QINGGE FOUND HIM IN BED WITH A WOMAN THAT ONE TIME?

AirplaneBro: aight bro buckle the fuck up cuz imma take u on a joyride all about shen jiu >:)

—————-

Binghes#1Fan: I don't want to send Binghe into the Abyss...

System 2: User must comply, if User cannot do the task User will be punished and the account will be terminated.

Mobeis #1Fan: sorry bro unless ur okay w being ded af u gotta push binghe into the abyss

Ning Yingying's fists clenched. Okay, so trying to get Yuan-ge and A-Luo together would be harder than she thought.

[zepskies]

Love Actually - Part 1

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.  

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.” 

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload! 

Part 1: "Humbug"

He was late. 

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late. 

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sunk further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm. 

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.  

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.” 

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.  

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—” 

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass. 

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform. 

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment. 

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum. 

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head. 

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day. 

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow. 

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits. 

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session. 

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head. 

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn. 

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit. 

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms. 

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.  

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown). 

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow. 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.” 

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom. 

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately. 

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie. 

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York. 

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment. 

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that? 

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you. 

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower. 

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and  was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why… 

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. 

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier. 

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt. 

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate. 

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen. 

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face. 

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you. 

“What now?” he groused. 

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest. 

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek. 

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV. 

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said. 

You frowned and followed his gaze. 

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment. 

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said. 

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.   

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity. 

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck. 

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm. 

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back. 

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability. 

Then he turned to face the TV screen. 

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?” 

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded. 

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men. 

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.  

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face. 

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face. 

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist. 

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up. 

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband. 

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world. 

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone… 

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa. 

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you. 

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose. 

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either. 

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders. 

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father. 

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th. 

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep. 

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

**Note: There will be two more parts to this due to popular request!

Keep Reading: PART 2

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 6: Before the Assault on Moonrise

Chapter 6: Before the Assault on Moonrise

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, developing relationship, blood, boundaries

WC: 2.3k words, 6/18 chapters

Summary: A feeding-hug for Rogue!Tav and Astarion. They're still working out how to act around each other, with Astarion setting the boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug5][Hug7] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It feels like the calm before the storm. Come tomorrow, you’ll head to Moonrise and begin an attack on the evil that resides there. You’ve freed the Nightsong, given Shadowheart some time to herself, and now gathered the Harpers for a full-on assault. Your companions are all itching to get going– for the most part. 

Throughout the Gauntlet of Shar, Astarion had been a bit off. You imagined it was an odd combination of learning about the scars on his back and, selfishly, both of you trying to figure out something real between you. Now that you’ve left the Gauntlet though, Astarion still seems lost.

“Something the matter, love?” you ask him over dinner at the Last Light Inn. The two of you are eating together, though he only holds a glass of wine to your plate of actual food. He seems deep in thought, staring off into the distance as he runs his tongue over one of his fangs.

Astarion jumps at your words, taking a second to register that you’re speaking to him. “It’s nothing,” he says, on instinct. Then, after a stern look from you, follows it with. “I’m just a tad peckish, my dear.”

Tilting your head, you ask, “Have you not found something to your liking today?” Early on, you’d agreed that he can and should drink from any enemy with a pulse.

He shakes his head ruefully. “Not much on offer out here,” he sounds wistful, and you register an underlying desperation to his voice. “I don’t think I’ve had a solid meal… well, since we entered the Shadowlands.”

You balk at that, thinking back to every enemy you’ve faced so far. Undead, plants, cursed fish, the odd shade, and he hasn’t fed from you since you’d agreed to take things slowly– how did you not realize this sooner? “Astarion, you must be starving!” You push your own food away, as if its presence would only make his hunger worse. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What will you do, bring the undead back to life? And it’s not like I could drink from a Harper,” he rolls his eyes and pauses. “Wait, do you think I could–”

“Don’t you dare,” you stop his thought process in its tracks, holding up a hand. “We are nice to the Harpers and we appreciate their help, got it?” 

“Oh, you’re no fun,” he pouts. “I guess I’ll just continue to starve. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone without.” He adds that last sentence as a bitter afterthought. The thought of him having gone weeks, months, a year without so much as a drop of blood tears at your heart.

“And why don't you ask me?” you ask, quieting your voice so that only he can hear you in the din of the Inn.

He looks genuinely confused. “Ask you what?”

You narrow your eyes at him– surely he didn’t forget you are not an undead, not an aberration or anything of the sort. Right? “Um, ask me for blood?” you offer, equally confused.

“Ah,” he says, it comes out like a soft huff. “My love, I couldn’t.”

“And why not?” You bristle at the thought that your blood isn’t good enough, isn’t as satisfying as some random Harper’s. “Am I no longer to your taste?”

Placing a hand on his chest, he gives you an aghast look, “Of course not, dear. You’re quite possibly the most delectable creature I’ve had the fortune to taste. In every single way.”

You hear a startled choke from behind you. Astarion has not been keeping his voice quiet in the same way you have, and a blushing Gale tries to pretend that he is absolutely enthralled by the plate of food in front of him.

Shooting a look at Astarion, who doesn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed, you say, “Let’s talk a bit more privately, shall we?”

“If you insist,” he replies, with a hand wave. “But I hope you know it isn’t the first time that half this team imagines devouring you.”

You decide to ignore the bait, opting instead to drag him gracelessly away from the Last Light’s central area. All but pulling him upstairs, you set him on a bed and place your hands on your hips.

“You’ve had your fun, now tell me truthfully,” you start, keeping him pinned with your eyes. “Why haven’t you asked to drink from me? You know I’m happy to offer.”

“Darling,” he starts, eyes avoiding yours, clearly intending to avoid this conversation. “I don’t see what the big deal is. We deal with the cult, we get back to Baldur’s Gate and I’ll have a veritable feast of ruffians to pick from.”

“The big deal is that you planned on suffering by yourself this entire time,” you say, and hurt begins to color your voice. “I thought we were being more… honest with each other. Maybe I was wrong about that.”

Astarion stands then, whispering your name as he takes a step toward you. “I am being honest, love. I can’t possibly drink from you, not anymore.” His hands reach up to cup your face, and the ruby eyes that lock with yours are so very conflicted.

“Why not?” you ask again, trying to keep firm under his piercing eyes but failing miserably.

“Because it feels different with you,” he says, quietly. He rubs a cool thumb across your cheek, bravado all gone as a searing sweetness settles between you both. “You’re not some bandit, some cultist, or goblin. I don’t want to hurt you and…” Astarion looks down, away from you. “I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

You lean into his hands, closing your eyes. A strange sort of relief settles over you as you respond, “My sweet fool.”

“What?” he says, indignantly.

“I don’t feel like I owe you anything,” you say before opening your eyes again. “I want to do this for you.”

“And how do I know that I haven’t just entranced you against your will?” he says with a soft, disbelieving scoff as his eyes search yours. “In fact, I’m finding that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I'd rather someone’s blood remain soundly in their body.”

“What if,” you start, not sure how to say it without sounding insane. You drop eye contact with him to muster the will to continue, “What if I said I liked it when you fed from me?”

He’s silent and you’re suddenly worried that you’ve said too much, been a little too honest too quickly. But when you finally bring your eyes back to him, you just see a war going on behind Astarion’s eyes. A deep hunger, surely, but above all else, a concern– one that you know is for you and your well-being. 

“I promise I’m not just saying that,” you add, hoping to assuage his worries.

Your love doesn’t seem to believe you, brows furrowed and hands gripping your face a bit tighter as he tilts it this way, then that way. “You… like having your life force drained out of you?”

“Listen,” you start, placing a hand on Astarion’s arm to stop his examinations. “If you don’t want to believe me, you don’t have to. But I invite you to drink from me regardless. You can’t confront the armies at Moonrise like this.”

He finally releases your face, shoulders drooping with a heavy sigh. “In two centuries, I never thought I would be fighting an offering of blood like this, but darling, if I injure you, if I take too much…”

“You haven’t before,” you try reasoning. “Besides, I’ve pushed you off once, I can always do it again.”

“Fine,” he says with a frown. “But don’t you dare hesitate.”

“You know I wouldn’t,” you respond easily, tugging on one of his hands. “Shall we get comfortable?”

Astarion allows you to take him back to the bed, sitting down in a manner all at once defeated and eager despite himself. You can’t even imagine the hunger he must be feeling right now, and the fact that his feelings for you could have overridden even a portion of that astonishes you. You sit down next to him and bare your neck.

He settles in behind you, hands ghosting at your neck and shoulders. “You’re certain?” he asks again, eyes large and pleading. 

“Yes,” you stress. “But if you’re that worried, could I make a request?”

“Anything,” he says, the word a breath on his lips.

You still waver, the vulnerability new and quite frightening. “Well, the previous bites haven’t been exactly cozy. Would you mind… holding me while you bite?”

Astarion’s response comes in the form of his arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you into his chest. He places a fleeting kiss under your ear before burying his head into the crook of your neck. Nuzzling softly, his nose tickles your bare skin. “Cozy enough, my dear?”

“Mmm, yes,” you say, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. You hadn’t expected him to embrace you so thoroughly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs and he sounds utterly bewitched as he inhales. The sharp bite that follows catches you by surprise and you know that he couldn’t resist any longer. He takes a long pull from your neck, drinking more deeply than he has in weeks.

However, unlike previous times that he’s fed on you, this feels distinctly different. It’s the first time he’s bitten you since you’ve agreed to figure out, well, whatever you have between you two. And it shows.

It shows in how his arms, which had previously held you in place while biting, gently squeeze around you. In how his lips, which he used to bare wide, press the occasional soft kiss as he drinks. In how your heads tap together, his curls caressing your cheek.

Oh, you think distantly as you lean into his devouring mouth. I see why this might feel different from a bandit. While it felt like a nice gift you could provide before, now the act of feeding him feels immensely close. Could you always feel his breath on you like this?

You don’t have to ponder long before he pulls away, placing one last kiss where he’s bitten. “There,” he says, taking a shallow breath. “How do you feel?”

Taking a second to check in with yourself, you find that you feel pretty normal. “I feel good, too good,” you say, turning to face him. “Are you sure you had enough?”

Astarion licks a few drops of blood from his lips as he surveys you, verifying your liveliness. He smirks before responding, “More than enough. As I said, I was only peckish. Thank you, love.”

He looks more vibrant now– his eyes shine bright in the firelight of the inn and there’s a rosy tint to his skin that wasn’t there before– so you decide not to push it. “You’re welcome, and thank you,” you say, grinning at him cheekily.

“Whatever are you thanking me for?” he asks, skeptically.

“If you always embrace me so tenderly while you feed, I may run out of blood asking for another go.”

Astarion clicks his tongue with annoyance. “I was not being tender. I was quite literally consuming you. Could you please have an ounce of self-preservation?” 

You keep a small, satisfied smile on your face as you shrug. “Some mighty righteous words from a man who was just refusing to feed.”

“How about this,” he starts, leaning into you. “I promise to seek you out if I need sustenance and you promise to never call me tender again. What will the others think of me?“

You lean right back into him, and give a short affirming nod. “Your secret is safe with me, my oh-so-fearsome vampire.”

“Thank you, my delicious little treat,” he responds. Swiftly bringing your hand to his face, he places a kiss on the back of it. “And thank you for…” He clears his throat. “Helping me navigate whatever this is.” The vampire vaguely gestures between you both and it’s evident what he means. If feeding felt different for you, he surely felt it too. Even the emotions bubbling at the surface now feel different. It would surely settle in time, but for now, learning together, it is a terrifying new unknown.

“Of course,” you say, placing your other hand on top of his. Your eyes meet in unspoken communication, marveling at the absurdity of your situation, of your gentle moment. Of course, you must be the one to break it. “I was worried for a moment there.”

“Whatever for?”

“I thought maybe you didn’t like the taste of my blood anymore, maybe I ate something off-putting,” you pretend to sniff at your arm, as if you’d be able to pin down the scent of your blood.

Astarion shakes his head at you, ruefully. “I meant it when I said you’re the most delectable.” His eyes get a distant look to them, as he thinks. “Maybe it’s because you were the– ehem– first. Or because you're just… you. But you have a lovely flavor.”

Unable to help your own curiosity, you ask, “What do I taste like?”

“It’s hard to pin down.” He pulls your hand to his nose for a long sniff. “But you taste like warmth feels.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, but by the way it’s sending your heart somersaulting, you’re not certain you’d be very coherent anyway. So you just give a little, “Mmm.”

Astarion laughs at your reaction and drops your hand. “Let’s head back to dinner. You’ll have to keep your energy up if we’re to defeat the Absolute or whatever nonsense.” He gets up to leave and you return to reality.

“And to keep my blood tasting warm,” you quip, standing up and following after your vampire.

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Din Djarin

Rating: E

Chapter warnings/tags: SMUT, first time, piv, fingering, bit of dirty talk & praise kink, loving sex, helmetless!din (in the dark), snuggling, gratuitous use of "baby" as a pet name

Chapter length: 5.2k

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notes: enjoy :D also just a quick note that i'm so grateful for all of you wanting to be on the taglist, but i'll only add you if you have your age in your bio/if i know you're over 18!

been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night (now i’m wide awake); and now i see daylight, i only see daylight

“He says there’s a rogue Pyke cell causing trouble in the town,” Din tells you as the door to your suite closes. The kid is curled up in his arm, already half asleep. “Should be a simple mission. He didn’t ask for my help, but I wanted to offer it.” 

You smile, heart warming at his words. He is always so quick to help his friends. Never hesitates. It’s one of your favourite parts about him. 

“Do you mind?” He asks. “I can stay, if you’d feel more comfortable.”

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I’ll be safe here.” 

He nods his agreement, then tells you he’s going to put the kid to bed. Before he does, you sneak a quick kiss to Grogu’s forehead, then watch with a smile as Din turns and takes him into his little room. 

As you head into the bedroom, removing the hair pins that have kept your hair back all evening, your stomach does a little flip as you remember Din’s promise from earlier. That he’d help you relax.

He could’ve meant any number of things. But his tone of voice made it pretty clear just which thing he meant. 

Alongside the excited anticipation comes some nerves, though. The only time you’ve really been intimate was very different to what this could be. There wasn’t a bed, for starters. A million questions are rushing through your mind at once as you perch on the edge of the bed, staring ahead at nothing, listening to the soft sounds of him getting the kid comfortable in the other room.

Is he going to want to take your shirt off? To see you? Are you going to be able to see him, his outline, or will he ask you to keep your eyes closed? How far is he going to want to take things? 

How far do you want to take things? 

Well, at least you know one of the answers: As far as he’ll let me. 

“Hey,” his voice comes through the quiet. He’s walking through the bedroom door, closing it softly behind him. Then, after watching you for a second, he twists the lock on it. 

Oh, kriff.

“Is that okay?” He asks when your eyes dart down to the door handle, to the lock he just clicked shut. 

You nod, enthusiastic. The light in here is dim and warm, orange lamps on each wall lighting up the space. He’s glowing amber and dark silver all at once. Just standing here, watching you, his fingers flexing at his sides. You wonder what’s going on in that beautiful mind of his. What he’s planning on doing next. 

You get so caught up in the beautiful mystery of him that you barely notice him stepping closer.

“Cyar’ika,” he says quietly. You watch as he crouches down in front of you, reaches out his hands and runs them up the outsides of your thighs. A soft sigh escapes your lips, your eyelids fluttering closed. 

