#one day i'll figure out how to write dialogue

[ineed-to-sleep]

I'm still working on this btw. Chipping away at it one little panel at a time 🥲

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[nerdallwritey]

I Want to Live

Summary: He murmured something against your lips. You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?” “I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath.  “Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive. He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.” OR Raphael asks you and Astarion for a favor, which leads to an important conversation.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 14.9k CW: Raphael is a thespian, vulnerable Astarion, Yurgir battle, mentions of killing oneself, Astarion's scars, confessions, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), breeding kink (DADSTARION IS IMPORTANT TO ME), smush (smutty mush) Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 8 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AS I WROTE PART 8!!! I've become the busiest woman in the world - my job came to an end and I just started a new one, I'm in a play that my friend wrote this summer, I'm moving at the end of this month, and my power went out for nearly three days this week. BUT! WE FORGE AHEAD! I hope that you all enjoy this new addition and that it was worth the wait!! I was super excited to write this part and hope I was able to do it justice. Heads up: I am EXTREMELY busy for the next few months, so I'll probably take a mini hiatus from writing this series for a hot minute. I will be back, rest assured! I'm also interested in possibly starting a new series starring my Tav, Birdie! Anyways, I hope this part was worth the wait! It was a blast to write!! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, just as you were about to save Isobel from etheric's henchmen, Raphael whisked you and Astarion away for his own personal needs.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

With a white shock of pain, the cold of the Shadow Cursed Lands crept into your bones, rendering you frozen and disoriented.

What had just happened?

“Astarion?” you called out, remembering that he had been right beside you only a moment ago. “Where are you?”

“I’m here, darling,” you jumped when a pair of cold hands encircled your shoulders before they spun you to look into Astarion’s frantic eyes. He relaxed considerably once he saw your face. “I’m right here.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head a little to kiss one of the hands on your shoulder before looking around. “Any idea where we are?” 

Upon scanning the area, it seemed that you and Astarion were in the middle of the Shadow Cursed Lands, high atop some sort of mountain. You saw what looked to be a heavily trodden path with stairs leading up to this place, surrounded by discarded weapons and pieces of armor. Not far off you spotted flags surrounding what you assumed was a makeshift graveyard. 

Astarion’s eyes followed yours. “If I had to guess, it’s not the Blushing Mermaid.”

In the distance, you saw the roofs of buildings that must have made up the village Jaheira had mentioned. Looking to your left, you spotted the moon shield surrounding the Last Light Inn and witnessed tiny figures flying around the structure, along with blasts of magic from within the building through the windows. You ran towards it to get a better look, your stomach dropping when you realized how far you were from the battle you’d just been so rudely snatched away from.

“Where’s Raphael?” you growled. 

Speaking of the devil, the cambion’s mortal form, which you hadn’t noticed standing at the grand entrance into some sort of temple in the side of the mountain, stepped forward, observing his nails. Behind him, chains hung from the sides of the cliffs and a large door loomed, destroyed, as if whatever had been inside had broken out with a great deal of force.

“Our heroes thought but a treasure ahead,” Raphael said dramatically, “did not consider the peace of the dead. Through the dark they went creeping, and awoke what was sleeping. A new grave they dug, which they themselves fed.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “How long were you skulking there, practicing that rhyme before we saw you?”

“Until it was perfect,” Raphael said matter-of-factly. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know - in my way. I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.”

“You brought us here!” you exclaimed. “We don’t even know where we are!”

“Patience,” Raphael chuckled. “There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature who, like me, is of the infernal persuasion.”

You crossed your arms. “Is this creature as dramatic as you are?”

Raphael smirked, amused by your annoyance. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. When you meet this devil of which I speak,” his tone became deathly serious, “kill it. Consider no other course of action.” 

“Hmm,” Astarion hummed. “There’s something you’re hiding. You’re only telling us half that story. Out with it, devil”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest as well should it remain trapped in the dark.” He grinned viciously. “Or misplace its head, perhaps.”

“Lovely,” you muttered.

“I should not relish its reacquaintance,” Raphael continued. “Let’s leave it at that.” He turned to you with piqued interest. “You have it in you to author a thrilling finale, if…”

“If?” You took a sideways step towards Astarion who instinctively placed his hand on your lower back.

Raphael’s face took on a scowl. “If you heed this warning: Do not underestimate this opponent. At best you will have the blink of an eye to strike.” 

You looked to Astarion who swept a soothing thumb back and forth along the base of your spine.

Raphael’s voice was dripping with venom when he spoke. “Strike first. Strike true. Defy the odds, for they are distinctly in its favor.” He took a breath to settle himself. “That much I owe the bastard orthon to concede.” 

“Okay,” you said cautiously. “And I assume this is about that favor-?”

He laughed and regained his leading-actor-giving-a-monologue stance. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your tale, Astarion.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Astarion said flatly, “considering I only told you about it an hour ago.”

Raphael laughed again, an uproarious, overly dramatic guffaw. “When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that payment enough to translate the scars on your back.”

Astarion nodded his head towards the devil. “A fairer deal than I expected.”

“You wound me, spawn,” Raphael said, not the least bit insulted. “I always deal fairly. And we’ll close this particular deal soon enough - vanquish the beast, and all will be revealed.”

“As great as that sounds,” you said in mock sincerity, “where do we find this beast of yours? You can’t just lead us into the middle of nowhere, give us a task, and expect us to follow through with no other direction! Our friends needed our help back there!” You thrust your arms to your right, over towards the moon shield protecting the inn.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Raphael assured, though it didn’t help you to feel better at all. “But you do raise a fair point. That little Sharran of yours will want to see this place. And I know a shortcut.” “What kind of-”

Before Astarion could finish his sentence, Raphael snapped his fingers again, causing everything to go black once more.

When you were met with the familiar white shock of pain from earlier, you realized Raphael had transported you somewhere new.

“That is not a pleasant feeling,” you said, wiping down your armor to rid yourself of any sulphuric residue. 

“No it is not,” Astarion agreed, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair. “Where the devil are we now?”

“Nice one,” you smirked while looking around.

It seemed that now you were in a temple of some sort, completely made up of purple, gray, and gold marble - stone pillars and staircases and columns sprang up in well calculated spaces, and judging by the atmosphere and the view out into the temple, it appeared that you were now inside the mountain that Raphael had met you outside of. Purple light surrounded you from lit braziers that littered the corners, and multiple large doors gave off an eerie, unwelcoming aura.

“Sharran, for sure,” Astarion wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Look at all the bodies,” you said quietly, observing several skeletons scattered around the staircases. “Do you think they were the Dark Justiciars Jaheira mentioned?”

Astarion approached one and kicked its helmet, which let out a dull thud. “They seem pretty dead to me.”

“Hmm…” You looked around, searching for any sign of this devil Raphael had mentioned. “Do you really think Raphael will keep his word if we kill this orthon?”

Astarion stiffened. “I’d trust a devil over a vampire any day.” 

“That doesn’t bode well for me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “I think he likes us.”

“Do you think he loves-”

“Don’t start,” Astarion snapped with minimal bite.

You laughed. “Unfortunately he can be pretty entertaining. But I’d never say that to his smarmy face.”

“He is rather smarmy, isn’t he?” Astarion smiled. “Perhaps if we kill this orthon extra bloody, he’ll invite us for tea and brandy back in his House.”

“An invitation I eagerly await,” you said in your snootiest voice and mimed holding a tea cup on a saucer. 

Astarion mimicked your snootiness and the two of you “clinked” your imaginary cups together while laughing airily.

“Wait,” you paused in walking along the corridor, suddenly catching a glint of red on the floor. 

Astarion halted at your side. “What?” 

You pointed at the ground. “You tell me, vampire.”

The vampire in question pursed his lips. “I’ve said before that I’m not some bloodhound,” he argued. He took a deep inhale and sagged. “But yes, that is blood.”

“Any idea how fresh?”

He considered. ��Not very fresh, but not completely stale either.”

“Well,” you said, wrapping your arm around his bicep, “where there is blood, there are monsters.”

Astarion humphed as you both walked forward, following the tiny speckled trail of blood towards a set of stairs. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Noooo,” you said, reassuringly nuzzling your head against his shoulder, “you’re too full of love to be a monster.”

Astarion shoved you away and you laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We are going to talk,” you said firmly, but not unkindly. “I have things to say to you, too.”

Astarion hunched over dramatically. “Blech. Put me out of my misery first.” 

“Not happening,” you said, approaching him again and lacing your fingers through his. 

He tried to hide it, but you saw the flicked of a smile on his face. 

A sudden flash of black at the bottom of the stairs caught your attention.

A displacer beast.

You and Astarion froze on the stairs, and for a moment, the three of you were locked in an intense stare down. 

Then, she bolted down the hall to the left.

“Hey!” you shouted, detaching yourself from Astarion and jumping off of the stairs. “Come back!”

“Darling!” you heard Astarion shout behind you. “What are you doing?! Be careful!”

The pair of you rushed down another set of steps before following the beast into a chamber to your right. 

“What the hells has been happening here?” you asked, pausing briefly in the doorway, then walking forward cautiously and observing multiple dead bodies and piles of gore.

Astarion exhaled heavily. “So much blood…” He looked up suddenly, his hands hovering over his knives. “Something’s wrong.”

“Here in the death room?” you teased, looking around for the displacer beast, but not seeing her. “You’re sharp.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Just be on your guard.”

A low growl caught your attention as the displacer beast appeared again on a shattered dais in front of you. 

You strummed a low tune on your lute, casting Speak with Animals. 

“Quiet, darling,” Astarion warned softly. “This could be a trap.”

“Hi there,” you whispered to the displacer beast, as if that would shield you from a trap. “Would you perhaps know where we could find-”

“What’s this?” A deep voice echoed through the chamber as a giant figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Fresh entertainment?”

The figure, who you assumed was the orthon, was massive. His head bore jagged, razor sharp horns, and his body was adorned with armor, some of which, you realized with horror, was made of bones. To make matters worse, he had a giant crossbow trained on you. You saw Astarion take a shocked step backwards out of the corner of your eye before he lowered himself into a ready stance. 

“Oh, really good job getting his attention,” Astarion shot at you bitterly.

“But you’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you?” The orthon looked between you and Astarion, before his eyes rested on Astarion. “A dark-dweller, you may be, but there’s a definite whiff of the surface to you.” 

Astarion said nothing and carefully sidestepped his way over to you, standing in front of you and attempting to shield you with his body.

“We could try talking?” you suggested to the vampire. “Maybe we can get out of this without a fight?”

“A new arrival then,” the orthon continued, clearly not perceiving you or Astarion to be any sort of threat. “You burrowed too deep, little rabbits.”

Astarion meanwhile, was still taking in your surroundings. He nudged you with his elbow and gestured for you to look up.

Figures in golden masks looked down at you, all aiming weapons and preparing to shoot if either of you made the wrong move.

You cleared your throat and looked back at the orthon. “Allow us to hop to it,” you said calmly. “We’re just here to talk. Put that thing down-”

“I don’t talk to prey!” The orthon roared. “I-” He paused and Astarion hovered his hands above his daggers again. “There’s something else, almost hidden by your fear-stink.” 

You discretely tried to smell yourself, but Astarion leaned back to whisper, “You don’t actually stink, darling.”

“Right,” you responded quietly.

“Cherries,” the orthon sniffed, “musk… and sulphur.”

“Oh, that,” you said, trying to wipe Raphael’s stench off of your armor.

The orthon exhaled steam from his nostrils. “Raphael! I can smell him all over you! Where is he?! Spit it out! Now!”

Overhead, the masked figures loudly made it known that their weapons were loaded and pointing down at you and Astarion. The displacer beast snarled and paced impatiently upon the dais. 

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked you through the side of his mouth. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

The displacer beast growled and shouted to the orthon: “Master! They’ve been sent here by the perfumed swindler to kill you!” She leaped forward off the dais and began circling around you and Astarion, her teeth bared and her tails flicking impatiently.

“Did he, now,” the orthon chuckled. “Many have tried to fell the mighty Yurgir, but none have succeeded.” 

“What?” Astarion asked frantically. “What did the beast say to him?”

You rolled your eyes. “She tattled on us, basically.”

Astarion pulled his daggers from their sheaths. “Wretched thing!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, stilling Astarion’s hands, and stepping in front of him so you were closer to Yurgir. “Mr. Yurgir, sir, perhaps we can help each other?”

The displacer beast snorted. “The pretty one has pulled out his meager weapons. It’s clear they are here with intent to harm.”

“Not true!” you said quickly, noting the confusion in Astarion’s expression at having not understood the beast. You strummed a quick Speak with Animals for him so you wouldn’t need to continue to translate. 

Yurgir chuckled again, amused with your distressed display. “Bargaining, are you? A Kara-Tur warlord once tried the same - I made him watch as I ate his concubines and young, then fashioned a codpiece from his skull.”

“Charming,” Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Silence!” The displacer beast lunged at Astarion, who sidestepped her and prepared to attack her with his daggers. 

“Don’t!” you pleaded, preparing to cast a spell with your lute. The air in the chamber tensed significantly.

“Nessa,” Yrugir addressed the displacer beast calmly. He nodded to her and she begrudgingly took a step back from Astarion, who straightened a little and kept an eye on both you and the beast. 

Yurgir sighed, all the while, his crossbow was still trained on you and Astarion. 

“You can’t help. It’s not just walls that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me. A contract.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. “Figures a meathead like you would get trapped in an agreement with a devil.”

A growl came from the back of Yurgir’s throat. “My patience grows thin with you,” he narrowed his eyes at Astarion who met his gaze unwaveringly. “One more snide comment and it’s lights out, pretty boy.”

Astarion chuckled. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“Astarion,” you hissed. “Please behave.” You turned back towards Yurgir. “Can you tell me more about the contract?”

For whatever reason, perhaps intrigue, perhaps loneliness, Yurgir indulged your request. 

“Either I fulfill the contract, die trying… or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I’ll become Raphael’s slave.”

You felt Astarion prickle behind you at the mention of slavery. 

“Personally,” Astarion said angrily, “I’d prefer if you died trying.” 

Without warning, he threw a knife in Yurgir’s direction, which the orthon dodged very easily. Yurgir looked up at his masked minions and nodded.

One by one, they jumped to the ground pointing their weapons at Astarion. Nessa pounced and pinned him to the bloodied marble floor beneath you.

“Wait!” you shouted as Nessa unhinged her jaw to snap in Astarion’s face. You cleared your throat. “Diabolic deals of legend always have loopholes! We just need to find it!”

Astarion struggled beneath Nessa. “Get off of me!” He pushed against her massive head, but she overpowered him with her paws on his shoulders and slashed across his face, causing him to yell out in pain.

Your whole body tensed. “Astarion, stop moving!” 

“Listen to your mate,” Nessa growled. 

“She’s not-”

“Oh please,” Nessa said, annoyed. “You two reek of each other. It’s as if you were attempting to make pups mere moments ago.”

Astarion scoffed but stopped struggling. You cast a quiet Healing Word and the wound on his cheek vanished.

Yurgir lowered his weapon. “Is he done being a pest?”

You laughed nervously. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” you murmured.

Yurgir lowered the weapon marginally, suddenly more comfortable, now that the problem child was pinned to the floor. “Raphael is no foolish story devil. His mind is different. Sneaky. Listen…”

The orthon closed his eyes, trying to remember the terms of his contract. Then, to your surprise, he started to sing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night. Silence all prayers; smother each rite.”

Raphael made Yurgir’s contract… a song?

“Wander Shar’s halls; hungry to slay; Leave no Justiciar alive to obey.”

Your fingers twitched on the neck of your lute, eager to accompany him, but not wanting to push your luck. At least now you knew what happened to the Justiciars. You didn’t plan on joining them any time soon.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

Yurgir finished his melancholy melody with an anguished sigh, clear that this contract had been his curse for far too long. 

There was something about this song that differed from the ones you’d studied in the past… Something about the final couplet. 

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the justiciars,” Astarion angled his head to look up at you. 

You met his eye and saw his hand flick twitch at his side. One of his concealed daggers glinted in the dim light. Shaking your head minutely, Astarion smirked and pulled the dagger, plunging it into Nessa’s side. She shrieked in pain and staggered to the side, allowing Astarion to spring to his feet.

“What are you doing?!” Your eyes widened in fear.

Astarion gestured at Yurgir as the masked minions closed in on both of you. “Can we kill him now?” He lowered his voice, “Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars!”

“Would you-”

Suddenly, you felt a slash across your back as one of Yurgir’s minions grazed your torso with their axe. You gasped in pain, staggering forward into Astarion’s arms. He shouted your name, cradling you to his chest and bringing you to a kneel on the ground.

“I’m okay,” you winced. “He slashed me, but it’s not deep.”

Astarion searched your face to make sure you were telling the truth. When he was satisfied by your expression, he released you gently, then got up and approached Nessa. He pulled his dagger from her side and threw it into the gut of the minion who’d slashed you. He went down with a harsh thud.

“How dare you attack her!” he shouted. “If you have a problem with anyone, come after me!”

“Wonderful idea,” Yurgir hissed, before nodding to his minions. 

In a blur of gold and black, the minions and Nessa jumped at Astarion, knocking him to the ground and making him disappear from your line of sight as they surrounded him and began taking hits.

“STOP!” you bellowed, running at them and banging one of the minions in the back of his metal head. He turned and swung his axe at you, just missing. Astarion shrieked from within the wall of enemies.

Yurgir’s face remained impassive as you turned to look at him.

“Tell them to stop!”

Yurgir laughed humorlessly. “You two were sent here to kill me. He seems dumb enough to try and follow through. He must die instead.”

Your fists clenched at your side in a mix of fear, frustration, and anger.

Astarion was acting reckless, and you had a feeling it had something to do with his accidental confession from earlier. So help you gods, you were going to give him a stern talking to once you got him out of this mess.

“Darling!” he yelled. “A little help!”

You heard his knife plunge into the side of a minion, who fell to the marble floor beside you.

Taking a deep breath, you stood your ground. You knew better than to attack Yurgir by yourself. And his minions greatly outnumbered you. 

If only Raphael had poofed you here with your entire party. 

“DARLING!” Astarion shrieked.

“OKAY!” you shouted back, searching your mind to find a solution. 

If you attacked to help Astarion, chances were, you’d both be killed without a second thought and Yurgir would move on with his lonely existence. You almost felt bad for him. No, it would be better if you refrained from attacking and went about this from a different angle.

Perhaps distracting Yurgir from his loneliness was the way to go. You were rather gifted in the art of persuasion.

“The contract is a song! If you want, I could try and help you figure it out!” You strummed your lute for good measure, subtly sending a Healing Word Astarion’s way, along with some Bardic Inspiration. 