“Din,” you breathe out. 

“What do you want?” 

And, kriff. If you answered that in all honesty, in all detail, you’d never stop listing the ways that you want him to touch you.

“Just you,” you whisper, and cup his helmet between your hands. “Please.” 

He nods in response. His hands come away from your legs, only disappointing for a second because you soon realise that he’s taking his gloves off, placing each one on the floor beside him. Then he touches you again, this time running his bare palms all the way up from your knees to your thighs, around the sides of your hips, landing eventually on your waist, holding you tight. 

You’re already crumbling under his touch. Subconsciously, your thighs clench together as you feel the first thrum of arousal shoot through your centre. 

His fingers are on your face, then, just one of his hands gently cupping your cheek. His bare skin is so warm, soft, not familiar enough for your liking. You wish you could feel him like this always; wish you could run your hands over every inch of him. 

“Din,” you find yourself saying, gripping tight to his shoulders. 

He slides his fingers back into your hair. Shit, it feels so good. “I want to turn the lights off,” he says unexpectedly.

You nod quickly, knowing that means he’s probably going to take his helmet off, let you touch his face—

His hand leaves your skin and instead finds the light switch on the wall, sending the room into darkness just a second later. A tiny beam of light shines under the door from the living room, and you can just about see his outline, your eyes getting used to the new dark.

Then, he takes his helmet off. 

And—the rest of his armour. 

Oh, fuck. 

Your hands are on him as soon as you hear the last of the beskar being removed, and you run your palms all over his flight suit, down the softness of his chest, up over his shoulders, his arms, his neck. Then they find his hair, maybe the best place to be, and you dig your nails into his scalp in your eagerness. 

He bites back a moan, his nose so close to yours that they brush together. “Cyar’ika,” he says, “you don’t know what you do to me.” 

You do know. You know, because he does the same to you.

“I want—” He cuts himself off. Like he’s not sure if he should say it. 

You lean in, kiss him. Hot and fast and urgent. “Tell me what you want,” you whisper into his mouth, “Please, Din. Whatever you want, you can have it.” 

He’s panting for air as he pulls away, pressing your bare foreheads together. There are loose curls falling in his face, a combination of your hair and his. “Just,” he says, “give me a second.” And he pulls away. 

You feel cold, all of a sudden, the lack of his body right in front of you the only thing you can feel. You see the vague outline of his silhouette backing up towards the wall, and then he stops.

“Are you alright?” You ask. 

He chuckles. It’s so fucking gorgeous outside of his helmet. “Don’t worry,” he tells you, “I’ll be back. Just—” 

A zip.

Multiple zippers, pulling, undoing. 

Then, the sound of heavy fabric falling to the floor.

Oh, fuck. 

“Din…” you breathe, your mouth suddenly dry. You can barely see the shape of his shadow, only the side of him that faces the light. It’s less than you could see of him back on the ship that night. 

And yet you know, you feel, that he’s bare before you.

He crouches down in front of you again, reaching for your waist. He doesn’t even have to search for you in the dark. 

“Can I…?” You ask, hands hovering uncertainly in the space between you.

He dips his head close to you, but misses your lips, instead diving right into your neck. One of his hands gently pushes your hair away, and then he’s kissing your neck, open-mouthed and wet. “Touch me,” he whispers against your pulse point. “Please. If you want to.”

You’ve waited so long for this. 

His bare skin. Right here. Just for you. 

The fact that he even had to specify If you want to is almost enough to make you laugh. But first thing’s first: 

You touch his face. Run your fingertips through his beard, back into his hair, scratching at his scalp. Then your hands move down to the back of his neck, and you’re used to meeting resistance there, the fabric of his cowl stopping you from going any further. 

But, fuck, he’s naked.

“Oh, kriff,” slips from your mouth and comes out closer to a sob than anything else. Your hands slide down the bare stretch of his back, feeling hair and scars and his muscles shifting as he continues to mouth at your neck, his hands gripping tightly to your waist. “Fuck, Din, it’s you…” 

“It’s me, Mesh’la,” he breathes, gently nosing at the neckline of your shirt so he can kiss the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. He sucks, pulls your flesh into his mouth. 

You gasp at the sensation, but your hands don’t slow in their path. His skin is so warm—hot—beneath your palms as they run over his back, down his ribs, catching on the bacta patch that still sits over his knife wound. It’s as you move to touch his stomach that you realise your hands are only a part of this. It’s your mouth that wants to feel him next. 

“Din,” you whisper, “please, on the bed, I need to…” 

“What do you need?” He settles his nose on your cheekbone, his moustache brushing right up against the corner of your mouth. His breath is so hot. So sweet. So familiar.

Before answering him, you can’t help it; you turn your head, catching his lips in a kiss that can only be described as desperate. Your hands find their way back to his face, their favourite place to be when he’s kissing you like this. He’s gripping your shirt in his fists and his tongue pushes against yours, slides, gives and takes just right. 

You tug at him, urging him closer, onto the bed. “Want to kiss you,” you say. 

“You already are,” he points out with a smirk. 

“Want to kiss you everywhere,” you pull harder on him, and he gets the message, breaking away from your lips for long enough to stand up and climb onto the bed. You follow him, but you can’t see him, and you accidentally kneel on his thigh. “Sorry,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “It’s alright,” then his hands are on you, gently pulling you close. 

“Do you have night vision, or something?” You ask as he guides you to settle on his lap. You can feel, now, that he’s leaning back against the headboard, his body stretched out on the bed beneath you.

“I just always know where you are,” he tells you. 

You snort a laugh. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and you take the luxury of sliding your hands, slowly, up from his navel, through his chest hair, to his shoulders. 

“Kriff,” he curses softly, tugging you in even closer. You’re almost pressed chest-to-chest, and his hands are holding so firm at your hips that your shirt has rucked up a little.

You realise, then, that you’re still devastatingly clothed. 

“Wait, let me…” you start to unbuckle your trousers, then pause, ask, “Do you mind if I…?” 

“Whatever you want,” he says. 

You take off your pants, and then your panties, because right now the only thing you can think about is wanting his hands on you again like they were before. For him to touch you, feel you, to let him go places no one else ever has…

You hesitate at your shirt. 

It’s dark. He can’t see you. He wouldn’t be able to see your scars even if you did take your shirt off.

But his hands. He’ll feel them. Feel you. Every curve and line you were taught to hate, every scar they gave you to make it worse.

You can’t.

“Hey,” his soft voice, “it’s alright. You don’t have to.” 

You glance at him like you’ll be able to see his expression. Instead, all you can see is the outline of one side of his face. 

It’s enough. 

You let go of the hem of your shirt, settling in his lap, getting yourself comfortable again. His hands find your waist once more but they don’t linger, instead spreading flat against your back, separating so that one slides up towards the back of your neck, the other pressing as low as he can get on your spine. He’s cradling you, wrapping you in his arms. 

The need to kiss him comes back. 

You start at his lips, but soon trail the familiar path down to his neck. You meet no resistance from his armour though, and you can keep going, so you do. His clavicle, his shoulders, his arms, lifting them up one by one so you can press kisses all down his bicep, his elbow, his forearm. Then to his chest, nuzzling your nose in the hair there, letting your mouth open around his nipples and feeling your stomach buzz with arousal at the noise he makes. You feel it in his chest, the vibration against your face, in your mouth. 

He’s so real here, so hot and soft and perfect, all muscles and curves and soft edges amongst the sharp ones. You can feel scars on his skin, just small ones here and there. Your mouth pays special attention to each one, peppering feather-light kisses to every inch of them. 

All the while, his hand sits in your hair, gently massaging at your scalp. It feels so good, so fucking good, the gentle tug he gives every now and again just making it better. 

“Cyar’ika,” he says when your lips find their way back up to his neck, sucking a mark to the other side this time. 

“Mm?” You murmur. 

“Can I touch you?” 

You lift your head, your mouth leaving a wet spot on the underside of his jaw. “Please,” you whisper against his lips.

Then, his hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once. (He could cover every inch of your skin with his and it still wouldn’t be enough.)

He slides his palms down your arms, then over your stomach, circling around to your hips and down to your ass. He grabs it, one cheek in each bare hand, and squeezes.

“Kriff,” you breathe out, holding both of his bare shoulders tightly. “Din, please…” 

He brings his mouth to your ear, panting hot and beautifully into it. Without another word, one of his hands returns to your front, this time dipping between your legs, carting softly through the hair over your cunt before finding your clit, lifting the hood and pressing gently. 

You all but fall into him, every muscle in your body somehow relaxing and tensing all at once. Your grip on his shoulders tightens for a second before one of your hands slides up into his hair, taking a firm grip of it in your fist.

“Gods, you feel so good,” he whispers into the shell of your ear as his fingertip rubs gentle—too gentle—circles around your clit. “So hot and wet already for me, Cyar’ika…” 

“Only for you,” you promise him, dipping your head into his neck. Not to kiss, just to rest your forehead there, to feel his pulse beating beneath your nose. 

He slides his fingers down to your entrance, gathers some wetness before gliding them back up through your folds, feeling every inch of you, teasing, not quite getting back to your clit. You can’t help it; you grind down against his hand, trying to find some kind of friction, wanting him on you and inside of you so badly that it has you throbbing with every fast heartbeat. 

He presses his cheek to your hair, his spare hand still grabbing at your ass, sending shocks of pleasure to your pussy with every squeeze. It only spurs on the pulsing of your entrance, wanting him so badly. 

“Din,” you say, voice husky and broken, “please…baby, please, need you inside me…” 

“Fuck,” he curses, sliding his fingers down to your entrance. “Love it when you call me that.” 

“Baby?”

“Kriff, yes.”

A breathy smile finds its way to your lips. You lift your head, place your mouth right over the shell of his ear. Then, finding the best sultry voice you can muster, you say, “Baby.” 

His moan is enough to kill you, right here on the spot. You wouldn’t need to know if heaven exists or not; you’re already there. 

Especially when he slides his fingers inside you, two at once, the perfect amount of stretch through your dripping wetness. Your walls clench around him, pulling him in, desperate to feel friction. 

“Oh, baby,” you breathe, feeling his muscles flexing beneath your hands at the name, “Baby, that’s so good.” 

He tilts his head, mouthing at your face, wherever he can get to. He finds his way back to your lips eventually and starts to kiss you slowly, in time with the slow push and pull of his fingers inside you. The heel of his palm brushes against your clit every time his fingers are as deep as they’ll go, and it feels so good, but it’s not enough—

You grind down against him, finding more friction. He lets you, going with your movements, allowing you to find pleasure in every move that you can. You’re gasping, your mouth all but watering into his. 

He tilts his hand a little so he can use his thumb on your clit, rubbing in earnest circles, matching the increasing pace of his fingers’ thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” you curse, pulling away from his lips to press your forehead into his. You wonder if he can see your eyes gazing into his. You can’t see his, but knowing they’re there, looking at you—always looking at you—is enough. 

“Yeah?” He asks. “Just want you to feel good, Cyar’ika.” 

You nod encouragingly. “I’d feel even better with you inside me,” you find the courage to whisper.

“I am…” he stops himself, realising what you mean. Beneath you, you feel his still-clothed cock harden, jumping at the invitation. “Oh,” he breathes, his hand stilling between your legs. “Are you sure?” 

You pull back just enough that you’d be able to look into his eyes if it wasn’t pitch black. “If you want to,” you tell him, stroking a hand down his lovely, lovely face. 

“Gods, I want to,” he says, and you giggle breathily, leaning in to kiss him. “You have no idea how much I want to.” 

Reluctantly, but knowing it’s for the greater good, you climb off his lap. He follows you, curling around you as you lie down on your back, feeling him flip over so he’s hovering on top of you. As soon as you’re comfortable, he’s diving in, capturing your lips in a gorgeous kiss. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck, grasping his hair, then one slides down his bare back because it can, because you’re not about to waste any moment that you can get your hands on his skin.

He shuffles to get his underwear off, and when he’s back on top of you, you feel his cock bobbing against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “fuck, baby.” You reach down and take hold of him, wrapping his length in your fist. It somehow feels hotter in your hand than it did before; maybe it’s that his body heat is surrounding you in every other way, hovering above you like a safety blanket, something so familiar and brand new all at once—

He moans, leaning down to suck at your collar bone as you gently tug his cock, enjoying feeling the pulse of his heartbeat, the veins over his length, the bead of liquid pooling at the tip. 

“Please,” he begs into your neck, “can I?”

You don’t even have to think about it. You were ready to say Yes before he even asked. “Yes. Please, fuck, Din, fuck me.” 

His breath stutters. He takes a second to gather himself, then gently pushes your hand off of his cock, instead taking it in his own hand and pushing his hips down into yours. He slides the head through your folds, and the slick sound that fills the room is enough to send shocks of pleasure all the way through you before he’s even really touched you where you need him to.

“Are you ready?” He asks, so gentle, so caring, his forehead pressed into yours. His skin is sticky with sweat, his hair falling in your face.

You hold the back of his neck, and nod. 

Nothing could have prepared you for this.

All that time you’ve spent fantasising about it, watching him sit in that damn pilot’s chair with his thighs spread wide, admiring the width of his shoulders, even feeling his cock in your hand like before—

You could never have imagined it as good as this.

He’s thick, spreading you open so deliciously, filling you up like nothing ever has. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” you whimper into his ear, clinging to the back of his head like it’s a lifeline, never wanting to let him go, “Fuck, your dick feels so good inside me…” 

He moans, his face pressed against your neck. (He likes it there. You can only guess the amount of marks he’s left on you tonight alone.) “You feel so fucking good,” he breathes out like a prayer onto your skin. “Fuck, sweetheart. Can I—can I fuck you?” 

“There is literally nothing I want more.” 

A soft chuckle vibrates against your throat. 

Then he moves. Slowly, at first, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of you. The push and pull of him, so hot and big and wet and lovely—your walls clench around him and you feel it, feel the fluttering against his cock. He’s inside and all around you and you’ve never felt anything like this, not the sensation between your legs, on your neck, in your very soul—

He’s fucking you slowly; carefully, even. Like he’s holding back. You know how strong he is, and although having him inside you is better than any of your wildest fantasies, you need more. 

“Din,” you whisper, sliding a hand down his back, feeling his muscles flexing with each soft thrust. “Fuck me. You can go harder, faster, whatever you want,” you promise him. 

“Are you…” 

“Yes. Fuck, baby, fuck me as hard as you want, I can take it…” 

The moan he lets out is positively sinful, and he lifts his head to kiss you, his mouth open wide against yours, tongues sliding together in a second. You let him kiss you, will always let him kiss you. 

Then he starts to thrust faster. His pace increases slowly, steadily. He brings down one of his hands and presses it against your clit, rubbing in circles at the same pace as his cock inside you, getting harder and faster and harder and faster—

“Baby,” you gasp as the force of each of his pushes starts to move you up and down the bed. You feel your tits bouncing beneath your shirt, the fabric creating beautiful friction on your nipples. “Oh, baby, harder, please…” 

As if he’s more than happy to oblige, he does exactly as you ask. He’s fucking you hard now—probably not as hard as he could; you can still feel him holding back a little, but still—and he bottoms out at the top end of each thrust, hitting against your cervix almost hard enough for it to hurt. 