Yurgir rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to make it pretty - I want to silence it.” 

Astarion yelped in pain and shouted your name. You heard Nessa growl.

Yurgir trained his crossbow on you once more. “Enough prattle,” he said. “The lyrics are clear: all who hear the song must die. And now, you must die.”

The unmistakable sound of an axe connecting with flesh reached your ears and you heard Astarion cough and wheeze loudly. Your entire body tensed and you unconsciously reached for the scar on your torso.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, tossing your lute strap around so that it rested at your back and holding your hands in front of you to show you weren’t holding any weapons. “Raphael’s a sly lyricist - he tricked you!”

Yurgir raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” You turned and gestured to the masked minions gathered around Astarion. “Your followers heard your song and still live!”

Yurgir lowered his crossbow again. “The merregons? They barely have a thought to share among themselves…”

The merregons, as Yurgir called them, paused in their attacks on the prone vampire and turned to face the orthon, their vacant masked eyes staring at him blankly. 

“But they do have ears…” Yurgir muttered.

You moved ever so slightly closer to Astarion, who lay bloodied on the ground, covering his face with his hands, his breaths ragged. Multiple daggers were plunged into the limbs of various merregons as well as in Nessa, who had paused her attacks as well to watch whatever was about to happen. You fell to your knees and laid your hands on Astarion’s wounds, channeling all your magic into Cure Wounds. You prayed to whatever gods were listening that this plan of yours would work. 

Yurgir narrowed his eyes at his minions. “Kill yourselves,” he commanded. “Back to the hells with you.”

Without argument, the merregons turned to each other and swung their battle axes, striking fatal blows on one another. You slung your arms behind Astarion’s back, lifting him up and cradling him to your chest, using your body as a shield from flying viscera and debris. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, and you bumped his nose with yours to bring his focus to you. His eyes softened and you used the distraction of the merregon carnage to heal him some more.

“You’re okay,” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. 

Astarion nodded slightly.

By now, it seemed that each golden minion was dead on the ground surrounding you both. Nessa watched the two of you closely, anger and confusion overtaking her senses. 

“Can I put you back down?” you whispered to Astarion. “We’ve still got company.” You nodded your head towards the orthon and the displacer beast.

Again, Astarion nodded slightly, keeping himself seated upright as you rose to stand. 

Yurgir clutched at his head, his eyes shut tight in frustration. 

“I still hear it,” he groaned. “Seems your theory is wrong.”

With a flick of his head in Nessa’s direction, she pounced at Astarion again. This time however, Astarion was able to roll out of her way and stood beside you, brandishing a pair of daggers he pulled from the dead merregons.

“That’s because you’re not finished yet!” you said quickly, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to stop him from attacking Nessa. 

You eyed the creature menacingly stalking around you and Astarion. The purple sheen of her coat was stained with red. Very likely caused by the blood of the man standing next to you.

The man you loved.

She had to die.

“The displacer can hear you, can’t she?” You squeezed Astarion’s wrist. 

Yurgir looked at Nessa, and you saw the dots connecting in his head.

“Kill her,” you instructed. 

The orthon’s eyes grew sad. “...Kill Nessa?”

Nessa herself straightened and looked at Yurgir with a mix of surprise and deep heartbreak. “Master…?”

Yurgir raised his crossbow. His words were soft: “Stay very still, my beauty.”

With that, he shot Nessa with a deadly arrow, piercing through her side and killing her instantly. You felt the warm spray of her blood splatter across your face and Astarion pulled you closer. 

“Ugh!” Yurgir groaned, clutching at his head again. “I still hear it!” 

With one final squeeze of Astarion’s wrist, you released him and took a step forward.

“Darling,” he reached out after you but you stopped him.

“I’ll be alright, my love.” You winked at him. “I promise.”

He dropped his hand to his side and nodded wordlessly.

You then drew yourself up into a confident posture, similar to how you would perform for crowds back in Baldur’s Gate. 

“My dear hunter,” you said, “isn’t it obvious?” 

A beat of silence passed before Yurgir answered you. “No?”

“Yes, no, darling,” Astarion whispered with a tinge of desperation and confusion. “What are you doing?” 

“Shh,” you hissed at him before turning back to Yurgir. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

“Ohhh,” Astarion breathed, before projecting his voice for Yurgir to hear. “She’s right, you know. Raphael is a tricky bastard, this is exactly the kind of thing he’d never think you’d be able to parse from his insufferable lyrics.”

Yurgir growled. “ENOUGH! I’ve heard enough from you!” He pointed his crossbow at Astarion.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and held up his hands. “Right.” 

Yurgir turned to you, his expression plainly showing that he was at war with himself and your words. He exhaled, steam releasing from his nostrils.

“If you’re wrong about this,” he snarled, “I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.”

“Trust me,” you said, “music and lyrics are kind of my thing. I believe this will solve your problem.”

Yurgir furrowed his eyebrows, once again considering your words, before he tossed his crossbow aside and pulled a gigantic greatsword off of his back.

“Nicely played, Raphael,” he said, knowing that Raphael was probably listening to this entire interaction from somewhere below. “Bastard.”

Without a moment of hesitation to talk himself out of it, Yurgir plunged the sword through his chest, grunting out in pain before the light drained from his eyes. He fell to his knees, then tipped forward, over the edge of the platform he’d been standing on, and landed with a gigantic thud in front of you and Astarion.

Dead.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and slumped forward, putting one hand on your knees, and another over your heart, willing your pulse to slow.

Astarion took a step forward to examine the orthon, not entirely convinced that the devil was well and truly dead. 

When it seemed Yurgir wasn’t getting back up, Astarion spoke. “Does… Does that count as us killing him? That had better count.”

You laughed in disbelief at your accomplishment. “I don’t think it matters, so long as he’s dead.” You walked forward to stand at Astarion’s side. “And he seems to be dead. Aren’t you pleased?”

He was looking at you fondly, but you watched as Astarion put his mask back in place, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “The orthon is nothing,” he said pompously. I’ll have my satisfaction when Raphael makes good on his word.”

You rolled your eyes. Idiot.

“Repeat after me,” you said, wiping some wayward blood off his cheekbone, “‘Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.’”

“Hmm?” Astarion’s eyes widened. “Hrmm,” he whined and looked away. When he met your eye again, he sighed. “Thank you for helping me. It was very kind.” 

You could tell the words pained him tremendously.

“You’re welcome,” you said cheerily before heading back out the way you came. 

You heard Astarion hot on your heels, knowing he’d follow you.

“Darling, wait- ah!” He groaned out in pain and you immediately halted and turned to look at him.

He was doubled over and sank to his knees, clutching his side.

“Astarion!” you cried, rushing over to him and kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? Did I miss a wound? Where are you hurt?”

He pulled his hand away from his side, revealing a tiny pool of blood in his palm.

“Blasted displacer beast must have nicked me when I wasn’t looking.” He smirked at you, clearly trying to disway your worry. 

You furrowed your brow and summoned the strongest Cure Wounds you could muster. “Hold still,” you said gently. 

The aqua healing magic that emitted from your fingertips created a soothing light that warmed both you and Astarion as it worked on fixing the wound. 

“How did you know that would work?” Astarion asked quietly.

You looked up at his face and found him watching your hands. You smiled. “Which thing? My impressive healing magic? Or way with words?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You know I was referring to the orthon.”

“I didn’t,” you shrugged, moving your hands to heal his side from a different angle. “Didn’t know talking would work, I mean. But I had to try something rather than let both of us die in this gross, decrepit temple to Shar.”

Astarion chuckled. “Don’t let Shadowheart hear you say that.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you said. “Speaking of Shadowheart, I hope she and the others are alright.”

The vampire thought about it for a moment. “They’re probably fine. And if they’re not, I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to save the day.”

“And you won’t lift a finger, right?”

“Not if I can help it.”

You laughed. “Come on,” you said, standing up and offering Astarion a hand, “we should set up camp for the night.”

“I’m sorry,” Astarion raised an eyebrow,”you want to stay down here?”

“Not especially,” you admitted, emerging through the doorway you’d followed Nessa through. “But unless you see Raphael or a waypoint, it’ll be a little hard to get back to the inn right now. And I spent all my magic just now saving your ass from some mindless monsters.”

“Ah,” Astarion said quietly, with less sarcasm than you’d expect. “Yes, you did do that, didn’t you?”

You paused and looked over at him. “Do you want to talk now?”

He laughed softly. “Give me a moment, it’s still fresh.”

You smiled. “Take your time, my love.”

Without speaking further, the two of you made your way through Shar’s temple, attempting to find a suitable place to rest for the night. Sure, you’d only awoken a few hours ago, but talking an orthon and his minions into killing themselves wasn’t exactly an easy task. You felt completely drained, especially after channeling all your magic into healing Astarion.

Upon finding a suitable place to unwind - a grand, abandoned hall with minimal leaks, dead bodies, and foul odors - you slung your backpack off your shoulders, grateful you’d thought to put it on this morning.

Astarion, who’d just finished surveying the room, bit his lip. “Let me help you with that,” he said, coming over to help you unpack your extra camping supplies. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, watching as he pulled out a bedroll that the two of you would likely have to share tonight. 

“Of course, love,” he said absently, before his eyes widened and he looked at you. 

You gave him a gentle half smile and kissed his cheek. 

After a few minutes, your little party of two had a modest fire going in a brazier that Astarion had dragged over to your makeshift camping area, along with a stew heating up, thanks to supplies Gale had lent you for occasions like this when he wasn’t around. You swept your hand over the bedroll, flattening lumps and rearranging pillows to make it as comfortable as possible on the hard marble floor. 

Astarion watched you from a tiny set of stairs not too far off, balancing the tip of a blade on his finger. He, like you, had stripped off his bloody armor and was now lounging in only his plain clothes, which were stained with dried blood from where Nessa and the merregons had pierced through his armor. 

“Enjoying the show?” you asked, very aware that you weren’t being sexy, and were merely fluffing a pillow. 

Astarion didn’t respond and kept staring at you, unblinking. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers in his direction. “Anybody home?”

He started, as if coming out of a trance, causing his dagger to fall and slice his fingertip. “Bugger!” he exclaimed, shoving the digit into his mouth.

You clicked your tongue. “Come here,” you said, motioning for him to approach you.

He got up slowly, walking over to you and kneeling on the bedroll.

“Let me see,” you instructed, holding out your hand for him to show you the cut. 

It was a tiny little thing, right at the tip of his right index finger. The bleeding had already ceased. 

“Yikes,” you said dramatically. “Not sure you’ll survive this one.” You smiled and reached into your bag, opting for a bandage instead of attempting another healing spell. 

Before wrapping the wound, however, you brought it to your mouth for a kiss, letting out an overly exaggerated “MWAH!” when your lips made contact.

“Better?” you asked, fastening the bandage in place.

Astarion nodded. “Much.”

“I have a fresh shirt, if you want,” you told him, pulling out one of his shirts that he’d let you keep from your backpack. “All that blood can’t be comfortable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion joked, taking the shirt from your hands and lifting his soiled one over his head. 

Though he was facing you, you couldn’t help thinking about the scars on his back.

“Listen,” you said as his head popped out of the collar of the fresh shirt, “even if Raphael doesn’t have the answers you want, I promise we’ll make Cazador pay for what he did to you.”

A wicked grin came over Astarion’s face. “Oh, I-” He stopped himself. You watched as he grew visibly shy. “Um… Darling, do you have a moment?” When you raised an eyebrow, indicating you were listening, he looked down at his hands. “I think we need to talk.”

You inhaled sharply. 

Oh.

This was it.

The moment you’d been waiting for.

“I’d like that,” you brushed your fingers along his cheek.

His eyes grew wide and vulnerable, and he took your hand in his. “Look, I-”

“Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this… charming plane of existence?”

Both you and Astarion deflated.

“Perfect timing as always, Raphael.” You stood to face the devil and Astarion rose to join you.

“I’m nothing if not punctual,” Raphael smirked with a deep bow in your direction.

“Get on with it,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “We were in the middle of something.”

Raphael lifted his head. “My apologies to the flittering lovebirds.” 

You sighed. “No, we don’t know what happens when a devil dies.”

The devil before you chuckled. “It returns to the hells - to the very point where it last stood before venturing to whichever devilforsaken plane it died on.”

“Your point?” Astarion asked impatiently.

Raphael looked between the two of you, observing the blood still speckled across Astarion’s face. “In the case of our friend Yurgir, he manifested in my House of Hope. He returned to me chastened but intact, his wounds healed, his body restored. He thought I would dismember him, but he has his uses so instead I am reeducating him.”

You groaned. “Come on, Raphael, we had a deal.”

Astarion placed his hands on his hips. “We delivered the devil. Now I want what I’m owed.”

Raphael exhaled an amused breath. “We did indeed have a deal. I discovered all there is to know about those scars of yours.” He chuckled unsettlingly. “It’s a rather grim tale, even for my tastes.”

Astarion stiffened beside you, and you sidestepped to be closer to him. You took his right hand in both of yours and held on tight.

“Stop stalling,” you said firmly. “Astarion deserves to know whatever it is you found out.”

Raphael watched your hands before his eyes found your face. “As you wish.” He then turned to Astarion, who was staring at him with carefully masked fear. “Brace yourself, Astarion - we’re about to unveil your destiny.”

You squeezed Astarion’s hand. 

“Carved into that ivory skin of yours is one part of a contract between the archdevil Mephistopheles, and your former master, Cazador Szarr.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust at the name. 

Raphael continued. “In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted the knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile, it has never been performed.”

Astarion sighed. “Sounds like Cazador.”

Raphael raised his voice. “It is called, ‘The Rite of Profane Ascension.’”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what does that entail?”

The devil once again took up his favored performing stance. “Oh, it promises to be a marvellous ceremony. Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical.”

Astarion hummed in displeasure.

Raphael smiled at him. “You’ll like this, little vampling. If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant.”

Your vampire took a curious step forward, and you followed him, still gripping his hand. “Explain,” he said adamantly. 

“All the strengths of his vampire form will be amplified,” Raphael clarified, “and alongside them, he will enjoy the luxuries of living.”

You couldn’t help letting out a tiny gasp. Astarion looked helplessly at you before turning his attention back to Raphael, who was still speaking.

“The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.”

“Incredible,” Astarion breathed.

You nodded. If there was a way to let Astarion walk in the sun forever, you wanted to hear more about it.

Raphael smirked, seeing how his delicious words had drawn both of you in.

“But,” he warned, “the ritual has its price, as all worthwhile things do.”

“What is it?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Raphael placed a hand on his hip. “Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn, if he is to ascend.”

“No,” you murmured, your voice full of disbelief. You pulled yourself closer to Astarion. 

“Imagine how he felt, then,” Raphael said, “when one of those precious spawn disappeared into thin air.”

This time, Astarion squeezed your hand. 

“The only missing ingredient is Astarion.” Raphael smiled at him, devilishly, for lack of a better term. 

Astarion scowled at the devil, but allowed him to continue.

“You are the final piece he requires to complete the ritual - your scars bind you to it. Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you said, more to yourself than either of the men currently in your presence. 

Raphael smiled once more, taking on his performer’s stance one final time. “And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that.” He bowed deeply, before rising and giving you both a nasty look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

Before you could ask any followup questions, Raphael snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of foul smelling black smoke and embers.

Astarion stood still for a moment before turning to face you, his eyes focused on where your hands were joined. 

“Hmm,” he hummed softly. 

You blinked at him. “‘Hmm?’ That’s all you have to say?”

He met your eye. “I was… contemplating. There’s a lot to take in.” Astarion laid his free hand on top of one of yours. 

“Hey,” you said, bringing one of your hands up to his cheek. “It’ll be alright.”

He looked incredibly sad. “What do you think I should do?” 

You considered for a moment. The thought of Astarion being able to walk in the sun definitely had its appeal… but the cost was far too great and you doubted you’d be able to live with yourself if Astarion was somehow able to follow through and sacrifice innumerable souls for something that may have a cure elsewhere in Faerûn. It also sent a shiver down your spine to think of what Cazador might do with all that power. You were so immensely grateful that the mind flayers had kidnapped you and Astarion and dropped you into each other’s arms.

“We can’t let Cazador complete the ritual,” you said finally. “He could unleash terrible horrors.”

Astarion chuckled humorlessly. “The end of my life amongst them.” He exhaled slowly and nuzzled into your hand on his cheek. “Just when I was starting to enjoy it.” He took your palm and kissed it, before his eyes settled on some unseen object in the distance. “He’ll never leave me alone,” he continued. “I didn’t think he would when I was one more wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn.”

“What do you want to do?” you asked calmly, squeezing his hand once more. 

He sighed, the slightest smile playing on his lips, his eyes incredibly soft as they bore into your own. Then his brow knit together. “I need to take the fight to him.” He stepped closer to you, brushing some hair behind your ear. “And I need you… to help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” you said almost immediately. You smiled, your voice taking on a half teasing, half serious tone: “We’ll hunt him down and kill him.”

You weren’t able to add anything else, because suddenly Astarion’s lips were crushed against yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You let out a surprised yelp before meeting his tempo with equal passion and desperation. 

He murmured something against your lips.

You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?”

“I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath. 

“Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive.

He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember a time when Shadowheart had expressed wanting to live to either you or Astarion. Not that she was having trouble on that front. But nothing came to mind.

“When did she say that?”

Astarion led you over to the bedroll laid out next to the still burning brazier. He pulled you to sit down across from him. 

“While you were dying,” he said softly, refusing to look at you. “Or, while you were sleeping, I suppose, since you’re still with us.”

“Okay, so while I was dying, Shadowheart was reflecting on how unlucky I was and how she wanted to continue living?”

Astarion flicked your nose.

“Ow!” you laughed, rubbing the appendage. 

“This is it,” he said flatly. “I’m trying to have the conversation.”

Your eyes widened. “Okay,” you said, trying to reel in what you were sure was a stupid giddy grin on your face.

“Look,” he tried again, taking your hands in his. “I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.”

“I don’t think this is accomplishing what you want it to,” you said, tilting your head questioningly.

“No, you’re right.” He looked up as if asking the gods for help. “I thought it would be easy. Instinctive. I thought that habits from two hundred years of charming people would kick in. And while they did work swimmingly,” his expression melted into one of easy seduction that made you laugh lightly, “you ended up charming me. Much to my dismay.”

“Aw shucks.”

He said your name, his tone laced with annoyance. “Honestly, darling. Could you withhold your snarky comments while I try and get this out?”

You mimed locking your mouth with a key.

Then you unlocked it. 

“Sorry.”

And relocked it.

Astarion sighed and scooched forward, the tops of his knees making contact with your own. “You really aren’t making this easy for me.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly along the back of your hand, despite his complaints. 

You shrunk back a little into your shoulders, smiling sheepishly at him.

He chuckled. “While you so graciously nearly died on all of us, Shadowheart decided it was a good time to talk to me about my, blech, feelings.”

“Brave.”

“Darling.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, it was then that Shadowheart told me that I was ready to see the world burn before I saw you get hurt. And she was right. If anything had happened to you that couldn’t be undone, I don’t think I could have come back from that.”

You smiled at him, feeling your insides go all mushy with adoration.

Astarion fidgeted with your hands in his. “She also said something I wasn’t expecting.”

He paused briefly, almost as if willing you to interrupt him again and distract him from what he felt so vulnerable saying. 

“Go on,” was all you offered.

He exhaled.

“She told me that I was allowed to love you.”

You bit your lip and felt your eyes go misty. 

Of course he was allowed! After two hundred years of torture and isolation, the man before you deserved nothing more than to feel love and be loved in return. The fact that he’d been holding himself back from his own happiness and comfort made your heart ache a little.

You allowed him to continue on his own. 

“She said that heartbreak is a part of life. And while I’ve known far more heartbreak than any one person should ever experience in multiple lifetimes, she’s right.”

He looked at you earnestly in the eye, shyness playing at his features.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to live.”

You squeezed his hands a little nervously, ignoring the way your palms were clammy against his cool ones.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you deserve to be loved. Just as you’ve shown love to me.”

He leaned in close, resting his forehead softly against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered. Then added, “You atrocious woman.”

You laughed, a tear running down your cheek. “I love you, too, you beautiful, wonderful, terrible man.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pinned him to the bedroll, nuzzling your face into his neck, taking in his scent and letting all of him wash over your senses. You didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. 

“You do?” he asked softly, staring up at the ceiling above you blankly. 

You sat up on your elbows and looked down at him. “What about anything I’ve said and done in the past few weeks has made you think that I wasn’t already head over heels in love with you?”

Astarion’s face broke out into a massively giddy grin. He held a hand to his forehead and laughed in disbelief. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “You get so used to being alone that it starts to feel like that’s all you’ll ever be. I scarcely thought I’d find a bard on a dilapidated beach foolish enough to want to know me and not run away screaming when she did.”

“There’s still time,” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he rolled his eyes affectionately. 

Now it was your turn to rub your thumb along the back of his hand. “If I recall correctly, you just said I’ve shown love to you - If I made it that obvious, why are you still doubting how I feel?”

He sighed for what must have been the tenth time this evening. “It’s only that you could be with anyone at camp and you’re choosing to love me? The one who eats rats and bugs and kills people for pleasure?”

You kissed his cheek, down to the side of his mouth. “You’re also the silliest, sexiest, most remarkable man I’ve ever met. And I seem to remember saying the same thing to you back when we first slept together. That you could have anyone, but you’d chosen me. Why can’t I choose you in return?”

“Because you’re…” He searched for the words. “You’re incredible. And you deserve something real. What if I can’t give you that?”

You bent forward and kissed his mouth, hard. “Where’s my suave vampire? Who is this vulnerable mess in front of me right now?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Vulnerable,’ sure. ‘Mess?’ Hardly.”

“There he is,” you smiled and kissed him again.

“I mean it though,” he said between kisses. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

“This is real,” you murmured. “I love you,” you kissed his jaw, “I love you,” you kissed his throat, “Astarion,” you pulled back to look at him with eyes full of devotion, “I’m in love with you. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

He seemed dazed, watching you with half lidded eyes. He smiled like a dope. “There’s still time,” he teased. 

You laughed and kissed his mouth deeply. “You’re who I’ve dreamed of meeting since I was a little girl. Someone to see me, and laugh with me, and make me feel like I’m the only one for you.” You pushed a hand to his lips before he could make a sarcastic comment. “Yes, I know you’ve been with thousands of other people, but I haven’t. And yet, you’ve made me feel like I’m the only one who ever mattered to you.”

He smiled softly. “You are,” he confirmed. “I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you. None that I can remember at least. But as far as I know, you’re the only one who’s ever cared for me and truly meant it. Yes, you make dumb comments at the most inopportune times, you’re loud and obnoxious, your bleeding heart gets this group into far more trouble than we ever would have without you-”

“Gee, thanks.”

“-and I love every bit of it. You make me laugh, you never make me feel small or worthless for the things that have happened to me or that I’ve had to do in my past, and,” he cleared his throat, deeply embarrassed to be admitting all of this, “you bring out the best in me.”

“Aw-”

“If you say ‘aw shucks,’ I will kill you.”

“You will not.”

“I will not.”

He kissed you instead. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. “I care about you. Deeply.” 

He smirked at you. “Oh, really?”

“I swear,” you whispered in his ear, “you’ll never know a lonely day again. Not as long as I’m around. I adore you. I love you.”

Astarion’s breath hitched in his throat. “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Get used to it,” you brushed your fingertips against the tip of his ear. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Blast!” he chuckled. “And here I thought a grand love confession from a gorgeous vampire would send you running for the hills.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” you laughed. 

He laughed again, a gentle exhale from his nose, and unwrapped your arms from his neck to hold your hands in his once again. He fidgeted with the ring on your pinky. “Honestly,” he said softly, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He raised your hands to his mouth and kissed across your knuckles. “But I know that this,” he leaned his forehead into yours and kissed the tip of your nose, “this is nice.”

“You’re nice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Actually, darling, you’ll find that I am not.”

You smiled. “Shhh, let me enjoy this brief delusion.” 

“With pleasure,” he smirked and bent forward to kiss you deeply. He placed his arms around you and lowered you so that you landed gently on the bedroll beneath you and redirected his attention to nipping and sucking around the bruises on your neck from where he’d fed the night before. 

You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his back, and rubbing your hands up and down his shirt soothingly. 

“I love you,” you whispered, still enamored by the taste of the words on your tongue.

Astarion moaned and dragged his teeth up towards your ear. “Again.”

“I love you,” you whimpered as he bit your earlobe. 

His hips gave an unconscious roll against yours and you felt him already becoming hard in his pants. You lifted your head to gain his attention and raised your eyebrows.

“Here?”

He shrugged. “We’ve done it in the dirt before, a Temple to the Goddess of Darkness is quite the step up.”

You looked around skeptically. “You don’t think she’s watching, do you?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, what’s so special about one temple dedicated to her here out of the thousands littering Faerûn.”

You bit your lip. “But this one is surrounded by shadows.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Please, I was surrounded by shadows for two hundred years and her eyes never fell upon me specifically.”

“Or so you think.”

“Darling.”

You smiled sheepishly. “You’re probably right.”

Astarion preened. “Of course I’m right. Now please, I’ve never made love to someone before.” He leaned forward to kiss you again but you pulled back with a laugh. 

“‘Never?”

His lips were still puckered, prepared to kiss you, but he blew out a raspberry instead, blowing the curl that hung freely on his forehead away from his face. “I’ve decided I hate you, actually.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “You’re the one who told our friends you made love to me literally the morning after we first slept together.”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively through the air. “I didn’t know what I was saying.” He rolled his hips against yours again, harder now, despite his supposed hatred towards you. “Please love, it’ll be so much better now.”

You rolled your hips in tandem with his, making Astarion hang his head and hiss. “It’s been pretty good before.”

“Well, of course it has, I’m excellent. I wouldn’t let a partner suffer, it’s not in my blood.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “But…”

“But,” he said more soberly, “you’re the first person I actually…” He paused on the word. 

“Go on,” you encouraged. 

He met your eye. “...love.” He held your gaze for a moment before continuing. “Last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life because of how loved I felt by you and hopefully, the feeling was reciprocated.” He sent you a small smile, which you returned with an excited and over-the-top nod. “But I think that the fact that I am completely and desperately in love with you is what made it feel wonderful as opposed to… tainted.”

You pursed your lips and attempted to make him smile again. “Are you insulting my skills now?”

He laughed. “No, sweet girl, you were and are marvelous.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to something low and breathy. “And I’d like to give it another go.”

You gave him a seductive half smile. “Then give it to me, dummy.”

Astarion lunged forward, laying you flat on your back and devouring your mouth with his own. “Oh, my love,” he moaned against your lips, “you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your heart soared at the compliment, and you chased his lips as he pulled away to look at you with sparkling ruby eyes. 

“I’ve been looking for someone like you my whole life,” you admitted when he bent to drag his fangs along your neck again. 

“I doubt that,” he chuckled, nipping lightly at your skin for good measure. “But do go on,” he urged, spurring you with a roll of his hips, “what were you looking for?”

You sighed happily and wrapped your ankle around his. “Well, I already told you I wanted someone to laugh with, that’s big.”

“We’ve never laughed together,” he licked your ear.

“Not once,” you giggled. “But, I don’t know. You’re no knight in shining armor.”

“Certainly not.”

“And you never sing with me.”

“Nor will I ever.”

“And quite honestly, you’re a little frightening.”

“Thank you, darling!” “But despite it all, you’re kind.” He scowled at your words, but softened when you kissed his nose. “You care about me and the things I care about.” You stopped him before he could argue. “And don’t disagree with me, you stole a lute for me. You fought with Rolan-”

“Who?”

“-when he was being unreasonable and wouldn’t listen to me. And you nursed me back to health when there were honestly better people at camp who were far more equipped to heal me than some vampire rogue.”

“And I did a bang up job.”

“You did,” you laughed and kissed him sweetly. “And now, I can’t imagine my life without that vampire rogue.”

He kissed you again, gently massaging his fingers through your hair and across your scalp. “Then stay with me,” he murmured.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” you responded, meeting his eye with a fierce look that conveyed your sincerity. “And longer.”

One of his hands drifted down your sides and started playing with the ties on your pants. 

“May I?” he asked. 

“Only if you return the favor.”

He smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, folding it neatly and slipping it under your head for extra support. He kissed your cheek before running his hands under your shirt and squeezing your breasts playfully. 

“Honk,” you said, thinking yourself funny.

“You’re not funny,” he said flatly, though his smile betrayed him. 

“You love me, so you have to think I’m funny.”

“Are those the rules?” 

“You’re the lawyer, you tell me.”

By now, he’d removed your bra and taken one of your nipples gently into his mouth. “Mmm-mm-mmm,” he attempted to correct, though he continued sucking the hardened pebble incoherently. 

“Lawyer, magistrate, what’s the difference?” you asked breathily.

Astarion came up for air. “I have neither the time, nor the patience to explain, but know that you are wrong, and I still love you.” He took your other breast into his mouth, biting down a little harshly, and making your back arch. 

“Whatever you say, handsome,” you sighed, rubbing at the tips of his ears and making him moan against your skin. 

“Whatever I say, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s an expression.”

“You’ll let me have you tonight,” he said, resting his cheek on your breast like a pillow.

You stroked your hands through his hair. “A given.”

“You’ll let me drink from you,” he added, before tacking on a sheepish “please.”

“Of course, my love.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in thought. “And,” he said, looking back at you with a shy expression, “and you won’t leave me, once this is all over.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Astarion,” you cupped his cheek. “No. No sweet boy, I won’t ever leave you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

He made a whining sound from the back of his throat. “You say that now, but what if we can’t beat Cazador? What if I return to his thrall?”

“We won’t let that happen,” you reassured. “Believe me, that fucker was dead the moment I met you. Not a chance he survives this.”

Astarion let out an amused exhale. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, my love, but Cazador will not be easy to kill. Especially now that we know about his dastardly ritual.”

You moved your hands from his hair to start rubbing soothingly up and down his back. “You are the missing piece, Astarion. He can’t come into his power unless you’re there. And with all of us at your side, we won’t let him take you.”

Astarion looked up at you skeptically, but saw how determined you looked and softened, pressing his lips to the swell of your breast. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, resting his cheek back against your skin. 

“I fear the mention of your former slaver has dampened the mood.”

Astarion chuckled. “What gave you that idea?”

“Let’s see if I can’t help,” you said, wiggling your hips beneath his, both of you still clothed from the waist down. “Hmm…”

“Hmm…” Astarion mimicked you, idly rubbing his thumb across your right nipple. 

“Star jasmine.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Um, it’s pronounced, ‘Ah-star-ee-on.’”

You shoved him and he laughed. “No, idiot. We’ll have star jasmine growing on the side of our house.”

“Who, ‘we?’ You and me, ‘we?’”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, obviously.”

“Oh.” Astarion looked pleased. “What else?”

“We’ll live in the Upper City.”

“Staying in Baldur’s Gate, are we?”

“Shush, this is my fantasy.”

He chuckled. “Go on, then.”

“It’ll be in a nice quiet corner of the city. Exclusive to all but the finest of citizens.”

Astarion nodded, fiddling with the ends of your hair. 

“You’ll be a renowned tailor and have a shop downstairs.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, will I? And who says I won’t want to live a quiet life, ravishing my beloved all day?” He kissed your breast again and dragged his fangs along the plump flesh. 

You shivered. “We need to make money, somehow,” you said shakily. 

“And you expect me to be the breadwinner? Selfish little thing, aren’t you?” He continued dragging his fangs along your chest. 

“I’ll be performing at prestigious parties all around town,” you clarified, tightening your hands into his curls. “And you’ll get bored if you’re not terrorizing patriars. What better way than with overpriced, yet exquisite garments? I’ve seen your embroidery.” 

“Dextrous fingers and flowers made of thread does not a tailor make,” Astarion pointed out, nipping playfully at your nipple and moving his dexterous fingers to your still clothed core. “And besides,” he purred, circling your clit, “I’ll want to see my lovely little songbird in action every once in a while.”

You gasped at a particularly delicious rub of his fingers. “Two income households are quite common these days,” you argued, wanting to maintain the fantasy you were making up on the fly. 

“And who’s to say,” Astarion said, kissing just above your naval, “that we won’t become fabulously wealthy on this journey of ours?”

“Fine,” you conceded, “then we’ll live in a mansion in the countryside. Overlooking the Sword Sea.”

“Think bigger, darling,” he massaged your hips, rolling his pelvis into yours, making you aware how hard he still was. “The love of my life deserves a palace erected in her honor.”

You snorted and he pinched your sides. 

“Erected,” he repeated, seeing your eyes crinkle in mirth. “Gods you are a child,” he muttered, before kissing you fiercely. “And I love you very much. Stupidly.”

“Okay, loverboy,” you laughed, “what do you expect our future to look like?” You smoothed some of his curls behind his ears and absorbed the soft look in his eyes. 

“Hmm,” he mused, kissing your neck. “Well, I’ve lived in a rather decrepit crypt of a palace for the last two hundred years, so maybe a palace is out.”

You nodded, absentmindedly tucking your thumbs into his waistband and massaging the bare skin found beneath. “Alright, palaces are off the list.” 

“An estate, then,” he stated, kissing your bare shoulder. “Somewhere we can throw fabulous balls and gossip about the debauchery of our esteemed guests.”

“I like that,” you sighed, as he licked up your throat. “An estate with sprawling grounds, a notably vast library, and secret rooms around every shadowy corner.”

“You’ve been reading too many books, my love,” he chuckled, kissing your jawline.

“And with my notably vast library, I’ll read even more,” you said. “And you’ll read to me.”

Astarion pulled back to grin at you. “Will I?”

You nodded. “I adore your voice. It lilts like a melody.”

He laughed airly. “You flatter me.”

“I love you,” you shrugged, by way of explanation. 

“And I, you,” he smiled. Then his face fell. “Oh gods, is it going to be mushy like this all the time now?”

You laughed again and playfully smacked the side of his head. 

“I jest, love,” he chuckled, shockingly not complaining about you swatting at his curls. “I adore you. May I have you now?” His fingers slipped delicately into your own waistband.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “Please.”

In one graceful motion that you’d come to expect, Astarion removed both your pants and underthings in one go. 

He inhaled deeply. “You smell divine, my sweet.” His fingers swept through your folds, making you jolt at their sudden coolness. “And you’re nearly wet enough to take me already.”

“I like thinking about our future,” you admitted. “I like picturing you happy.”

“Blech,” Astarion stuck out his tongue in mock disgust, but began to circle your clit slowly with his thumb. “Tell someone you love them, and suddenly they picture you happy.”

You attempted to inch your hips closer to his hand. “You like being happy, admit it.”

“Never,” he growled, leaning forward to kiss you again. “But I suppose I like you.”

“I knew it,” you teased, closing your eyes with a blissed out smile as he inserted a finger into your dripping hole.

“Blue,” he said, pumping his finger into you. 

“Yellow,” you responded breathlessly. “What are we talking about?”

“I was also thinking yellow,” he smiled, as if that response made any sense. 

“Great! What are we talking about?”

“The estate, darling,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “I think blue for the sky and yellow for the sun would be quite a pleasant theme as opposed to the wretchedly dark crimsons, greens, and golds found in Cazador’s mansion.”

“Ah,” you whined as he inserted another finger. “Sounds… sounds like the winter solstice all year round.”

“Trust me, darling, there was never any joy or festivities to be had in that loathsome place.”

“Our house,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your words, “will be full of nothing but joy.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Astarion teased, lowering himself to suck on your clit. 

You gasped loudly and thrust your hands into his hair. He lapped at your folds, never removing his fingers, and sucked viciously at your bundle of nerves. 

“We’ll hold dinner parties,” you sighed, “all the time. If only so you can flaunt our wealth.”

Astarion moaned into your core, bumping his nose against your clit as he licked you up and down. 

Your hands tightened in his hair. “We’ll wear the finest clothes, sleep in the finest bed, make love in the finest bed- ah!”

Astarion pulled you closer to his face, a possessive rumbling low in his chest. 

“I’ll hold you in my arms at night and never let you go,” you dragged your nails down his back.

“Please,” he mumbled against your sensitive skin. 

“W-want that?” you asked as he returned to sucking your clit. “We-we’ll stay in bed, ah- for as long as you like. No expectations to go a-anywhere so do anything. We’ll be f-free.”

The vampire moaned loudly, pumping his fingers extra harshly and hitting the spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“Oh Astarion!” you wailed, throwing an arm over your eyes and twisting your free hand into his hair again. “I love you.”

“Then come, damn you,” he whined, squeezing your hip.

“Trying,” you laughed. “Faster.” 

He hummed an affirmation, swirling your clit around with the tip of his tongue and pumping into you harshly. 

“I can’t wait,” you said, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, “for our future together.”

Astarion groaned against you, sucking your clit harshly and petting your hip with the hand that wasn’t currently thrusting into you. “I love you, my darling,” he said softly.

The dam broke and you were wailing his name, crying out for him to stay with you and never let you go. 