It’s fucking delicious. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it, breathing into your lungs. His finger works hard and fast over your clit. He’s so coordinated, everything is working together, sending sparks of pleasure through every single inch of you, from your mouth to your clit to your fucking toes and back. 

“Wanted you for so long,” he says into your mouth, “Kriff, I can’t believe you’re letting me…”

You cart your fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp and down his back.

“Kriff,” you curse as he pulls away to press his forehead into yours. He’s panting, sweat beading on the back of his neck. “Fuck, Din, baby, that’s so fucking good—”

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers like a promise, “Mesh’la, gonna make me come…” 

“Come for me,” you ask him. 

“You first,” he says, earnest, “Please. Need to feel you come around my cock, I—you feel so good, so good around me, Cyar’ika, you’re—” his words are cut off by a fucking whimper coming from his throat.

Fuck. It’s enough to have pleasure coiling tighter in your belly, rising closer to your orgasm. He’s fucking you into the mattress, your body bouncing up and down on his cock without you even needing to try, and you let your hands hold onto his biceps, feeling them tensing with every move he makes into you.

“That’s it, Mesh’la, you take it so good…”

“Fuck, Din, that’s so—your cock, you’re so—” there are no words, it’s building in your core, the press of his finger against your clit getting harder and faster and harder—“Baby, I’m gonna—!”

You do. 

Pleasure explodes inside you like a tightly-coiled spring finally snapping. You fuck yourself onto him, your hand finding its way to your clit, rubbing yourself alongside his finger, trying to draw out the pleasure as long as possible. It sparks under your skin, a wave of white-hot glory spreading across every inch of you. You feel your walls pulsing around him, fluttering, begging him to come. “Baby, that—holy shit,” still, no words come to you that could possibly convey it. Instead, feeling his thrusts getting more and more erratic, “Can you—can you come inside me?” 

“I’ve—got the implant, I—” he’s holding back, his voice choked and strained—“Can I?” 

The aftershocks are still pulsing through you, one of your favourite parts of the come-down. “Fuck, baby, please.” 

Oh, fuck.

He spills inside of you, so hot and fast and too much to stay inside when he’s fucking you like this, all fast and hard and out of control—

It pushes out around his cock, coating the bed beneath you, a mix of both of your pleasure. 

He’s kissing your neck again, open-mouthed and gorgeous. His thrusts slow gradually, and you feel his orgasm not just in his cock but in his shoulders, his back, the hitching of his breath against your skin. 

“Cyar’ika,” he pants, nosing against the shell of your ear. “Sweetheart, that was…you’re…” 

It’s nice that he can’t finish any of his sentences, either. 

Breathy, you laugh in his ear. Your hands hold each side of his face, just so grateful that you can touch him, feel his bare skin and heat all around you. 

“I never thought I’d—I want to—”

You shush him softly, pressing a long kiss to his temple. “This is perfect,” you settle on, because it’s all you can say, and it sums everything up.

He nods, earnest. Lifts his head, presses your foreheads together. Carefully, he removes his fingers from your clit—your pussy pulses at the lack of contact, immediately wanting him back—and instead brushes them down your cheek, leaving a light trail of wetness in their wake. You close your eyes into his touch, tilt your head to kiss his fingertips.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what?” He’s still inside you. You don’t want him to ever not be. 

You find your words catching in your throat around a lump of tears that has seemingly appeared from nowhere. Because he’s here. He’s taken everything off for you. Not just his armour, his clothes, his helmet. But his walls. His facade of hardness, impenetrable beskar around the things that he feels. He’s shown himself to you, not literally, but in every other way he can. 

And you’ll never be able to thank him enough for that. 

“You’re really good at fucking me,” you say instead, and he laughs at that, all breath and husky voice. 

He kisses you, soft and chaste. “I’m gonna pull out,” he warns, soft. “Is that okay?” 

It has to happen at some point. But what if this is the only time this happens? What if everything goes wrong; what if he changes his mind?

You hold him tight, lift your leg up to wrap around his hips. “Don’t let this be the last time,” you whisper. Plead. 

You can feel the frown that creases his brow, pressed against your forehead. “I promise,” he says. “I’ll always want you like this, Cyar’ika.” 

Only a small part of you could believe such a beautiful, nightmare-defying promise. But you lean into that part of you, and nod. 

Keeping his face right above yours, he pulls out, slow and careful. It doesn’t hurt, but it might as well, because the loss of him inside you leaves you feeling cold, open, vulnerable. 

You can’t help the whimper that comes past your lips.

“You okay?” He asks immediately. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” you shake your head, but there are tears in your eyes, and you can’t let him go. Your hands grip the back of his neck, knuckles probably turning white, because the idea of him leaving you alone in this bed forever suddenly seems like the most likely outcome, even though you know he never would. “No, I just…” 

He strokes your face again. His soft, wet cock brushes against your thigh. 

“Just,” you stammer, “hold me. Please?” 

He kisses you. “Can I clean us up first?” He requests softly. “Just don’t want you to get cold. Then I’ll hold you all night, I promise.” 

Knowing that he means it, you nod, and release your iron grip on him. 

It’s freezing cold, suddenly, when he removes himself from above you. You curl in on yourself, feeling so raw, cold wetness sticking between your thighs. 

But he’s back in a moment, carrying a few warm, wet wash cloths and a towel. “I’m here,” he says softly, finding his way back to the bed. He kneels between your legs—you feel the mattress dip—and places a gentle hand on your ankle. “Can I?”

You nod. Your muscles relax as you feel him slowly wipe at your thighs, your centre, where your wetness and his release are drying onto your skin. He cleans you thoroughly, using his hands to feel the job he’s done, making sure he’s got it all. Then he moves to clean himself, and soon the wash cloths are on the floor, and he’s gently shuffling you out of the way to put a towel under you on the bed. 

He lies you back on it, then crawls up the bed, his bare skin against yours again. You breathe out in relief, hold onto him. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Roll over?” 

You do. His arms are around you in a second, your back pressed flush against his bare chest. A sigh comes from your throat as every single muscle relaxes. He’s here. He’s naked. He’s giving you parts of himself that he’s never given to anyone else.

What did I do to deserve this?

“Rest, Cyar’ika,” he breathes into your ear, all hot breath and soft lips and bareness. 

You grasp his hand, pulling it up to cradle against your chest. Your lips find his knuckles, kiss each one. You want to tell him how perfect this is, how much you adore him, how you never dreamed of being fucked that good. 

But sleep is coming for you fast. And, to be honest, you’re a little scared of telling him all that. Because you’ve never said those things before.

Words aren’t needed, though. 

You drift off in his arms.

notes: hope you enjoyed! thank you as always for your wonderful comments and thoughts on the last chapter. all interactions are appreciated, but reblogs are so helpful and comments fuel my need for validation. next chapter is going to be a long one, so be ready for that!

ps. life is about to get BUSY (even more than it already has been) and i'm not very well to top it all off but i will try my best to get the next chapter out on time❤️

taglist:

@toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @kiruoris @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive

@lordhavemurthy @booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1 @competitivedust @lostinsideourminds @gloryekaterina @ellesvoid @uncle-eggy @astronymity @leithatnight @domaniquessidehoe @dancealongthelightofday @loveslide @peqchsoup @jaguarthecat @starrynightsforever 

@hier--soir

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 18

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 18.

Their heart beat faster and heat climbed their neck. Every voice of pride and self-preservation told them to back out of this—to change the subject. They held his gaze.

“Why would you want to stay on my ship after we get the loot?” he asked, no joke or smile now.

“You don’t want me around?”

“No, I just… I mean…”

They grinned. It wasn’t often they got to fluster him but it was always a thrill. “I’ll have to get a ship sorted out and figure out where I’m going next. You might be stuck with me for a while longer.”

His boot on the floor stopped their casual rocking of his seat. “So, just until you can get a ship of your own? Yeah, yeah, that makes sense… I mean, obviously I wasn’t going to just dump you out in Cepheus with a crate of treasure.”

They frowned again at that word. It wasn’t treasure. It wasn’t a chest of gold out there waiting to be found. It was probably a bag of prepaid cards and a whole lot of trouble.

“What are you thinking of doing when you get your own ship?”

They leaned against the side of his chair, practically against him, one nudge away from sitting on the arm of his seat. “Maybe I’ll be a mercenary.”

He laughed louder than was necessary. “A gun for hire? You? Are you joking?”

They swatted his shoulder. “What do you mean? I’m great at this!”

Cosmic shook his head. “Well, to start with, you don’t actually have a gun. You use mine.”

“Obviously, I would buy one. A whole bunch of them!”

His smile was huge and, so close, they could see the stars reflecting in the dark of his eyes. “Okay, even if you buy yourself some guns to go with your new ship… How do I say this nicely, Stardust…”

They pushed off his seat to stand at their full height, trying to loom over him. “Say what? You don’t think I’m tough enough?”

He held up both hands. “No, no, I wasn’t going to say that you’re not tough enough. You are. You just don’t have a great instinct for survival… or any instinct for survival.”

“Fuck you! It’s not my fault this place is a nightmare landscape of murderers and thieves!”

“You’re a magnet for trouble.”

“The hell I am.”

“Capitol T—Trouble. We’ve covered this and you’ve proven it every day since I’ve met you.”

They folded their arms and glared.

“I feel closer to death with you on my ship than I have ever felt in my life, and I’ve been blown up before.”

Their arms fell with their face. “Really?” Their eyes darted over him, like there might be some sign of injury they had somehow missed all these weeks.

He seemed to enjoy the attention. “Oh yeah, almost died. I had to crawl my way back onto the ship and then autopilot to a medical station. I laid right here on the floor thinking my ride was over and that still wasn’t as nerve-wracking as life with you.”

“You’re full of shit!” they snapped. “Don’t be so dramatic. You took the job. You knew there would be other bounty hunters after me.”

“I’m not being dramatic!”

“U-huh. So, why are you smiling?” Who the fuck smiled while saying they’d almost died?

“Why am I smiling, then?” he said like he was buying time. Was he deciding how to answer? They’d caught him in a web of bullshit. But why didn’t he look caught? His eyes, darkness and starlight, swept over them, his lips still tugged to the side in a crooked grin. “…Because I like it.”

Stardust felt their pulse in their neck, heat rising fast to their face. The way he said it… The way he said it while looking right at them.

His grin grew. “Don’t let your ego go crazy, Stardust. I like the rush. No one does what I do if they like to be safe.”

They swallowed, trying to cram that reaction back down. The last thing they needed was to complicate whatever was going on with their cosmic bounty hunter. They were partners. He definitely couldn’t be trusted and Stardust shouldn’t be. “We should practice the thing,” they blurted out.

Cosmic blinked up at them. “Hmm? Practice what?”

Practice what?

Their gaze flicked from his lips to his gun against his ribs. “The trick draw.”

“The gun thing?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Again?” He rocked the seat forward, practically tossing himself out of it and onto his feet. “I think you’re just trying to get the chair, but okay…”

They were definitely going to pretend this was to get the chair, because the alternative would be admitting they wanted to stand too close to him.

What they really wanted, was that confirmation that whatever tension they felt wasn’t one-sided.

They’d done this a few times the last couple days since the last station. They stepped up to his side, so close that they could smell the subtle citrus scent of his bodywash. “So, we worked out that it’s not hard from here.”

“Yeah, it’s easier if you’re behind me or on my side.”

All at once, they unlatched and pulled his gun from his side. His breath hitched. It was so slight that if they weren’t so damn close, they’d never catch it. They watched his throat bob when he swallowed. “Yep. Smooth.”

They put the gun back and stepped in front of him, facing him. “But what if I stand here, when they’re coming up to us…”

His brow pinched, staring back at them. “From the front with your back to them? Like…pull it fast and turn, or…”

“No. Like, super sneaky…” They slowly lifted an arm between their bodies, fingering the handle of the gun across his chest, trying to do it without the imaginary pirate behind them seeing.

He smiled. “Quietly without them noticing and then aim behind yourself?” He was close to laughing, but kept his voice low like he was also imagining the pirate standing there. “Without looking?”

They nodded. “That would be great, right?” They removed the gun and held it between their chests, arm moving to cross their stomach and aim around their side.

“That doesn’t seem practical…” he pointed out, amused.

“I might need a way to aim.”

“Uh-huh…”

“What if you wear something? Like sunglasses!”

“If I wear sunglasses?” he repeated, like they were insane and he needed them to hear it and realize it themself. It would make recovery easier. “You’re getting ridiculous.”

“Sunglasses are not ridiculous!” Stardust had at least a hundred pairs back home.

He laughed. “Yes, sunglasses are ridiculous!”

“Do you have a pair? You would look great!”

“No, I am not going to wear them just in case you get the chance to do some stupid trick shot.”

They put his gun back, still standing way too close. “Come on!”

“No.” He flicked the leather strap holding his gun in place back over the handle. “You know, I bet I could do it without a reflective surface…”

“Without seeing where you’re shooting? You think you could do it blind?”

“Yeah, blind shot.”

They scowled. “You’re just saying that to piss me off.”

He gasped like he was wounded, hand flying to his heart. “Are you calling me a liar? Stardust!”

“Fuck you! You’re such a liar!”

“Oh, there’s that foul mouth. I’m surprised the pirates didn’t just mistake you for one of their own.”

They gave his chest a shove but he didn’t go anywhere, nor did the mirth in his eyes.

“You know, if we dressed you up…”

“You’re just jealous. Ever since the mercenaries at that station and then the trick shots… you can’t handle that this primer is a better shot than you,” Stardust teased with every intention of forcing the subject back to where they wanted it.

“Are you joking? I can definitely shoot better than you.”

“You’re really going to pretend I’m not good at this?”

“I didn’t say you were bad. I’m just saying that I’m better.”

They shrugged, unconvinced.

“Okay. Let’s stop at the next terraformed planet and try it out…” He jumped back into his seat and turned to the console, hitting some keys to bring up a three-dimensional map. “There’s a moon with a settlement less than a day away.”

They looked at the speck he was fast calculating into their journey. “It’s not really on our way…”

“Hm?” He stopped, losing steam and all that excitement. He took his hands away from the keys like he wasn’t sure what had come over him. “Yeah, I guess it is in the wrong direction.”

Stardust bit their lip and nudged his chair. “It would throw anyone tailing us off our trail… Be good to keep them on their toes.” It was bullshit and they both knew it. They should be running at full speed for the goal, not dragging this out.

But Cosmic smiled and they smiled back. “Yeah?” he asked.

They nodded. What was one more day?

He hit the key.

Course adjusted, the ship announced.

“Really, we should get these moves right just in case.”

He swiveled around to face them again. “Right? Trying out the shots is the smart thing to do. It’ll add a couple days but I’m pretty sure I can survive that…”

Stardust gave his shoulder another bat.

He gasped loudly and clutched at it this time. “Ouch! No fighting until we get to the moon.” His eyes widened with an idea, his hand dropping. “Oh! We could duel!”

“Yes! Do we have body armor?”

“What? No, not with live ammo, you psycho. We’ll use paint.” He jumped up and crossed the bridge of the ship, tapping the wall to drop open a panel and get at the storage there. He riffled through a few things before crowing in triumph and shaking a box of what they assumed were paint rounds.

By the time he turned around, Stardust was in his seat and comfortably leaned back. They had to enjoy it as much as possible when they could.

“Hey! Get out of my seat, you thief!” He tossed the box of pellets at them.