Astarion for his part, released you from his mouth and continued fingerfucking you through your climax with sweet words: “You are so beautiful, darling. My love. My beloved, so good for me. Staying with me forever. I’m never letting you go, sweet girl.”

You came down with a shuddering sigh, gasping for breath and pulling at Astarion’s shoulders to bring his mouth to yours. 

“Astarion,” you whined.

He mimicked your name in a mocking version of how you’d just whined his. “What is it?”

“I need you.”

He smirked. “A man could get used to shattering one's world, only to have them beg for more.”

“I’m not begging,” you clarified. “I want you, but only if you want me.”

Astarion’s eyes shifted from amused to adoring. He kissed you sweetly. “Oh course I want you, darling. You’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

You sighed, loving this mushy side of him. “Fuck me, then, won’t you?”

He growled, showing off his fangs playfully. “With pleasure,” he said, reaching for his pants and removing them quickly. 

His cock hit his stomach, achingly pink at the tip and weeping precum. 

“Wait,” you said, watching him take himself into his hand and gently begin to stroke himself. “Are you hungry?”

He threw you a wicked grin. “Famished, my love.”

You tilted your head, revealing your throat to him. “I’m all yours.”

He climbed on top of you, nuzzling into your neck with his beautifully sculpted nose. ”Thank you,” he said, dragging his lips across your skin before biting down at your pulse point. 

You inhaled sharply, the icy familiarity of his fangs in your throat sending a pang through your entire body, right down to your core. Unconsciously, Astarion rolled his hips against yours, bumping the head of his cock against your clit. You moaned loudly, making him grunt against your neck. 

“We’ll make love in every room of the estate,” you sighed. “On every possible surface.”

Astarion nipped your ear with a growl before returning to your blood. 

“Our guests will have no idea we fucked on the lounge in the drawing room.”

“Mmm.” 

“On the desk in the study.”

“Mmm.”

“On the very table where they dine with us.”

Astarion gave a gasping breath as he pulled away from your throat and kissed you feverishly. You matched his vigor, reaching down and taking his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly, spreading his precum down the length of him, and feeling how your blood already added to the warmth and hardness of him. 

“Did you get enough?” you asked innocently against his lips.

He licked into your mouth, still tangy with the taste of your blood. “It’ll never be enough,” he said lowly, squeezing his eyes shut as your hand picked up the pace on his length, “but, ah, it’s enough for now.”

You smiled, using your free hand to wipe your blood from the corner of his mouth. “Is it time to make love?”

He sighed dramatically, flipping his hair out of his eyes before staring down at you with a smirk. “Yes, my dearest, I would like that very much.”

“So would I,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Astarion kissed you softly as he took himself into his hand and lined himself up at your entrance. He searched your face briefly, finding nothing but love and anticipation.

Still, he asked.

“Ready, darling?”

You smiled at him, hoping the small act conveyed all the devotion you could possibly lend to another being in this world. 

“Yes.”

He pushed into you slowly, cooing at your mild wince. 

“You always do so well for me, love, and you feel so good, wrapped around me so snuggly.”

You raked your nails down his back, softening down to your fingertips when you came in contact with the raised skin you found there. 

“No need to be gentle, my sweet,” he said conspiratorially, “I’ve told you, they don’t hurt anymore.”

He pulled back slightly and observed the look in your eye, your gaze locked on something just past his shoulder, knowing that you were thinking about his scars, rather than focusing on him in this moment.

That wouldn’t do.

He bent and kissed the side of your mouth. “Can I tell you what I picture?”

You blinked and your gaze returned to his. “Of course.”

He paused briefly to make sure you were comfortable, before pulling back and snapping his hips forward again. 

“You, obviously.”

You smiled. “I made the cut? How sweet.”

“Yes, it was a tight race between you and Wyll for a minute there, I won’t lie.”

You laughed and Astarion preened, thrilled to see the joy return to your eyes. He snapped his hips into you again, eliciting a surprised moan from your lips. 

“Truthfully though, darling, as much as I’d love to flaunt our love from the most luxurious estate on the Sword Coast,” he kissed your jawline in time with his lethargic thrusts, “I think I’d prefer your quaint little idea.”

You’d closed your eyes and bliss, but opened them again, not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You mean the house in the Upper City?”

His mouth ticked up at the corner. “Yes, my dear.” He leaned down to lick at the fresh wound on your neck, and thrust into you firmly. 

“But, ha,” you exhaled, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him deeper inside of you, “the sprawling estate? The grand dinner parties? Your fancy balls?” You made to reach for his balls, but he swatted you away. 

He laughed out your name. “I’m serious, love.” He kissed across your chest, allowing you to slowly run your fingers through his curls. “I’ve lived enough of my life in a vast palace with dark halls and looming shadows and it all felt… incredibly empty. I’d rather have a home. With you.”

You felt your eyes go misty for the second time tonight and looked away from his face. “But…” you said, grasping at anything to keep you from shedding a tear and possibly ruining the moment, “you’re the one who said to think bigger. And the estate would never be empty, there would be people over all the time.”

Astarion stopped kissing your chest to look you in the eye. “Is that what you want?”

You sniffled softly. “I want what you want.”

“Darling girl, are you crying?” Astarion immediately paused his motions and cupped both of your cheeks in his cool hands.

“I’m trying not to,” you giggled, shakily. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

You laughed more loudly, and shook your head, a tear escaping your eye and rolling down your face to kiss Astarion’s thumb. 

“No, Astarion, it’s just… I want to build a home with you too. I’d be happy anywhere you are. I love you.”

Astarion grinned and kissed you, rolling his hips and making you both whine into each other’s mouths. 

“Picture with me for a moment, darling,” he said, thrusting into you again, “the little house in the Upper City… scratch that, it would be the biggest house on the block.”

You laughed. “That goes without saying.”

“Our home would be filled to the brim with possessions. Things that belong to us.”

“Like, ah-” you panted in time with one of his thrusts, “-like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion shook his head, his cheeks the faintest of red from exertion. “Jewels, perhaps? Gold, obviously. Whatever we want! We’ll buy and take it all.”

“Emphasis on ‘take,’” you teased.

“Oh absolutely,” Astarion smirked, bringing his fingers to his mouth and wetting them before bringing them down to your clit. “There’d be multiple guest rooms for us to make love in, a reading room, a nursery, a quaint little kitchen, perhaps a study for when I’m feeling rather grandiose-”

“Wait,” you sat up suddenly, making Astarion freeze and stare at you with terror in his eyes.

“What? What is it, what happened?” He searched your eyes and brought his hands to your cheeks. 

You furrowed your brow. “What did you say?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know, you were talking a lot, and you were making me feel so good, but you said-”

“Oh, my study? Well, I suppose we can share it, darling. Though I’d expect to be able to go in there to brood occasionally.”

“No, before that.” You laid back down gently, and he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. “Did you say ‘nursery?’”

“Did I?” Astarion looked vaguely embarrassed. “I suppose I did.”

You tried to keep your face neutral. “Do you want kids someday, Astarion?”

The vampire gave his hips a gentle roll within you. “I don’t know…” he admitted. “But with the way you act around those tiefling children, I’d imagine you want to be a mother. And I’d be lying if I said the image didn’t do anything for me.”

You smiled softly at his suggestive eyebrows. “I do love kids. I told you they usually make up the best audiences.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I don’t know how you put up with all the mess and screaming and excessive energy.” 

You shrugged, rolling your hips this time and making him huff out a small whine. “If you don’t want children, that’s fine. I still love you. That won’t change.”

Astarion looked back down at you with a slightly gooey smile. “Oh, but darling, you love children. And imagine how perfect our child would be. My good looks and charming personality, mixed with your… I don’t know… humor? I guess, if that’s what you want to call it.”

You smacked his arm and he laughed. 

“Whatever children we’d have would absolutely adore you, I hope you know,” you said, reaching forward to grab his hips in a possessive manner you rarely showed. 

Astarion looked at your hands and raised an eyebrow at you. “Would they?” he asked, the uncertainty in his tone betraying his attempt at being suave. 

“Of course they would,” you said, sitting up again. You pushed him back gently, causing him to pull out of you completely. “Lie down,” you gestured to his rolled up shirt you’d been using as a pillow. 

He gave you a questioning look, but obliged. He slowly lowered himself down as you climbed on top of him. 

“Imagine, if you please,” you said, hovering above his cock and taking it into your hand gently. You pumped your own slick down his shaft, making him throw his head back in bliss. “Our home, full of love. Full of joy. Full of our possessions. Full of your possessions.”

You slowly lowered your heat onto him, taking him in slowly, and causing you both to hiss out in satisfaction. 

“Imagine filling me up to the brim,” you bagan to bounce on your knees, “full of you and only you, and creating something that’s purely us.”

“Us,” Astarion breathed, taking your breasts into his hands, “I still love the sound of that.” 

You bent forward to kiss him deeply, rolling your hips to get him to hit just the right spot within you, making you gasp against his mouth. 

“You’d make a wonderful father,” you murmured. “That child would be yours and you’d spoil them everyday with attention and sweets and some misguided but well intentioned gifts.”

Astarion chuckled while brushing a loose curl out of his face. “I’m not going to give the baby a knife, my sweet.”

You gave him a sarcastic, disbelieving look, and he laughed louder. 

“Not right away, at least!”

You kissed him again, slamming your hips against his playfully in a way that had you both moaning. 

The two of you remained quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your skin slapping against his, mixed with your labored breathing and moans of pleasure.

“D-darling,” he panted, digging his nails into your hips, “I’m not even sure if giving you a child is possible with… with my condition.”

Astarion looked at you with a fear you’d never seen before. You cupped his cheeks and rubbed your thumb along his cheekbone. 

“Astarion, my love, I swear to you that it would be okay. We would be okay.”

“But I want that,” he said, a bit childishly. “I want to see you round with my child. I want to see our babe supping from your breast and sucking their thumb for comfort. I want something that’s mine. That’s ours, together. Something I can proudly show the world that I helped make. Something good for once.”

You slowed your hips again and kissed him softly. “You are not defined by what you can offer the world, my love. You’re allowed to live now. You can figure out who you are and what you want.” Astarion nodded, grabbing your hand in his and kissing your palm. “Besides,” you continued, “bringing a child into the world while we have worms in our heads seems like the number one offense of negligent parents in the making. We have plenty of time to figure it all out.”

Without warning, Astarion pulled you off of him, scooped under your ass and flipped you around so you were on your back, and he was on top of you once more. 

“Then for now, let’s pretend I want to put a baby in you,” he snarled, licking the shell of your ear. You whimpered slightly and he chuckled. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed, watching him line himself up with your entrance once more. 

“Good,” he said softly before slamming his cock into you and making you cry out in ecstacy. 

He started with a punishing pace, clearly desperate to reach his high and fill you with cum. 

“You want that, don’t you, my love,” he teased, squeezing your thigh before placing your calf on his shoulder. “You want to carry my child and be treated like a queen for doing so. You wouldn’t lift a finger under my watch, beloved. You’ll be carrying precious cargo and I’ll insist on doing everything for you.”

You laughed. “No, you won’t.”

“Shush, darling, this is my fantasy.”

You laughed again at his callback to your earlier joke, and let your eyes fall closed from the bliss of his cock pounding into your sopping wet cunt. 

“Our child would never know pain, if I could help it. They’d be the most spoiled child in the Gate. In Faerûn.”

“Gods help us,” you sighed, trying to make a joke, but feeling too good to commit fully. 

“You would be an absolute warrior of a mother,” he continued, paying wonderful attention to your clit. “So beautiful and patient and kind. I hope they'll look just like you.”

You opened your eyes and looked at your gorgeous lover. “Are you kidding? I hope they’ll look like you!”

“Darling-”

“You, Astarion, who haven’t seen your own reflection in nearly two hundred years? I hope they are your spitting image. The world deserves more beauty like yours.”

Astarion looked at you fondly, as if he might cry. “Oh,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking, “then in that case, yes, I hope they look like me.”

You laughed, flinging an arm over your eyes, to which Astarion pulled your arm away. 

“I love your eyes,” he said sincerely. “Don’t hide.”

“I love you,” you responded. 

“I love you, too,” he said, nuzzling his nose against yours and picking up his pace again. “Why stop at just one?” he asked, pulling back and wrapping his hand around your calf resting on his shoulder. “We’ll fill the Gate with my spawn.”

“Don’t love that phrasing.”

“Figure of speech, darling.”

“Hmm, we’ll work on it.”

“If saying that is an attempt to keep me from bedding you every chance I get, then it won’t work,” he said, turning his nose up at you pompously. “I intend to bed you whenever possible in our home, regardless of any guests we may have over, or children who might be in the next room.”

The thought of your hypothetical guests overhearing you made you moan.

Astarion grinned.

“Our little home won’t have a single surface where we won’t make love. Much like our country estate.”

You smiled, gasping as he circled your clit. “We’ll- we’ll have both?”

“I’ll need as many rooms available to me as possible to bed you, my love. And a place to escape the children.”

You lightly tapped your calf against the side of his head and he laughed. 

“Only joking my darling, those children aren’t escaping our watch, they’ll be far too clever on their own.”

“Ugh,” you moaned, “I love the thought of you with our children.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, thrusting into you again and again. 

“Reading them bedtime stories. Bandaging their wounds when they fall on the pavement. Bringing them soup when they don’t feel well.”

“Am I a single parent in this scenario?” he teased. “Where are you?”

“Watching you. Taking it all in and seeing the joy on your face when it hits you that you have something that’s completely yours.”

Astarion’s eyes melted and he leaned forward to kiss you harshly. 

“Come for me,” he said against your lips, “I want to feel you milking me for every last drop I have.”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“And I love you,” he smiled and kissed you again, crashing his hips into yours and making you cry out in pure bliss.

With a few more thrusts, the knot in your stomach finally released, and you came crashing over the edge, images of Astarion holding your child, feeding them a bottle, teaching them to read and write and hunt, filling the space behind your eyelids as you called out for him.

Astarion held you tightly in his arms as he pumped you full of his spend, cooing sweet nothings as he went.

“Oh, my darling, my love, my one and only, take it, take it all, it’s yours, someday we’ll have our family.”

Tears glistened in your eyes as you finally came down from your high. It only took a few seconds before Astarion was whispering your name repeatedly and coming down from his own high. He laid his head on your chest as he had earlier and you ran your hands through his hair.

“Making sure it takes,” he said, explaining why he hadn’t pulled out of you yet.

“Stay with me,” you wrapped your arms around his torso comfortingly. 

“Always,” he smiled, kissing the bare skin of your chest. 

“I do want all of that,” you said. “Our life in Baldur’s Gate. We can figure out how to achieve the rest later. Maybe Jaheira or Halsin will know something about vampire offspring.”

“Ugh, darling, must you mention the druids while my cock is still resting inside of you?”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

He brushed some loose hair out of your face affectionately. “I’d like that too, love. I realize now, I’ve never really had… anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you. But if you insist on loving and adoring me, I guess I’ll just have to allow it.” 

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

Astarion hummed in amusement before his expression became more serious. “Once we kill Cazador and get these worms out of our heads, then that life shall be ours. I swear it.”

“We need to do something else first,” you pointed out. 

“And what’s that, my love?”

“Figure out a way out of this gaudy temple.”

“Ah yes. Fuck.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at the Last Light Inn, Shadowheart yelped out in pain.

Isobel, having been freshly saved from the henchmen of Ketheric, ran to her side to examine her wounds.

“Everything alright, Shadowheart?” Wyll asked, pulling his rapier out of a downed Winged Horror.

“You don’t appear badly injured,” Isobel observed.

Shadowheart clutched her right hand to her chest. “It’s this blasted wound on my hand. Lady Shar is not pleased about something.”

Gale adjusted his robes. “Why do I have a strange feeling it has something to do with our missing teammates?”

Lae’zel groaned loudly, while Karlach merely laughed. 

“Nice.”

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[lewismcqueen]

Hello fellow Lewis wifie

Can I request the Lewis x Journalist!reader NSFW prompt you have available. I'll let you have creative freedom with the plot.

Thanks so much

journalistic integrity.

cw: none except for sex (as you can see), and corny romcom dialogue a/n: totally freewrote this but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Lewis Hamilton was far from your biggest fan--or so you believed.

Every time his eyes landed on you from behind the mic at press conferences, he gave you a tired, withering look that said 'I would really prefer it if you weren't here'.

Your hard questions were rapid-fire and relentless, and you did not let him dodge a single one. You knew how to phrase an inquiry in such a way that Hamilton often found himself giving you the precise answers you wanted without even realizing he'd done it, until the next fair-but-scathing article was published under your name. Once, the man audibly sighed the moment he saw your familiar slick bun and navy blazer enter a half-empty conference room.

So it was a surprise to you when he approached you at the after-party of tonight's gala. Smiling.

"Enjoying your night?" he asked, hand in one pocket of his loosely-draped dress pants. He wore a well-tailored suit that looked formal enough but with enough asymmetry around the lapels to be fashionable.

You swirled your flute of champagne in one hand, your scrutinizing, deep brown eyes considering him. The corner of your mouth quirked up in amusement as he gazed intently at you, awaiting an answer.

"You know you don't have to play nice for the cameras anymore, right?" You made a show of looking around the dark ballroom bustling with guests, your white evening dress fluttering around your figure as you did so. "Nobody's filming."

Lewis didn't break eye-contact for even a second, his expression settling into some sort of half-smile. "Believe it or not, I wanted to chat with you."

You took a long sip of your champagne before replying.

"I dunno, Hamilton. I just find it hard to believe."

"That someone actually wants to talk to you?" The man lifted an eyebrow teasingly.

"No, I find it hard to believe that you would rather go up to a journalist outside of race week rather than one of your little friends back there."

You tilted your chin towards a cluster of other Formula 1 drivers and B-list celebrities that could afford to dress up for the night. Lewis briefly looked over his shoulder at the group and shrugged.

"'Friends' is a bit generous," he admitted. "Anyway, I think you're a bit more interesting. Don't you think?"

You felt your face heat up, making you instinctively hide the lower half behind your glass as if you were going to take another sip. Not that Lewis would be able to detect it if you'd blushed. What was he playing at?

"I think I might be a change of pace from folks who just go buy yachts when they're bored, that's for sure."

This pulled a laugh out of him. Not a media-trained chuckle, but a genuine laugh that showed off his signature tooth gap.

"So you agree then? That you're interesting?"

You failed to hold back a grin.

"If you want a real conversation, flattery won't get you what you want."

Lewis took a deliberate but small step towards you.

"What do you think I want?"

"A puff piece, maybe? More favorable coverage?" You tilted your head, "Go softer on you on media days?"

He mirrored the action, eyes glinting playfully. "I don't need you to write me a good referral in your paper, love. I do all my shit-talking on the track."

The sudden vulgarity surprised you a bit, but you kept your composure, narrowing your eyes.

"You don't seem to like my hard-hitting questions when I ask them."

"I certainly don't like them in the moment, but...I like your honesty," he winked, "You can hit me as hard as you like."

Heat shot down through your chest and stomach, then even lower. The innuendo would've sounded crass if it wasn't softened by the man's breathy, subtle voice. It must've shown on your face that you caught on, because he looked satisfied with himself as he took a moment to register your expression. You tried to retain some of your boldness before you could unravel in front of him.

"Sure thing. I'll make sure to include in my next byline that you like it rough."

Instead of catching Lewis off-guard like you had intended, his eyes darkened, though the half-smile didn't leave his face. The staring contest was interrupted by a voice that sounded like another driver calling out his name from behind you.

"I do," was the last thing he said as he leaned in close so that only you could hear.

You caught the smell of rich cologne when he brushed past you, a consequence of you taking a deep breath to try and calm your heart as it attempted to beat out of your chest.

The plan to fluster him back had backfired, but you didn't truly realize just how much it had backfired until you found yourself following him to his hotel even later into the night. You, the skeptical journalist who brought reading glasses to press conferences and never missed a media day, following a driver you hardly know just because he made you throb a little on the inside.

Lewis was funny, you had to admit. You thought that a man as well-spoken as him would spend the whole night trying to one-up you. As much as it bothered you, he was right; he didn't speak like someone who had anything to prove. At least not here. Off-track, Lewis was keen on keeping you entertained, gauging your reaction each time he made a joke as if he fed off of your laughter. And every time, your laugh got louder.

"I've never seen you smile like that before," he observed with a grin that made his eyes crinkle. He paused, then amended, "Or at all, really."

You quipped, "Well, the only time you see me is when I'm wiping the floor with you during press conferences."

Lewis leaned his head back into the seat, lidded eyes roaming over your figure while still making conversation.

"'Wiping the floor'? Are we in a competition with each other, is that it?"

"Well, yes, Hamilton, we are in fact at war with each other every time I interview you."

"Lewis."

"Hm?"

He held your gaze this time, a more earnest expression settling onto his features.

"Call me Lewis," A sly smile broke through. "Unless you'd rather be screaming my last name, just let me know."

You snorted, "Absolutely not."

"Hey, people have got preferences. I had someone ask to call me 'Sir Hamilton' the entire time, and it was a bit weird, but it was a fun time regardless."

"Hm," you smirked, "I always thought you might like making folks call you 'Sir'. Are you not into that?"

Lewis made a face. "Nah, not my style."

"Not even as a power fantasy sort of thing?"

"Nope," he laughed. "I didn't realize you were thinkin' about it that much. Now what does that say about you?"

-

A small pit began to form in your stomach as soon as the ritzy hotel Lewis was staying at came into view. For the first time since he first struck up a conversation with you back at the after-party, you began thinking rationally.

You'd be seen in public. Following Lewis Hamilton into a hotel. In public. You began to gnaw on your bottom lip, already considering apologizing and telling the chauffeur to turn around.

Lewis seemed to notice. "Walk in a couple minutes after me. Can't guarantee no one will notice you, though."

You look away for a moment to stare out of the window.

"You do this often, huh?"

"I do this a reasonable amount."

The silent part of that sentence: 'You know what you signed up for, right?'

You did, but it was a matter of how badly you wanted it. You looked over at Lewis, who observed you mutually. Your eyes moved downward until you reached his ringed index finger, slowly tapping his thigh as he waited for you to make your decision. Tension gathered in your lower abdomen again, searingly hot and impossible to ignore.

Fuck it.

"Fine. We're here already, aren't we?"

-

"What's wrong?" Lewis asked as he began removing his suit. He opened a small closet by the door and neatly hung it up.

"Nothing's wrong. Why?"

"You're just kind of standing there."

You blinked. "Right, sorry. It's been a long time since—"

"It's fine," he turned to you with a gentle smile. He gestured towards your dress. "Need help with that?"

You drew closer to him before turning around, offering him a good view of the plunging back of the garment where the too-small zipper was.

"Yeah, definitely. My stylist actually had to help me into this thing because the zipper is fucking microscopic."

You heard a low chuckle behind you as Lewis slowly unzipped the back, the wide straps descending down your shoulders.

"Good call. It's a little stuck...there we go."

Soon there was a pool of creamy-white satin surrounding your bare legs and heeled feet, the air conditioning causing goosebumps to rise all over your skin. His eyes glinted in the low lighting as they flickered up and down your figure. You suddenly became very aware of the plain cotton panties you hastily chose before rushing out the door in the evening.

The cold metal of Lewis' wristwatch brushed the skin of your waist. Before his fingers could break past the band of your underwear, caught his wrist and turned to face him with a grin.

"Hold on, now, I can't be the first one to get fully naked. We're in this together."

Lewis snorted and shook his head as he began to undo his tie. "If you wanted me to strip for you, you could've just said so."

You watched him make a show of unbuttoning his shirt, eyes clouded over with want as they met his. By the time he reached his belt buckle, your patience had run out.

You hastily stepped out of your beige pumps. "I'll do the rest."

Palm flat on his bare chest, he let you push him gently backwards until the back of his legs hit the king-size bed. He sunk into the soft mattress and spread his thighs apart as he adjusted his weight, leaning back on his elbows to look up at you expectantly with a smile that feigned innocence.

Moving to position yourself between his thighs, you slid your hand down his chest, down his stomach, until you reached his waist and began to undo the buckle. Another rational thought resurfaced that made you pause.

"Do you have—"

"Yes," Lewis replied with a knowing grin.

Your eyebrows shot up comically. "You didn't let me finish the question."

He gave you a funny look.

"Come on, now."

Laughing, you finished undoing his belt and unzipped his pants before briefly removing yourself from between his legs.

"Tell me where you keep 'em."

"See the nightstand over there? Bottom left drawer."

"Cool."

-

It didn't take long for his pants to end up discarded on the floor next to the bed, thin fabric the only thing separating you from the growing hardness in his boxers as you leaned down for an increasingly-desperate kiss. Lewis slid his hands down from your waist to your ass, digging the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh as he squeezed.

Feeling your underwear soaking through, you rolled your hips in a slow rhythm to create even just the slightest bit of friction. He gave you what you wanted, rolling his hips upward while holding you down to make sure you felt him.

You had to practically peel your underwear off, wincing mentally at how you were going to deal with that in the morning before shoving it to the back of your mind.

Lewis had gotten rid of his boxers, hissing a little as the cool air hit him. He let you slide the thin condom over his glistening length while he watched through thick dark eyelashes, gasping when you sunk down onto it a little too quickly.

You felt his breath become heavy against your skin while you bounced up and down, starting off slow and then speeding up once you used him to find your sweetspot. Lewis lay flat on his back now, watching how your breasts moved with you as he held your hips in place.

"You're quieter than I thought you'd be," he remarked, sounding nearly out of breath in between grunts and quiet swearing.

You slowed your pace and looked down at him with a smug look, equally winded. "Thought I'd be...thought I'd be screaming your name by now?"

The implied challenge seemed to snap Lewis out of whatever haze he was in. He gave you a thin smile.

"You don't mind messing up that silk press, do you?"

You laughed, thinking of how frizzy it must be getting now that you were beginning to sweat.

"Not at this point. Why?"

His smile deepened. "Get on your back."

It took nearly all of your oxygen not to let out a moan as he hit that same spot as before, but hovering over you this time. And painfully slow.

"Keep your eyes open for me," he instructed with the terrifying calm of a surgeon that was about to perform an operation.

"I-I can't..."

You were a squirming mess, bucking your hips in the hopes that it would bring you closer to release. Lewis stopped and let you squirm for a bit before bringing a warm hand up to your face, cupping your cheek. He used his thumb to swipe away a loose strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your face before brushing it across your lower lip.

"You can do it," he pushed his thumb into your slightly open mouth, and you let your tongue glide over the digit. It was salty with sweat. "Just look at me."

He removed the wet thumb after you sucked on it and let it go with a pop. The corner of his lips quirked up in amusement when he noticed your hand had slowly traveled from your stomach to in between your thighs.

"What's funny?"

"You're not slick. Move your hand, sweetheart."

You stopped flicking your finger momentarily, but looked up with a clear defiance.

"You didn't say I had to follow instructions."

Lewis seemed to enjoy the back-talk. "I didn't have to tell you, you just did because you like doing what I say. Now move your hand before I move it for you."

You didn't budge, the low-stakes 'warning' sending a surge of adrenaline through you. The thrill of waiting for his reaction soaked the sheets even further.

As expected, both hands were shortly pinned above your head, held down by just one of Lewis's. The metal of one of his rings began to dig into your skin, but you found you didn't mind.

With the other hand, he pressed the thumb he'd just had in your mouth to where you'd just had your own finger and circled it. Your breaths grew heavier and closer together. Why he had just replaced your hand with his was lost on you until he went back to thrusting with more force than before at the same time. The plan was to overwhelm.

Still holding back from making any noise, you inhaled sharply when he began alternating between circling and rubbing, occasionally licking his thumb mid-thrust to re-lubricate. No longer needing to pin your hands down (you kept them high above your head all on your own), Lewis placed his free hand beneath your knee to hold your leg in place, keeping your thighs from coming together.

An orgasm began to build as he sped up, bringing you closer to the edge as heat spread throughout your middle and inner thighs. The air conditioner was just loud enough to somewhat mask the sound each thrust made. Then, just as you were about to release, your eyes fluttered closed for just a moment. But that was enough for Lewis to drag you back from the edge.

"Lewis, wait—"

The feeling of him pulling out caused you to make a sound like a half-moan, half-whimper.

A wicked grin spread across his face.

He said quietly but triumphantly, "There she is."

You gasped as his middle finger slid teasingly up and down your entrance.

"Fuck you," you exhaled. "Put it back in."

"I might, if you say 'please'."

"Fine. Please."

He remained still.

"No attitude."

"Please?"

"That's better."

With little to no effort, Lewis hoisted both of your legs onto his shoulders so that your ankles rested just behind his ears. Slowly, he re-entered, making you shudder. You felt him deep in your lower abdomen as he picked up the pace again, angling himself upwards to hit that spot more relentlessly than before.

Your eyes rolled back as you completely lost yourself in the feeling, forgetting all about his instructions. If he saw, he didn't care, too busy enjoying the sound of his name on your lips, repeated with increasing fervor until you reached the edge of the abyss again. Reduced to incoherent whimpering sounds, you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as your legs trembled.

White hot pleasure finally shot through you as you tumbled over that edge, ripping from your throat a poorly-restrained, ugly cry that ended in a scream that you didn't think you were capable of.

Lewis soon followed after you as you clenched around him, his muscles tensing and rhythm becoming more erratic before he finished with a shaky sigh. You released him from the odd bear hug you had him in so he could roll over and discard the used condom in the small trash can sitting next to the bed.

The expected wave of calm washed over you, but only for a moment. A clear head meant you now needed to think about how you were gonna get back to your own hotel. It was thankfully still dark out, but the sky would turn a pale blue soon. Lewis sat on the edge of the bed to unlock his phone. You looked over his shoulder to confirm: 3:55am.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he tugged his boxers on. You stared up at the ceiling. 'Shit' was right. "You asleep?"

"Nope," you rasped, the night already taking its toll on your vocal cords. "I gotta figure out how I'm gonna clean up before tomorrow's press conference and explain why I left the party with you."

"I assume you're not gonna just tell the truth?"

You sat up, covering your bare chest with the sheets. "No offense, but I'm taking this shit to the grave if I can."

The mattress shifted as Lewis got up, presumably to locate his pants. He gave you a wry smile.

"None taken. I won't say anything if you don't."

Finally mustering the will to remove the warm blanket, you swung your legs over the side. As soon as you got up, your knees buckled as of you'd just exercised, a dull ache throbbing in your core. Unfortunately, Lewis caught the exact moment you fell backwards and stifled a laugh.

"It's not funny," you said, despite bursting into laughter yourself. "This is your fault, anyway!"

"I'm not the one who begged me to put it back in, mate. Are you even gonna be able to walk through the paddock?"

You shrugged before bending down to grab your panties off the floor. "I'll suck it up and blame it on leg day if anyone asks."

"How long have you got?"

"Counting the time it'll take to get back to my room? Maybe forty-five minutes, tops."

Now wearing a purple graphic tee with a yellow design on it, Lewis flopped back down onto the bed with his phone in-hand.

"I can drop you off. But I need a twenty-minute nap first."

You took a moment to consider. Not having to wait for a cab or an Uber shaved off at least a little bit of time. It's not like you could run off anywhere at the moment. Tentatively, you settled back into the sheets as he set a timer and set the phone on his nightstand. It didn't take long for sleep to take over.

[angeliicheartt]

omg ily!!! congrats bb <3

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

“stop looking at me like that” “like what?”

withhhhh ummmm shoto :3 (sorry i literally love him sm whehehjejejejjw)

ꜱᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ

includes: shoto todoroki

fem!reader

a/n: i was determined to finish this, lmk how the tension is!! i was trying to focus on that. anyways have this to makeup for not posting anything but yapping today

2k wc.

shoto has a staring problem.

a staring at you problem. that’s what you’ve come to believe over the past week.

he just couldn’t believe how perfect you looked. he could care less how your hair looks today, or whether you have any makeup on or not, shoto believed your very being was perfect. his eyes raked over your features, his gaze almost affectionate. he watches as you write something that present mic said, completely ignoring the very loud man, opting to watch you write down your notes instead. he somehow hasn’t noticed your eyes darting to the side to look at him, trying to figure out why shoto has been staring at you for a good five minutes.

his heterochromic eyes never leave your face as you attempt to listen to present mic’s lesson, which shouldn’t be that hard with how loud he is right? wrong. it’s actually kind of difficult to do when one of class 1A’s finest guys is staring at you in class.

you tilt your head slightly to face him, raising an eyebrow, which catches his attention. you watch as the tips of his ears redden, causing you to suppress a smile.

“you okay?” you whisper, looking around to see if present mic was paying attention to you two, he wasn’t. shoto’s eyes strike yours as they flick to make eye contact. at first, he just stares at you, his lips parted before he blinks once, twice. his eyes dart away from yours, back to his desk as his hand comes to rest on his neck and you can just barely hear him mutter a small “yeah.”

he only peeks at you a few more times during the rest of the class period, and the rest of the day in fact. you retire to the dorms as classes get out, the majority of class A piling into the living room for some quality time. you settle on one of the smaller couches, your back against the arm rest as everyone finds a spot. And when everyone’s settled, you realize the only other person on this couch was shoto.

and he starts staring again.

and you truly don’t mind him staring, it just becomes unnerving when it seems like you’re the only one he’s even trying to pay attention to, like he’s just naturally tuning everything out but you. his head is rested in his palm as his arm props himself up, his torso and face turned towards you, like a sunflower to the sun.

and due to your position on the couch, anytime you angle your head forward, you meet his strangely soft gaze, his eyes studying every minute (extremely small) detail on your face. you feel your cheeks heat up under his watch before you feel mina draping across the back of the couch, her face propped up in her arms as they balance on the back cushions.

“what’s with that face, todoroki?” she asks, a small smirk on her lips as she follows shoto’s gaze to you before he rips his eyes away from you to respond to the pink girl.

“what face?” todoroki sincerely asks, his eyebrows pinched in confusion as his head tilts in the same manner, causing mina and her smirk deflate. she sighs dramatically, her eyes rolling as she straightens herself upright. you catch her eyes and you can feel your cheeks heat again as she winks at you.

“oh nothinggg..” she drags out as she grins cheekily before toddling off towards kaminari and kirishima.

your eyes track her as she walks off before looking forward once more, and once again meeting shoto’s gaze. you feel shy under his gaze, it seems scrutinizing, but if you really look, he’s only studying you, memorizing the way you are.

“do you wanna go outside?” you blurt out, “i mean.. like.. on one of our balconies?” you clarify, your fingers picking at eachother as you wait for his response, and after what feels like forever he nods, a small smile gracing his face. you feel the couch dip as he gets up, offering you a hand. you place your hand in his, his hand warm to the touch as it closes around yours. you use shoto to pull yourself up before heading out of the living area.

the two of you manage to sneak away from the rest of the class before drawing too much attention to yourselves and as the two of you successfully get away, you turn to shoto.

“which dorm are we going to?” you ask, watching as he turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowing in thought before they relax again, “we can go to mine.”

you nod as the two of you turn to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor when it arrives. you lean against the back wall, your hands resting behind you on the handle bar. you can feel shoto’s gaze on you again, only this time he’s at least trying to be discreet, maybe mina’s comment threw him off.

you feel the elevator rumble as it arrives at the 5th floor, the bell dinging as the doors open, allowing you and shoto out. the two of you make it to his room in less than a minute, and when you arrive shoto opens the door, holding it open for you as well.

you slip between him and the wall into his room, admiring the traditional design of it all. sure, you saw it when all of class A did their room tours, but you could really admire it now. he watched as you examined his room, your eyes darting from one thing to another. he lets out a soft chuckle at your antics as he crosses the room to the balcony door, sliding it open as he looks back at you.

“are you coming?” he asks, and he could not seem more princely. the wind blows in through the cracked sliding door, hitting shoto’s hair just right, the little quirk of his lips not helping anything. mina’s comment was just putting thoughts in your head, right?

“y/n?” shoto’s eyebrow raised at your lack of response, which left you flustered. you nod as you hurry your feet over to the door. shoto’s eyebrows relax once again as you hurry over to him, holding open the sliding door for you as if it would shut if he wasn’t.

you graciously step through the doorway, instantly sighing as you feel the humid air, the lower temperatures of the evening allowing you to actually enjoy the summer heat. you hear shoto step outside as well, shutting the sliding door behind him. you cast a brief glance over your shoulder before moving to lean against the railing.

“you probably shouldn’t do that.” he says as he approaches the railing to the left of you, causing you to turn your head.

“how come?” you ask, an eyebrow raising as you show no hint of moving.

“if it breaks you could fall.” he says, his own arms moving to rest against the very same railing. you scoff at his action, causing his lips to quirk up again.

“as if you wouldn’t save me,” you quip and you actually pull a soft chuckle out of the boy beside you, causing your own smile to form.

shoto’s eyes practically light up at the sight of your smile, his cheeks warming as he props his arms against the railing properly, so that he’s able to admire you like he wants to. your smile softens as you meet his gaze, however you still hide half your face behind your hunched shoulder. but shoto doesn’t mind, he could stare at just your hand for hours, admiring each freckle or mole, each vein and hangnail.

and the look on his face and in his eyes is the same as earlier, an adoring, earnest, affectionate look, and you couldn’t fathom it.