Stardust laughed, catching it. “You need to learn to share! This chair is huge. There’s room for two.”

He froze for a second, staring back at them. And then Cosmic smiled and there was something cunning about it. “Oh really? Room for two? There’s really not…” He took a few steps closer, head tipping to the side. “Stardust… Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“What?” Of course they were! But he wasn’t supposed to say it!

He was right in front of them, another step and his knee was between theirs. “Are you blushing?”

Stardust opened their mouth to say something—ANYTHING—and then closed it.

Cosmic laughed but the sound was warm rather than mocking. “Gunslinger extraordinaire, fumbling ship thief, puncher of skin traders, aristo-runaway Stardust is blushing and speechless?” He leaned down, hands on the armrests and face invading their space. “I guess we could try sharing the chair…” he said, voice low now, like this was just for the two of them. They knew he was fucking with them. They knew he was doing this on purpose. But knowing didn’t stop their heart from pounding out of their ribs and up into their throat. “Do you want to sit on my lap, Stardust? Is that what you’re getting at?”

Stardust wasn’t new to flirting. So why was this different? Why were they tongue-tied?

They shot to their feet, giving him no choice but to move or take a forehead to the nose.

He was a step back in a flash, hands up and grin huge.

“Fuck you!” they barked and had to curl their hands into fists to keep from throwing them over their face in humiliation.

“Fuck you seems like a big jump from sharing a chair but if that’s what you want…” he said, laughing around the words.

Stardust marched out of the room, his voice chasing them.

“Oh, don’t stomp away!”

They most definitely did stomp away, the door sliding open.

“Come back!”

The door closed with a swoosh and they exhaled relief and embarrassment. What the hell was wrong with them? They had started it! What did they expect to happen? Of course he had flirted back. That was what they did!

So, why had they freaked out?

Everything they could have and should have said streamed across their thoughts now that it was too late. There was a universe out there where they had smiled instead of blushed and were now making out in that pilot’s seat.

Fuck!

[shadyruinskryptonite]

Titan Bending Chapter 23

Warning: Violence consistent with cannon, NSFW so MDNI, language, major character death (both consistent with canon of both AOT and ATLA as well as diverging from canon), so much trauma literally everyone is so traumatized, very much slow burn, a little enemies to lovers, SO MUCH ANGST, hurt/comfort, hurt and delayed comfort, AFAB reader

Anything in bold is considered to be a different language and the context will specify what that language may be.

Chapter Warnings: Maybe just a tense familial relationship?

WC: 3102

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Masterlist

Tags: @mochminnie @sseleniaa @naruwitch

AN: I'm doing two chapters this week to try to make up for the fact that I've been so bad at posting in a timely fashion lately

Bobbing and weaving through the markets of the inner ring, I’m struggling to keep track of where everyone is while following Katara and Toph to the stall we need. She’s got a specific vendor in mind for us to all buy Earth Kingdom clothes for tonight’s dinner. 

Grabbing Sasha’s hand and physically dragging her away from the fifth food cart she’s tried to stop at, I scold her. “We just ate breakfast! You can get something else to eat as soon as we’re done here!”

To be fair to Sasha, she’s not the only one that keeps getting distracted and trying to stop. In fact, everyone has been pulled away at one point or another in our journey.

Keep your patience, Y/n. This is all so new to them. They’re just excited by everything they’re seeing. Just be patient with them. Patience, patience…

“Here!” Katara yells.

Thank fuck I was about to kill the next one to go rogue.

None of us really knew what to choose given that the choice was between very similar robes and dresses, so the vendor gave us each what she thought would suit us the best. Now that we’ve got the only items we really needed, I set them loose on the market. Zuko had given everyone money since he has a pretty much endless supply of the stuff.

“Be back here at the center in one hour or so help me god I’ll end you right here in the market,” I say with my patience still clearly very thin. 

No sooner had I finished my statement than everyone had disbursed. Even Katara and Toph seemed to disappear, giving me a chance to wander around on my own. I glance at stalls here and there, but nothing really seems to catch my eye. Something does catch my ear, though. In the distance, I can hear what sounds like live music playing songs that sound faintly familiar. Heading towards the music, the songs get clearer and I recognize them as folk songs from all around the Earth Kingdom. A small group is gathered around what looks to be a small stage and a few people are dancing around. 

I stand there through the end of a song before the band launches directly into their next song, and I immediately recognize it. I dance along, knowing the dance that accompanies this song, but my moves are subdued as I’m still standing in the crowd. That is, until a man that I’ve never met before comes up to me and wordlessly reaches out his hand. I set my bag with my new dress down and join him at the center of the circle, dancing and twirling to the folksong. I can’t stop myself from giggling as I spin a bit. As the song comes to a close, I realize that a larger group has formed around us and we were at that point the only people dancing. I blush as I try to quickly grab my things and re-assimilate into the crowd.

As I sink towards the back row, I hear a familiar voice. “Who knew you could dance like that!” Hange calls.

I roll my eyes playfully as the two of us start to head back towards the meet-up point. Motioning towards her bag, I ask, “Did you get anything?”

“Oh, no. I was there listening to the music the entire time. You can learn a lot about a place by their music! Speaking of, how did you know that dance? Did you know the other songs and dances too?”

Always so curious.

I smile at her questions. “I learned the music and dance at bars throughout the time I lived in the Earth Kingdom. And I’m not sure about all of the other songs, I only heard a couple.”

“The music was nice, I can’t really put my finger on it, but there was a similar sound throughout all of the songs,” she mentions.

“That makes sense, a lot of the cultures in Western and Central Earth Kingdom use the same instruments,” I explain.

By this point we’re back at the center of the market and I can see our various kids milling about. Sasha, Jean, and Connie are the first to head to the meeting point and they all have some unidentified kind of food on their faces.

“Money well spent, I take it?” I ask. They merely nod lethargically at me, clearly having eaten themselves near a coma.

Next to approach are Mikasa, Eren, and Armin. Excitedly, they pull out little figurines. Each of them has an identical figure, and each figure is of the three of them. “They were made with earth bending right in front of us!” Armin can hardly contain himself.

Looking over the figures, I nod in approval. “Those are really cool!”

Last to come back is Levi, and I’m surprised when he approaches with a bag in one hand and Katara and Toph at his side.

My eyebrows shoot up. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect him to be the trinket type.

As soon as we have everyone, we start heading back to the tea shop to get ready for the dinner. On the way, I fall back a little bit to inquire about what Levi found.

“I didn’t think you’d be one for souvenirs,” I state plainly.

“I got tea,” he answers in kind.

Duh. Of course he did. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that.

“Oh that makes sense. What kind of tea?” I ask.

“I’m not exactly sure, Katara helped me choose exactly what Iroh gave us last night.”

“Oh, nice! I might have to sneak away later and get some for myself, too. There’s just nothing that can replicate his tea,” I say almost longingly.

Faintly, I hear Levi “tsk” next to me. We head inside and all begin getting ready. Unfortunately, Iroh’s house connecting to the tea shop only has one bathroom so showering was difficult. We had to set a tight schedule to get everyone in and out.

I went first, both because I’m quick but also because I knew I’d have to help everyone else get ready as well as myself. As soon as I was out I slipped into my new dress, admiring the silky fabric. It’s a pale green with a high empire waist and a darker green sash along the waistline. Once I finished admiring the garment and while my hair was still a little wet, I quickly did the braids of my typical water tribe hairstyle without any of the added beads. Being an Earth Kingdom event, I thought that was for the best. 

After I was done, Katara approached me, with her hair completely down.

“Hey Y/n?” she asks timidly.

“What’s up Katara?”

“Can you braid my hair?”

“Yeah, of course!” I say enthusiastically.

She sits down in front of me and hands me her brush and, her voice no more than a whisper, asks, “Can you sing that one song while you do it?”

I smile and squeeze her shoulder. “Of course,” I say again, this time much more understanding.

I begin singing the song that my mother would always sing when she did my hair. I braid slowly, pacing myself so I finish braiding at the same time as the song ends. Lost in what I was doing, I didn’t realize how quiet the entire room had become.

“There you go!” I kiss the top of her head and she turns to engulf me in a hug. 

When she steps away, I finally realize that everyone is looking at me.

Suddenly self conscious, I ask defensively, “What?! What are you all staring at me for?”

“We just, we didn’t know you could sing like that,” Jean stutters a little.

“Oh. Yeah. I grew up singing. So did Katara and Sokka,” I state, trying not to blush. 

Everyone continues to look at me, so I quickly change the subject. “Hange! How about I do your hair too? I can do everyone’s hair that wants me to.”

Hange quickly bounces over and sits where Katara was. I do a simple yet elegant look that frames her face with two small braids, and I continue doing all of the girls’ hair for the next hour. Even Toph had me do a little something with her hair and Jean, Armin, and Eren had me brush through their hair and style it. 

By the time I finished up, everyone was dressed and ready to go and it was just about time to head over. Glancing at everyone, I’m struck by the beauty of the moment; my new friends, dressed in traditional Earth Kingdom clothes, in a place that they couldn’t even fathom existing just half a year ago. I sip at a cup of tea that Iroh had handed me a few minutes earlier as I ponder just how much had changed in such a short time.

I was so lost in my thoughts, that I didn’t realize when everyone was starting to head out. Suddenly, Levi appeared next to me. 

“You glued to the floor or something?” He has his normal steady affect, but I can tell that there’s a hint of a joke underlaying his question.

I jump a little at his approach, but I quickly finish the rest of my tea and smile at him. “Sorry about that.”

“What’s got you so quiet?” He asks, almost sounding a little concerned to me.

We walk quickly to try to catch up with the rest of the group. “Oh, nothing really.” I try to leave it at this, but his lack of response spurs me to continue. “I was just thinking about how quickly everything in life has changed. Six months ago I thought I was here, in Ba Sing Se. You all didn’t know any of this existed. And now, here you are dressed like Earth Kingdom Aristocrats going to a fancy dinner at the Earth Kingdom palace. It’s surreal for me so it HAS to be surreal for you.”

I notice he scoffs when I imply that he looks like an aristocrat, but he ultimately doesn’t comment on that. We’re pretty much caught up with the others at this point and we’re quickly approaching the front gates of the palace. He ends the conversation by almost timidly saying, “It’s definitely been…a lot to take in.”

I’ll have to try to probe more about that later.

We’re ushered in and led to assigned seats, but there is plenty of time to mill about before the dinner is actually served. My assigned seat is at the front of the room with the Gaang, so I was separated from my new friends who were all located at a table together towards the back of the room. Jean offers me his seat while we wait for the festivities to begin and I happily accept. 

Something that didn’t dawn on me, though, is that the Gaang weren’t the only people to help end the war. I don’t know why this thought didn’t occur to me given that Iroh was joining us. But, because I hadn’t really thought about it, a voice that is strong yet frayed with age caught me off guard.

“Y/n. It’s nice to see you,” Pakku says looking particularly shameful. 

My expression immediately hardens when I see who it is that’s speaking. Restraining myself, I grit out a polite, “Pakku, likewise.”

Sensing the tension, the Scouts all quiet themselves and stare at this man. He’s undeterred, though.

“How have you been? The last time I saw you was on the day of the comet.”

“Good,” I respond curtly. “And yourself?”

He lets out an almost imperciptable sigh. “I’ve been good. Spent a lot of time in the Southern Watertribe, actually. I’ve…I’ve reconnected with your grandmother.”

I clench my jaw so hard that I’m afraid my teeth might break. “That’s nice to hear.”

By the grace of the spirits, King Kuei calls everyone to their seats, forcing an end to this dreadful conversation. I can tell by the looks on my friends’ faces though that I will need to explain that a bit more later.

I take my seat and there’s a clattering of chairs as the rest of the guests do the same.

King Kuei addresses everyone when he’s sure that the room is properly seated. “Thank you all for being here to celebrate another year of distance between us and the despicable war. This is quite a special occasion, as this is the first time since the comet that everyone responsible for ending the war has been together in one place. But I won’t keep you from your meals any longer. I’ll speak with everyone again after dessert so we can properly recognize the heroes that sit before us. Enjoy, everyone!”

With that, servers in white gloves come whooshing by, delivering appetizers of ginger-infused pea tendril and hibiscus-root salad as well as spicy pickled kelp. I have to consciously remind myself not to eat like this is my first meal in years. That struggle gets even harder when the main course of braised turtle duck and crab urchin stir-fry is served. I try to glance at my friends to see if Sasha - or any of them, for that matter - is acting even moderately sophisticated, but they’re too far for me to see. Feeling as though I might explode by the end of the main course, dessert comes out with an assortment of miniature pies, cakes, and egg custard tartes. It was truly the best meal I could ever remember having.

As I take my last bite, King Kuei stands and taps his knife against his glass to get everyone’s attention. “I hope you all enjoyed the meal. As promised, I would like to take the time to recognize the people that made a gathering such as this one possible by putting an end to the war. Starting to my left,” he turns and gestures to the members of the White Lotus, “Please stand as I say your name. We have Earth Bending Master King Bumi of Omashu, Swords Master Piandao of the Fire Nation, Fire Bending Master Jeong Jeong of the Fire Nation, Water Bending Master Pakku of the Northern Watertribe, and Fire Bending Master and Grand Lotus Iroh. These gentlemen and other members of the White Lotus are responsible for the liberation of Ba Sing Se.” The room erupts in applause.

Looking directly at them, King Kuei smiles and speaks genuinely. “Thank you, gentlemen. For everything you’ve done for the Earth Kingdom, the world, but also for my city.” They sit down and King Kuei turns to look at my side of the table. “Now, please stand Swords Master Sokka from the Souther Watertribe, leader of the Kyoshi Warriors Suki from Kyoshi Island, and Earth Bending Master Toph Beifong from Gaoling. As just children, these three single-handedly eliminated the entire fleet of Fire Nation airships, sparing the country from being incinerated by a rain of fire.” Another rousing round of applause.

Kuei nods at them and they take their seats again. “Please stand Firelord Zuko, Water Bending Master Katara of the Southern Watertribe, and Water Bending Master y/n of the Northern Watertribe. Also mere children at the time, these three had the task of fighting Princess Azula to prevent her from taking the throne.” During the applause, I glance at the table where my friends are sitting and I’m overcome by a warm and fuzzy feeling when I see they’re holding themselves back from cheering like they’re at a sporting event.

“And finally, I ask for Avatar Aang to please stand and be recognized for valiantly taking on Firelord Ozai and for your continued commitment to rebuilding the world.”

As Aang stands, the applause start out normally but soon break into a standing ovation. As I glance over at Aang, I can see that he’s blushing. When the applause dies down and people return to their seats, Aang remains standing to say a few words.

“Thank you King Kuei both for your kind words but also for this delicious meal. I can say earnestly, though, that I would not have been able to do it if it weren’t for the people sitting up here with me tonight.” He turns and smiles at us, which causes me to beam at him with pride. Turning back to the audience, he continues, “But I also want to thank all of you for your assistance. Going from a war longer than most of our lifespans to a time of peace is not an easy transition, but any efforts I have made wouldn’t have been possible without a world full of people searching for the same outcome. Someone that has been instrumental in forging this new path is my dear friend, Firelord Zuko, whom I know would also like to say a few words.”

Zuko stands up and hugs Aang. As Zuko begins to speak, it strikes me how much they’ve all grown into their rolls as world leaders.

They have really risen to the occasion despite the challenges they’ve faced. I couldn’t be more proud but…this whole charade really isn’t for me.

I tune back in when I hear Zuko talking about the upcoming celebration. “...next week at this time, I hope to see you all in attendance. It will be the first peaceful international gathering in the Fire Nation since before the war. There will be a meal, performances, and dancing and we all will be there.” Zuko glances at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks. “Even y/n, who tends to shy away from the limelight of such events.” This elicits a polite chuckle from the crowd, all blissfully unaware of the depth and reason for this statement. “Thank you, again, for accepting me as Firelord and embracing the new path I’m trying to guide my country in as a member of the international community.”

With another round of applause the dinner is adjourned and everyone begins to file out. I come up to Aang to hug him and I pat Zuko on the shoulder so I don’t give him any ideas. “You two really have done a great job at becoming world leaders. I’m very proud of you.”

The Scouts have approached the head table now and I move to leave with them, but Aang stops me. “Where do you thing you’re going?”

I turn to see a mischievous look on his face, my own plastered with confusion. He continues, “We have a spirit world to visit!”

[facks-stories]

Hellish dnd campaign:

Mimu - cleric

Devon - figher

Alex - the dm

Sean - barbarian

Chip - rogue

Achos -  necromancer 

“Can I just complete quest?”

“Mimu- everyone is in a battle-“

“:(“

“Fine I’ll let you roll for it”

*on like 5 health* “wait what??”

*rolls a 18*

“WAIT I’M GOING TO DIE IN LIKE TWO HITS!?”

“I can revive you after B)”

*mad for what ever reason* “AHHH WHY DID YOU ROLL NO ONE SAID ANYTHING”

“Because”

“BECAUSE WHAT? YOU’VE BEEN TORTURING ME FOR THE LAST 3 SESSIONS-“

…

“Nuh uh”

“NUH UH? I’VE DIED LIKE 7 TIMES YOU CHILD”

*half the group is dead except Mimu and Devon, they are having a gathering with some goblins they befriended. Chip is tempted to throw something at Alex for allowing it*

“perception check”

“Wow, its a room, with nothing but your short self and your group in it”

“I-“

“I’m taller”

“By one inch 😔”

“Its two now”

“Shut”

“Nuh uh”

“stop saying nuh uh” “STOP SAYING NUH UH”

“You young rat! Let me stay alive for like ten minutes please?”

“… I bet when I’m your age I’ll be taller then you”

“Are you calling me old >:(“

“Yes B) you are the oldest here-“

“I’m 30-“ [this is assuming chip, sean, and achos is under 30] (but achos might be pushing 30 I don’t remember)

…

“Damn you are short”

“Language :(“

“No he isn’t he was like 10 ft last I saw him-“

*giggle* “nuh uh”

“OH YOU LITTLE-“

*Sean tries grabbing Devon and Achos attempts to stop him but forgets they have no arms, chip lets it happens and Mimu is a little worried and confused how they made it this far without this happening*

“You are so annoying,”

“Ur boyfriend”

“I don’t even have a boyfriend”

“… I was going to say ‘not yet’ but I have like no faith in you”

“>:(“

“Wow great campaign you guys, we should do this again”

*didn’t fight anyone*

*killed a lot more people then he intended*

*could barely stay alive because half the time Mimu was making friends*

*still very tempted to throw something at alex*

*got distracted too many times, what were they doing again?*

Notes:

Alex was targeting Sean, like 100%, it started as a accident but Alex enjoyed causing panic in him

Mimu, Devon, and Achos probably got separated from the group and they had the most peaceful voyage while Alex tortured chip and Sean.

Devon showed his more stupid side during this, he was probably teasing Chip more then Sean, it was out of pity though

Achos probably didn’t show up to like every other session, Sean could have used a revival 

Chip and Sean aren’t actually mad [perhaps]

Tags:

Mimu is my character [this blog]

Alex is my character [this blog]

Devon is my character [@wings-devon]

Sean is sharkie’s character [@sharkyy599]

Chip is sharkie’s character [@sharkyy599]

Achos is brownfuse’s character [@essentially-a-worm-on-a-string]

[christinesficrecs]

There is a story called Of Course It's Fairies where dead friends/family members of the pack come back to life and I really love the idea of that especially because it happens after most of the show has happen so the lost pack members see the after effects of all that pain and stuff. So I was wondering if you knew any other stories like it? or if anyone wanted to write a story with that kind of idea as it's a really cool one.

There is a resurrection tag here, most of the ones I know are focused on bringing Laura back.

Of Course It's Fairies by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 100.2K

While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy's parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead.

Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat.

Spook: A Ghostly Love Story in Three Parts by zosofi | 38.1K

Derek is fifteen when he dies. He's been fifteen for six years when he meets Stiles. And then suddenly... suddenly things start looking up.

One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 22.2K

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf | 32.9K | Explicit

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

Stiles plans are the worst (the best) by Dashar | 88.7K

Stiles world ended when his pack died. It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. He had been running with wolves for so long that within hunters and monsters it was just a matter of time. It was a surprise when the world ended too. And Stiles… Well, he had to do something about that.

[raewritesfiction]

Animals (Get In) [Pedro Pascal]

A/N: I got an idea listening to a song which I’ll input for you all. My Spanish isn’t great and I’ve been using google translate to help me; my sincerest apologies for possibly butchering this beautiful language. Sorry for the formatting; it’s something to do with c&p from my docs app.

Plot: AU where Pedro isn’t famous and you have housemates who don’t like him so you sneak out for some fun in his car.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal X Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, dangerous driving (don’t do this!), oral (m and f receiving) p in v (unprotected - always use a condom!!)

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @jaseminedenise @nikkitasevoli @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @purplerain85

—-

You always thought being an adult meant your days of sneaking out to see a boyfriend were over but after seeing Pedro for a few months now you had come to find out your housemates disliked him intently and would actively do whatever they could to stop you seeing him.

Okay so he was a ‘bad boy’ in some ways but you could see his soft heart and you’d never felt so loved and appreciated by anyone else. Also the more your housemates tried to stop you from seeing Pedro, the more you wanted to see him.

You check your watch and giddily climb up onto your window ledge; you check around and shimmy yourself down the drainpipe and then climb down the trellis to the floor. You wait a few beats before checking around the corner and seeing Pedro’s car, a 57 Chevy Bel Air, at the corner waiting for you - lights off and passenger door open ready for you to jump in on the run.

There’s movement in your house as someone walks about and you decide it’s better now than later, quickly going to full sprint towards the idling car. You manage to perfectly dive inside and just as you shut the door Pedro takes off, making the wheels squeal in protest.

“Hey Querida…”

“Hey Papi” you wink and twist on the front seat, slipping off your coat to reveal a tight dress and stockings underneath.

“Jesucristo...” he breathes and has trouble keeping his eyes on the road as you stretch and adjust your dress around your assets.

“I missed you baby.”

“I missed you too, thanks for helping me get my licence back.” He smirks and licks his lips, a hand moving from the gear stick to your thigh.

“Not a problem. Glad I could help.” You shuffle your legs, run a hand through your hair to push it back off your face and shuffle closer on the seat to drape yourself over Pedro; one hand squeezed his thigh while the other was leaning on the back of the seat around his shoulders.

You run your nose up the side of his neck and flick your tongue over the edge of his ear.

“I’ve really missed you…” you whisper and kiss over his neck and jaw.

Your hand lightly squeezes the growing bulge in his jeans which makes him hit the accelerator in response.

“Cariño, you’re killing me here.” He smiles and squeezes your thigh again, pouting as you pull away; “Did I tell you to stop though?”

Letting out a devilish giggle you squeeze him again and catch street lights speeding by faster; if you got caught this time there would be no helping to get his licence back but it was far too much fun to tease.

Pedro quickly grips the wheel with both hands when you unzip his jeans to free him from their confines. He lets out a low groan as the cool night air hits him but looks over to you briefly with a sly smile when he sees you tying back your hair.

Your hand wraps around his cock and jerks slowly, your lips rest against his ear where you whisper to him.

“Can’t wait to feel you inside me Papi; gonna make you feel so good. Wanna feel that thick cock stretch me out and fill me up. Yeah? You like hearing that? Oh god I need it so bad…”

You moan and squeeze your thighs together, continuing “I’ve missed you being inside me. My fingers just aren’t enough… You always make me cum so hard Papi…that cock deep inside me, reaching places nobody else has…”

You whine and swallow audibly. “You want my mouth for now? It’s much more talented than my hand..” nipping his ear lobe and letting out small moans and whimpers to rile him up further.

He nods “oh god, you talk so dirty!”

You nod against him and lean down, positioning yourself under his arms. You swiftly take him in your mouth and hear Pedro’s loud moan above the engine; sucking him slowly you bob your head and swirl your tongue, hand moving to his balls and rolling them in your palm.

“Oh baby girl… that mouth of yours has some real talent but I can’t wait to feel that cunt squeezing me, driving me crazy and milking me dry.” He groans and briefly drops his head back, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” Pedro straightens out the car, barely missing a ditch beside the road and quickly looking around to make sure there were no cops. After a few beats he grunts and moans again, deciding to pull over into a disused track before he crashes the car.

You carefully pull away and look up at Pedro as he stops the car and looks down at you “¿Eres mi puta? (Are you my whore?)”

“Always” you flick your tongue along the underside of his dick and then lean up, hitching up your dress to reveal your lack of panties as if to prove a point.

“Buena niña.. (Good girl)” he nods and man handles you onto your back as best he could, lifting your legs over his shoulders and lifting your dripping wet pussy to his mouth.

His tongue slowly laps over you from entrance to clit, mouth closing around you once he reaches the sensitive nub so he could suck at you in pulses. His hands hold your ass and support you at an angle in the confined space so all you had to do was relax into his touch and enjoy the pleasure he was giving you.

You whine and moan his name, a hand threaded into his curly hair and tugging lightly while your other tugs your dress down to free your breasts to the air, your nipples already hard and sensitive from Pedro’s onslaught and the dipping night air.

You pant quickly and let out a string of profanity in English and Spanish and just when orgasm was at your literal finger tips Pedro growls and pulls away from you.

“NO!” You cry out “Please, baby!” Breathing heavy.

“Get on my dick!” He nips your inner thigh and helps you to move, quickly pushing down his pants and pulling you to straddle him. “Ven a mi..! (Get on me!)”

You could tell he was desperate to feel your cunt around him when he reverted back to Spanish to command you. You had learned quickly that the more you tease and withhold yourself from him the more commands came out in Spanish against your skin while his eyes were fixed on you.

“Llevame! (Ride me!)” he growls and guides his dick into you as you lower down along his thick length. You barely settle, feeling him stretch you out, before you’re rocking your hips quickly building to a faster pace.

Pedro splays his hands on your back and throws his head back, moaning low, you move your hands from his chest to rest around his shoulders leaning his head back up so your tits were directly in his face. He wastes no time nipping and sucking on your nipples, his arms tightening around your waist.

“That’s it cariño, ride it!” He scrapes his teeth over your skin and groans, guiding you to bounce on him. You happily oblige and moan out his name, dropping your forehead to his and watching his brown eyes blow out to almost completely black.

Pedro tilts your face and kisses you hungrily, a hand threading into the back of your mussed hair and holding your head; he pistons and runs his hips up into you, alternating your rhythm and pulling you down onto each and every thrust.

“Correte para mi..(cum for me)” he nods and nips your lip. “sé una buena niña…(be a good girl)”

You pant and whine, you loved it when he spoke Spanish to you like this.

“quiero sentirte.. (I want to feel you)” he whispers against your lips.

You stutter out a cry of ecstasy as you finally tip over the edge and cum around his cock; your quivering pulsing along his length and causing him to follow a few seconds after with a moan of your name.

As you both slowly come down from your post-orgasmic highs you kiss over Pedro’s neck lightly. He holds you close, stroking over your skin with his fingertips.

“Fuck I missed you..” his voice is low and rough.

“I missed you too.” You run your nose up his throat. “Worth the wait?”

“Siempre.. (always)”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

silence of your song

Fandom: DC Comics, Flashfam, Flash Rogues

Summary: Malcolm Thawne takes in Thad after weeks of being stalked by him. (Post-Mercury Falling)

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Malcolm Thawne, Thaddeus Thawne, Bart Allen, Barry Allen

Additional Tags: Found Family, Dysfunctional, Reluctant Family, Redemption, Malcolm Thawne Wants a Family, Thaddeus Thawne and Malcolm Thawne Parallels, Canon Divergent AU, Retired Malcolm Thawne, Protective Malcolm Thawne, POV Malcolm Thawne, Childhood Memories, Malcolm Thawne Becomes Thaddeus Thawne's Dad, Adoption

Chapter Two: I'm Just an Old Chunk of Coal (But I'm Gonna Be a Diamond Someday)

After he got all our paperwork in order, I took a chunk of my emergency cash to take him to the mall. It was like pulling teeth. He didn’t want to spend my money, and I had to force him to get clothes and shoes. “Thad, please. You’d make this one hundred times easier if you’d tell me what you like,” I whispered. Thad shrugged. “Please. Aren’t you hungry?”

“That’s why we haven’t eaten yet?” Thad asked. I nodded.

“I’ll feed you whatever you want once you get some school clothes,” I explained.

Thad sighed and walked through the store, pulling items from the racks and counters. At the first store, he found a pair of overalls, two pairs of pants, and a handful of t-shirts on sale. We went to two or three stores before I got him something to eat. We got chicken sandwiches and french fries. I watched Thad swing his feet while sipping soda in the outdoor dining area. Without thinking, I messed up his hair. “Want another soda?” I asked. He blinked hard.

“No, thank you,” Thad whispered. As he fixed his hair, I thought he should change clothes.

“Hey, after we eat, I want you to change into some of your new clothes. Then, we can go and get you signed up at Hoover,” I explained. He nodded. “Are you still hungry?”

“No, thank you… Malcolm—. Dad,” Thad whispered. I could hear his disdain for me in his voice.

*

I wanted him to like me more than anything. We were fundamentally the same, so I saw no point in hating each other. I liked him despite his feelings for me because it felt like he was mine. Thad was what I needed most. He was my family.

We arrived at the high school at noon, and I sat at the table with the principal and counselor while Thad looked through the course catalog. I leaned over to look at the catalog with him and scratched my head. “Er… Uh—. What’s that? What’s HSBP?” I asked.

“Health Science and Biomedical Program. It’s open to students in advanced science placements who want a future in the medical field,” the principal answered. I nodded.

“Hey, Thad… What do you think about that, Sport?” I questioned. I reached for him, and he flinched away. “Sorry, I forgot.”

The counselor squinted at me. “Oh no, it’s nothing serious—.”

“I don’t like to be touched while I’m reading… I love my father very much,” Thad explained without looking up from the catalog. “And mhm… I think that’d be interesting. They didn’t have that program at my old school.”

He filled out the class sign-up sheet while I finished signing his enrollment forms. “Dad? What time do you have to be at work?” Thad asked.

“Eight,” I replied.

“If I took zero period, it’d give you enough time to drop me off before you go to work,” Thad replied, “Or I could take the bus—.”

“I don’t want you at the bus stop that early by yourself. I’ll take you,” I whispered.

“I can walk—.”

“I know you can, but it’s not safe for a kid your age to be outside walking before the sun’s out… And you don’t know anybody here,” I interrupted. Thad nodded. “And yeah, you can sign up for zero if that’s what you want to do.”