“stop looking at me like that,” you sigh, your hands resuming their skin-picking activities. You could practically hear shoto’s confusion, you glance at him and see his eyebrows furrowed in your direction, and you almost wish you hadn’t looked.

“like what?” he asks, and you almost laugh, as if he doesn’t realize how he stares at you, like you hung the sun, the moon, and the stars, like you were his only joy, like you were his sun.

you settle for a scoff as your hand rubs at your eye. your eyebrows furrow as you try and figure out a way to explain to this clueless boy how flustered he makes you feel with a look. you sigh as you straighten yourself up, if only slightly.

“you look at me like you know me, like you’ve seen into my very being and accept all of it, like i could do no wrong, like.. like you're in love with me or something..” you spout, your cheeks heating up as you explain, though you have nothing to embarrassed of.

“oh.” is all shoto says, his voice monotone as it usually is, but it seemed almost tainted by dejection. the change in voice causes you to look over at him, you head turning as you see him staring at the ground, his cheeks practically on fire.

“you want me to stop? so.. i made you uncomfortable, im sorry.” shoto says, and his voice sounds almost pained and you can see his hands tightening into fists as they rest against the railing.

“i didn’t mean it like that!” you exclaim, your hand grabbing the railing dangerously close to his tightening fists. “truly, it honestly just confuses me..” you say as you relax once more, seeing shoto’s fists relax.

“please tell me,” shoto says, and his tone almost sounded like a beg. your cheeks heat up as he parts from the railing, causing you to turn and when you do you realize how close he is, only he’s now facing you straight on, and you can’t hide from his gaze. “i want to understand you.”

you sigh, your eyes darting to your side before you look back to him, avoiding looking into his eyes as you speak.

“you may not know this, but you’re one of the best looking guys in our class, and honestly all of UA, and it just threw me off. the way you looked at me, like i was special, just.. baffled me.” you say. your eyes finally meet his again, and you can see confusion swirling in them, his eyebrows creased in the same manner. your foot digs into the hard concrete of the balcony and your hand scrubs at your face, embarrassed by your sudden confession and shoto’s prolonged silence.

“ugh, nevermind, forget i said anything,” you rush out as you try to side step the two-toned boy, only getting a few paces past him before his voice stops you.

“but..” you turn to look at him, and he turns to face you, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “you are special.”

your lips part but no sound comes out as you stare into his eyes, your own brows pinched with emotion. the way he said it so surely, as if it was utterly absurd to even entertain the thought of you not being special.

“really?” you ask, and you wince as you hear yourself, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself from asking. it was reactive, your subconscious craving your deserved praise.

shoto nods, his lips quirking into a soft smile. And you return his smile, your eyes are a little watery, but the lowlight coming from shoto’s dorm helps you disguise that.

“do you.. want a hug?” he offers, unsure if it’s what you need in the moment but you jump at the opportunity. you wrap your arms around his waist, giggling as his arms hesitant before wrapping around your shoulders.

“is this okay..?” he murmurs into your hair and you fight back a grin as you nod, “yeah, it’s perfect.”

the two of you untangle your arms from eachother, but as you do you hear mina’s distinctive gasp. turning you see her on sero’s balcony, staring wide eyed at the two of you.

“i called it! sero! come out here!” mina yells before sero shushes her, causing her to whine as she gets dragged back into his dorm and sending an apologetic look to the two of you.

once he closes the door once again, you turn back to shoto, and as he mirrors your action the two of you burst into a small fit of giggles.

maybe his staring wasn’t so bad.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis @kozumesphone

[sombrashe]

hiii i binged your entire account and i love the way you write jesse 🙂‍↕️

i was wondering whether you could write something really fluffy where reader is joel’s daughter and she’s dating jesse, and maybe include a part of grumpy but approving joel… and then one day after coming clean to joel about their relationship., jesse goes to readers room and they just go at it all sweet kissing all up on each other.. just really really fluffy hehe

change anything you’d like! thanks sm again really looking forward to reading more of your fics

still my daughter tlou tv show jesse

content ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ fluff, arguing, miller!reader, kisses, lots of dialogue, not edited, lowercase intended

note ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ im so happy you enjoy my jesse works!! he is such a comfort character for me like i meed to lay in his arms after a long day 💔

"Joel, I have to tell you something and you have to promise to be open minded."

"Joel, I'm dating Jesse. Yes, finally."

"Joel,"

your eyes rips up from your desk. turning your head you're just about to rip the paper into little pieces when his head pops in. smiling you giggle as he asks if it's okay to come in.

"Obviously."

jesse enters the room and closes the door with a soft click.

"I told Joel we were practicing the routine for the babies recital."

you nod and join him on the bed. giving him a giggly peck you lean back much more serious.

"We have to tell Joel."

"Right now?"

"That's what I was working on when you walked in."

"What do you have so far?"

"Joel. That's all I know."

"We'll figure it out."

you smile and place another small kiss on his lips. you feel his matching smile on your lips as you break between kisses. pulling you down you giggle and climb onto him. straddling his waist you place a million and one kisses across his darkening face. smooches cover his closed eyes when a knock sounds. your giggles are cut short as the door creeks open. you've just barely hit the ground trying to scramble off jesse when joel walks in. assessing the situation he immediately starts frowning.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?"

"What? Nothing!"

"So you're on the floor for fun?"

"Maybe."

you try out a casual position, trying to play it cool despite jesse's wide eyes at being caught red-handed.

"Get up and explain yourself."

"Joel, I'm a grown ass adult."

"Yet, you're acting right like a teenager."

rising, you stand your ground. folding your arms you spin different confessions in your mind.

"Well?"

"Me and Jesse are dating, have been for three months now."

"You. Out."

he points directly at jesse and the look he gives you on the way out is full of pity. once the front door slams shut he really starts laying into you.

"You wanna end up like Ellie? A teenage parent? Because fooling around secretly is how you become one."

"Jesse and Dina weren't sneaking around when she got pregnant."

"Not my point. You don't need that on your plate. You're busy making a place for yourself here."

"That's not fair. I should be able to have a relationship and grow. Jesse isn't stunting me, Joel."

"How do you know? It's only been three months."

"Wanna know what have I've done in those three months? Maria finally offered me a spot on the council. I've become the primary teacher for the babies to the teens."

"I get it."

"No you don't. I've also been happier, I haven't done anything stupid have I? I haven't even begged to go on patrol."

"Kiddo."

"No Joel, I get it. I live under your roof and if that's the problem I'll move out."

"You don't have to do that."

"Then what is it? You don't like Jesse? He's not good enough? I'm not good enough?"

"No, no. I don't. I don't know. I guess you're just growing up too fast."

"Joel."

"No i get it. You've been an adult for a while now. It's time I let you live your life. I can't protect you forever. God knows Ellie showed me that."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"God, no, kiddo. You'd have to do a lot more than get a boyfriend for me to be mad at you."

he closes the space between you to gently gather you into his arms. placing a kiss atop your head he squeezes you tight. pulling away he holds you at an arms length. smiling sadly he mumbles something about sarah before leaving. blinking, you go back to your desk wordlessly. about a half and hour passes of you simply doing work for you classes tomorrow when you hear clicking coming for your window. curious you walk over to see something small pelt the glass. opening your window you look down to see jesse's lopsided grin. smiling you rush downstairs to let him in. dragging him up the stairs you fill him in on joel's whereabouts. he had left shortly after your conversation after tommy radioed him for some reason. you stop jesse from closing the door with a short giggle. you felt giddy like a teenager in love. maybe joel was onto something there. your thoughts are cut off when chapped lips press against yours. you can't help but smile and giggle in between kisses. soft ones that make your heart beat in your ears.

"So."

"It was a lot, but he approves."

"He really is a girl dad, huh?"

"Shut up."

you pout and he kisses it with a small smile. falling onto the bed you curl into his side. you babble on about work and life while he rubs shapes against your arm.

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 15

The Power of Self-Talk

Hi Goddesses! Let's talk about something we all do every single day, often without realizing it, talking to ourselves. You know that little voice in your head that's always commenting on everything? Yeah, that one. Let's make it work for us instead of against us!

Think about it: would you talk to your best friend the way you sometimes talk to yourself? If you just had a mini "oh…" moment, you're not alone. I used to be the queen of harsh self-talk until I realized I was basically being a mean girl to myself 24/7.

So today, we're going to transform that inner critic into your biggest cheerleader. Not in a fake, toxic positivity way, but in a real, authentic way that actually sticks.

Let's look at how we can flip the script:

The Inner Dialogue Check-In

First, let's catch those thoughts! For just one hour today, try to notice your self-talk. No judgment, just observation. You might be surprised at what you hear. Are you:

Beating yourself up over tiny mistakes?

Comparing yourself to others?

Dismissing your achievements?

Using words like "always" and "never" about yourself?

The good news? Once you notice these patterns, you can start changing them.

The Language Swap Game

Here's a powerful trick: imagine your thoughts are text messages you can edit before sending. Let's practice some rewrites:

Instead of "I'm so stupid for making this mistake" Try: "I'm learning from this experience"

Instead of "I'll never be good enough" Try: "I'm growing and improving every day"

Instead of "Everyone else has it figured out except me" Try: "Everyone's on their own journey, and I'm exactly where I need to be"

The Mirror Exercise

This one might feel weird at first, but it works! Every morning when you look in the mirror:

Give yourself one genuine compliment

Say one thing you're proud of

Set one kind intention for the day

Start small, even a simple "Hey, I like your energy today" counts!

Building Your Confidence Playlist

Create a collection of phrases that make you feel strong. Your personal highlight reel might include:

Times you overcame challenges

Compliments you've received that felt truly meaningful

Your proudest moments

Little wins that made you smile

Keep these handy for when your inner critic gets too loud.

The Permission Slips Exercise

Write yourself permission slips, just like in school, but these are for:

Making mistakes and learning from them

Taking up space

Saying no without guilt

Being a work in progress

Changing your mind

The Reframe Game

When you catch a negative thought, ask yourself:

Would I say this to my best friend?

Is this thought helping or hurting me?

What would someone who loves me say instead?

What's a more balanced way to look at this?

Your Daily Self-Talk Rituals

Pick one or two of these to try:

Morning power phrases (said out loud!)

Gratitude check-ins with yourself

Evening appreciation moments

Celebratory self-high-fives (yes, really!)

The goal isn't to never have negative thoughts. It's to catch them, question them, and choose whether to believe them.

Your Challenge for today

Notice your self-talk patterns for one hour (set a timer if it helps!)

Pick ONE negative phrase you use often and write down a kinder alternative

Try the mirror challenge (even if it feels silly at first)

Remember, changing your inner dialogue is like learning a new language, it takes practice, patience, and lots of gentle reminders. You've got this, and more importantly, you deserve this!

See you tomorrow for Day 16!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[mariahcarreyyy]

Hi!!! I absolutely adore your writing!!! Could I please request prompt number 8 from the angst dialogue list for Charles Leclerc? Thank you!!!

# prompt no.8, "what do you want from me? to throw away all i've worked for?" // "all i'm asking for is your time."

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

Change was something you did not lightly graze over or dismiss with a nonchalant wave of your hand. It slowly seeped inside the cracks of your monaco apartment walls, finding solace in your discomfort. But once even a portion of it was there, there was no denying its presence.

Not when the dent of Charles' curves is no longer easy to trace; yours was everpresent, wallowing and growing familiar with the ache in your bones every time you'd wake up to an cold, empty bed.

Not when, despite being allocated time off from work, Charles had let his job consume him. Nipping at his heart and head, wrapped in a frantic worry of not living up to his potential. Lately, it was as if it held greater priority than the peace you'd once been able to bring him.

He's slouched on his chair, fingers tightly wrapped around the wheel of the simulator; his movements are jerky yet cautious, risky, yet he is all but willing. Standing at the burgundy doorframe, you felt like you'd regressed to the age of a toddler—thrashing in your father's hold, begging for an ounce of attention, of care.

"Charles?"

The word drifts away, following the breeze of the opened window, swirling in the starry night sky. He does not answer. That's fine, nothing new. Your lips part to the shape of his name again, timid and picking dutifully at your fingertips. An exhasperated huff escapes his mouth, latching on to the side of his headphones and not-so-lightly placing them on the table.

With gritted teeth and a slight crane to his neck, barely allowing you to enter his peripheral vision, he mutters, "Yes, y/n?"

"Dinner's ready," you house your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting patiently for the dismissive 'not hungry right now' that would roll off his tongue in mere moments.

And Charles does not fail you or your expectations. He motions a hand to his simulator, sending you a pitiful excuse of a sorry smile that makes your palms furl into fists.

"Charles, I said—"

"I know what you said, mon amour," he sighs, and the pet name feels foreign on his tongue and bitter to your ears. "'Can't leave the sim."

Any shame you have left dwindles next to your bruised ego and non-existent dignity.

"One dinner, Charles, 'won't even take twenty minutes out of your day." Your voice is small, directed towards the back of his head, satisfaction pricking at your heart when his hands freeze, sending him crashing through the virtual track.

Desperate, do you even care anymore?

Abruptly, he stands up, arms extended on the table, to steady himself. The shift in atmosphere made you gnaw at your lip harder, and the metallic crimson made you wince. Your feet are glued to the floor.

Charles turns, standing up right to face you. He looks normal, you realize. You've been trying to figure out how to breathewithout him near you, and he looks normal.

"What do you want from me? To throw away all I've worked for?" He raises a predatory brow, malice dripping from his tongue. "Eat, y/n. I'll probably order something later, but I'm not wasting my time with—with."

He makes a vague gesture with his hand.

With you, is left unspoken.

"All I'm asking for is your time." You meet his hard stare and refrain from cowering at the sight. "But it's obvious you don't give a fuck to at least give me that."

You don't run, but you'd never walked so frantically out of a room before. A small part of you is waiting for Charles to scurry behind you, shouting a 'wait! wait, y/n!'. Which would probably not grant him immediate forgiveness but perhaps warm the shivers coursing through your body.

He doesn't.

[echoesintheravyne]

fic recs, but with fangirling ('cause i can't stfu) (thg, part one) .ᐟ

short message to the authors i'm about to tag: if you somehow recognize my rambling from the tags in my other reading account ,, let's just not mention any of it pls and thanks ( ily all have a good day )

@joluvsfinnick - "what was never mine (part 1)" , "the role i played (part 2)" , "before i forget you (part 3)" , "sandcastles and second chances (part 4)"

the latest fic series that made me bawl at 2 AM in the morning ... but also has one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking writing that i've ever encountered. every emotion was framed beautifully to the point that you don't even have to experience what happened to reader just to relate, you just can, and it's an example of such wonderful language use that results in drawing out both the emotions of the characters and readers (also scared the shit out of me when you followed back .. UHM! HI)

2. @ssweeterthanfiction - "orbit (series)" ; whole masterlist

ORBIT IS ONE OF MY PERSONAL FAVES EVER! one of my favorite tropes is the estranged childhood best friends and oh my goddd, they delivered! it's so cute (admittedly, i have yet to read chapter 5 because i saw "angst" in all caps and i got scared so now i've been putting it off HAHAHA) also, also, on one of the many authors in the finnick tag whose masterlist i binge-read because their au's are so good.

3. @humaling - "two victors, one closet (discontinued for now)" ; "mother's day special" ; whole masterlist

oh god, where do i even start? angst-wise, humaling is my best bet when it comes to that. she's really amazing with words and one of my inspos in coming back to writing. love her use of figurative language, similar to how i liked joluvsfinnick's. "two victors, one closet" is just seared into my brain because it was the first fic i read from her, and "mother's day special" is so cute because finnick would be such a cute manliligaw. and also another author whose masterlist i binged.

4. @ivymirrorball768 - "hey, little songbird"

I JUST FOUND OUT THE AUTHOR OF MY FAVORITE FINNICK FIC IN AO3 IS HERE ... i don't know if this tag is still alive, but i'm gonnna ramble either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i love the fic sm enough to talk about it again. every character and the arena is so fleshed out to the point that you can actually tell me that this was in the books and i'd believe you. i'm a sucker for slowburn, so i'm invested in this fic fr fr. ADDITIONALLY, "hadestown" references ... as a musical nerd that spoke to me it called my name like a siren REAL

5. @ellecdc - "allies and torment" ; "blood rain" ; "still? always." ; whole finnick masterlist

girl atp i'm out of words because all i'm going to say is she's another amazing writer. i also read her other fics besides the finnick ones, and they're really good. part of the reason why i like her writing so much is that the flow is really smooth and natural, and an example is "allies and torment" because as a shy person - how'd you take my mind and describe it exactly the way i would react? "blood rain" is also really good dialogue work because you can hear them as in-character conversations that could actually happen. "still? always" need i say more? a wonderful take on the hijacked!reader prompt.

note : i'll post part two either tomorrow or ... next week :3c i have more authors that i really like here. maybe i can rec some ao3 fics if anybody wants, i'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #13 | 11.11.24

Feels good to be back! This is our first post-Kickstarter devlog and I'm so excited to be writing it.

First of all— Lost in Limbo was successfully funded on September 20th, 2024! 🎉🎇

Yep, it has been almost two months, but it's still something to celebrate! Thanks to every single one of you for making this possible! We didn't meet all our stretch goals (there were a lot and taxes are a pain) but that doesn't mean we are giving up on those. More on that another time.

There's a lot of things we want to show y'all, so let's jump into it!

A sneak peak of Envy's postcard!

Raquel has been working hard on getting the "special postcards from your favorite LI" ready to send them to print ASAP! Initially we were going to use art we already had of the LIs, but we thought it was more exciting to offer y'all exclusive art pieces. After this, Raquel will focus exclusively on the rework of the sprites!

We hosted a few polls and got a lot of feedback. If you missed it, you can check it here!

Astro says hello :^)

As you know, the Extended Demo will feature more locations, including a glimpse of the MC's city, Faybourne! Astro is getting the main street ready for you and your bestie as you go on about your day. I've calculated around three / four different and new locations to properly pace the demo as we imagined it in the first place!

The writing deparment (me. i'm the department) has been focusing on the Extended Demo script. I have a lot of things to play with, like the flavor choices, the personality choices, and more. I want to create a proper balance because one of the things y'all asked for was more choices, and the pacing needed a bit of fixing, as we already knew!

The Extended Demo will actually introduce characters you've heard about, like your mom, your ominous grandmother, and your bestie. So no more talking about them, you'll actually get to meet them like we wanted to!

There will also be more time with the LIs, and hopefully the amount of time you spend with each one of them will feel more balanced, too.