Thad finished his course sheet and gave it to me to sign. The counselor asked to speak to me in his office while the principal talked to Thad. “I noticed a few things, and I wanted to speak to you about Thad’s behavior—.”

“Oh, he’s not—. He’s not a troublemaker… And if you’re talking about our moment earlier, Thad’s a weird little guy. All geniuses are a little strange. I think it’s endearing that he’s got something different going on in his head,” I replied.

“Have you ever considered having him screened for—?”

I turned to see if Thad was okay by himself, and I scratched my head. “Okay… Um, sorry. So, do you think that he’s a little different? Like people aren’t gonna understand him?” I questioned. She cocked her head and chewed her lip.

“No… I um—. It isn’t about how other people feel. It’s about how Thad feels about himself and navigates his life,” she replied as she wrote the word on a notecard and the diagnosis steps.

“Okay, I’ll look into that as soon as I get some food in him,” I replied as I stared at the card. “They’re not gonna make him feel bad about himself, are they? He doesn’t need that. He’s got this horrible notion that everybody hates him. I don’t want him to feel that way. I’m working with him on his—. I’m new at this. I just—. I found out about him recently, and I like him. To me, he’s spectacular. Every parent thinks their kid is the most interesting alive, but I know Thad’s not like anyone I’ve ever known. He came around at the right time. I’ve never been happier, but I don’t—. I don’t think he likes me.”

She smiled. “It sounds like you’ve adjusted quickly to Thad,” she whispered.

The principal brought Thad to me, and we bought his P.E. uniform before heading home. I started humming a song. “What’s that?” Thad questioned.

“It’s a John Anderson song… I’ve got his CD at home if you wanna hear it. It’s um—. Nobody liked me as a kid, so I was always down on myself. Then, I listened to this song a year ago and figured I could become the kind of person I’d like to be friends with, and my life would improve because I’d like myself even if no one else did,” I explained.

“A song did all that?” Thad questioned.

“Music can be a powerful thing, Thad. Your counselor thinks you’re a little different from other kids. I agree with her,” I replied. He looked down at his shoes. “Hey, don’t do that. Different is a good thing to be. You shouldn’t ever fit in. If you’re gonna be somebody, you’ve gotta be unique. You can’t go around living in other people’s shadows… Chin up. You should be that lucky to be different.”

Thad looked away from me as he reached for my hand. I took his hand in mine. I could barely conceal my smile. “Is hating the Allens wrong?” Thad questioned.

I stopped in my tracks. “Thad, I’m not gonna pretend I’m better than what I know. I resented them, but it wasn’t their fault my life turned out the way it did. They probably would’ve loved me had I been brave enough to make myself known. Barry’s not guilty of anything but being born luckier than me,” I explained, “But then again… Look at what he’s lost. Maybe I’m lucky because I never had anything to lose.”

Thad stared at me for a long while before squeezing my hand. We walked to the old beat-up car I had and drove home. He didn’t say anything the whole ride home. I popped the CD in. And I swear I caught him tapping his foot.

[verai-marcel]

Another Chance (Astarion x Tav/OC, BG3 Fanfic, 18+, Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Phaedra Tiernan, a drow druid, savior of Baldur’s Gate, had not returned to the city in fifty years. When she returns, she meets up with old companions and renews a friendship… And perhaps, something more? 

Author’s Notes: Is this some Tav/OC x Astarion bullshit that I’m about to write? Sure is. This is 100% based on my first playthrough of BG3, so my drow druid had romanced Gale, but her outfit matched Astarion and he was always in the party because I had multi-classed him a rogue/monk/fighter, and he was damn near unstoppable.

Tags: Gale x OC, Astarion x OC, angst, tragedy in the beginning, time skip, post-game content, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, prone bone, other positions probably

Word Count: 4099

AO3 link is here, sweetness.

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Chapter 1 - An End and A Return

Fifty years. 

Fifty years since the defeat of the Absolute.

Fifty years since Gale had asked her to marry him.

And fifty years since Phaedra had been back to Baldur’s Gate.

Sure, she had sent letters to friends, met up with some of the others in Daggerford, a small town just south of Waterdeep, or invited old friends to visit the tower in Waterdeep proper. But she had never ventured back to the city she helped save.

It wasn’t as if Gale had kept her away; no, far from it. Gale had always asked, “Phaedra, my love, would you like to visit once more?”

She had always put it off. “Perhaps some other time,” she always said. There were always new lands to explore, after all.

But she could no longer say that to him.

Phaedra stared at the simple, yet beautifully decorated tombstone, Tara by her side.

“It was his time, dear,” the tressym said. “But I do miss him.”

Being a drow, Phaedra knew she would outlive Gale by centuries. But having to face that fact now tore at her heart. The only thing keeping her from spending another month crying in the tower was that Gale had given her one final mission. 

Gale, the sentimental fool, had written a bunch of letters to their mutual friends, for her to deliver in case of his death. Perhaps he had guessed that she would need something to distract her. 

No, he knew she would need the distraction. A final, farewell gift to show that he understood her. That he cared about her. That he loved her.

Phaedra swallowed the lump in her throat. “I miss him too, Tara.” She hefted the stack of letters in her satchel. “But I know for a fact that he doesn’t want me to stay still for too long. He knows… knew me, all too well.”

Tara wanted to stay behind and watch over the tower until she returned, or if she didn’t, wait for one of Gale’s apprentices to take over the tower, if she judged them worthy. That left Phaedra free to travel to Baldur’s Gate and hand deliver the letters to each of her fellows. 

Her first stop was in the former Shadow-cursed lands. Halsin had greeted her warmly, hugging her tightly and seemingly unwilling to let her go. She spent a night there, entertaining his plethora of adopted children and touring the town, which has grown quite large in the fifty years she had been gone. The original children she had remembered were all grown up now, and these new children were either recently adopted, or children of the original war orphans who enjoyed spending time with ‘Daddy Halsin.’ 

Though reluctant to let her leave so soon, Halsin bid Phaedra farewell after wrangling a promise to visit sooner than fifty years. She traveled along the River Chionthar to find Shadowheart and her father, still taking care of their menagerie of animals and their farm, living a quiet, simple life. Phaedra gave her respects to her mother, who had passed long ago, leaving a small bouquet of wildflowers on her gravestone. 

“I need to find Lae’zel somehow as well,” Phaedra said, staring at the letter that Gale had written for her.

Shadowheart held out her hand. “I’ll give it to her.”

She blinked. “R-really? You know where she is?”

The cleric shrugged. “She visits me from time to time, when she is able to take time away from her duties in the Astral Sea.”

Phaedra smiled. Wow. I’m glad they still see each other, to be honest. She hardly ever came to see me. “So how is she?”

Shadowheart shrugged. “She looks nearly the same as she did when she left. Apparently one doesn’t age in the Astral Sea.”

“Ah. Well, give her my best. And tell her to visit me, dammit.”

Shadowheart smiled. “Of course.”

Phaedra handed over the letter, had a pleasant dinner, and spent the night in the barn with Scratch's great-grand pup and the owlbear for old time’s sake. The next morning, she bid farewell and traveled onward towards the Gate.

Along the way, she stopped by the old ruins where they had first run into Withers. Though the tomb was empty, she left Gale’s letter for him on the sarcophagus and camped outside for a night. The next morning, she went to check again and saw that the letter had disappeared.

It didn’t take long for her to find Jaheira, though when she asked about Minsc, the High Harper only shrugged and would speak no further. But the shielded pain in her eyes said enough. Phaedra handed both letters to her and wished her well before visiting her next two companions.

Tucked away in the lower city, a small house with flowers and a signpost above the door, decorated with flames and two crossed swords, brought a smile to Phaedra’s face. She knocked on the door and waited.

A crashing sound, followed by the pounding of feet, made her cringe, but she managed to put on a smile right before the door swung open.

“Aunty Phaedra!”

A young tiefling woman immediately grabbed her and pulled her into a huge bear hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her back and forth.

“I’m glad to see you too, Rieta,” Phaedra said, squeezing the woman in return. About two years after being forced to return to Avernus, Karlach and Wyll had found a way to fix her engine and they returned to Baldur’s Gate, as the Twin Blades of Avernus. They had made a good life, and though they didn’t officially retire, they had left most of the adventuring and fighting to their daughter while they helped train Flaming Fist soldiers.

“Soldier, it’s good to see you,” Karlach said as she came outside. She looked just as brilliant as she had the last time she had seen her ten years ago in Waterdeep. “Took you long enough to come back.”

As Rieta dragged her into the house, Phaedra smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry that… certain circumstances brought me back.”

Sitting at a dining table with Wyll, Karlach, and Rieta, Phaedra handed them the letters. “Gale… wanted me to hand deliver letters to everyone…”

She swallowed. She felt better with each letter she gave, as if the physical weight being lifted was lifting the weight off her heart as well. But it still hurt.

Fortunately, Phaedra was quickly surrounded by hugs, and they had a good evening of conversing about the past and catching up about the present.

“So who else do you need to visit?” Wyll asked, sitting with Karlach and Phaedra by their fireplace. Rieta had gone to bed, to be ready to wake up early for a mission in the morning.

Phaedra pulled a letter out of her satchel. “Well… just one more now.” 

“You can probably find him at the Elfsong,” Wyll said. “He’s… changed.”

She tipped her head. “In… a good way?”

Karlach and Wyll shared a smile. “I’d say so,” Karlach said. Then she frowned. “Didn’t he send you letters too?”

“He did on occasion, but they were… not very descriptive. Mostly a ‘I’m doing great, murdering the bad guys.’”

They laughed. “Sounds like him. When you find him, maybe ask him more about it. He’s more of a talker than a writer,” Wyll said.

Phaedra nodded. Interesting.

***

The next morning, Phaedra went with Wyll and Karlach to help train the new recruits at the Flaming Fist. There were certainly some wide-eyed recruits who asked a million questions once they realized who she was, and she weaved them a tale worthy of a bard’s approval. After doing some actual training, she spent the rest of the day walking around the city, looking at all of the ways the city had grown, and reminiscing at the things that hadn’t changed. 

And once the sun began to set, she made her way to the Elfsong.

Nursing a drink at the bar, she immediately sensed a certain someone making their way toward her.

“Darling, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Turning around, she expected Astarion to be his usual fabulous self.

Instead, she was surprised to see him wearing a dark blue shirt and leather breeches, simple adventuring gear. And yet somehow, it still looked good on him. Ridiculously good, in fact. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

He flipped his hair a bit with his hand and turned around to show Phaedra his outfit. “I look good in anything, my dear. But you already know that.”

She laughed. Gods, I didn’t realize how much I missed his sass. “Right, right.” 

“But I’m sure you’re not here just to look at my clothes.” He looked around. “Where’s your other half? I’m sure I would have heard him lecturing me by now.”

Her lips trembled.

It only took a moment for him to realize it, and he frowned.

Ever since Phaedra had helped him kill Cazador, she had noticed that Astarion looked at her with a kinder gaze. He spoke with her more often, shared his thoughts with her more openly. They had become friends after everything, and she truly cared about his happiness. 

After he had run off to hide from the blistering rays of the sun on the docks that fateful day, she had tried to look for him, but he was very skillful in hiding. She knew that, of course. It wasn’t until Withers’ banquet six months later that she saw him again, hugged him, and told him she had missed him. She had been pleasantly surprised to hear that he had become an adventurer and hero in his own right, dispatching criminals in the night.

“See you later, darling,” was the last thing he had said to her.

And now, he stood before her, close enough to see the kindness in his eyes once more.

It was enough to bring out her emotions once more. Shakily, she took a breath. “I… I have a letter for you, from Gale.”

Astarion stepped closer, not quite crowding her, but close enough so they could speak quietly. He took the letter gently from her grasp. “I am curious. Do you mind?”

Phaedra waved her hand. “Go ahead. I’ll just finish my drink.” Turning away to sip her mead, she subtly watched him as he read the letter. His eyes widened slightly before his expression went back to being neutral. When he finished, he tucked the letter away in his pocket. 

“Thank you for delivering this, my friend.” Taking her hand, he squeezed it gently. “Did he have you deliver letters to everyone?”

She nodded.

He sighed. “That man.” Putting one hand on the small of her back, he led his drow friend away from the bar and into the moonlit night. “This can’t be easy for you.”

Phaedra shook her head. “I knew I’d outlive him. But… I wanted to hold onto him for as long as possible.” She stared up at the sky. “He talked to me before”—she swallowed—“before he passed, about how much I meant to him, and how much he wants me to be free after he’s gone. To go on living and loving with vigor, because that was why he fell in love with me.”

She realized that Astarion was walking quietly with her, taking her along well lit streets, letting her speak. “I think he knew that I would need this, to go on a journey, to see our old friends, to reconnect with the world.” Phaedra turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “I spent a whole month holed up in his tower, not doing a damn thing. That doesn’t sound like me at all, does it?”

Astarion laughed. “No, it doesn’t. I would have thought you were a changeling, if I had seen you like that.” His eyes traced the shape of her face. “You’ve grown your hair out since I last saw you. You always kept it to such a short length before.”

She shrugged. “I, erm, didn’t really… pay attention to much of anything, after Gale passed.”

He watched her for a moment, clearly thinking. “Would you, perhaps, like to help me with something tonight? If you’re up for it.”

“What am I helping with?”

“Oh, just a small problem.”

“I know how ‘small’ problems suddenly become larger with you, Astarion.”

He chuckled. “Alright, well, there’s this group of ruffians…”

***

It was invigorating, being in the fray once more, fighting the good fight, helping folks in need. Phaedra finally felt like she had come back home, after six months of staying in Baldur’s Gate. She was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to distract herself with helping others, and in a way, giving her purpose. 

She missed Gale, of course. She missed being in their tower, sitting on their favorite settee on the balcony, watching the sunset and sharing a book. She missed helping Gale with magical experiments, practicing her druidic arts in the yard with him taking notes, taking short trips to the surrounding areas to explore new sights, collect new herbs, and maybe help a few people along the way. It had been a lovely, idyllic dream.

Now, being back in Baldur’s Gate, she had a new dream. A dream with friends who were close by, that she could see every day if she so wished. She split her time helping Karlach and Wyll train the Flaming Fist, assisting Rolan at Sorcerous Sundries, accompanying Rieta on some of her missions, and even taking breaks to visit Shadowheart and Halsin. 

But she spent most of her time with Astarion. Every night was a new adventure, whether it was breaking up a bar fight, getting chased by the guards of an illegal underground gambling ring, or reverse pickpocketing a small child who was begging for money in the alleys.

“So has this been your life for the past fifty years?”

“Has that much time passed?”

“I suppose it’s not long for us elves,” Phaedra said, huffing slightly in the cold night air. They were sprinting away from the Undercity, trying not to let the Zhentarim thugs on their heels catch up to them. However, the jangle of gold in Astarion’s pouch was giving them away.

“Well, it’s a drop in the bucket for me, since I’ll live forever.”

“Lucky you.”

“Perhaps.”

Phaedra glanced over, surprised at Astarion’s bittersweet tone.

But soon she had no time to ponder it, as they found themselves at a dead end.

“I thought you knew the Undercity!” she hissed.

Astarion shrugged as he pulled out his dagger. “Look darling, I don’t know every tunnel in this place. Especially since people keep digging new ones.”

Phaedra rolled her eyes as she got ready to wild shape. “Pick one.”

“Hm, I haven’t seen your owlbear form in some time.”

“Good choice.” Turning to see the thugs brandishing their swords, Phaedra grinned as she stomped on the ground, feeling the wild change take over her body. “Let’s go.”

***

Adrenaline running through her veins, Phaedra ran alongside her partner in not-quite-crime, laughing into the night air. She followed him back to his home, a simple townhouse in the lower city with a ground level and a large, windowless basement. 

Just as she was about to part ways, Astarion cleared his throat. “Do you want to come in?”

Phaedra was a bit surprised. After six months, this was the first time he had invited her. “Sure. “I’m curious what kind of place you’ve been living in all this time.”

The ground level merely consisted of a vestibule with a small sitting area, a door to a small guest bedroom that was minimally furnished, and another door leading to a stairwell. The basement was very lavishly decorated, and she could see three doors that connected to other rooms. It also had an emergency exit into the dark alley behind the building, just in case.

“Gods, did you see the look on their faces when you transformed?” he asked as he led her into the living room in the basement. “I got a free hit on them, they were so dumbfounded.”

Phaedra cackled. “Good. Hope they dream of me beating their faces in while they’re passed out.” She dropped her gear on the table in the basement living area. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill them.”

Astarion shrugged. “I fed on one of those other thugs earlier, no need to murder all of them so quickly.” He sat on a luxurious armchair, taking out a rag to clean his daggers. “Have to keep some of my blood supply intact for the future, after all.”

“Wow, you really have changed.”

He laughed softly. “I’ve learned to enjoy life with a little bit of planning. Something I learned from the rest of you.”

Phaedra smiled as she looked around Astarion’s living room. There were classic paintings, some she recognized as loot they had taken from various heists around the city back in the day.

“Didn’t you steal that from Lady Jannath’s estate when she was preoccupied with that artist?”

“And you provided an excellent distraction. I never thanked you for that.”

Phaedra shook her head. “I probably would have told you to put it back.”

“And that’s why I never mentioned it.” He finished cleaning his daggers and put them aside as he got up. “And now it’s here”—he gestured towards the painting—“splendidly adorning my wall.”

She sighed. “Well, I suppose no one has missed it since then…” Getting up to join him, she admired the colors, the paint strokes, the whole composition. “I have to admit, it is beautiful.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Phaedra looked over at Astarion to see him watching her, a curious look in his eyes. Wait. That look. “Astarion?”

He stepped closer to her. “Yes, darling?”

“What are you doing?”

“You have some debris in your hair,” he said, reaching up to pick out bits of dirt from her snowy white hair. His fingers trailed down to the tips of her hair before he softly caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, his gaze softer than she had ever seen.

“Um, thank you.” Phaedra stepped back, suddenly shy. He’s been doing this more often as of late. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s certainly an odd development. “This is the first time I’ve been to your place,” she mumbled, changing the subject awkwardly.

Astarion stepped back, and he was suddenly his usual self again. “Well, let me give you the grand tour.”

It was only three rooms, but he chattered away as he showed them to her. The luxurious powder room had two sinks and a tub large enough for two, with a door that connected to a grand bedroom with minimalist, stylish decor. There was a king sized bed covered in black silk sheets, and night stands on either side with two drawers each, clearly stuffed with knick knacks and jewelry.

The last room was a classically styled office, with an ebony stained mahogany desk, and bookcases along all of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were all filled, and there were even a few stacks on the floor where extra books couldn’t fit.

“That’s… a lot of books.”

Astarion shrugged. “There might be a few duplicates in there, I’m never quite sure.”

“Did you pilfer these too?”

“Perhaps.”

Phaedra grinned. “Do you want me to help you pick out the copies? We could donate them to the library.”

“You’re always so… nice.”

“Those thugs we clobbered underground may not agree with you.”

He laughed. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.”

They were back in the living room, Phaedra staring at her pile of loot and her quarterstaff leaning against a chair. “So, I guess I should head back to the Elfsong.”

“You’ve been staying there for the last six months. Why didn’t you take Karlach and Wyll’s offer to stay at their place?”

Phaedra shrugged. “You know me. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone, nor outstay my welcome.”

“You could stay here.”

“Did you not hear me?”

“I did, and I’m telling you that it’s more of an inconvenience to me, having to go over to the Elfsong to find you.”

She snorted. “Alright, that’s fair. But you have to help me move my stuff.”

***

Phaedra piled her stuff into the guest bedroom upstairs. It was a modest little room with a small night stand, a twin sized bed, a chest of drawers, and an empty bookcase. 

“It’s like you didn’t even attempt to make this look lived in.”

“Why? No one comes here. And I’ve laid traps on all the entrances and windows. A thief would have to be extremely talented to get past all of that.”

She could only nod as she put her things away. She paused when she pulled out a small, dark blue brocade pouch. 

Peering over her shoulder, Astarion hummed. “Is that the necklace I gave you back then?” 

Phaedra nodded as she opened the pouch and pulled out the delicate silver chain, studded with small sapphires. It was an elegant and minimalist style, designed to be more like a choker. “It was so pretty, I couldn't bring myself to sell it with the rest of the loot.”

Her memories came bubbling up from deep in her mind.

“Where did you find this, Astarion?” 

“Does it matter?”

“If I wear it and someone recognizes it, then yes, it matters.”

Astarion shrugged. “No one will recognize it. Just take it. When else will I ever be this generous?” 

“True. Oh, did you need my blood tonight?”

His gaze was heated as he smiled, his lips curving perfectly. “Darling, I'm always up for a little treat.”

“Yes, yes, now put your seduction face away, you know it doesn't work on me. And Gale will get mad.”

Astarion laughed. “We wouldn't want that now, would we?” His expression softened as he stepped closer, placing his hands delicately on her shoulders. “I know I don't always say it, but it's a gift every time you let me taste you.” Dipping his head down to her exposed neck, he whispered reverently, “Thank you,” before taking a bite. 

Astarion could tell Phaedra was spacing out, so he gently took the necklace from her hand. “Hold your hair up, darling.”

Phaedra came out of her memories and did as he asked. 

His fingers glided along her skin as he carefully clasped the necklace around her neck. Staring down at her neck, Astarion felt the urge to hold her close and bite down, but he restrained himself. It had been so long since he had tasted her, felt her slight tremor as he drank. He knew she had fed him as a friend, but he still craved the closeness those few precious moments offered him.

Reaching up to run her fingers along the necklace, she turned around and tipped her head curiously at him. “Well? Does it look good on me?” 

“Of course it does. I picked it out, remember?”

Remembering the myriad times he had pilfered a piece of jewelry or some other knick-knack that ended up being worth a sizable amount, even as they were trying to survive the onslaught of the Absolute and everything in between, Phaedra laughed and batted at his arm. “You always did have good taste, even if it got in the way of our work at times.”

She noticed that Astarion had stepped back. Looking toward the only window, she realized a faint sliver of dawn light was seeping through the blackout curtain.

“Oh. Right. Better get you back downstairs.”

He nodded. “Get some rest, darling. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Good, uh, well, have a good rest, Astarion.”

Smiling at her, he winked before heading back to the basement.

Phaedra remained unmoving until she heard the basement door close. Then, without really thinking, she plopped down on the bed and fell into reverie, letting the memories wash over her.

***

Astarion climbed slowly into his grandiose bed. Normally he’d revel in the feel of the silk sheets against his bare skin, but today, he longed for something else.

He longed for her. It pained him to have her so close, and yet she felt just as far as she had when she was in Waterdeep. He wanted her in bed with him, to feel her skin next to his. To touch her. Not even in a lustful way, just… skin to skin, laying beside her.

Sighing heavily, he fell into a trance, but his mind tortured him by remembering all of his interactions with Phaedra. 

He'd be lying if he said this wasn't a common occurrence. 

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Let me know what you think in the comments!

Chapter 2 Here.

[miraclesabound]

Beyond the Sea

Summary: This time, it’s Cassian who comes to you, not the other way around - and he isn’t alone. Sequel to “On the Ship”.

Pairings: Cassian Andor/F!Earthling!Reader, mistaken Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Jyn Erso/F!OC

Notes: Set immediately after Rogue One, so Cassian and Reader haven’t seen each other in about four and a half years. Also on AO3.

Warnings: Facing death, recovery from major injuries/rehab, Jyn and Cassian mistaken for a couple and associated angst on Reader’s part, falling in love, hopeful ending.

Tags: @princessxkenobi, @grogusmum, @daydreamsofren​, @daydreamsofthrawn​, @autumnleaves1991-blog​, @morby​, @recklessworry​, @mcbenson25​, @ponyboys-sunsets​

The oncoming blast sends heat out like a furnace. Cassian and Jyn hold each other tight, not daring to look at what’s coming. Instead, Cassian focuses on what he can feel – Jyn’s small frame in his arms, his boots pushing against the sand, and the ache in his head.

A light begins to appear in his periphery, and he braces for the worst, but just when the fire reaches them, there’s a gust of cool wind…

--

Cassian wakes up after what must be less than a minute, and the face above him is that of a stranger. She’s an older woman, maybe in her 60’s – and she looks slightly like Maarva. Is this the afterlife?

“Oh thank God you’re awake, young man – you and your wife scared me half to death,” she says. “My name is Marnie, I’ve already called for assistance for your injuries.”

Cassian realizes with relief that Jyn is right next to him. However, she looks to be in grim shape, which means he can’t be doing well either. “Where are we?” he asks, trying to fight the continuing dizziness. They’re clearly not on Scarif anymore.

His eyes grow wide when Marnie tells him the name of the town, and he tries to sit up. “Please, there’s someone I need to contact; she’s from here.”

Marnie firmly stops him from moving further. “I’ll see if I can find her, but you need to stay still until you can get in an ambulance. What’s the name?”

He tells her the name, and her eyes widen. “How do you know her?” she asks in a wary voice.

“It’s a long story,” he says. “But please, I beg you, Ms. Marnie, tell her that Cassian Andor is here.”

-

When your godmother calls you, you rush to the hospital as quickly as possible. You’re not quite sure you believe what she’s telling you – but there’s no way Marnie would know Cassian’s name if he wasn’t the one to introduce himself. You get to Rosevale Medical, and Marnie is waiting for you with a visitor’s bracelet.

When the two of you get to the prep room, you’re torn between relief and disappointment. The relief comes from seeing Cassian, badly burned, but very much alive. The disappointment is that Marnie didn’t misspeak when she said Cassian was here with his bride. Why would the hospital put him in the same room with a beautiful woman if she isn’t his wife?

“Hey, stranger,” Cassian calls to you. His voice is weak, but he’s able to smile for you. “How long has it been?”

You return the smile, even as your stomach is tumbling. “Hey to you too – four and a half years, I think?”

The woman in the other bed speaks up. “Cassian, is this who you told me about?” There’s a lilt in her voice that suggests she’s of good family.

“Yeah, it is.” Cassian introduces the two of you quickly, and then he and Jyn (you must admit to yourself that her name is lovely) are taken back for surgery. Now all you can do is wait.

--

You made the mistake of not bringing a book, and you’re paying for that over the next several hours. Marnie had to go home, so you’re alone, stewing in your own thoughts.

Your life has been very full in the last few years, especially professionally. You’ve taken over for the boss who tried to mess with you all that time ago – and your CEO is mentoring you to possibly open an independent firm.

On the personal side, your family is thriving. Your brother has had a child now, and your niece is one of the lights of your life. Your best friend from childhood, Alex, has just finished her master’s degree, and when she came out as bi to her parents recently, it went beautifully.

However, you haven’t had a partner to share these victories with. You tried dating a few times, but nothing ever stuck. Perhaps the people you went out with could tell that your heart wasn’t in it – not that you intended to tell them that you had pinned your hopes on a man in a distant galaxy. However, now you feel like a fool for your attempt at faithfulness.

It’s been nearly five years – of course Cassian moved on from you. He’s been involved in a major rebellion, and if Jyn showed up here with him, she must be a rebel too. Surely, she’s more his type – not just in her beauty, but in that toughness in her face that you saw as soon as you met her. How could he not adore her? And besides, he didn’t ask you to wait for him – he only asked you to stay safe.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a nurse comes up to you and says, “Mrs. Andor is awake and asking for you, ma’am. Should I tell her you’ll be a few minutes?”

You nod, wanting to kick yourself for your self-pity. What gives you the right to sob about this? Jyn and Cassian have been through something terrible; they don’t need to be worrying about you too. You tell the nurse you’ll be along, and after you wash your face and get some water, you’re ready to go to the recovery room.

--

Jyn is alone when you go in to see her – the nurse explains that Cassian is still in the operating theatre due to having more complicated injuries. Jyn doesn’t smile at you, but there’s a warmth in her eyes that eases the ache in your chest. This woman is many things, but she clearly isn’t your enemy. The nurse shows you the small beverage refrigerator, and then she excuses herself.

“How are you feeling?” you ask Jyn.

“Mostly? I’m thirsty as hell,” she tells you.

You walk over to the fridge and crouch down in front of it. “I see bottled water, ginger ale and electrolyte drinks,” you say. “Which do you want? Ginger ale is nice if you’ve never had it.” And it’s quite likely she hasn’t, you figure. Who knows what herbs grow in her and Cassian’s galaxy?

“Sure, as long as it’s cold.” You grab the can and open it for her, giving her a straw when she has difficulty tipping the can. She takes a few sips, and she properly smiles for the first time. “You were right,” she says, “it’s delicious.”

She finishes her drink, and though you don’t want to pester her, she can tell that you’re curious. When you ask what happened to her and Cassian, she tells you everything – the plot to find her father, learning about the defect in a new Imperial weapon, and getting that information to the Alliance before the Death Star destroyed an entire mining base. When you hear the description of what the Death Star did, you can’t restrain a shudder.

“I worry about the rest of our team,” Jyn says. “I doubt anyone got off the base alive besides Cassian and me. And even then…” she looks at you with considering eyes. “I think we’re only here because of you.”

“What…did he actually say about me?” You quickly dismiss the flicker of hope bubbling in your chest. Surely Cassian was enough of a gentleman to not wax poetic about an ex-fling to his beloved.

“He said that you were there when he needed you, even if neither of you knew how. He said you were empathetic and sweet – and that Luthen believed you were soulmates.”

That last sentence should elate you, but instead, you feel sick. “I’m so sorry – you shouldn’t have had to hear that,” you tell her. “I never wanted to interfere in anyone’s marriage.”

“Marriage?” Jyn looks confused. “We’re not married?”

“Partnership, relationship, whatever you want to call it…I don’t want to be a homewrecker,” you say.

“But we’re not together,” Jyn says. “Who said we were?”

You’re sure that she can hear the gears in your head grinding to an awful screeching halt. “But…but you two were found together…Marnie said Cassian was scared for you…”

“Then she made a wrong assumption,” Jyn tells you. “Cassian’s my dear friend, but we’re not a couple. I have someone I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid, but…” She sighs heavily. “I don’t even know if she’s real.”

You sink into the chair next to Jyn’s bed, your head and heart both spinning. Jyn takes pity on you and squeezes your shoulder. “I’m the one who should,” she says. “I didn’t realize I was hurting someone Cassian cares for.” After some further conversation, you and Jyn both manage to fall asleep.

Cassian is brought back a few hours later, and he certainly finds it easier to sleep when he sees you and Jyn resting. When you’re all awake again, you get Jyn’s records corrected.