Programming has been an adventure! Huge shoutout to Feniks for helping me figure out how to properly make a toggle for the timed choices as well as helping me polish the personality system. What a lifesaver!

So the timed choices toggle now works perfectly. That means you'll be able to turn them off if you'd like to play the game without being jumpscared by a timer—that doesn't mean you won't be able to mess up, though, on purpose or not :^) This is a dark game, after all!

The personality choice system lets you decide how the MC reacts to things including the nature of your romance with the LI. That means dialogue will automatically change in certain parts of the game to reflect the personality of your MC, some options will be locked, some unlocked, etc. There's three different personalities available.

For colorblind folks, the choices will have a different icon when you hover over them for you to know they're different!

Also, I've started coding some extra mini cgs Kayden's been working on! There'll be more in the Extended Demo to enhance the experience, so we hope you enjoy them! :^)

All the packaging stuff has arrived to our provisional headquarters (Raquel's home), and our business cards have been secured! Every backer with physical goodies will receive one for free :^) This month has been all about managing Backerkit, orders and merch, as well as preparing the Extended Demo. We hope we can receive everything very very soon and start shipping packages starting December!

For now, that's it! There's a lot of stuff going behind the scenes, a lot of things that need attention, and a lot of planning happening. Also the catastrophe the DANA has been on our cities is keeping me a bit on edge, but I'm trying to focus on work. This Saturday I'm going on a trip to Greece with my family, so I'll disconnect then! It's our first time traveling to a different country since I was like...seven years old? And we have been saving up and preparing a lot for the trip, so we are excited :^)

I hope everyone has been taking care and doing alright! Have a huge hug from the Ravenstar Team, and see you around!

[newttxt]

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

[notmorbid]

women and children first.

dialogue prompts from women and children first by alina grabowski.

i hear women can have it all, these days.

i don't believe in pulling other people into your own mess.

life is too short for meaningless experiences.

they're going to eat you alive out there.

do you love me?

you're very predictable, do you know that?

you shouldn't be out alone after dark.

pity is one of the best ways to get what you want.

fuck everyone but us.

would you come to my funeral?

would you rather live forever, or die tomorrow?

you can't protect me from my own decisions.

don't get old. it's no fun.

don't forget: you can always come home.

if it touches a nerve, it's worth writing about.

writing about it won't make me feel better.

there's nothing more reliable than a teenage boy's sense of humor.

everyone wants to be a hero, don't they?

not all stories are ours to share.

what's the point of talking? what does that change?

do you still think about that night?

this is no time for a pity party.

underestimating yourself isn't useful.

relax. live a little.

childhood trauma? i barely knew her.

stop inventing traumas to explain how fucked up you are.

kids are too old, these days.

being sober here is so fucking depressing.

i love to fuck myself over.

i'm getting tired of feeling sorry for you.

why lie in the face of undeniable evidence?

we all assume there are certain things we aren't capable of.

you're making your 'don't panic' face.

don't let ____ get in your head.

i wish i had a cigarette more than anything else in the world.

tell me what happened, and i'll help you figure out what to do.

there isn't as much truth in the world as you think there is.

there's nowhere like this left anymore.

you always have to try so fucking hard.

i forget i have a body if no one is here to remind me.

the story's not over yet. don't you want to know how it ends?

sometimes it's easy to blame yourself for things that happen to you.

there are some things that only we can talk about.

what have i ever done to you?

you can't live every single belief that you have.

your choices have to mean something, even if they mean something terrible.

i don't want you to be scared like me.

for someone without a lot of luck, you sure have a lot of hope.

life isn't worth living without a vice.

you don't have to pretend you're happy. not here.

you're always trying to reinvent yourself.

all i want is for things to be still.

you've seen some shit, haven't you?

bodies ruin everything.

you deserve to just be a kid again.

i wish you had the tiniest shred of faith in me.

faith doesn't require proof. trust does.

you're a tough fucking customer, you know that?

don't be a smartass. it's unbecoming.

when did you grow up?

just when i think you can't possibly surprise me, there you go.

i don't trust pretty people.

wanting to die and wanting to live aren't mutually exclusive.

don't worry, i learned my lesson. it was a shit show.

i think i would like to be someone else.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!!! I need a bit of help... And maybe you could help? Perhaps?

I've noticed that in the English translation, they gave Leona this sort of... speech pattern? Style? Idk how to call it, but basically that thing where in his text they tend to replace the words ending with -ing to just -in'. But he doesn't do it in every word I've noticed.. In most, yes, but not all of them. And sometimes they make him say 'n instead of and and such. And a lot of wanna / gonna / gotta instead of writing the full thing. (And sometimes I think I've seen him use "ya" instead of "you", but that one's a bit less common on him from what I can remember)

I think this is a very interesting bit of characterization and I really like it! However, I struggle to implement it whenever I write him in English, since it's not my first language. I find it really hard because I never know when it's too much and when it's an acceptable amount... I never know when to replace the ing → in' while not making it too exaggerated 🥲🥲 I can't manage to make it feel, idk, natural? So I tend to prefer to ignore that aspect of his "speech style" entirely in fear of making him sound weird... Which is a shame, because once again, I think it's a very interesting detail, but I just never seem to get it quite right.

So, I wanted to ask... Since I think your interpretation of him (how you write him in general) is very good, and since I think you're a native english speaker too lol, is there any easy what to remember when to apply such "mannerisms" when writing him or similar characters? Or am I overthinking too much and should I just put it wherever I think it fits nicely? Or do I just put it in all the words ending with -ing with little exceptions?? 😭 I know that this type of written speech is used to represent how someone Says those words, like... spoken. But since I'm not surrounded by people who speak the language, I can't really go about it in that way either 😭 (as in "oh, I'll just listen to people around me and figure it out in that way!")

Okay, so 💦 I want to take a second to remind people (both Anon and my general audience) that I'm NOT open to telling people how to write. Asking for general advice ("how do I get over writer's block", "how do I get inspired", etc.) or about my own experiences is fine, but I'm not comfortable telling others how to write specific Twst characters, OCs, or what to do with their own art. So just know what whatever advice I provide in this post WON'T be me telling you to do X, Y, or Z to arrive at the "correct" answer. At the end of the day, it's only my own interpretation, and to pass around my interpretation as though it is gospel or the "most canon" would be incorrect to say. I understand that some may hold me, my takes, or my writing in high regard, and therefore view me as some kind of fandom authority or someone whose opinion holds a lot of weight. However, I've repeatedly stressed that this makes me uncomfortable and I want to discourage this behavior as much as I can.

Now then, Anon makes a lot of salient points. Every character has a unique way of speaking and their own quirks and mannerisms. There's the very obvious ones like Epel's dialect, but also more subtle things like how Leona (in English) drops the "-g" from the ends of some "-ing" words, how he sometimes uses "'n" in the place of "and", how he tends to use "wanna"/"gonna"/"gotta", and how he sometimes trades "you" for "ya". These are important things to pay attention to if you're trying to capture a character's "voice"! (Yuurei-san has an interesting series of posts about the Twst characters' speech patterns!) Most likely these localization choices were made for Leona's English dialogue in order to reflect his informal manner of speaking in Japanese. For example, he often uses ねぇ~, elongating some of his words sarcastically. If you have access to Twst EN, I'd suggest opening it up and listening to how Leona voices his lines (while you read the English text). If you don't have the game, you can probably still find voice clips on the Twst wiki(s) or on Youtube. That may help you get a sense of his cadence and how he words things. You also need to think about how you write his dialogue and the details around it. Is he mad or annoyed? Maybe tired or just not feelin' it? Consider how mood factors into whether or not Leona chooses standardized or colloquial English. Sometimes he adopts an overly formal and princely tone in some instances, like when he's presenting himself at the book 7 farewell party, so you have to consider situations where he uses formality sarcastically. Again, it really depends on the context. This will require a lot of thinking, judging, and putting yourself in the character's headspace. You won't get it perfect the first time (or even the times after); it'll take lots of trial and error to find something you're happy with.

[lisupandowntown]

Discovery (Jeremiah's POV - N S F W)

A/N: This is N S F W, it is emeto-kink. Read at your own risk. So this is the other half of this fic, told from Jeremiah's POV. I followed the first story as closely as I could, so even though there were times I wanted to change or add the original dialogue, I didn't. Soon I'll write the couple's first time experimenting with their kink. I thought for a long time about how I'd show Jeremiah's feelings about his kink, and I'm happy with how this turned out. He's been hiding this secret for a long time.

Drew belched into fist and gave a small sigh of relief. “Sorry,” he said, giving Jeremiah an adorably sheepish grin.  “I think maybe I ate dinner too fast.” 

Jeremiah froze, feeling his face grow hot. He told himself it was just because his new boyfriend was so cute; but the thrum of panic that immediately followed wasn’t so easy to explain away. What the hell?  

He hoped his response sounded casual and unconcerned.  “Don’t worry about it, love.”  His voice was calm; that was good. Drew nodded and smiled again and Jeremiah quickly asked for the check.

And maybe that would have been the end of it, but Drew shuffled in his seat and Jeremiah couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tightness around his mouth and the way his hand palmed the side of his stomach.  He looked uncomfortable.  And Jeremiah was a medical student; he couldn’t ignore it, could he? He studied Drew for a moment, debating, before carefully asking.  “Are you, uhh, feeling okay?”

There was an odd catch in his voice he hoped wasn’t obvious, but then Drew burped again and the heat in Jeremiah’s face traveled lower.  Now he was the one shifting uncomfortably.

Drew gave him a small smile.  “I think so?” 

Jeremiah took a deep breath. This was his and Drew’s tenth official date, and until now, Jeremiah had loved how quickly their relationship was gaining traction.   It had been four months since he’d been assigned to watch over the same post-operative patient whose care Drew was managing.  And four days less than four months since their first date at L’etoile, a date that had lasted into the early hours of the morning and yet didn’t even involve them falling into bed together. That had come at the end of date three, when Jeremiah had finally gotten the courage to admit that he’d never had fully penetrating sex with a man before. Drew hadn’t teased or been shocked or made Jeremiah feel like he was a challenge to be taken.  Instead he’d made Jeremiah feel cared for, and curious, and amazing and fucking transported, and oh my god he was grateful for not letting Adam Calder talk him into losing his virginity with him. His first time had been with Drew and as far as Jeremiah was concerned, it had been perfect. And only gotten better since then.

There hadn’t been a day since when the two men didn’t send each other a dozen texts throughout the day, or meet for lunch at the hospital, or spend way too many hours on FaceTime when they probably should be sleeping.

They’d already seen each other cry, and get angry, and stressed, and act silly and stupid and blissfully happy.  This was his boyfriend (and damn, he loved saying that), surely he could behave himself when his boyfriend had a stomach ache.  Drew was a nurse, after all, and Jeremiah only eighteen months away from becoming a doctor.  He certainly didn’t feel this way around his patients; why should it be any different around the man he was pretty sure he was falling in love with?

Drew interrupted his thoughts by putting his hand on Jeremiah’s arm.  “It’s nothing; just a bit of indigestion,” he promised. 

Oh fuck.  

That sentence did something to him, as much as he wanted to deny it, and Jeremiah nodded stiffly.  The smart thing to do would be to end the date now and suggest Drew go home before things . . . well, before.  Jeremiah needed some time to think, and figure out what he was going to do about this . . . development.  There was no way he’d be able to think clearly if Drew was there, burping and rubbing his stomach and making Jeremiah feel so unbalanced.  

He took a deep breath.  “Well if not, let . . . let me know and I can take you home.”  That’s where he should have stopped, but his stupid mouth, fueled by his stupid, horny brain, kept going. “Or we could, uhh, go back to my place since it’s closer.  If you think you need a . . . bathroom or something.”

He tried very hard not to think about Drew needing to be draped over a toilet in a bathroom.  Damn, this was supposed to be a fun night for them, spending time together..  His and Drew’s schedules didn’t align as much as they wanted (or as much as their bodies demanded), and now Jeremiah was about to ruin it all.  

He’d assumed they’d end up in bed together tonight. If Jeremiah had a normal brain and Drew wasn’t feeling well, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  They didn’t have to do anything physical, and Jeremiah would have been just as happy, spending time taking care of his ill boyfriend.  But Drew had a stomach ache and Jeremiah’s thoughts were a mess and his body was acting up and now something as innocent as cuddling was fraught with . . . 

Jeremiah managed to push those thoughts aside when Drew easily agreed to his hesitant suggestion that they get ice cream.  It was a test and Drew passed; he must be feeling okay, to be eating dessert, and Jeremiahs’ rapidly beating heart and tingling limbs gradually slowed back to normal. 

It was okay. It was fluke; he’d been surprised, that’s all.  He’d do better next time.  This wasn’t a problem. His secret was safe.

And then Drew dropped his half-eaten cone into a garbage can and let out a wet burp that went straight to Jeremiah’s groin.  He gulped down a sound, trying to look casually concerned.  

“My stomach is upset; I’m sorry,” Drew explained, and there was an undercurrent of discomfort in his tone. “I think maybe it’s more than just eating too fast.”  He grimaced, and Jeremiah’s entire body erupted with goosebumps. 

He took a steadying breath.

“Why are you sorry?”  They’d been walking side by side, eating their ice cream, and now Jeremiah stopped under a streetlight and let himself peer at Drew’s face. The man was pale, and breathing very deliberately, in and out.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and it took all of Jeremiah’s willpower not to reach out and wipe them away.  He may have only been a third-year medical student, but he recognized nausea when he saw it.  But he didn’t know why Drew was apologizing. 

Drew gave a sheepish shrug.

“I don’t know.  I guess because I’m not feeling well and it’s interrupting our time together.”  His stomach took that moment to gurgle and he laid his hand across it and rubbed lightly.

Jeremiah had to bite the inside of his cheek before answering.  He probably wants to go home; don’t make this difficult.  But something in Drew’s expression made him hesitate. The words spilled out of his mouth before he could think any more.

“Do you want to go home then? I mean, we’re close to my place if you wanted to just go relax there.  I uhh, don’t mind if we have a quiet night in.”  Drew burped again and Jeremiah’s breath caught.  Don’t ignore his symptoms; be a doctor, Gable!  He gave Drew a sympathetic grimace and finally asked the question he wanted to. “Are you nauseated?” 

Drew gave a small nod.  “A little, yeah,” he sighed. “I can’t tell if something isn’t agreeing with me or if I’m coming down with a bug of some sort.” 

Gastrointestinal illnesses were always circulating at the hospital and Jeremiah tried to remember if any of the nurses he worked with had been out recently. Drew swallowed hard, and Jeremiah considered that the bottle of wine they’d shared at dinner couldn’t be helping things.

He suddenly realized he was staring. He lifted one hand towards Drew’s face and then stopped, uncertain.  “May I?” he asked finally.  “I know I’m not a nurse but I can probably figure out if you have a fever.” He couldn’t hold back a small smile.  He was okay; he could do this.  

To his relief, Drew chuckled.  “I’m glad they’re teaching you something useful in medical school.  Go ahead and feel me up then.”  He smirked. “Only my forehead though.  At least while we’re in public.” 

Jeremiah blew out a breath.  He wasn’t yet very good at making sexual innuendos but at least they were on more comfortable ground now. He smiled and then gently rested his hand against Drew’s forehead, and then moved it to his cheek, leaving it cupped there when Drew leaned his head against it. They stood there, swaying together slowly, and Jeremiah felt a surge of affection for the man in his arms.  It made him feel bold.

“If you’re feeling better later maybe I can, uhh, feel up other things,” he mumbled.  He felt his cheeks flame again but that was to be expected, right?  He should be able to make normal suggestive comments to his boyfriend.  It wasn’t weird. 

He leaned in and pressed his lips against Drew’s forehead. “You feel a little warm but not too bad,” he pronounced.  “I  uhh, have Pepto at my apartment, if you want to try it.  If it helps then we’ll know it’s likely food related.”  Yes, this was good; he sounded properly medical and rational. He didn’t say what he really wanted, about what they’d do if the Pepto didn’t work. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let his mind go there.

“Luring me back to your place with the promise of . . . hic . . .over-the-counter meds?” Drew teased through a queasy hiccup.  “That’s a pickup line I haven’t heard yet.”  

And just like that, Jeremiah was flustered again.  He shuffled his feet on the sidewalk.  “I can get you a taxi, if you’d rather.”  He gazed at Drew uncertainly.  “I uhh, know that some people like to be alone when they aren’t feeling well, but I umm, don’t mind if you want to come over.” He and Drew had actually gotten sick in front of each other once, with twin hangovers barely a month into their relationship.  They’d both been too miserable to do much more than collapse together on the sofa after they were done throwing up.

Jeremiah hadn’t been even the slightest bit aroused that night. He’d concluded with relief that he was done with that part of his life, now that he had Drew. That had been something for the Jeremiah who was trying to figure out his sexuality. Now that he had, those old thoughts were finished. 

Or so he’d thought.  But now Drew was gulping and his adam’s apple was bobbing and Jeremiah was so turned on he could barely breathe. 

He managed to keep himself together, but the urge to touch his boyfriend - even platonically - was too strong.  He trailed his hand down Drew’s cheek and rested it on his shoulder, trying not to shiver.  “I’ll understand if you just want to go home,” he added softly.  

Drew shook his head so gingerly Jeremiah knew he was dizzy.  

“I don’t . . . want to go home.”  He gave a small, apologetic shrug.  “I’m not going to be much fun though.”  His stomach gurgled and he put his fist to his mouth to muffle the belch that came up.  It was deep and wet and he spit onto the sidewalk - and it was more than just saliva. He gulped down and found Jeremiah’s eyes. “See?” 

That was it.  It was obvious Drew was sick and Jeremiah lived close.  It made sense to take him there; it would be irresponsible not to.  He tugged the man’s hand until he started walking, still hiccupping under his breath.  “Feeling worse then?” he asked, almost conversationally.   “I’m three blocks away; do you think you can make it?”  He didn’t add that they really didn’t have a lot of other options, and if he was pulling Drew along harder than he should, it was only to get him off the street and someplace comfortsble before he felt even worse.

Drew gulped down again before answering.  “Yeah, don’t worry.  I’m nauseous but it’s not bad enough to throw up.”  

Jeremiah was beginning to doubt that, but then Drew snuggled into his side, which Jeremiah took as an invitation to carefully wrap an arm around his waist. He could feel Drew’s stomach bubbling under his hand and it was all he could do not to press his palm against it. But then Drew spoke. 

 “Maybe you can give me a belly rub or something.”

The man’s voice was light, but Jeremiah’s entire body tingled, and he was sure Drew heard his breath hitch. He stumbled over a non-existent crack in the sidewalk and tried to get his bearings.