--

You hear a knock on your front door, and you hope your expression of relief isn’t too obvious to Cassian and Jyn. It’s been three weeks since they left the hospital, and while you’re happy to host their recovery, it’s been a hard change to have two other people in your space. As such, your friend Alex’s offer of help for today is much appreciated – she’s worked on a rehab ward before, and she knows that it’s exhausting work.

You leave Jyn and Cassian to their breakfasts, squeezing Cassian’s shoulder as you walk by. You’ll admit it makes your heart skip when he turns his head to kiss your hand. The two of you have fallen so easily into physical affection these last weeks, but sometimes he can still catch you off guard.

When you open the door, Alex wraps you in a hug, and you feel yourself settle a bit into her arms. “How are you and the patients?” she asks.

“We’re good, c’mon in.” You take her coat and bag, and she walks past you towards the kitchen. “We were just finishing – OOF!” Alex is stopped right in the kitchen doorway, and you nearly lose your balance as you bump into her. Over her shoulder, you see Jyn sitting straight up in her chair, her eyes wide as if she’s seen a ghost.

Alex feels you trying to push past, and she lets you through, but only so that she can go to Jyn’s side and crouch next to her. Jyn’s eyes are watering, and she asks in a much smaller voice than usual, “Are you real?”

“Are you?” Alex asks back.

Your own eyes widen, and you say to Jyn, “Is…is Alex your dream woman that you told me about?”

You may have directed the question to Jyn, but you can’t say you’re surprised when both she and Alex answer “YES.” in perfect unison.

--

The day goes by easier with Alex’s help, especially because she and Jyn are completely wrapped up in each other – Jyn takes the chance to fill Alex in on everything she can remember, and you chime in when Alex asks about how you and Cassian found each other.

The evening comes more quickly than expected, and you order dinner in. When the food arrives, you and Cassian opt to eat in the living room, while Jyn and Alex stay in the kitchen, still chatting even as they eat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jyn talk this much to anyone,” Cassian tells you. He leans against your shoulder, and you kiss the side of his head. He and Jyn have been dutiful in their physical therapy, but you know it tires him.

“I’m glad for them both,” you say. “Alex never told me she was dreaming about someone, but she’s been single the last few years and…I remember what that was like.” You take another bite of your rice and swallow it down. “And I know now that you and Jyn were never an item, but I wasn’t sure she would appreciate us being…” You realize you were about to say “lovey-dovey”, but even with knowing that Cassian isn’t going anywhere, it is far too early to even joke about love. “Well, she wouldn’t appreciate being reminded that she didn’t have someone.”

“That’s fair,” Cassian agrees. “That said, it makes me wonder…”

“Oh?”

“Until Alex walked in here, I thought Jyn had come to Earth because of me holding on to her at the end – but I figure now it’s because of Alex. Two members of the same squad having soulmates on the same planet, in the same distant galaxy? That doesn’t seem like coincidence.”

Your eyes widen, and you do your best to calm your breathing – Cassian has never directly called you his soulmate before. “You mean – you think the others are here too somewhere?”

“I do – but I wish I knew for certain.” Cassian sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Not that we need a big reunion or something – but just to know they’re ok.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Let’s start researching, yeah?”

Cassian smiles and pulls you in for a kiss. “You’re a dream, honey,” he whispers against your mouth.

“So are you, love.”

[ainulindaelynn]

10 Favorite Movies

Tagged by @aeide, @sleeplessincarcosa, & @brasideios. Thanks for thinking of me everyone :) This was harder than I expected! I rarely watch movies for some weird reason, so subject to frequent change and in no particular order...

1. Fight Club (1999)

Just for the shock value. After finishing this movie, I immediately had to start it over and rewatch on the spot. Only other movie that’s ever done that to me was Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. I love a good concept drop that changes everything.

2. Pride & Prejudice (1995)

I’m willing to die on this hill, folks. 1995 beats 2005 at every angle. You can’t beat Colin Firth at regency drama. King’s Speech? Importance of Being Ernest? Also every moment of this film is crisp and poignant. I turn it on in the background every few years. A solid comfort movie.

3. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

Live stunts, which are CRAZY… The shot clipping. The lack of dialogue. The stylistic choices as a whole are just fantastic. And the overarching themes! Not to mention Charlize Theron. And Furiosa being an amputee! SO GOOD.

4. Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001)

It’s cliche, but I’ll never stop finding new things to love about this trilogy. Or admiring Tolkien’s complete obsession and immersion in his own fictional world. The fact that entire books are made from pieced-together napkin scribblings left scattered all over his life is just writer goals.

5. Dirty Dancing (1987)

Guilty pleasure. Despite being a truly horrific dancer myself, I’m a bit obsessed with it. Being able to connect to your body like that… not a very familiar feeling for me 😂 And I have a serious soft spot for Patrick Swayze.

6. Hamilton (2020)

Cheating here, but it’s on Disney+ so I’m not apologizing. I think it takes an undeservedly rosy outlook on history, but the first time I watched this I was floored. Leslie Odom Jr. and Christopher Jackson, in particular, KILLED those performances. Unbelievably good. And I’m weirdly obsessed with the way they use dance and sound to make everything so seamless and alive, while completely in the background is just 🙌

7. Overboard (1987)

TERRIBLE movie. Do NOT recommend. Extremely problematic on every level. But somehow it found its way to the top of my guilty pleasure list and I can’t extract it. But that hard work montage? And the fact that Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn are life partners ❤️

8. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002)

My cliche childhood horse obsession loved this movie. But my adult self loves it so much more. I’ve only recently been learning how they handled the representation. And that metaphor, folks. That METAPHOR! No clue how this got made, but I’m behind it.

9. Gladiator (2000)

Even with what I assume are egregious inaccuracies, this is such a fun movie with such a great soundtrack. I love the aesthetic. Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix… the cinematography… That dagger at the end… The commentary on power. And it came out in the golden era of YouTube fanvids. I still can’t listen to this song without seeing specific sword strokes 😂

10. Rogue One (2016)

Jyn Erso is my spirit animal. I love that neither Jyn or Cassian are traditional leads. I love that the team chose NOT to go for the cliche romance, which gives it so much more character and relational depth IMO. I love that it’s hopeless and also …uplifting? And I extra love that it gives (what I perceive to be) a major nod to KotOR’s Unknown World.

Tagging @ruzzsta214, @egoborderline, @xeagle-bearerx, @raenacreates, @inlovewithassassins2, @justalittlerayofpitchblack, @newengland-shrike, @fenharel-enaste, @fanonisrealcanon, @ratcready. As always, no pressure though :)

[sterek-is-eternal]

omg hello i just saw your fics recs and all of them look so good so thank you can’t wait to read them! and on that note, what’s the angstiest sterek fic you’ve ever read? maybe without happy ending? 👀 but with happy ending is cool too!

Hey, I’m so glad that you liked it!

Angst without happy ending? omg… First of all, I sending you a virtual hug.

I don’t read much fics like that. Those are the angstiest I know but most of them with happy ending. Please always read tags and author warnings because those fics deal with rape, depresia, slavery, torture or some heavy staff that can be trigger for someone.

1. This is the first fic that was on my mind. I would say ending is bitter-sweet, one that give hope. Stiles died but Derek resurrected him. Stiles is different and not happy. They both trying to find the way to be happy again. I really love it.

Won't Do Me No Good Washing in the River by DevilDoll, Jinxy, Rahciach 6k

"Remember, Derek: you never get back what you lost." 

2. Exactly what summary says. Derek was dating Stiles when Nogitsune happend.

Sing Me to Sleep by Dexterous_Sinistrous 6k

What if Derek and Stiles were dating when the Nogitsune came along?

What if Derek didn't know if Stiles was really Stiles when they were together?

What if the Nogitsune didn't want to give Derek back to Stiles?

Or: Rewrite of Season 3B where Derek and Stiles are dating.

3. This one hurt but in a good way. Soulmate AU with Stiles being in coma. They bodyswap for one day.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones 13k

Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

4. Royalty AU. Stiles is force to work for Gerard.

You're Just An Empty Cage Boy (If You Kill The Bird) by cirquedusoleil 26k

Stiles can't remember the last time he's spoken.

5. Stiles is infertile and trying to get divorce with Derek.

All Derek Ever Wanted by Dexterous_Sinistrous 7k

Stiles knew Derek always wanted a big family. And, for the longest time, he thought he'd be the one to give it to him. Life, devastatingly, has other plans.

Prompt: "I've been thinking about omega stiles n alpha derek. They're trying to hav a baby. But one day stiles go to the doc, n he imply that stiles can't get pregnant. Stiles keep it secret and try to make derek divorce him."

6. Stiles is a necromancer who resurrect Laura but it cost him his health. Reading as Stiles slowely fading away is just pure hurt.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf 33k

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

(Or the one in which Stiles is a necromancer who needs help stopping a rogue alpha and Derek is the solution, but at what cost?)

7. This is a very popular one (as it deserve to be). Story through Sheriff eyes about Stiles being raped.

Promise You'll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter 10k

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who've been beaten and sexually assaulted.

Except this time it's his son.

It's Stiles.

8. It’s a second part of a series. Derek is writing a book about Stiles and he is describing him in a very bad way (he didn’t mean it though).

how this one ends. by standinginanicedress 49k / Wayback Machine

“And Stiles,” he's addressed directly for the first time since this whole thing started, and when all eyes land on him this time, he just squeezes Derek's hand and squares his shoulders. He can act like this doesn't bother him. Derek can do it, and Derek's here. He'll be okay. “...how does it feel to know that millions upon millions of people are going to read intimate, private details about your life with Derek?”

“It doesn't bother me,” Stiles says with a shrug, going for nonchalant and feeling like he's doing it pretty well. “I knew what I was getting into. Besides – everyone wants Derek Hale to write about them, right?”

9. Sexual slavery AU. Stiles is a present for Laura’s son.

All The Way To You by AgnesBlue 14k

“Can you make a stop at Beacon Rock? It’s a little town close by, maybe forty miles away from where you are.” He’s instantly irritated. “Why?” “I need you to pick up a present I got for Mason,” Laura says.

AU in which Derek is returning to Beacon Hills after years of being away. Laura calls him while he's on the road, asking him to make a stop to pick up an omega she's purchased as her son's gift.

10. War between werewolves and humans. Stiles is capture by Derek’s pack and made Derek’s slave.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) 149k

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

[residentdormouse]

Reiterating those Rogue ‘R’ Words

I will reluctantly but respectfully relinquish the reins on the ‘r’ alliteration and renounce any reclaim, regardless of ‘Resident’ reoccuring in my repertoire. In retrospect, your ratio of resounding ‘r’ rhythms ring more readily than my own. Remarkably, even with more reserves running rampant, I’m rubbish at rounding up the required rolling resonance. Maybe I should rethink my rapport with the reverberation before rescinding my right and reaping any resulting repercussions, but really? Any further redundant repetition on my part would be rudimentary at best.

(I’ll give you the “r”s @mrsmungus , not sure I can find any good alliteration using them in mine; I just like saying ‘Fuck off, Flagg’😂)

My Words: Rather, Rest, Reveal, Road, River

Your Words: Support, Scared, Sincere, Star, Safe

If you feel inclined to join, don’t hesitate to ‘@’ me! -OPEN TAG-

Rather

(I thought I used this more than I did. Weird. Ah well, a lot of them are very spoiler-ish, so this is the least of the bunch I think? TW referenced drug use in case that’s an issue.)

“Both of us. Attachments only cause problems.”

“You really are full of shit, you know that? Problems? Pretty sure the way you're living, causing problems is exactly what you're doing right now. Fucking people you consider desposable while doing coke in the back of clubs. You’re saying attachments are more problematic than that?! That makes zero–”

“Because people leave, Harold! They die!”

And there its was, the raw nerve that needed the walls, that required her to wear a mask. Running from a past that would never leave her.

“So you’d rather not even bother, then? Hm. I guess, you just didn’t seem like the type.”

Everything stopped. Her movements, expressions, breath. She was frozen until the words were fully actualized.

“What did you say…”

“Being afraid, playing it safe. Hiding away. Never would have guessed that was the real you, Max.”

The rise and fall of her chest was staggered, and he could tell she was doing her best to control herself. After a few moments, she let out her short but articulated reply.

“Fuck. You. Harold.”

Rest

"Mother Abagail said that we need to have faith. I'm not sure what's beyond here. God. An afterlife. Heaven. Hell. I don't have much faith in all that. But I have faith in you. If this is going to be successful, you'll need to be ready for him."

He put a hand on her cheek, and her shoulders slumped down, head leaning forward to rest against his. A brief moment passed before he urged her to look back at him. Still wet, her eyes shimmered, but held anything further at bay.

“So what do you say, Giggles? Give this another shot?”

She nodded her reply, took a deep breath, and adjusted herself into a comfortable position. She let her eyes close and let her mind focus solely on his words in the moment.

Reveal

(I can only use one sentence because both before and after are spoiler heavy, but its a reference to a canon joke, and it made me laugh when I read it.)

Teddy fired a couple shots, finally revealing the gun he had yet to shoot his dick off with.

Road

(Road and rest in one go - double whammy.)

“Ah, c'mon, nobody saw that coming… Come here,” he held out his hand to her, and she pushed the blanket to the side to take it. In a quick movement, she was pulled up and wrapped in a hug. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she couldn’t argue; this warmth was prefered to that of the blanket. As she continued to regulate her breathing, he continued with his thought. “You can’t just stop all the bad things from happening. Bad things happen to good people, for no good reason, all the time. You can only try to help, and I think you are doing that more than you’re giving yourself credit for. So no, it's not for nothing. Who knows how much worse it would be right now if you didn’t try. No sense going down that road.”

The speech gave her thought; who knows, really. But somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was meant to be, that she was fighting a losing battle.

“It's what he said… I’m afraid of who I was, failing at who I am, and I’m not able to help anybody…just wasting energy on dead men.”

He pulled back slightly, holding her by the shoulders, looking directly in her eyes, searching her face.

“You’re letting him get to you is what you’re doing. Don’t give him that.” He gave her a kiss to the forehead, and she leaned into him again. “Let's get some rest though, this is going to be top of the agenda for tomorrow's meeting.”

“So much for enjoying the win tonight…”

River

(Only two instances of River between both stories. This ones in reference to the song ‘The Humbling River’, which I definitely listened to more than I should have while writing this.)

"You sure about that? You think I don't know your type? Haven't gone rounds with a few tough guys that thought they were some kind of hot shit? Rough exterior, but all raw nerves underneath."

"Lot of assumptions you're making."

"You want to tell me I'm wrong?"

Her eyebrow arched to further advance the question, but there was no response from him. "Nobody here's going to hold you to your past beliefs or practices. Past mistakes. We all have our demons, blood on our hands. Some more than others. As long as you're making an honest effort to change, want to change... Well, what you were back then, it isn't the only path forward, and you might be surprised what you’ll find on others."

"Hmm, again with the mission statements. You all pitch it alot…"

"Not really. Only have to pull it out for the stubborn assholes who think they can do everything themselves.” This time she wasn’t waiting around for a response; he heard it or he didn’t. It was, however, a calculated strike, and she was rarely wrong about these things. She breezed past him into the kitchen to pull the curtains. “Never gonna make it over the river that way. Alone. You need help, and you have an opportunity here. One I'm sure you're not getting anywhere else."

Lack of an immediate answer told her she hit a spot.