“I . . . could do that,” he agreed in a thin voice. A belly rub? Only if his head - or other parts -  didn’t explode first.  His arm tightened around Drew’s waist.  “I just want you to feel better.”  

“Me too,” Drew agreed.  He stopped walking suddenly.  

Jeremiah froze too.  Is he going to vomit?  What do I do if he vomits?  He tried to imagine Drew was just another one of his patients.  He’d just finished a rotation in the ER, where it seemed like not even a day went by with someone throwing up.  It hadn’t bothered him at all.  But this was entirely different. He sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself for his boyfriend to lose his dinner and how he was going to respond.

 “Gimme a second; gotta . . . burp,” Drew stuttered instead.  He leaned forward and forced down some air before burping softly a couple of times.  Then he shuddered a let out a weak gag, clearly miserable, and instinctively, Jeremiah stepped forward and put his hand on his back.  

“I’ve got you; don’t fight it.”  Jeremiah began patting, lightly at first and then a little more firmly until Drew finally managed a deep belch.  He spit at the end, and Jeremiah saw his jaw tighten with an aborted heave.  

“Thank you,” he gasped.  “I really needed that.”  

“Glad . . . glad I could help then.”  Jeremiah’s voice was calm, he thought, but he couldn’t hold back the waver in it, or prevent the goosebumps that were making his entire body tingle. 

They started walking again.  Drew kept burping softly under his breath to try to keep the nausea at a manageable level, and Jeremiah silently repeated the steps of a neurological exam in his head to try to keep his body from giving him away.  

The quiet was broken by Drew.

“Sorry I’m being so gross,” he said finally.  ‘I’m pretty sick to my stomach.”  

Drew looked sideways at Jeremiah, and for a wild second Jeremiah thought that he knew, but he realized he was just checking in to make sure he was still okay taking his obviously sick boyfriend back to his apartment.  As if he had to ask . . .

“Not feeling better?”  It was a dumb question but they were approaching the front of Jeremiah’s apartment, and he heard Drew give a tiny sigh.  He shook his head.

“Not really, no,” he admitted. “I may actually have to lose that lovely dinner we shared earlier.”  He burped into his fist. “It doesn’t seem to want to stay down.”  

Jeremiah couldn’t stop his  hand from jerking convulsively in Drew’s grip. Arousal coursed through him and he made a sound, low in his throat.  Drew was sick to his stomach. Drew felt like he was going to vomit. Holy hell.  And now it was too late to try to send the man home, not that Jeremiah wanted to. “Oh that’s . . . umm . . . I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

His voice sounded strained, even to himself.  “Do you need to vomit right now?”  Before he realized what he was doing he brushed his free hand down the front of his khaki’s. Desire and need were mixed equally with panic and he had no idea what to do.  

His body felt like it wasn’t his own and his brain was on fire and he was about to lose everything if he couldn’t pull himself together. So he had to pull himself together and he had to ignore the fact that one of his stupid, perverted, ridiculous sexual fantasies seemed to be coming true.  He hadn’t thought about them in over four months, and never about Drew, and the swiftness at which it all roared back was unnerving.  But they were inside his building now, and Jeremiah had only a few minutes to figure out how to care for his boyfriend without making a complete cake of things between them. 

Drew’s voice, thick with nausea, interrupted Jeremiah’s silent battle.

“I . . . I don’t need to throw up yet,” he managed, and Jeremiah dug his fingernails into his palm.

Drew followed him into the elevator and to the man’s shock, as soon as the doors closed, Drew pushed him against the wall and leaned in as if to kiss him, and there was no way Jeremiah could hide the fact that he was hard.  

Drew’s eyes flew open in surprise.  “Oh . . . sweetheart,” he gulped.  “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can do much about . . . uhrrp . . . that right now.”  For some reason Jeremiah couldn’t follow, Drew dropped  his hand down between them anyway until  Jeremiah grabbed his wrist and stopped him.  He had no idea why Drew had tried to kiss him when he was obviously feeling so awful, but it clearly wasn’t because he had any idea what was going on in Jeremiah’s brain right now and wanted to indulge that. 

“Don’t,” he said, more harshly than he meant.  “I’m not . . . I didn’t mean . . . oh fuck.”  The elevator doors slid open and he quickly turned away and rushed out.

Drew followed him slowly.  “Sweetheart?  It’s okay, really,” he called out, but Jeremiah kept walking until a grunt behind him made him whirl around.

Drew was bent over, hands braced on his knees and breathing heavily.  

“Fuck.  It’s not your . . . are you . . . ?” He walked back to the man and touched his back.  “Can you make it inside?  Just a few more steps.”  At least the urgency of the moment had given Jeremiah some focus.  He briskly unlocked the door while Drew sucked in a deep, slow breath and then slowly straightened up.  

 “I’m . . . I’m okay,” he gasped.  He burped suddenly.  “I mean, I’m really nauseous, but I’m not . . . ugh . . . I can wait.”  

Jeremiah stood frozen, watching his boyfriend pant and struggle and wholly unsure what to do.   He was still aroused, damn it, and Drew could obviously see it.  At this point he was so hot he was surprised his body hadn’t combusted, but right now he had to help Drew before he vomited all over the floor..  

“That’s not important,” he said firmly.  “Let’s get you in front of a toilet.”  He began ushering Drew down the hall to the apartment’s only bathroom.  The nurse was making pained sounds as if he wanted to say something, but it was clear he was almost beyond being able to talk.  That suited Jeremiah just fine. Hopefully Drew would get sick once or twice, fall asleep, and then Jeremiah would have time to figure out some sort of excuse for his behavior that didn’t result in the man walking out of his life.

As soon as they got into Jeremiah’s bathroom Drew retched so harshly that Jeremiah wondered how he’d been holding it down. 

“Oh god, he groaned, leaning heavily on Jeremiah to lower himself to the ground and spitting into the water.  “I really do not feel well.”  He rocked back and forth, panting in a way Jeremiah knew was meant to induce him to vomit as quickly as possible. 

“I know you don’t, sweetheart.  It’s okay.”  He couldn’t not help; Drew was clearly miserable, and for the moment, Jeremiah’s need to comfort his boyfriend overcame everything else he was feeling.  Carefully, he knelt down behind the sick man and grasped the tops of Drew’s arms to offer support. 

Drew burped hollowly over the bowl, and when nothing came up immediately, fell suddenly back into Jeremiah’s lap.

Jeremiah grunted with surprise but he couldn’t have controlled the rest of his reaction if he’d tried. Before he knew what had happened, he’d  moved against Drew, pressing into his back and grasping at his hips.  Drew let out a nauseous chuckle.  

“I can’t believe you still want . . . me, even though I’m about to puke.”  He burped again, wet and deep.  

There was half a second where Jeremiah thought he might be able to escape this.  Drew still didn’t realize anything. Jeremiah could back off, apologize, and tell Drew that of course he didn’t want to do anything while he was sick.  

But then Drew gagged and Jeremiah tingled all over.  He sucked in a shaky, audible breath and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his face heat up. In front of him, he felt when Drew twisted around.

“Sweetheart?” Drew touched his cheek and Jeremiah knew he had to say something.  

“I’m . . . sorry,” he mumbled.  “This is so . . . oh god I’m sorry.”  He pushed himself backwards so he wasn’t touching Drew anymore.  “I should be taking care of you and instead I’m . . . “  His hands twisted as he tried to explain the secret he’d kept since he was a child.  “I’m not like this with anyone . . . with my patients.  I just . . . I can’t . . . “  He finally opened his eyes and met Drew’s, expression tortured.  “I’m so sorry.”  He choked out half a sob.

He could see it on Drew’s face when it clicked. 

 “it’s okay. . . Jer . . . it’s okay,” he gasped, before burping so deeply his body shook.   

“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning quickly back to the toilet and bracing his arms on the seat.  “I’m going to . . .” his words were lost in a burping retch and Drew vomited up his dinner.  He gasped and spit, and then to Jeremiah’s shock, reached one hand blindly behind him as he threw up again.  

Jeremiah stared at that hand for what seemed like an eternity before grabbing it and then , rubbing the other up and and down Drew’s back as he heaved.�� “I’ve got you,” he said, feeling oddly calm. There was nothing he could do about it, and Drew needed him, at least for the moment.  “Just . . . get it all up and then you can lie down.” 

Drew swayed over the bowl, spitting, and then finally let his ass fall heavily onto the tile floor.  Jeremiah silently handed him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his mouth and then backed away again.  How could he have let this happen?  What the fuck was wrong with him, that after years of denying everything about himself he’d finally found happiness and then ruined it all in one night?  His eyes prickled and he squeezed them shut again.  

He would not cry over this.  He’d stay calm, and comfort Drew for as long as he needed, and admit what a disgusting person he was, and then, and then . . . he just didn’t know..

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was Drew’s panting breaths as he tried to calm his stomach.  Jeremiah stared at the floor, waiting to say the words that would end things, when Drew reached out a shaky hand to lift his chin.  “Hey,” he croaked.  “Look at me.”  

Jeremiah shook his head.  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.  “I never meant. . . I thought I could . . .” he finally lifted his face to Drew’s.  “I’ll understand if this . . . changes things.  Or if you want to . . . not see me anymore.”  He twisted his hands together, wishing he could somehow freeze time, that he could stay Drew’s boyfriend for just a little while longer, even if it was no longer real.

To his shock, Drew scoffed. 

 “You think I’d break up with you over a kink?” he asked.  “Fuck, Jeremiah, that’s not how this works.”  He shook his head.  “I know we haven’t talked about this kind of thing yet but I figured it was coming, as you got more comfortable with your sexuality”  He shrugged, and Jeremiah felt a flicker of something . . . not horrible. He waited, letting Drew think this through at his own pace.  

“So . . .you’re into what, vomit?”  When Jeremiah gave a tiny nod he burped softly into his fist and then waved away Jeremiah’s look of concern.  “I’m fine,” he said impatiently.  “Well, not exactly fine, but I’m not about to spill my guts again.”  He reached out and grabbed Jeremiah’s hand.  “This is important.”  He squeezed.  “How long?”

Jeremiah took a deep, shuddering breath. He’d never spoken about this with anyone before and now the words spilled out of him like a confession and he was seeking absolution. “Longer than since I’ve realized I’m gay.  A lot longer.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know how to describe it, but I’ve always been . . . aroused by . . . I don’t know.”  He wrung his hands together.  “The thought of someone feeling sick, and trying not to get sick.  And I get to take care of them.”  He met Drew’s eyes again, determined to be absolutely honest.  “I have not been thinking about this with you; I swear.  All the times we’ve been together and everything we’ve done . . . it’s been amazing, and I wasn’t secretly hoping you’d get nauseated or anything.  And it doesn’t happen with my patients, not at all.  It’s always just been something private to think about.”  

Now that he was talking, Jeremiah couldn’t stop.  If Drew was going to somehow accept this, he needed to know it all. “I didn’t think it would happen with you, or . . . I thought I could hide it.”  He flushed again.  “And then tonight you burped, and told me your stomach was upset, and I . . . “ I couldn’t help it.” He raised his hands helplessly.  There was so much more to explain, but Drew’s expression was growing uncomfortable again so Jeremiah stopped talking to give him space. The man gulped nauseously and then burped, looking pensive. 

“I meant it when I said it’s okay,” he said finally, and even about to vomit again,  it was obvious he meant it.  Jeremiah’s heart thumped so firmly he was surprised Drew couldn’t hear it. 

Drew swallowed hard.  “I could tell that it’s got a big . . . urhhrp . . . caretaking piece to it for you, right?”  He leaned forward and spit into the toilet.  “I’m going to puke again soon,” he warned. Jeremiah gave a watery chuckle.

“That’s okay.  I mean, of course it’s okay, even if I wasn’t . . . you know.”  He began rubbing up and down Drew’s back again.  “I guess I thought it might go away once I started having more . . . normal sexual experiences, you know?  But I guess it didn’t.”

Drew huffed with amusement.  “Oh sweetheart,” he gasped, belching hard and rising back up onto his knees so he could lean over the bowl..  “I hope that nothing we do counts as ‘normal sexual experiences,’ okay?”  He turned his head to find Jeremiah.  “We’re just getting started, okay?” 

For the first time since Drew had burped way back at dinner, Jeremiah allowed himself to smile. Maybe he wasn’t about to get broken up with, after all.  And if Drew wanted him to keep this . . . kink . . . just to himself, well Jeremiah could do that.  He’d do whatever the man in front of him asked. 

But then Drew retched again and gasped out.  “When . . . when you were behind me.  I didn’t mind it,” and Jeremiah felt an entirely new level of desire shoot through him.  Biting back a grin now, he snaked a hand around his boyfriend’s waist and gently palmed his stomach.  “Come on, love,” he said gently, feeling relief more than anything.  “Get it up and you’ll feel better.”  

He felt it when Drew’s stomach rolled, and wasn’t sure whose body was tingling more.  “Okay,” he gasped.  “Gonna puke now.”  He lurched forward and did just that, gagging and retching and spitting until he seemed nearly wrung out. Jeremiah caught him, and gave in, chasing the pleasure until he shuddered with a climax he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams.  

Drew chuckled softly and turned his head to press a sticky kiss into Jeremiah’s bicep.  “Can I brush my teeth?” he asked blearily. “Before we kiss?”

Jeremiah hadn’t imagined Drew would want to kiss.

“Yes please.”  He slowly helped Drew  to his feet and held him while he rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face.  “I’m not really into the actual vomit, you know?” He began pulling off his pants and underwear, blushing, but feeling pleased and content and shy and eager.  But Drew was nearly swaying with exhaustion and that was all Jeremiah focused on.  “Do you think you’re ready to lie down?  I'll bring a bucket.”

“Wait.”  Drew turned in Jeremiah’s arms.  He touched his cheek and looked him in the eyes.  “I love you.”  They’d never said it before, and Jeremiah’s eyes went wide.  “And I know this is probably a ridiculous time to say it, and you don’t have to say it back, but . . . you trusted me with something tonight and I wanted you to know that I . . .”

“I love you too; I love you so much,” Jeremiah interrupted, and he felt like his grin was going to split his face.  “And I’ve been wanting to say it, but I was worried it was too soon, or that all . . . this, might change things.”  He put his hand on Drew’s cheek.  “But I really love you.”  

Drew blew out a breath and lay his head on Jeremiah’s chest.  “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while too,” he admitted.  “And I’m glad I did.”  He tilted his head back.  “I love you.”

Jeremiah gently touched his lips to Drew’s.  If this was a virus, he was absolutely going to get it, but he didn’t care at all.  He had no idea how he’d feel if he was the one getting sick, but now it seemed like he was going to have all the time in the world to find out.

[flightyalrighty]

(sorry if you've gotten this before or if this is not the right kind of question for the blog)

Do you have any advice on HOW to make a comic series? From what I've seen your work is fantastic, well made and written! (Cool concepts, story, and character dynamics etc)

How did you start? How DO you start?? How do you comic lol

I'm glad you enjoy my work! I'll do my best to answer this question!

I could give the ol' "Just jump in! Get started!" But I don't think that's the answer you're looking for, here. Even if it's technically the correct one.

"How do you make a comic series" Is one of those questions where the answer is kinda difficult to summarize in a single ask, because there's a whole lot that goes into it, y'know? I'll give you a brief run-down of my process.

I figure an idea for a story. In the case of Infested, the whole story was written before I even got started on the script. This is an outlier in my usual process and I don't normally do this and definitely don't recommend it.

Figure the plot like how you would figure a regular story's plot; The beats you wanna hit, the way the characters develop, the beginning, the middle, the end. What's the point of the story? What, exactly, are you trying to convey here? Who's the target audience? All that stuff ought to be figured out before even picking up a [MEDIUM OF ARTIST'S CHOICE].

Script the story. If you've seen a movie script, these things look a bit like that. You wanna not skip this step because this is where you determine the visual language of each page. Comic script writing is a whole thing and a half but I do have some random tips regarding it. -> When writing the beginning of a new scene, write down the time of day, the weather, and any important details about your setting (this is most important if you're working in a team). -> Using storyboard/film language when trying to figure out a scene is very helpful. You're not gonna remember exactly how that scene looked in your head when you finally get around to penciling it. Trust me. Write it down. Or thumbnail it! Thumbnails are also very helpful! -> Remember that you have very limited space for dialogue. Write with that in mind.

Figure the paneling on a page. I work at 11x17 and do my panel layouts based on those dimensions. I tend to make more important panels, or panels with PUNCH or SHOCK bigger than the others. Each panel is an individual illustration, but together they make a whole piece. You gotta treat it like that, y'know? Find the focal point on a page, find the most important element of it, and make that your focal point. Don't be afraid to get a lil wacky with panel shapes, either. They don't HAVE to be squares and rectangles. Check out what other cartoonists do! Get inspired! Paneling is an art-form within itself!

Page from "Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name" By Tess Stone

5. Penciling time! Get the perspective figured out, then draw the background, then draw the characters. Do it in that order. Trust me. With a background already set up, characters can be drawn more like they exist within that space, instead of floating in front of it. Also? Be aware that comic artists need to be ready to draw ANYTHING. You may have a great idea that you GOTTA put out into the world, but you have no idea how to draw, say, a car. Or debris. Or jungle foliage. There's no shame in using references, tutorials, or even doing a bit of tracing if something's outside your wheelhouse. Here's a bazillion tutorials from two guys who REALLY know their stuff.

6. Speech Balloons! Yes, really. In fact, you may want to do this and penciling at the same time. I certainly do. It's better to figure this out immediately so it doesn't hurt you later when it comes to getting your balloons to share a space with your art. Here's some great advice on the whole subject from a master of the craft

7. Inks! Line weight variation is key. Closer to the "camera" means thicker lines. If a part of a character is in shadow, that part is gonna get thicker lines, too. Personally, I make my background line art thinner than character line art. It helps the characters pop out!

8. Flats! Or flat colors if you wanna get specific about terminology. It's exactly what it sounds like -- Coloring the characters and backgrounds with the bare bones basic colors. I highly recommend keeping the character flats and bg flats on separate layers if you're working digitally.

9. Rendering! There's no hard and fast rule as to how a cartoonist ought to render their comic -- If they want to do that at all, even. Go with what you believe looks good AND is something you can do quickly. The "quickly" part is important. Heed my warning. Don't be like me.

And then I'd schedule the comic to be uploaded on whatever day suits me -- Thursday (usually) in Infested's case.

Of course, I kinda suck at relaying my process, so the final thing I can do for you is direct you to an extremely helpful book that really breaks it down in a way that may click with you as it did with me.

I hope this was in any way helpful to you!